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maxdark158 · 3 years

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Wooo! Writing shoes are back on and i’m actually really happy that i’m finally able to write again. This chapter is a bit shorter than normal but the next two are heavy hitters so it’s alright

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

oooOOOooo

Damian typically liked patrol.

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop under the cover of the night was always exhilarating. Parkour just wasn’t the same without a belt of weapons and a costume, it was always a good way to burn of excess energy and get his mind focused.

Sure, it was his job to protect Gotham so he couldn’t be joking around, but he had to admit he liked the physical activity. He took his job seriously but taking it seriously didn’t mean it had to be unenjoyable.

Patrols were a time when he didn’t feel constrained, didn’t have to play a part or meet expectations. Nothing could ruin the cool gotham city nights on the rooftops.

Well, almost nothing.

After all, Damian’s father had the insane habit of adopting shitty ass kids for his crime fighting ring. Which meant Damian had this awful sickness called siblings. And the only thing that could ruin his nice patrols were the chortling of the other costumed idiots.

The worst nights were when all his brothers went.

Every. Single. Brother.

And what made it worse on top of that?

When they had something they felt they could tease him about. And when they were all teasing him about the same thing at the same time.

He was going to snap and stab one of them. His father might be anti murder but he didn’t have to know…

Damian shook his head. Bad thoughts.

“Thinking of your Angel?” Drake seemed to have a death wish and Damian was all about granting fucking wishes right now.

“Why do you all insist on being here?” he grumbled to himself. Because really they didn’t have to be. No bat signal, probably a few minor purse snatching crimes that one or two could handle easily. Why were they all in costume? Take the night off, stop fucking bothering him.

Annoying Fuck #1 snorted next to him when he said that, clearly not planning to be reasonable. “What, don’t like us teasing you about your Angel, demon spawn?” Todd snorted.

Damian ignored him. “Batman, shouldn’t he not be allowed to patrol with us?” His father could at least tell Todd to go home. Then when his back was turned he wouldn’t witness what happened to Dra-

“C’mon, I haven’t killed anyone and I want to hang out with my little bro! It’s not every day that Robin gets his first crush!”

Annoying Fuck #2, Drake, nearly slipped and fell from laughter.

Damian’s face warmed under his mask. “I do not have a crush you-“

“Focus on the job,” As always, father was on his side. “You can make fun of Robin later when we aren’t patrolling,” the traitorous bastard added.

Damian didn’t want to be the fucking blood son anymore.

He glared at Batman, scoffing to himself. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my own route.”

“I’ll go with you little bird!”

Fucking fuck fuck.

Because of fucking course Grayson suggested that. And of fucking course Damian momentarily forgot that Grayson was back and patrolling too, leaving him unprepared for the suggestion. Grayson’s uncharacteristic quietness was the worst thing at times.

Fucking hell why’d they all have to be here tonight?

Proving himself to truly be a traitor, his father nodded to Grayson’s suggestion. So Damian, previously wanting to get away with his brothers and dream of murdering them alone, now had a tagalong stopping such a fun activity.

At this rate he’d have frown lines at 23.

Damian went off, not waiting for Grayson. He knew he’d easily keep pace though, so the halfhearted dream of being fully alone wouldn’t happen.

“Robin, wait here a second.” Oh fuck no. That’s Grayson’s I want to talk voice. Too bad for him because Damian did not want to talk. At all. Especially about anything Grayson might want to talk about. Because Grayson wanted to talk about French Angels and Riddlers and Spars and-

“Robin, are you listening?”

“No, Nightwing, I’m not.” Damian stared at him and raised a brow. “What is there to talk about?”

Grayson huffed, annoyed. Good. Fucker deserves it after what he and the others put him through these last few days. “I was asking if you actually had a crush or not. They’re teasing you but I’ve been,” at WE all day, Damian knew, “busy all day. I can’t tell if they’re making something out of nothing and I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

There was a time when Damian would have said he wasn’t a horse. When he was younger, he didn’t know idioms and expressions that well. He considered saying it now, to try and change the subject, but he also knew Grayson didn’t let things go easily. Which wasn’t very good.

Because Damian wasn’t sure how to answer.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to answer it, even to himself. His weedkiller wouldn’t arrive for a few more fucking days, he wasn’t prepared for this.

Though maybe that in of itself showed the answer to Grayson’s question…

Fucking fuck fuck.

He shook himself from those thoughts. Grayson was waiting on an answer and he didn’t have time to get lost in thought about his Ang- Marinette. Marinette.

Damian settled for glaring at Grayson. “My private life is not any business of yours.”

Grayson snorted. “Suure little bird. She’s one of the French students, right?”

“Don’t say that right now,” he snapped. Not while they were in costume, not while they could be listened to. “Focus on the job, Nightwing.”

Grayson put his hands up in surrender. “Race you to Wayne Enterprises?”

Damian didn’t wait for an answer, jumping to the next roof and making his way as fast as he could. He was determined to beat his adopted brother’s sorry ass, not that he cared about winning. It wasn’t that he was competitive, he simply didn’t want to continue this discussion. That was all. That’s fucking it.

Grayson laughed behind him, and the race began.

-----

They were taking a break near the Batcave. No activity yet, but they stayed suited up incase that changed. The night was still young, after all.

Batman instructed them to meet there through the comms. Damian and Grayson, further from the cave, made it there last. Grayson luckily hadn’t brought up and other conversation during patrol, and Damian hoped that would hold ou-

The other two idiots were waiting like the fucking lunatics they are.

Fucking fuck fuck.

“Did the demon spawn tell you about his precious Angel?” Todd clearly decided that he would die in seven days by saying that, big dumb fucking grin on his face and hair messy from removing his dumbass helmet.

“What was her name again? Mary?” Drake knew her name and was just being a little bitch. Damian decided not to give him the fucking bait, going over to a place to sit-

“Marie something, French and I think with brown eyes?”

“They’re blue,” Damian bit out. Fuck, their stupidity had infected him, he spoke before thinking. Was there a cure? He doubted it as they were all still stupid and have been for years. Fucking fuck the last thing he needs is to be on their level of idiocy.

“Right, right,” Jason’s wolfish smug grin was showing exactly how much of a fucking bitch he planned to be. Damian wanted to kick his face in.

“Little bird was pretty tight lipped on patrol,” Grayson said lightly as if he didn’t just stab him in the back.

“It’d be rude to kiss and tell,” Damian was going to strangle Drake with his own two hands.

“I haven’t kissed her!” He snapped again. His face was very warm, did he get sunburned somehow?? “We’re friends you imbeciles!”

“Friends that hold hands,” Drake pointed out.

“And tour Gotham together, alone.” Todd shortened his life span even more.

“And invite each other over to their house, where they never invited anyone before, to eat lunch.”

“Look how red his face is!”

“Little bird probably even planned to buy her ice cream! That’s why they were there when the Riddler showed up!”

“I’ll bed demon spawn-“

Damian stormed out of the room. Blood was roaring in his ears and he needed to- he just. He fucking needed fucking out of here. Away from those fuckers. Or he’d actually follow through with his thinly veiled threats and he’d rather not get blood on his costume.

He hated siblings with a passion. If his father ever considered adopting again Damian would fill all of his shoes with centipedes and rip the third seam out of every pair of pants he owned.

I don’t have a crush on her. I don’t. She’s wonderful and amazing, an angel, but I don’t like Ang- Marinette like that. She’s a friend I made and that is all.

Damian grabbed some throwing knives for target practice. Not on his brothers this time. He wanted to clear his head without those fucks nearby.

He threw one. The aim was a bit off, and he frowned. His aim was impeccable, why was he off right now? Why is having a crush on Marinette a bad thing?

No. He shook his head. He didn’t want to think those fucking thoughts right now. He threw another, harder. It went deep into the target, still off by more than he was happy with. He growled lowly.

Ange- Marinette is pure and good and wonderful. I was raised by assassins and I can’t completely shake their ideals.

Another knife. Damian’s grip on them tightened. Why was he missing?

I’m a vigilante and Damian Wayne. I have blood on my hands and money to my name and she wants to make her fashion empire herself.

Damian got more knives. His frustration was growing with each thought. They kept coming back as he tried to dismiss them, kept distracting him from the target.

She’s a talented designer. She’s incredibly smart, knows how to fight. Beautiful, dark hair and freckles and blue eyes.

Another knife sailed through the air.

I’m not anything of note without my last name or costume. She’s amazing without needing either.

Damian walked over and began taking the knives off the targets. Maybe they were fucking with his aim. He should get rid of them. Focus on removing them. Stop thinking about her.

But no matter how many fucking times he tried to redirect his thoughts, they came back.

She doesn’t have to tolerate me.

She’s wonderful and innocent.

She doesn’t deserve to be dragged down.

I don’t want to hurt her.

Damian’s hands were on his face, pushing at his eyes and trying to stop the thoughts. His Ange- Marinette was wonderful he knew that, but he didn’t think the other things. Not constantly anyway, he helped people as Robin. He was his father’s blood son. He wasn’t unhappy with himself.

But that doesn’t mean I’m good enough for Marinette.

He grabbed a knife from the table he set them on and threw it blindly, as if throwing the thought itself out and away.

It hit the center perfectly.

Damian took a deep breath. Everything was fucking overwhelming right now, and he didn’t want to think about it anymore.

But it seemed he’d have to.

Fucking fuck fuck.

Okay, okay. He… He might have a crush on Marinette.

Admitting it, oddly, seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders. Damian took another deep breath.

He has a crush on Marinette. But he values her a friend very much. He isn’t going to do anything about his crush, because she deserves someone as amazing and angelic as her, and Damian isn’t that.

But that’s okay. Because he already loves being her friend. And his weedkiller isn’t too far away.

Damian calmed down. He threw some more knives. They were all on target.

She’ll always be my friend and Angel, if I have any say in it. I’ll make sure whoever she choses is worthy of her.

Damian had just thrown his third when his father spoke through their comms. “Poison Ivy sighting at Gotham Hotel.”

The six words turned Damian’s recently found peaceful mood onto its head. Ice water poured into his and filled his limbs with dread. His chest was tight, as if someone was grabbing at his lungs and they were closing. The weeds of worry were strangling him.

That’s my Angel’s hotel.

He had dropped her off there with Alfred just earlier that day. She was staying there with her class. They were supposed to be safe and protected, she was supposed to be safe and protected.

Damian’s knives hit the ground but his feet hit it faster as he ran through the cave to the exit. Ivy best not lay a finger on her or she would lose her entire arm.

His Angel wouldn’t get hurt, not if he could help it.

#daminette #maribat #Marinette #Damian Wayne #maridami #damimari #marinettexdamian #damian x marinette #miraculous ladybug #batman #batboys #batbrothers

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fbfh · 3 years

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three infinites and a reunion - sirius black x reader (gn)

pairing: sirius black x gn reader

wc: 1.2k

genre: ooh boy some hurt/comfort, moderate angst but it’s justified and quickly resolved, some trauma but what’s to be expected lol

warnings: spoilers for prisoner of azkaban sort of but most of it’s kind of common knowledge at this point, some fucks and other brief swears, post azkaban but the timeline is weird don’t come for me, reader is shaking cause of emotionally intense situation, mentions of bad mental health bc you know... dementors.... and uh, brief mentions of small stress induced weight loss (some promenent bones), sirius is king of consent, “you must be starving” then y’all eat some food, you get really fuckin determined to protect him who wouldn’t

summary: Holding out faith sometimes works out for the best, especially when the condemned love of your life is suddenly right in front of you, embracing you on the floor of your laundry room.

requested: no i just have dogman brain rot

song I listened to while writing this: snow - ricky montgomery, the shipped gold standard - fall out boy, golden days - panic at the disco (bc it makes me think of marauders era in general lol)

a/n: as I have stated before I don’t know how numbers work or how to do basic math so I fucked with the timeline a little which should boil down to this: sirius was in az*aban for two years before he escaped making him around 23, while harry is maybe 3 or 4, don’t come for me if it’s off lmao

also this is what I imagine sirius to look like but like,, with the expressions and mannerisms in the viria fanart

I have at least two more parts planned out roughly so those should come at some point uwu

requests are open, here’s my kofi xo

Shaking. You’re fucking shaking, tremors wracking uncontrolably through your body as you stare through blurry, tear filled eyes already spilling, at the big black dog in front of you. You look up at your porch light almost instantly, squeezing your eyes shut. You can’t tell which is louder, the layered incomprehensible thoughts fighting and screaming every instinct, or your pulse hammering in your ears. This is almost too much to bear as it is, but right now what you need are some fucking answers. This is confirmed as steel yourself, looking back down at the dog before you can even finish the thought.

You read somewhere that the more you think of a memory, the faster it fades. After almost two years of thinking of him, of those eyes that held such love and loyalty and courage, you were sure your memories of him must be worn out to near transparency. And yet you stand corrected right there on your porch after one year, eleven months, and two and a half weeks of repetitive, maddening remembering, looking into those eyes and knowing as clearly as you did all that time ago that this isn’t just a black dog.

You don’t even have to say anything, the message clear in those all too intelligent eyes being proof enough. Practicality snaps into place, and you hurriedly usher him inside, not knowing which felt longer - almost two years of painfully tested loyalty, or those fifteen seconds out on your porch. You secure the locks, pushing the foyer table against the door, and lead him into the laundry room and away from any windows or fireplaces. You press your back against the closed door, sliding down, trying to catch your breath, the dog sitting patiently across from you.

You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, letting out a sharp breath, almost laugh, of relief. You take a few deep breaths, trying to center yourself before you work up the courage to look up. When you do, he’s sitting right there. He looks virtually identical to the last time you saw him, your memories once again stronger than the time trying to erode them. Those same eyes are latched onto yours, disbelieving and searching yours for any traces of hate or bitter judgement.

He concludes there really is none when you throw yourself into his arms, holding him so tight. He chokes back a sob as he buries his face in your neck, arms wrapping around your back, hands clutching your shirt. You fight tears of pure relief, pursing your lips and letting out a few concentrated breaths.

“Sirius,” you manage after yet another infinity, still shaking in his arms. His tears finally spill at the raw love in your voice, beginning the painful filling of the hole the dementors had been steadily carving for years. You feel the cool, wet droplets hit your shoulder, and you squeeze him even tighter.

“I swear, I would never-”

“I know,” you cut him off, his voice tight, riddled with pain and the fear of being unjustly rejected and shunned again. One hand runs over his back in soothing, repetitive shapes, the other smoothing the back of his hair, “I’ve always known.” You repeat, your voice fierce with certainty, free of any trace of doubt. Your warmth almost burns him after all that time in the bitter cold, and he curls tighter into you, almost unable to breathe.

After a while, you’re not sure how long, you finally pull away to look at him properly. It’s surreal, one moment he looks exactly like how you last saw him, the next he’s almost unrecognizable. His face is slightly more angular than you remember, the rosy glow to his cheeks all but gone, and you’re sure he’s lost some weight. His collarbones and spine are more discernible under your touch than they had been. At only 23, he holds a battered, beaten sorrow beyond his years, but a light lives in his eyes that will never go out. Who could blame him? You’re sure he’s in much better shape than anyone else in that hell hole.

His hand caresses your cheek, memorizing every eyelash and freckle.

“I missed you,” he brings his forehead to yours, “so much.” You feel the pain and emotion in his voice, and you remind yourself that it’s all over now. You’re not going to let him go back there. Ever. Your hand runs through his hair, and you bring your lips closer to his.

“I missed you too,” your warm breath fans over his face, and his breath hitches, “so, so much.” Your words echo his, and his heart lurches, feeling like it’s beating again for the first time in far too long. You hover there for a second, and you feel his hesitance. With everything that happened, all the slander and lies, he doesn’t know how you feel. The last thing he would ever do is try to initiate unless he knows you want to as much as he does. His unbroken, unwavering respect makes you smile - he’s still as much of a gentleman as ever.

You close the space between with no hesitation, and your lips meet. The corners of both your eyes are misty with relief and passion and everything left unsaid as he pulls you into his lap, as invested in you as ever. You kiss feverishly, his lips slightly chapped but still soft. You angle your head deepening the kiss, and his hands squeeze your waist. When you finally pull away to catch your breath, you pepper a few kisses across his face, trailing down to his neck before resting your head on his shoulder.

“Does anyone know you’re here?” you ask quietly, already dreading an answer.

“Not yet, I don’t think,” he answers, kissing the top of your head, “just got out.”

You pull your head up, staring at him in disbelief, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“You’re the first person I’ve come to see,” he continues, loving the look on your face, “though the whole world will probably hear in the papers tomorrow-” “Oh my god,” you mutter, gently batting his chest, pulling him close to you again, pressing more kisses to the side of his face.

“Well, who did you think I’d see, the Queen?” You laugh into his neck, and the sound sends warmth through his whole body, like someone finally turned on the sun. His chest aches, this time from being so full after so long, and his arms tighten around you again. You pull away suddenly, a few moments later.

“God, you must be starving. Do you want anything to eat?”

“Well…” he muses, and you know that look.

“Come on Puppy,” you say, finally getting to your feet, and helping him up with you.

Sitting at your kitchen table across from him, the love of your life, finishing leftovers and debating on certain wizard vs. muggle foods was something you truly, to your core, never knew if you’d be able to do. In a moment of warm, insurmountable determination, you know that you will let absolutely no harm come to this man. Your mind is made up, resolutely as you pour tea, plans already forming. He fought for himself and for you for so long, now it’s your turn.

And this is not a fight you’re capable of losing.

#sirius x y/n #sirius x reader #sirius black #harry potter x reader #marauders fic #marauders x you #marauders x reader #harry potter #marauders #marauders era

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chaos-and-recover · 3 years

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I am married to someone with an intense, if only midsized, fanbase. Parasocial relationships have been a part of our lives since long before it was a buzzword. It is weirdly fascinating to us, but sometimes a bit frightening. Now that it is the buzzword of the hour, seeing it misattributed is one of our pet peeves. I have seen people claim any amount of interaction on the fan's end is "pick me" (although fan interaction is necessary for his job) or claim that him utilizing social media makes him more culpable for forcing parasocial relationships on the fans because of power imbalances. If he is obvious about promoting something, though, it doesn't go over well because audiences don't want to feel like their being advertised to. Parasocial relationships are sometimes hurtful and scary on our end. 1) There was a woman who had been following his career since the 90s, when he wasn't as well known. She would often send him letters, gifts. Within the past 5 years something changed. I don't know why, but she suddenly began to consider him a boyfriend of sorts. He had never responded to these letters. I discovered she had been catfishing me under my private, locked social media accounts under a fake name, pretending to be someone I knew from high school. He blocked her on all social media. She harassed his coworkers until they blocked her too. A friend of mine said she went on TikTok to brag about how overly sensitive celebrities will block if you call them out for not being better than regular people. Meanwhile, we got a letter from her last year begging for him to forgive whatever she did that offended him. 2) 15ish years ago, in a magazine interview, my husband states his fave color. 2 years ago, I was having lunch with a friend, without my husband. A younger woman approached the table. She asksnif my husband was around and I said that he wasn't. Immediately her tone and expression changed to something nasty. She asked if I would at least give him a painting she had done of him. It was all done in various shades of the same color. I commented on this and she sneered at me with; "It's his fave color." I am still trying to be polite at this point and casually go; "Oh is it?" and she ery rudely snaps that I am his wife and I don't know his fave color like SHE does, so I have had it and say, assertively that I've had enough and she needs to leave. I gave it to my husband and told him the encounter. He laughed about it and said that it wasn't his fave color anymore. I had never thought to ask about his fave color because it just didn't seem important to either of us. He had never asked mine. Her twitter handle was on the painting so I looked it up. Her and a few friends were discussing the incident, using my first and last initials and my husband's first. They were discussing how clearly they know him deeper than I do, that he must secretly hate me if his own wife doesn't understand him like she does, and she altered the story so that she had seen him there earlier so I was clearly lying and that she had timidly approached the table and I had screamed at her that the color was ugly. I don't watch his interviews unless he specifically asks me to, because this is like listening in on someone's work meeting. This has been misconstrued by "fans" that I don't support him. I absolutely do, 200%, probably more than they support their husband's jobs, but watching his interviews isnt how i support him. I support him in our home, in our phone calls, in other ways he appreciates in our personal lives. Parasocial relationships are absolutely fine, until people start to believe they aren't in one, or that it is somehow more substantial than personal relationships the celebrities have with their loved ones. They truly think that they can Sherlock Holmes someone enough to truly know them better than the ones who actually know them in real life. (Sorry if you got this multiple times. Tumblr said it didnt send my ask.)

(Same anon from before) What fans need to understand is that parasocial relationships are good. It is fine to be a fan of someone, support their career, analyze them and write fanfiction and draw fanart of them or their characters. This is how my husband keeps his job, this is completely normal fan behavior. It isnt bad for the sake of existing. But they need to be aware that it is parasocial. I think the problem doesn't lie with parasocial relationships so much as when those in the relationship aren't aware that it is parasocial. Those who are aware of it being parasocial aren't the ones claiming that I do not know my husband but that they do or sending him love letters thinking their in a relationship with him. Those who know it is parasocial know that there is a difference between him answering questions in an interview (after being coached by a professional on how to appear and how to speak, and going into it knowing 90% of the questions) and having a conversation when there aren't cameras around, behind closed door. There is a difference between remembering a list of favorite things and watching someone enjoy those things in the moment every day in person. You just HAVE to be aware that they ARE parasocial.

First of all I gotta say I'm SUPER curious who you are (obviously you don't have to tell me!)! I've heard and seen things like what you described happen in several different fandoms of varying popularity, and I'm sorry you have to deal with that. But you're 100% right, engaging in regular fandom behaviour is perfectly normal, even interacting with creators/actors/musicians/whoever on social media (or in person if you meet them). It's HOW you interact with them. You need to both have your own and respect their boundaries.

I'm a fan of a couple 80s/90s boybands, as you just... ARE as an elder millennial lmao, and I can understand how easy it is as a young teen to go too far and cross boundaries because you just don't have the life experience or really, emotional regulation to interact with your idols in a normal way. But I've seen that now carry on well into adulthood, the things grown-ass women TO THIS DAY say about the wives of some of these band members is shocking (maybe not to you though since you've lived it!). I've had several conversations where I've had to remind people that literally every interaction they've had with these people at official meet & greets and stuff, even to an extent their interactions on social media, it's like the famous-person equivalent of Customer Service Voice. They're working! Of course they're nice to you when you paid like $500 to talk to them for thirty seconds! It doesn't mean you're friends!

(Not shaming paid M&Gs, I've done them, I'd do them again, it's an opportunity my 13 year old self never thought she'd had but like... I'm not secretly dating a Backstreet Boy because I met them for five seconds, y'know?)

Anyway yeah... all this to say, you're right. Parasocial relationships are a natural part of fandom and they're FINE and GOOD you just gotta respect boundaries.

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anarchist-billy · 5 years

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hi sweet pal! yeah I'm super new to the fandom so I've just been recced a bunch of 'classic' fics if you get my drift so they're pretty much all bottom steve, ain't nothing with that but bottom billy is just so delicious to me! you mentioned a fic rec list? yes please thank youuuu!!!

Hello, darling! First of all - WELCOME to the Harringrove fandom! I’m so excited you’re here to add to this incredible group of people in this wonderful, wild fandom of ours! 🖤

I’ll admit, I am not as well-read as some other folks around these parts, but I am the absolute madman that decided to head up the Harringrove Library project, so I do have access to a lengthy list of fics. Huge shoutout to all my cohorts who have been logging away with me for the last…Jesus….Six months? Yikes. We’ll get the blog live eventually, I promise!

Anyway…suffice all that to say, this is by no means an extensive list, merely a little smorgasbord of fics I could find that have been labeled as Bottom!Billy.

Ride the Lightning by @womenseemwicked - 11k

Billy takes Steve to a concert in Indianapolis. Steve does his damn best to fit in. His best is still preppy as shit.

you should find your way home (i’ll be at your front door) by @lucybrown45 - 10k

Billy’s California is not what Steve expects, but it’s good. It’s what he needs. For once he feels like he’s in the right place at the right time.

so this one I read some time ago, and I’m like 93% sure it’s just bottom!Billy, but don’t hold me to it if it ends up being verse. Either way, it’s such a good fic and definitely worth a read imho.

One Wild Night by KittyleFay - 8k

Upon discovering that Steve likes boys, Billy offers to take him to a gay bar on the edge of town to get him laid. There’s one problem: Billy keeps cock-blocking Steve.

It’s Not a One Way Street by im_your_hope - 6k

Sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can’t see.

(“Get warm, you fucker,” he whispers aggressively in Billy’s ear.)

This one features one of my favorite tropes - cuddling for warmth. ;)

We’re a Thousand Miles from Comfort (But There’s No Place I’d Rather Be) by HobbitSpaceCase - 5k

Insomnia and too many bad memories send Steve out looking for something to take his mind off his lonely life. What he finds is Billy Hargrove, a mysterious substance in the woods, and the fulfillment of his most deeply buried fantasies.

A Man After Midnight by moonflowers - 4k

When Steve first spotted him, Macho Man was, somewhat ironically, blasting out over the speakers. The dress was electric blue, and probably a little more eighties than seventies, but Steve wasn’t about to nitpick.

Honey Whiskey by quinnvicious - 4k

When they get to a point where they can just barely hear the thumping of the music over the chirping crickets, Billy’s serious expression cracks and he bursts out laughing like a drunken, deranged hyena. Steve can’t help but join in, and then they’re both giggling and stumbling around the forest like idiots. Steve bumps into him to snatch the bottle of whiskey from his fist and takes a burning swallow. It warms his blood too much in the balm of the edge-of-summer night and he drags the back of a hand over his mouth with a ragged sound before passing it back. Billy snickers at his expense and fishes a cigarette out of his pack.

Up Is Down and Down Is Up by dragonspell - 4k

A few short weeks ago, Steve would never have guessed in a million years that he would find himself here, watching Billy Hargrove fight back the urge to come just because Steve’s inside him. The thought would have been ludicrous; the idea of Billy in Steve’s bed absurd. And yet here they are, Billy pretending that he’s on a date with some girl while parking a few blocks down from Steve’s house. When Steve’s parents are home, he sneaks in through the window, but tonight, he’d used the front door.

(Or, a flimsy excuse to write Harringrove porn)

You love this, you need it. by Anonymous - 4k

Billy and Steve have a little dom and sub relationship. It helps billy when he needs to let go.

Plastic Bruises by spaceagelovesong - 3.5k

“slap bracelets,” billy repeats. “sounds like some kinky shit to me—“ he breaks off into another laugh.

steve practically glows. he loves seeing billy laugh. it’s scary, but, like, in a sexy way.

“you want me to get kinky,” steve says, in his best billy voice. “we can get kinky.”

Whoever logged this for the library put in the notes “If anyone has a snap bracelet fetish, do I have the fic for you…” lol

Lucky You by retoxification - 3.5k

All that Billy really wants in life is his hot boyfriend to fuck him until he can’t think.

That’s it, that’s the plot.

Fresh Blood by @sightetsound - 3k

Never had a lap-dance before,” Steve replied impishly.

The intensity of Billy’s stare wiped Steve’s grin clean off his face.

“You want a lap-dance so bad, I’ll give you one.

Anniversary by spaceagelovesong - 2k

billy hargrove knows how to fuck, but steve harrington knows how to make love.

it’s been about a year, but neither of them are counting. after all, every night together is a celebration.

we love making (whispers) by pally (palliris) - 2k

Steve loves breaking Billy apart; loves being torn apart, himself.

Sore by @womenseemwicked - 1.5k

Sometimes Billy works out too hard and can hardly move the next day. Lucky he has Steve to take care of him then.

And now…Not sure if A/B/O is your thing, but I figured I’d include two fics that are Omega!Billy, just in case. ;) I love both of these fics a lot and they’re hot as heck.

Heatstroke by HobbitSpaceCase - 8k

Billy is out of suppressants and going into Heat. Steve finds him. It’s too bad Billy can’t have this every time.

Don’t Belong To Anyone (Else) by @sparkleeye - 30k

Billy is a stubborn idiot and goes to school during his heat.

Honorable Mention: Those American Thighs by tracy7307 - 1.5k

He placed his hands on the tops of Billy’s golden thighs – spread his fingers apart and rubbed from his knees up, up, until his fingertips dipped under the legs of Billy’s shorts. The hair rasped under his hands. His thighs were still a bit slick from that suntan oil that Billy loved to use and from the sweat of working outdoors on a summer day.

This one isn’t Bottom!Billy per se, as it’s intercrural, but it’s Billy’s thighs that are being fucked and gosh golly it is HOT. I’m kinda obsessed with it. So it gets a shoutout here.

I also found a couple Tumblr drabbles buried in my reblogs for you:

Prompt fill by @trashmouse

Prompt fill by thebeautyinchains

And here’s a post/drabble I forgot I wrote about some first time Bottom!Billy. ;)

Finally, I will leave you with this art piece I found in my hunt by @delphineygt. I think most of the Sexy fanart has been banished from tungl dot com at this point, but this gem survived and I’m so happy about it so I wanted to share.

Anyway, that’s all I’ve got to offer for now. Happy reading, friend! 🤗

#harringrove #fic rec #harringrove fic rec #bottom!billy hargrove #asks #me and the mouse in my pocket

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writingfromkitchenator · 5 years

Text

I Promise

Drawn/Written for the 2019 Louden Swain Fanfic/Fanart Project run by the amazing @mrswhozeewhatsis! (Check’m out. Seriously.)

Characters: Gabriel x OFC, Castiel x OFC, Dean, Sam, Adam, Bobby, Lucifer, Michael

Words: 2,577

Warnings: Character death, angst, depression, some fighting

Based on the song Worlds Collide by Louden Swain

This is the first time I’ve done art for a fic and realistically, the first art peace I’ve done in a long time. Hope you all like it, it was a blast to build in photoshop.

As always, feedback is highly welcome!

This wasn’t her world.

It all felt different, strange, like she belonged here but didn’t. The air tasting faint, but nature still calling to her as it always did, but this was more out of curiosity now than familiarity.

She blinked, staring at the sun through the leaves, looking at the paleness of her hands, feeling a little exposed.

How did she get here? Had someone saved her? She knew her world was crumbling, but she had been trying to put it back together, thought it had been working, she was starting to restore what had once been.

“Hey there little lady.”

Making you stay these glory days

Why do they have to end?

She blinks and looks around to the golden eyed man standing before her, his eyes twinkling with mischief and curiosity as he gave her a quick sweeping look.

“What are you doing in a place like this?”

“I wish I knew that myself.” She said softly. “It seems that I’ve gotten a little lost and stumbled upon an angel.”

He grins widely. “Ah, so we are gifted too, doesn’t that make things interesting? The name’s Gabriel.”

She nods, but doesn’t return hers. “Where are we exactly?”

“In a bit of pickle actually,” Gabriel said, probably a little too sincerely, but he holds out his hand. “Can I help you get away from here?”

With you my friend, making your way

The older I get harder I fit

A smile reaches her and she nods, taking his hand. “I’d like that Gabriel, thank you.”

It was the start of something between the two of them, hardly knowing each other but feeling more connected to someone than they had in years. It didn’t take him long to convince her to stay and it didn’t take her long to get herself acquainted with this world.

Keeping it, saving face

Keeping pace

Making the grade

She started to love this world more than what she had her own, it felt more pure, less corrupted, and Gabriel certainly helped those feelings. Day by day she felt herself falling deeper and deeper into love with him but unsure how to express it, having never encountered it before, too used to being alone, only having nature around her.

Gabriel protected her, kept her safe and made her laugh at every chance her got.

It's funny how worlds collide

It was strange, she expected regret the first time she really thought back and remembered that she didn’t truly belong here, but was only ever overcome with a sense of peace, that she could look back and reflect without worry.

Taking it all in stride

Gabriel didn’t want to admit that this was what he’d always wanted, some days drawing himself away from it, both to protect her and to give himself time to think. He knew she thought this world was mostly at peace, that there wasn’t any real danger, and he knew that he was partly to blame for this.

He also knew that she was not stupid. She would figure things out eventually.

Seemingly satisfied with this divide

He had a bad feeling, so he did the only thing he could think of.

He introduced her to the Winchester’s.

They weren’t happy, keeping someone with her talents in the dark, especially now, but they were quick to understand why, they knew the look in Gabriel’s eye when he talked about her. The way he moved closer to her when they talked about the fight to come, his arm wrapping around her when she talked about helping.

He knew what she had come from, she had told him of what her world had been, and he didn’t want anything like that for her again. He didn’t want her to be alone.

On the quiet, he asked Castiel to watch out for her. He knew what was coming, ultimately they all did, and he wanted to make sure that she would be okay.

“Why do you have to go?” She asked him one morning, wiping her dirt covered hands on her favourite floral dress, looking at him curiously from the middle of her garden, her favourite spot.

Gabriel gives a small smile. “Someone has to go save these losers, right? I can’t let them have all the fun.”

She frowns at him slightly, feeling worried. “I don’t want you to get hurt Gabriel.”

He chuckles lightly and comes over to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be fine sugar, just…if you don’t hear anything, call Castiel, okay?”

“But-”

Gabriel kisses her deeply for a long moment, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time he could hold her in his arms.

“I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

She watched him go, an ache in her chest, the flowers reaching up for her, curling around her gently and she sighs deeply.

From that first day, deep in the lake

Why did it have to end?

Castiel went looking for her. He’d expected to hear from her but after two weeks, it had been nothing but silence, leaving the three of them worried, hoping that no one had found out about her.

She hadn’t moved from her garden, her hair wet from the recent rains as she stared at the damp earth, the garden dead, petals floating in the air around her, the only sign of life left.

He kneels in front of her, her eyes red and unfocused and he sighs, feeling her pain.

Carefully, Castiel picks her up and carries her inside her home, the petals finally drifting away in the wind.

With you my friend, floating away

The highest of highs, we'd improvise

“Castiel?” She asked quietly after some time in silence, wrapped in blankets in front of a fire, her eyes coming up to meet his.

“I’m here.” Castiel moves closer, passing her a glass of water which she takes and slowly drink. “It’s going to be okay.”

She nods and blinks slowly. “I…I want to help. Next time. I want to be there when you face him.

Castiel had nothing to say to that.

High fives and fights like this

On nights like this I long for that day

She was there when it all came to a head and no one got in her way after Castiel got Michael out of the way. Even though it was now Sam standing there, they had already had this discussion, and she could see past the physical being standing before her.

The flowers on her dress sprung to life, curling around her around her arms and legs, roots bursting through the ground around them all, Castiel, Dean and Bobby all moving quickly away.

Her eyes burned with fury as the ground shook beneath them and Lucifer could do nothing as the vines and roots took hold of him.

It quickly became clear that she was stronger.

It's funny how worlds collide

Michael reappeared, going for her, but he too was quickly bound up.

No one could really believe that she had two archangels now at her mercy.

Taking it all in stride

“I’ve watched one world fall already,” She snarled. “I’ve had another broken because of your selfishness, I will not sit by and watch you two fools make a further mess of things!”

With a clench of her hands, the vines wrapped around the two throats, cutting off any response that either angel had. It started cutting into their skin, glowing underneath.

“You’re going to kill them.” Dean said, stepping forward, eyeing her carefully.

“No.” She snapped, her eyes locked onto the two. “If they want to survive this, then they will have to leave their vessels lest I wipe all memory of them from the Earth!”

This seemed enough for Michael, ejecting himself from Adam, only to suddenly find himself trapped in the above, Adam passing out quickly.

“I didn’t say you could go anywhere.” She said coldly, walking forward as the ball of light struggled in the air, her gaze now locked on Lucifer, his red eyes burning as he remained still within her trap. “You two are going to work this out where you can’t hurt anyone.”

Lucifer’s lips curled in a defiant snarl, even as the cuts to his skin started to grow wider.

Dean was now being held back by Bobby. “You’re going to kill him!”

“Don’t think I can’t force you out of Sam,” She said quietly, standing over Lucifer, her eyes cold. “Gabriel didn’t want to keep me out to protect me, he was trying to protect you.”

Somehow, Lucifer managed to talk. “This…isn’t…over…”

With that, he left Sam’s body, trapped in the air like Michael. There was a click and a vine throws something the ground, the two angels being thrown in, what sounded like shrieks cutting through the air, and as the portal closes, all the vines and roots suddenly vanish, petals filling the air, an unearthly silence filling the space as Sam and Adam slowly look up.

Castiel hurries forward and catches her as she collapses.

Seemingly satisfied with this divide

Things took time to settle after that, after all, there were a lot of angry beings that the apocalypse had been stopped. The Winchester’s and Castiel parted ways for a while, Sam and Dean wanted to sort out things with Adam, and Castiel had a promise to keep.

He took her somewhere new, away from the rest of the world, surrounded by nature where he hoped that she could grieve and recover. He knew that she normally didn’t use her power like that, that it was more for growing and lifting life back up than for harming others, and that too was now plaguing her.

Her flowers had turned dull and she was seeming more out of place now than what she had ever felt.

“The pain will pass,” Castiel would always say softly to her, particularly on the very bad days. “I promise.”

“He promised too,” She would reply. “But he still hasn’t come back.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

It's funny how worlds collide

Castiel did his best to keep her going, checking in when he could with Sam and Dean. He’s closest accomplishment after several months was to finally get her to stop growing things with thorns.

They all knew it was would take time.

Taking it all in stride

A part of her felt wrong when she would laugh at something Castiel would do. It was innocent enough, and it helped, but it always reminded her of the laughter she would share with Gabriel, often sending her into a melancholic spiral.

Castiel, in more recent times, had found himself holding her when these happened, gently rocking her, trying to do his best to help her through the worst of the pain that the conflicting emotions would bring.

“The pain will pass. I promise.”

Seemingly satisfied with this divide

After just over a year, Castiel happily reported colour returning to some of her flowers. The boys didn’t understand, but they believed him about the progress, especially when she found Castiel on the phone, joining their conversation and checking in with how they were going.

It's funny how worlds collide

A routine was starting to develop between the two of them, they moved with ease around each other in the house with ease. She would teach him about the simple things of life, of being human. He would teach her about the stars above and what Heaven was really like.

Taking it all in stride

Sam, Dean, Bobby and Adam visited, stunned to see the two of them living so easily together.

“You know, I don’t think I ever though that Cas would pass as a human,” Dean said, grinning. “But looks like you’ve trained him pretty well.”

She smiles, even as Castiel flushes slightly. “It just takes time Dean, it’s not like it’s impossible to do.”

Dean shrugs. “Well, it’s good to see you doing better at least.”

Her smile falters slightly, but she shakes her head. “I’m getting there. That’s all I can ask for.”

She stays in the room for a little while, but it was hard to miss the slight distant look in her eyes still, eventually excusing herself and heading out into the garden.

“Is she really doing okay Cas?” Sam asked. “She…still looks pretty beat.”

Castiel sighs heavily. “I don’t think she’ll ever be truly there, what her and Gabriel had…it can’t be replaced, nor would I hope to, but I can be there in the darker moments, help her through those.”

“You’re in love with her.”

They all looked at Bobby, Sam and Dean go to deny it, but Castiel quickly averts his eyes to the floor.

“Dude…” Dean’s voice was quiet as he stares at Castiel. “Seriously?”

Castiel sighs and stands, moving to the window, where he can see her in the garden, working away. “It happened before I even understood it and…we’ve had this discussion. She feels the draw as I do, but we are both under no illusion as to where her heart truly belongs.”

“Cas…she does understand that Gabriel is gone?” Sam asked. “I mean, there’s no way that he can come back, right?”

He is silent for a long moment. “I always tell her that stranger things have happened, but the way things look now, two archangels dead and two locked away in the cage without any hints of it changing, and still no sign of God, it doesn’t look like it will.”

“So tell her that man,” Dean said. “Tell her that and move her on.”

“It’s not that simple Dean.”

“Of course it is!”

Castiel shakes his head and goes to answer but is cut off.

“It would break her, wouldn’t it?”

He looks at Adam sadly and nods. “She used to talk about finding a way to go back home but…there’s nothing left there for her, her world died long ago and she was the only thing keeping a small piece of it together. If I took away that hope, she’d go there and she’d die.”

A silence falls amongst them, all silently agreeing that they don’t want that to happen, but not really sure that this is the best course of action either.

Bobby breaks the silence. “Well, for now, until we can think of something, you keep doing what you’re doing Cas, it’s keeping her happy, for the most part, I think that’s the best we can hope for at the moment.”

Castiel nods. “I’m trying.”

“Good,” Bobby nods and stands. “Make sure you keep us informed of any changes, I’d hate to think of something going wrong, which it sadly tends to do. Come on you lot, we’ve stayed our welcome today.”

She waved goodbye to them, not coming free from her garden. Dean clasps Castiel on the shoulder before moving to the car and he waits for them to disappear amongst the trees.

Castiel had barely stepped into her garden when she was there, falling into his arms as sobs leaves her.

“I’m sorry,” She sobs, clutching at him. “I’m so sorry Castiel.”

He holds her close. “Hush now, it’s okay, you did well today.” She continues to cry and Castiel plants a gently kiss into her hair. “Come on, let’s get you inside and warm.”

“It hurts so much.”

“I know it does.” He rests his head atop hers. “But it’s going to be okay, I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Seemingly satisfied with this divide…

#supernatural #2019 Louden Swain FanFic FanArt Project #gabriel x ofc #castiel x ofc #dean #sam #bobby #adam #lucifer #michael #Season 5 #character death #angst #depression #fighting

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idratherstayslytherin · 5 years

Text

Re-writing the story I once wrote, but not really

Some of you may remember my fic “The Feelings We Can’t Let Go”.

It began as a head canon, then the lovely person on tumblr wrote the more put together version of it. We decided to write the fic together. It was going well until university and UK fucked me over. During this whole madness my co-writer disappeared from tumblr and I can’t contact her. I have tried it many times. She didn’t reply. I started writing the fic myself determined to finish it, but my life is hell rn and I don’t have the time to write the two last chapters. I do have the outline and hopefully after i start earning money and start actually getting better mentally and studying and money wise, I’ll finish it. For now I went back to the first version of the headcanon I made with my co-writer and noticed A LOT OF GRAMMAR mistakes as well as some things that weren’t making sense. I wanted to re write this kind of first chapter, so I did. I added a lot of new text, fixed all the mistakes that I could see and ta da! There you have it. You have to be happy with just this until I have the time to finish this damn fic. I want it to be enjoyable, but also make sense, maybe even help people with their own problems, I want it to seem real and I want it to be a lovely love story. I’m a romantic shoot me. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know what you think of it <3 I love reading your comments. Also if any artist wants to idk make a fanart of my work now or after I finish this damn fic and have a beta read it , then feel free to do so. Okay, I’m talking way too much, just STFU Ola, no one wants to listen to you rumble :D

//////////////

Harry felt like he should have wanted to go back to Hogwarts. Even worse, he knew he should go back there. But he just couldn’t convince himself, not even with Hermione and Ginny returning. Then again, Ron wasn’t going back either, and he didn’t even feel guilty about it, not even after Hermione talked to him about the importance of learning and getting the best possible results in their NEWTs. He got a bit of yelling too, but Hermione directed most of it at Ron, leaving Harry to deal with an angry and sad Ginny, who wanted him to go back.

But there they were on the first of September at King’s Cross station saying their goodbyes and waving after the Hogwarts Express before apparating back to Grimmauld Place. Ron had no intentions of spending the year at the Burrow, it was too far away from London, and he wanted to help George out at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley. He also admitted that he couldn’t really deal with his parents’ grief, and Harry was more than happy to offer him accommodation, not only because Ron was his best mate, but he really needed the company. Grimmauld Place might have looked a lot less gloomy since they renovated it, spending all June and most of July sorting and chucking out old furniture and artefacts, knocking down some of the walls (this being the only way of getting rid of the horrible yelling portrait of Sirius’ mother), and painting the rest in brighter shades, the house was still way too big for one person.

Soon, having turned Hogwarts down, Harry found himself obliged to decide on what he wanted to do with his life or at least the foreseeable future. Of course everyone expected him to become an auror, it seemed like the most obvious choice, but despite admittedly being interested in the job back in their fifth year, he wasn’t sure anymore if he wanted to go along with it. He might have defeated Voldemort, but was that really what he was destined to do all his life? Hunt down dark wizards?

He decided on meeting with Kingsley to discuss further possibilities. After getting detailed information about all of jobs he recommended to Harry, and spending three days straight going through the descriptions, forms and books he got, he was sure he would either want to become an Unspeakable or a Curse-breaker. He would have been happy to dive back into his books and papers to choose one of the two jobs. However Ron was already complaining about the whole house being littered with the papers; how Harry did nothing except sit on the couch, read and compare and read and compare; so Harry decided to give himself some time to consider his choice, meanwhile enjoying his freedom.

Do you seriously want to be an Unspeakable?" Ron asked, his mouth full. This was the only part of the last few days he was enjoying, the takeaway they had every evening. "You can never shut up about what you are doing. Do you really think you could go without telling anyone anything about your job?"

"Probably not." Harry shrugged, picking up another slice of pizza. "Though I guess I’ll have to, and it will be worth it.

"C’mon, Curse-breaking seems much more interesting. I’d go with that without hesitation."

"Well then why don’t you? And let me become who I want to be?" Harry snapped. He ate the last bit of pizza, and wiped his hands. " Sorry I didn’t mean that, I’m tired. " He apologised as soon as he realised Ron said nothing that should have angered him. He rubbed his eyes.

"Hardly surprising, you barley slept these past few days, mate, seriously. Just forget about this job thing for a while, it isn’t going to do you any good. Besides, it’s not like you have to start work instantly, you have enough money to live happily for the rest of your life."

"I did sleep last night." Harry protested, deciding not to comment on the money part, as what Ron said was true, he did have a vault full of money. His friend didn’t, and even though he offered to help them, they never accepted it. What he also didn’t mention was that even though he did get a bit of sleep, he kept waking up from nightmares, and if it hadn’t been for the coffee he had every two hours, he would have nodded off halfway through the day. The nightmares, and pretty much everything else connected to the war were one of those topics they avoided. It sometimes resulted in uncomfortable silences, Harry agreed that it was better this way.

"I wonder who else from our year is going back to school." Ron said, changing the topic. "I know Neville decided to do the auror training. And Seamus isn’t going back either, he said something about opening some pub in Diagon."

"I think I heard Dean was going back."

"Oh yeah I heard that too. And Padma and Parvati. I don’t know about anyone else though."

"Me neither. I only know that most of the Slytherins aren’t returning, a lot of them got house arrests with their parents and stuff like that."

"Malfoy?"

"House arrest, in France. But I think he will be taking NEWTs."

"He deserves to rot in Azkaban with his father" Ron scowled.

"He isn’t that bad. I mean he did save my life once" Harry said, though he didn’t sound too sure about it. He might not have despised him as much as he did before, but it was still Malfoy.

"Yeah, and then you saved his, so don’t get any funny ideas of owing him or anything" Ron told him, making Harry grin, Ron knew him more than anyone else. He did feel like he owed Malfoy, a bit at least, but he guessed that speaking in his favour at the trials made them equal.

"Alright" Harry laughed. He vanished the empty pizza boxes, and stood up, yawning. "I’m tired, let’s pack it in for the day."

"I second that" Ron stood up as well, and the two friends made their way upstairs to their bedrooms, Ron in one of the guest ones, Harry sleeping in Sirius’s old room.

Days passed, Harry visited Kingsley once again, then spent another day reading before eventually deciding on Curse-breaking, which seemed ideal for him except for one small thing: he needed an Exceeds Expectations in Potions. Which was impossible to say the least with his skill and knowledge. So he went to the Ministry again, and consulted with several people before agreeing to let them find him a tutor.

He ended up spending a week doing whatever he wanted, before he got any news on the matter. He visited Ron and George; he went to Muggle London; he started repainting Sirius’s old motorbike that Arthur fixed for him, leaving the finishing touches for Harry. He also sat around at home, waiting for Ginny’s face to appear in the fireplace, so she could tell him about school, and he could tell her how much he missed her. He also thought about who will be chosen as his tutor. Was it going to be some weird old Potions master like Slughorn or someone distant and cold, but really talented and intelligent like Snape, or maybe just someone of his age, who was better at the subject than him? The Ministry owl arrived on Friday, with the name and address of his tutor. But something was wrong, the address was somewhere in France. And the name was Draco Lucius Malfoy.

"Are you kidding me? Malfoy?" Ron asked horrified, when he read through the letter Harry shoved into his face as soon as he got home that evening. "Don’t tell me there isn’t anyone else in the whole wizarding world who could help you in Potions. Why did they have to choose that git?"

"I have no idea" Harry sighed. "But it’s not just that. Why France? Why can’t it be someone here in London? I don’t speak French, I don’t know anyone there, it just doesn’t make any sense."

"Can’t you ask the Ministry to find you someone else?"

"Already tried. But apparently Malfoy is the best solution, as we know each other, and we would both benefit from it."

"Both benefit from it?! How would you both benefit from it? What would Malfoy benefit from it? You are lucky to actually learn something if you don’t get killed, but how can he benefit from it?"

"Search me" Harry rolled his eyes.

"When are you leaving?"

"I have a Portkey for next Wednesday."

"Wednesday? But that’s less than a week!"

"I know, but I guess I’ll just have to do it, no matter what."

"This sucks, mate."

"I know. If I don’t get an O after this, I swear I’ll be using some Unforgivables on some people."

The next few days passed quickly, way too quickly in Harry’s opinion, and soon he found himself at the Ministry, looking at the corkscrew on the table, his belongings in his pocket, all shrunken.

"Here goes nothing" he muttered, before taking hold of the charmed corkscrew, and letting it transport him in only a few seconds to his destination: a little French town.

From what he saw on his walk to the Malfoys’ place (Kingsley thought it would be safer for him to arrive outside the town for whatever reason), he thought it could have been England, the small cottages were no different from those they had back there. The one Malfoy and Narcissa were living in was just like the others, a simple Muggle house. The Ministry told him that he would be staying there in a spare bedroom made for him with the help of the expansion charm, until he mastered the needed level of potionmaking, practising in Malfoy's lab. Apart from this, all he knew was that Narcissa had a Muggle job helping out at a clothes shop in the town, and Draco also worked a bit from home, neither of them allowed to leave the boundaries the Ministry had set, and neither of them possessing a wand.

Narcissa greeted him when he arrived, looking as pale and tired as ever, and much to Harry’s surprise wearing a simple blouse and jeans, something he never thought he’d see her in. She showed him around the house before retreating to the living room where she was sorting through some papers, telling him that Malfoy was in his room, and that he should make himself comfortable in the his bedroom. Harry thanked her, and did as she suggested, unpacking, and quickly Flooing Ron and Ginny before lying down, hoping for a decent night’s sleep, not only so he would have all the energy he needed for next day to face Malfoy, but because he would have felt extremely embarrassed if he had woken up screaming from his nightmares like he did sometimes. Then again, a simple muffliato charm should do for the latter.

Next day he woke up feeling surprisingly fresh and well-rested, that didn't mean he was ready to study Potions. With Malfoy. In France. When he could have been at home, spending time with his friends, or just enjoying his freedom.

But then he reminded himself he needed this to get the job he wanted, so gritting his teeth, he headed downstairs to where Narcissa said the lab was, where his old nemesis was already waiting for him.

"Malfoy" he greeted him, sitting down at the table looking around. The walls were filled with shelves of books and tiny bottles, each of them full of liquids of different colours, labelled neatly. The work space however, was empty except for two cauldrons and a copy of a simple Potions schoolbook. Harry's eyes shifted towards Malfoy, who looked pretty much the same as he did the last time Harry saw him, apart from his white-blonde hair being longer, the strands escaping his elegant hair. He also seemed much thinner, Harry noticed, he must have lost at least 20 pounds, it made the boy's features much sharper and angled than they were before.

"Potter." he nodded, restraining himself from scowling, sitting down opposite to Harry. "So, I’ve heard the Chosen One may not be as perfect as everyone thought so. Problems with Potions? Seriously?"

"Shut up Malfoy!" Harry snapped. He wasn’t expecting any different, but it still angered him that the other boy was already getting under his skin.

"Whatever, Potter." Malfoy shrugged. "But then don’t expect to get anything better than a D." He smirked.

"Fine." Harry said angrily. "Just shut up about other things and let’s get on with it. I get it, I won’t pass the stupid exam without the help of perfect Draco Malfoy, who is the best Ministry-recommended tutor in the whole Wizarding world, but we’d make better progress if you actually started explaining things" he snarled.

For a moment Harry thought this would be the end, and Malfoy would stalk out, but after glaring at each other, the blonde broke the eye contact and opened the course book without any further ado, and started explaining everything, starting from the very basics. Harry soon found, that even though he would never admit it to anyone else, Malfoy was a good teacher. He cleared up some things Harry previously didn't understand; and apart from the snarky comments, he was almost patient. Well he did snap and start shouting and swearing when Harry messed up a potion even after trying several times, but still. He was way better than what Harry had expected.

Soon they developed a daily routine which consisted of going down to have breakfast on their own, avoiding each other; having a short, theoretical lesson in the morning; having lunch on their own; a longer practical lesson in the afternoon; spending time on their own; then having dinner on their own, except for when Narcissa insisted that they should sit together, which usually resulted in glares and uncomfortable silences.

But Harry was definitely improving at potions, and after all, that was what mattered. As two weeks passed, and October was drawing nearer, Harry found himself tired of arguing with Malfoy, and the other boy must have felt the same way, because all of a sudden the nasty remarks were gone, and they were actually capable of spending time in one room without wanting to kill one another. This definitely was an improvement. Malfoy would actually compliment him if he did something right, and Harry would smile at him. They didn’t try so hard to avoid each other in the time between the lessons, but actually greeted each other, and sometimes even stopped to have short conversations. Nothing too serious or deep, only little things, but this was already much better, Harry realised that Malfoy’s company was actually quite alright sometimes, now that they weren’t constantly arguing.

Weeks passed, and Harry was getting used to living there, and as now he felt more comfortable around the Malfoys, he decided it was time to change some things. He started going for walks around the town and the countryside. He spent a bit more time with Malfoy, they stayed in the lab every so often after the lessons and just talked. One evening Harry even asked Narcissa if he could cook something. They have been eating takeaway pretty much everyday, and Harry didn’t mind it, but after over a month, he had to admit it, it was getting a little repeatable, and he was craving a home-made meal.

Narcissa was surprised, but happy to let Harry work in the kitchen, so after making a quick supply run to the shop around the corner to get all the ingredients he needed for the curry, his favourite dish, he occupied the kitchen.

As he started heating the oil and chopping up the onions, the unmistakable smell of cooking filled his nose, he realised how much he missed it. Cooking was one of those things the Dursleys made him do, but he didn’t really mind it when he was making food for himself or his friends, and after seven years at Hogwarts without cooking, he enjoyed experimenting with all kinds of recipes that he learned from Muggle cook books.

He had started dicing the meat when he grew aware of someone watching him. As he looked up, he saw Malfoy standing in the doorway, watching him.

"You know, it’s not too polite to stare" he said, smirking at the boy. "And do try to be more secretive if you want to look at me." He added, grinning as he saw Malfoy blush, which was definitely something he hadn’t expected to see. Ever. But now that he did, he couldn't stop laughing, making the blonde boy blush even harder, his normally pale face was a deep shade of red. "You should see your face now!" he choked out, holding onto the counter as he tried to calm down, suppressing the laughter that was bubbling in his stomach. Malfoy just stood by the door, glaring at him, his face still flushed. "I’m just messing with you, no need to plan my death" he said with a shy grin as he finally stopped laughing, and went back to chopping the meat, but still keeping one eye on the other boy.

"I wasn’t. I never did. Plan your death, I mean." Malfoy said quietly. Harry looked up and saw that the boy's face was serious. Harry swallowed thickly and nodded, not knowing what to say, so he just kept staring at him, green eyes locked onto the pair of grey ones.

"So, do you want me to show you how to cook?" Harry broke the silence, moving to one side so Malfoy had his space at the counter, offering the boy a little smile. The blonde boy hesitated, running one hand through his hair, and chewing on his bottom lip, which caught Harry’s attention for some reason, he couldn’t explain, he looked away embarrassed, afraid of being caught staring. Malfoy made his way over to the counter. Harry carried on cutting up the meat, giving the other boy smaller tasks, explaining why he did things the way he did, and within half an hour the spicy scent of the simmering curry was filling the room. After tidying up, Harry sat down on one of the chairs, fanning himself with a piece of newspaper that was laying on the dining table, his gaze fluttering to the other boy, who was pouring himself a glass of water, before leaning back onto the counter, flushed, but this time from the heat of the cooking, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, his hair messy and curly from the vapour, making the lines of his face look softer. Harry didn't even know why he thought of that, shaking his head, he stood up, and started setting the table.

"So where did you learn how to cook?" Malfoy asked him, his tone genuinely curious, something Harry still wasn’t completely used to.

"The Dursleys, you know, my foster parents made me cook for them, so I had to, but I actually always enjoyed it a bit." He shrugged.

"They made you cook for them?" Malfoy asked, sounding horrified.

"That wasn’t the worst part. I had to do all the cleaning too, I could never go anywhere. I had to pretend that I didn’t exist whenever they had guests over, and I lived in the broom closet until I was eleven."

"You lived in the broom closet?!" The blonde boy echoed, his voice raised. Harry nodded. "That’s even worse than how we used to treat our house-elves. At least they had proper bedrooms."

Harry just shrugged again, and went to serve the dinner without a word, he didn’t understand why Malfoy was so shocked by how the Dursleys have treated him, or why he cared at all. Dinner passed quietly, apart from Narcissa complimenting Harry on the curry, but otherwise they ate in a silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, it was just strange. He noticed Malfoy looking at him few times, but he always looked away when Harry caught him staring. When they finished eating, Harry did the washing up by magic, not wanting to spend the rest of the evening scrubbing pans, something Draco watched almost in awe, telling Harry his wand was taken by the Ministry, and how he missed using magic, how strange doing everything manually was.

They carried on talking, and walked up the stairs together, but when they stopped on the landing, instead of parting ways, Malfoy asked Harry whether he could explain Muggle technology to him, and Harry was happy to do that, so he followed the other boy into his bedroom. He was surprised to see that the room wasn’t much different from the one he was staying in, except for having more books and other bits of things. But the walls were plain white, the bed wasn’t the posh four-poster he was expecting, and wasn’t covered in Slytherin green sheets with silver lining. It was just a simple bedroom.

"What were you expecting, Potter?" Draco smirked, and Harry realised he must have been staring in shock. "This isn’t Malfoy Manor."

"I don’t know. I just thought it would be more like you."

"More like me? And what’s that like?"

"Well definitely not this" Harry said, gesturing around the room.

"Oh and you know me so well that you are positive that I loved Malfoy Manor and now couldn’t stand living somewhere that wasn’t green and grey and silver and black and full of snake-patterns" Draco snorted.

"That’s not what I… oh never mind" Harry rolled his eyes, already feeling irritated with Malfoy, but also himself for thinking that they could actually spend time together properly, without things like this. He was on the verge of walking back to his own bedroom, when he noticed that Malfoy wasn’t glaring at him, he was smirking. Harry sighed, and flopped down onto the bed next to the boy, and started telling him how toasters and TVs and computers worked. He actually enjoyed it more than he thought he would, and he was surprised to see that Malfoy wasn’t being difficult, but genuinely curious and interested, and would listen to Harry’s explanations without interrupting, only showering him with questions afterwards, a fascinated smile spreading over his face, Harry thought that Malfoy was much nicer this way, smiling, friendly, patient and interested in almost a childlike way.

They made this a regular thing, often making breakfast or dinner together, and spending hours before going to sleep talking about Muggle things, and sometimes bringing up other topics as well, and Harry realised he was starting to enjoy Malfoy’s company.

Harry was also improving in Potions, he was now able to make quite a lot of decent ones, and Malfoy was almost proud of him. However then he accidentally burned the cauldron down, causing the blonde boy to give him silent treatment and avoid him after yelling at him about being irresponsible and hopeless.

But after a day of ignoring each other they called truce, and went back to doing things together. This was when Harry realised actually how much time they spent together, and how he talked to Ron or Hermione and Ginny less and less, calling the girls late that evening, feeling guilty. Hermione told him about the lessons, and asked him questions about potions, she was happy with his progress, reminding him again how important it was, and that he needed to carry on. She then left Harry to talk to Ginny privately. They talked about school mostly, and how they missed each other, and how Harry had to go home for Christmas, because Ginny couldn’t go any longer without talking to him properly, face to face, or kissing him, or touching him, and before saying goodbye, Ginny pulled her shirt up, teasing Harry, saying all kinds of dirty words she could think of, leaving the boy with a hard-on. He was too embarrassed to wank, being separated from Malfoy by only one thin wall.

He kept thinking about Ginny, even though he didn’t call her for some time, thinking how things would be when they both got back home. Will they get married straight away? Will they have kids? And if yes, how many? He missed her, a lot, but he had to admit, these thoughts were scaring him slightly. He knew Ron and Hermione were planning on getting married and moving in together when Hermione graduated, but Harry wasn’t sure if he could imagine himself settling down already and becoming a father.

In the end he found himself in the lab, as he did quite often for some time now, deciding it was the best time to practice, trying to make some dreamless sleep for himself, but failing, which meant he could only hope for a decent night’s sleep without nightmares, even though he knew it was unlikely.

He did seem to have less nightmares than before, but now when he did, they were the worst ever, and he would wake up screaming, and couldn’t go back to sleep properly afterwards, and would be stressed and irritable all day. He just really hoped Malfoy never heard him screaming, embarrassed even by the thought of it. One night he felt two unfamiliar firm hands shaking him awake, and a voice, unsure yet steady telling him to breathe, and how it only had been a dream, and finally when Harry was calm enough, handing him a vial of dreamless sleep, he thought he never could have been more thankful, even though he was indeed extremely embarrassed.

Malfoy gave him dreamless sleep and that was all that mattered, because he slept until 1 PM next day, and when he woke up, he feels much better than other mornings, except for the sadness and anger that lingered from the nightmare, but he was used to that. He didn’t even want to get up from bed, he wanted to just stay there and disappear, somehow slip into nonexistence. It was mostly on the days after his nightmares, but sometimes even on just ordinary days, that he thought of what it would have been like to stay dead. He knew some people would have missed him, but with the Horcrux in him destroyed, the world didn’t need him anymore. And it wasn’t bad, it didn’t hurt at all, Sirius had been right, he didn’t feel anything. It didn’t really feel like being dead. It didn’t feel like anything to be honest. But he came back, even though he wasn’t sure he should have.

He decided to go and tell Malfoy that he wasn’t in the mood to study, but he didn’t find the boy in his bedroom or the lab or anywhere else. Or at least anywhere he was expecting to find him, he realised why as he entered the kitchen, there stood Malfoy he was cooking something by the stove, it smelt amazing. The smell of cinnamon mixed with apples and something sweet filled Harry's nose.

"Hi." he said quietly, stopping in the doorway.

"Hey," Malfoy looked up to greet him. "You look like shit" he informed him. Harry snorted. He didn’t need Malfoy to tell him that. He felt like shit. "I’m making you food. Sit."

"What? Harry looked up at him, shocked, unsure if he heard him right. Malfoy was making him breakfast. Malfoy. For him. How did this even happen? And why?

"Can’t you ever do just one thing you’re asked for?" The blonde boy asked, rolling his eyes. "Are you really that much of a rebel?" He asked, as he watched Harry sit down, still dazed, he smiled. His voice was softer than the usual, and Harry couldn't understand why. He continued to stare at the blonde boy in complete shock, until the latter lets out a soft chuckle, and told him to stop staring at him with his mouth open. Harry felt his cheeks grow warm in embarrassment, and he mumbled something Malfoy couldn't quite make sense of. Harry dropped his gaze to the table, and toyed with the spoon. He runhis hand through his hair which was messier than usual, he didn’t even try to comb it as he was planning to go back to bed. He felt Malfoy's eyes on him. Harry turned his head to meet the blonde boy's gaze just as Malfoy turned away.

Malfoy sat down opposite to Harry, handing him his breakfast and a cup of coffee, he himself only drinking tea.

They sat in silence, the blonde watching Harry eat.

"We don’t have to study today" he said, breaking the silence. Harry just nodded, still confused by the boy’s kindness, and carried on eating. As he finished, he watched Malfoy sipping his tea, gazing out of the window. He looked different, Harry thought, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on the difference, the only thing he noticed was that his hair was messier than usual. That couldn’t have made such a big difference, it was more than that. It was something about his whole face, all of his features. But mostly his eyes. His eyes were definitely different, no longer cold and distant, but almost soft. Harry watched his eyes fixed on the garden outside, the shape of the window reflected in the sliver greyness. The practically white eyelashes around his eyes. His pale, porcelain-like skin. The pointiness of his nose. The pinkness of his lips, that for once weren’t frowning. His perfect jawline. The way his shoulder length hair fell onto his shoulders. Harry thought he was beautiful. He felt weird had just thought that, but as he continued to look at the boy, he couldn’t help but admit it. He also couldn't help but notice how his heart was hammering in his chest. He tore his gaze away from the boy and looked back down at the table. What was wrong with him? Why was he finding Malfoy attractive? He swallowed hard, allowing himself another glance at the boy. He noticed the longing in his eyes, the sadness on his face, and he realised, Malfoy must be missing being outdoors. Of course he must miss being outside! He had been in the house arrest for over a year.

Harry couldn't stop thinking how terrible it must be, not being able to go out, and within a minute the idea pops in his mind. He stood up abruptly and told Malfoy he’d be back in a sec. He rushed up to the bedroom and called Kingsley on the Floo, begging him to allow Malfoy leave the house with him, explaining what a great teacher he was, and telling the Minister that he trusted him. He didn’t actually realise all of this before he said it out loud, but it was true. He trusted Malfoy, especially after he gave Harry dreamless sleep and made him breakfast. He deserved something good. Harry was really pleased with himself when Kingsley permitted him to open the doors and go somewhere with Malfoy. He had to make him a promise that he’d look out for the blonde and would be careful, which Harry promised he would. He quickly packed few things and rushed back down to the kitchen.

Malfoy looked up startled as Harry re-entered the kitchen, his expression soon turning to shock, as Harry told him to get up because they were going out.

"What do you mean ‘out’?" He asked, looking at Harry in confusion.

"I talked to Kingsley" Harry shrugged, as if it was nothing, already making his way to the door, unlocking it, and casting several counter spells that would let Draco out as well. The blonde boy followed him, still shocked and surprised, but as he stepped outside and inhaled the fresh air and felt the breeze tug at his hair, he just closed his eyes and let a smile spread across his face. Gosh, how he had missed this. Harry stood looking at him, smiling, thinking how gorgeous Malfoy looked with the strands of blonde hair flowing around his face. No. He wasn’t gorgeous, Harry thought, feeling angry with himself, feeling like his thoughts were betraying him.

"There’s a beach a few miles from here" Draco spoke up.

"Are you suggesting we go there?" Harry asked, snapping out of his thoughts.

"thought that was obvious" Draco smirked, and Harry grinned at him as they set off. They walked in silence, until Draco spoke again. "Thanks. For taking me out." He said quietly. Harry looked up at him. "And everything" the boy carried on. "Testifying for my mother. Saving my life in that room."

Harry didn’t say anything for a few moments. The situation was so strange, Malfoy sounded so honest and so vulnerable, and he just didn’t quite know what to say.

"I did what I thought had to be done." He said in the end. "And… I never thought you deserved Azkaban." He added after a pause, avoiding Malfoy’s eyes. "You saved me too, at the Manor."

"I should have done more" the blonde boy whispered. "I was a coward. I still am. I should have helped." The words spilled out of Draco, no louder than the wind whistling in their ears, and if Harry hadn’t seen his lips moving, he wouldn’t have believed that he heard what he heard. He watched the boy’s face, noticing the way his eyes were shining, tears flooding them. "I deserved all they planned for me at the trial. You should have left me there, but I guess you can’t stop yourself from saving people’s lives, even if you hate them." He said, a sad smile on his face, Harry found it heart wrenching. He swallowed thickly, once again lost for words. He wanted to tell him that it wasn’t true, that he didn’t deserve to be punished, that he didn’t hate him. He wanted to squeeze his hand and tell him it was okay. But he didn’t, instead he kept quiet, and carried on walking.

Neither of them said anything on the rest of the way to the beach. It was quite a long walk, they both stopped to catch their breaths as they arrived at the end of the cliff from where the carved steps led down to the beach. Harry had been going out for strolls around the area, but he felt a little exhausted after the walk, and Draco, who had been indoors for ages was clutching his side, but it was definitely worth it.

The view was beautiful, the sun was just starting to set, tainting the sky pink and orange, the warm light reflecting on the surface of the water, the white cliffs and the pale sand on the shore making the picture perfect. It was breezy, but not too much, just enough to ripple the surface of the ocean and to catch in their hair.

They made their way down to the beach, Harry spread out the blankets he brought with him, before sitting down, Malfoy following him, they sat down, watching the sky together.

"I miss Sirius." Harry suddenly blurted out, not even knowing why he said it, regretting it immediately.

"Your godfather?" Malfoy asked, not looking at him, messing around with a stick he found in the sand. Harry nodded, and lied back on the blanket.

"He and Remus were the only people who made me feel like-" He took sharp intake of breath. "-like I still had a piece of my parents with me" he sighed. He didn’t know why he was telling Malfoy this, but he couldn't stop himself. As the blonde boy seemed genuinely curious, Harry carried on talking, telling him about third year, how he met Sirius, and about Peter Pettigrew, and the Marauders Map, and about the Order of the Phoenix, and everything Sirius told him about his parents. Malfoy listened intensely, asking questions every so often, being very careful not to cross the boundaries.

"I’m sorry they aren’t around anymore." Malfoy simply said when Harry stopped talking. He tilted his head to the side, looking at Malfoy’s face, studying his expression, but he couldn't see anything except for honesty and sadness, and something slightly even like an affection. He felt like crying, but he didn't want to cry in front of the other boy. He knew he should feel angry, after all if Malfoy hadn’t let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, if his father hadn’t been there at the Department of Mysteries, Sirius and Remus could still be have been alive, but that’s too many ‘if’s. Harry thought of asking Malfoy what his intentions actually were, or something, but he chose to keep silent.

"I’m going swimming" he announced after laying around for a while, he stood up, already taking his shirt off.

"Are you crazy? It must be minus twenty down there°C!" Draco exclaimed, sitting up.

"Yeah, sure, minus two hundred." Harry chuckled. "Chill Malfoy ." Harry rolled his eyes, shucking his jeans as well, making his way to the water, ignoring the feeling of the other boy’s eyes on him.

"Come back here you prat, I don't fancy being framed for your death. It’s dark and it’s cold and you will drown. We can come back here tomorrow and then you can do whatever you want." Malfoy called after him, making Harry laugh.

"If you are so worried about me, come with me" he snorted, stepping into the water, leaning down and splashing it over his body, before carrying on walking deeper into the water. He was in knee-deep when Malfoy caught up with him, stopping at the side of the water. Harry went in even deeper, looking back and shooting a grin at Malfoy. "You better take that shirt off if you want to rescue me when I drown."

The blonde boy just stood there shaking his head as Harry carried on, the water was now up to his shoulders. He couldn't help but laugh as he looked at the fully clothed Malfoy standing on the beach, and suddenly an idea crossed his mind. What if he faked drowning? Would Malfoy really rush to rescue him? He grinned in anticipation, before going in a bit deeper, and pretending to drown, yelling for help, and sure enough, the blonde was there beside him within seconds, his hands around Harry’s waist.

"You idiot" Malfoy said angrily, letting go of Harry when the brunette burst out laughing.

"And you said I’m the one with a saving people's lives-problem." Harry choked out, still shaking from laughter, clutching his stomach with his arms.

"You’re such an imbecile! We could have both lost our footing! I thought you were really drowning." he sneered, and splashed Harry with water. The other boy splashed him back immediately, still laughing, and soon enough Draco was laughing too. They were splashing each other madly, trying to get away from one another, making their way to the beach.

"Scared?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow as they reached the dry land, still breathless from laughing, clutching each other.

"You wish." Draco smirked, and chased Harry back to the blankets, ending up on top of Harry, kneeling between the boy’s legs, holding his hands down above his head. "Feeling defeated, Potter? Did I just defeat the Great Harry Potter?

"As if I’d let you." Harry said, wrapping his legs around Malfoy's waist. He knocked the boy over, straddling him, with a triumphant grin, which died down as soon as their eyes met. Until now, Harry didn’t quite realise how close they were, only a few inches between their faces. He was starting to feel uncomfortable, and dropped his gaze, but if anything, this made things worse, as he found himself staring at Malfoy’s chest, his white shirt sticking to his body, the wetness making it almost see-through, the boy’s lean muscles and his hardened nipples visible to Harry, making him blush. What was wrong with him? It was the third time that day that he found the boy extremely attractive.

"Potter…" Malfoy spoke up, sounding a little embarrassed, as he shifted underneath him. Harry didn't get it for a moment, but then he realises he had an unmistakable hardness in his pants, and it was pressing right into the blonde boy’s thigh.

"Shit, I’m sorry, I just…" he stammered, as he stood up as fast as he could.

"Stop, it’s okay. It’s a normal reaction, I guess, I mean you’ve been away from your girlfriend, and…" Malfoy trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished, avoiding looking at Harry, who was also avoiding looking anywhere near the other boy. "Let’s go home. Or do you want me to go and you can just stay here, think of your lovely girlfriend, jerk off, and meet me back at the house" Draco said, picking their stuff up, his words making Harry blush even harder.

"I’m… I’ll be alright" Harry managed to say. Malfoy snorts.

"For Merlin’s sake, just stay here, and follow me back when you-" "fuck, just take care of yourself, Potter!" With that said, Malfoy was already turning his back to Harry.

"You are wet. You’ll catch a cold." Harry said desperately, not wanting to make this situation any awkward, which he probably was doing anyway.

"Well then cast a drying charm on me, will you?!" Malfoy looked angry. Why was he like that? He was sneering at Harry, Harry felt like they were back at Hogwarts and Malfoy was about to make one of his snarky comments that always boiled Harry's blood. "You are the one with a wand, you arse!" He rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed huff. "if you are so concerned about my health then do it." he snapped, and Harry obeyed. As soon as he did, the blonde haired boy turned around and left in a rush without saying another word. What was wrong with him? Why did he get so pricky about all of this?!

He left Harry there on the beach. On his own. With a bulge in his pants. Still painfully pressing to his trousers.

He tried to think of Ginny, he really did, but he couldn’t help it, his thoughts drifted back to earlier that day, Malfoy’s hair flowing in the breeze, and Harry remembered how much he wanted to run his hands through it. The closeness of the boy made his body shiver, his angular face, his soft silver eyes, his flat yet arousing chest… oh Merlin, he felt like he could melt away just thinking of him, however weird it is, and however guilty he felt about not thinking of Ginny. What the fresh hell?! Malfoy was a boy! Harry wasn't gay for crying out loud! How the hell was he getting of to the thoughts of Malfoy?

The next few days passed in their usual routine, making breakfast together, Potions theory, having lunch together, brewing, making dinner together, and talking about Muggle things until it’s time for bed. Neither of them mentioned the day at the beach, and Harry was thankful for that, but he couldn’t stop thinking back to that very day, and what it felt like to be that close to Malfoy. He kept thinking back, and would often get distracted from doing whatever he was just by looking at Malfoy, or listening the way he talked about Potions, with such enthusiasm, or the excitement on his face when he showed Harry a book on Muggle things and told him how he finally understood how something worked, and it dawned on him, that he was growing more and more attracted to him.

It wasn’t just his looks that made Harry want to press the other boy to the wall and snog him senseless, though he didn’t even try to deny how his soft platinum hair and silver eyes drove him crazy, but it was his whole personality. The way he was nice to Harry now, always, but still kept teasing him, and Harry would tease back, and sometimes it occurred him that it felt almost like they were flirting or something. Or how patient and serious he could be as a teacher. Or how clever and intelligent he was, almost like Hermione, but in a different way. Or how he enjoyed just small things, like walking out into the garden when the sun was shining, or finding a new book among his mother’s belongings that he could read, or a nice meal they made together. How honest he could be sometimes. How passionate he would get if he was talking about something that was important to him. How similar his sense of humour was to Harry’s. He felt like they could be friends, like actual friends, who would stay in contact and have fun together even when they weren’t locked up in a small cottage in France together to study Potions. But real friends. And maybe even more, because Harry wanted to touch him again, to feel his soft skin, or his silky looking hair. Malfoy was driving Harry crazy, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

After another week or so Draco told him that he was doing well enough to pass his NEWTs easily, and they decided to go down to the beach once again, before Christmas. They spent the whole day there, taking a basket of food, they swam, but only a bit because the water was much colder by now, they talked and laughed and talked even more, about school, about their childhoods, about Quidditch, anything they thought of. Harry couldn't imagine his life without the blonde boy by now. He thought of how hard it will be for him to leave this bastard. How hard will it be to say goodbye to all their memories. Forget about all that they have accomplished and of course, about the whole attraction thing. Harry didn't even know if maybe he allowed himself do what his mind, and other parts of his body, told him to do, then would he discover something about himself. He found his mind drifting off to this idea while he stared at the blonde looking up to the sky.

As the sky grew darker, covered in thousands of sparkling spots, bright and shining like diamonds, scattered all over the sheet of the night, they lay back on their blankets, and Malfoy started to point the constellations out to Harry, saving his favourite one, his own one, the dragon for last. His voice proud as he told the boy next to him which one it was, which Harry found adorable, and returned the boy’s smirk with a grin of his own. Their eyes met for longer than they have ever held each other's gaze. It was like looking at the other's soul through them, finally seeing the real version of the person they never got the chance to get to know better. Harry wanted to kiss Malfoy. He wanted to throw his arms around the boy and press their lips together. He didn't. Whether it was because he was scared of what would happen if he did or he was scared of what he would become if he made this move. Harry turned his face towards the ground. The moment was ruined.

Sometime after staying quiet for a while, they started to talk about more serious things, and Malfoy told Harry how he didn’t want to kill Dumbledore, and how he only realised then that his parents were wrong, and how all he wanted before was to make his father proud. How he did everything afterwards just so Voldemort wouldn’t kill his parents. How terrible it was to let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, but how he had no other choice if he wanted his parents to live. What it was like to live at Malfoy Manor with the Dark Lord. How he wanted to just apparate somewhere where no one knew him and there were no expectations he had to live up to, no war, no pain, no suffering. How he felt like a coward but still didn’t do anything.

Harry saw the tears shining on Malfoy's cheeks, in the moonlight, as he got to the end of his story, and without thinking, he wrapped his arm around the boy, pulling him close to himself. Malfoy instantly pulled back as if Harry's touch burned him. He mumbled something about not wanting to be pitied and knowing that he was a coward and a bad person but he wanted to change, and Harry didn’t know what to say, so he just sat there beside him.

Later they lay down on their blankets, and fell asleep next to each other under the starry sky.

When Harry woke up, to the first rays of sunshine stroking his skin, he found himself wrapped around Malfoy's arms, their bodies pressed together. He stayed in those arms for a while, enjoying the warmth that came from Draco's, not Malfoy's, body. Oh how much he wanted to stay here forever and just breath this air, go for long walks, talk to Draco, discover himself, get away from all the stress that England and people there caused him. But he couldn't do it. He felt too obligated to be the man everyone expected him to be. He couldn't just disappear and stay here with the blonde. It would be mad. Besides, he had his friends in England, his girlfriend, probably soon to be wife. He wanted to have a family and a job that he enjoyed, the job that would make him feel more human than just the Savour of Wizarding World. He had to go back home, no matter how much his heart was begging him to stay here and try losing himself in the unknown, something that didn't feel quite possible and normal, in something that was as exciting as scary. Just trying to be happy without all the shit that was going to await for him in London. Harry got up from under the blanket and Draco's arms carefully, making sure he wouldn’t wake the other boy up. He conjured a piece of parchment and a quill, with a deep sigh he started writing a letter. He knew he wasn’t the best with words, especially when they were goodbyes, and writing it all down helped, he could say all the things he could never say face to face. He could thank Draco and promise him he’d talk to Kingsley and find a way for him to come back to England. At least that's what Harry wanted. If he couldn't stay here he wanted to hold on to this unexpected friendship in any way he could. He wrote how he’d wait for Draco, and would want to see him, when he did come back to WIzarding World where Harry would be. Harry realised how much he's going to miss Draco, his smile, his snaky comments, the lessons with him, their midnight or morning walks to the beach, their inside jokes, their conversations, Draco's eyes that at some point became everything Harry could think of, just Draco Malfoy in general, still the same git, but trying to become better.

Harry rolled up his blanket and put it back into the basket along with all of the other scattered bits, and put the letter on top. He looked down at the boy below him, and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss onto his cheek, feeling the soft skin underneath his lips and smelling the scent he will never be able to get out of his mind, he didn't realise when a warm tear run down his cheek. He shook himself from the trans he was in. Before he got up to his feet and head back to Malfoy's house and then the town to take his Portkey back to London, he took one last look at Draco sleeping peacefully on the beach, Harry once again couldn't breath. If he never again got the chance to see this idiot, he didn't know if he would ever feel understood and complete as much as he did in Draco's presence. He could only hope for the best.

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Read Chapter Two HERE

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry head canon #head canon #my fic #first chapter #re writting stuf #wip #fic #ao3 #feelings we can't let go #drarry squad #harry potter #draco malfoy

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pickalilywrites · 5 years

Note

Rivetra Levi gang leader AU?

i hope you’re referring to the one i wrote all the way back in march but if not i’ll write another one for you later >///@rivetraisnotdeadyet ‘s aesthetic moodboard and @tinaillustrations ‘s fanart of the rivetra gang au ^^

Want

Rivetra. Gang AU.

Part i

2444 words.

Buy me a ko-fi!

“You don’t usually allow your employees to schedule appointments with you,” Isabel says with amusement as she and Farlan follow Levi up the stairs to his office. The redhead fiddles with the end of one of her messily tied pigtails while looking over at the raven-haired man with the surly expression that is walking beside her.

“If she’s threatening to quit, it’s an issue,” Levi mumbles. He quickens his pace, forcing his companions to quicken theirs as well in order to keep up with him. “It would have been fine if she had just been a normal barmaid, but you forget that she’s spying for us. She has information on us that we don’t want to spread.”

“Then just give her a raise and be done with it,” Farlan tells him when they reach the top of the stairs. He runs his hand through his thick butterscotch locks. “Or if you’re still feeling unsure about her loyalty, you can just put a bullet in her head like you did all the rest.” Farlan says it jokingly, but Levi glares at the blond man scathingly. Farlan gulps, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I was only kidding, Levi. You know, I’d never seriously think of shooting her in cold blood.” They arrive at the door to Levi’s office. Through the frosted glass, they can see a figure sitting in front of the desk inside and while the glass makes it difficult to see, they all know who sits inside. Farlan and Isabel look over at Levi, whose hand sits stiffly on the knob. They wait for him to turn it so that they can take a peek inside, but he simply coughs and looks over at them. “Both of you can leave,” he tells them. “Right!” Farlan says, hurriedly pushing Isabel towards the stairs before Levi gets angry again. “Jeez, aren’t we normally there for these types of things?” Isabel mutters. She scowls when Farlan prods her in the back and hisses at him, waving his hand away. The redhead tosses her head, shaking her bangs away from her eyes. “I don’t know why it’s always so different when it comes to her. It’s like she’s made him soft.” “I’d say she’s made him the opposite of soft,” Farlan mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets. He’s still in a mood after getting on Levi’s bad side, but he doesn’t hate the woman who is sitting in the office upstairs. Like most of the people in the Ackerman Clan, he quite likes her. It’s just that her circumstances for working with them – willingly coming to make a deal with the head of the crime family in order to minimize her friends’ involvement – were peculiar. It makes Farlan a little uncomfortable thinking about it, how this woman they hadn’t known until she marched into their building a few months ago now knows about as many of their secrets that they know of themselves, but Levi seems to trust her. Maybe he’s just being paranoid. Isabel doesn’t seem to share the same concerns as him. She forgets that she had been upset about being dismissed by Levi so quickly and laughs heartily at Farlan’s joke, smacking him on the back before hurrying off downstairs so she can share it with the others.

“Miss Ral,” Levi says as he opens the door. He lets it shut softly behind him before walking to his desk. He notices that the ginger-haired woman doesn’t even turn her head to look at him when he enters. Instead, she waits until he’s crossed the room and taken a seat at his desk before she raises her eyes to meet his. Just like that very first day, her gaze doesn’t waver under his cold gray stare. “I hear you wanted to make another bargain. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s not as if you have very much to barter with.” “Then I must correct you, Mr. Ackerman, because you’re wrong,” Petra replies without even blinking. She sits up straight, her hands clasped together casually as they sit in her lap. Even though she had only been working at the bar for a few months, she’s changed a lot from the young woman who had come to him with a proposition not long ago. Her hair, which used to hang freely in soft orange curls around her face, is pinned up so as to not get in the way when she’s serving customers. She no longer wears the pretty frocks that women wore if they came from a decent family and only walked about the house doing housework; instead, she wears smart work dresses that are a little too prim and proper for a barmaid. The biggest change, however, is the look on her face. While she was far easier to read when Levi had first met her, now her expression is almost unfathomable. If she put on a frown, it would be just like looking into a mirror, Levi muses. “What could you, a barmaid, possibly have to offer me?” Levi asks, sitting back in his chair. “It’s not that I have anything to offer you, but I do have things of value to you…and to others as well,” Petra tells him. She watches him carefully to see if his expression changes, but he’s done this too many times to give himself away now. “You are a powerful man, Mr. Ackerman, but powerful men make powerful enemies, and you have a lot of them.” Ah, she’s bold enough to blackmail him now. He wonders if she would have dared to do the same a few months ago. Levi reaches out to pick up a fountain pen from his desk, fiddling with the cap as he feigns disinterest in her threat. “I’m glad you acknowledge the influence I have in this city, Miss Ral. But what makes you think that I won’t put a bullet in your head right this minute?” he asks her, looking up casually to observe her face. “After all, barmaids are replaceable, are they not?” “If you saw me as a real threat, you would have shot me when I had first mentioned I wanted to leave,” Petra tells him. She’s as unruffled as ever. “And I’m not just any barmaid, Mr. Ackerman. Many men have spilled their secrets to me just because I happened to smile at them at the right time. I don’t mean to sound vain, but I have a talent with people that makes me indispensable.” A talent with people, she says. The corner of Levi’s lip twitches, but he manages to keep the unfathomable expression on his face. It’s not that she’s good with people – although that part is true – but it’s that she’s pretty. There are, of course, a handful of handsome barmaids in the city if one knows where to look, but they have a weariness to them. The women who become barmaids are not at all like the woman who is sitting before him. Women who become barmaids in rough establishments such as the Legion are oftentimes out of options. They don’t come from good backgrounds or have a decent home life. If they did, they wouldn’t choose to be serving drinks to others and cleaning up the vomit of men who had drunk more than they could handle. They were not like Petra, with her big doe eyes, soft ginger hair, and flower-print dresses, who knew nothing about rough men and the smell of booze. Of course, men would fall head over heels for her, ready to spill whatever interesting tale they had to her, ignorant to the fact that she was secretly delivering all their secrets to Levi Ackerman. She is correct in saying that she is indispensable. “Then, Miss, Ral, what could I possibly give you when your work is so invaluable to me?” he asks her. He rests his chin lazily in his hand. “I’d like for you to help find my friends decent jobs. Good, honest jobs,” Petra blurts out, finally losing her composure. Her hands are no longer clasped in her lap but clutching desperately at the skirt of her green overcoat. She’s biting her lip, waiting for his answer. She was like this last time she had come here to make a negotiation, Levi remembers. Even though she’s bold enough to offer herself for a job with the Ackermans, the biggest crime gang in the city, her friends are her biggest weakness. In a way, Levi finds that rather admirable. “You’ve allowed them to work in your warehouses instead of being bookies, and I’m grateful for that, but I would be even more grateful if they had jobs that…that had nothing to do with you, sir.” He should tell her that it’s too late for that now. Her friends had tangled themselves in a web they could never be free from when they had begun to work for him. He couldn’t ever truly set them free even he wanted to. It doesn’t matter how much she begs him. He can’t change everything. “Do you believe one barmaid is worth three hardworking men?” Levi asks her. He looks at her lazily, watching as she fiddles with the fabric of her coat. “If it’s not enough that I’m finding your secrets for you,” Petra says, swallowing a lump in her throat, “then why don’t you make me your secretary? You still need one, don’t you?” He narrows his eyes at her. “How can you make such a negotiation with me when you threatened me only a few minutes ago?” Levi asks. “How can I trust you enough to allow you to work in a position so close to me?” “Do you trust anyone at all?” Petra snaps so quickly that it surprises him. She sighs, taking a breath to calm herself. After a moment, she lifts her head, her hands tightly gripping the wooden arms of her chair. “If I work closely with you, then I wouldn’t have a chance to betray you.” Levi does not reply. Instead, he sits back and watches, waiting for her to change her mind. Surely, she can’t care for her friends this much. She’s not at all suited for life in the Ackerman Clan – hell, she’s made it clear to him that she hates his gang and everything they’re doing – so why is she involving herself with them even more? She opens her mouth once more and Levi thinks she’s come to her senses, but she tells him, “And I’ll help you take care of your finances at night in addition to being your secretary. Math is not my strong suit, but I can add and subtract as well as anybody else.” She pauses for a moment, her mouth opened slightly as her lip quivers. “And if you’d still like me to be a barmaid some nights, I can do that as well.” “Three jobs for three men?” Levi asks quietly. He almost sighs, tired, although he doesn’t know why. He’s not sure how he feels when she nods back at him, confirming her proposal. He should refuse her, tell her that she’s being ridiculous, but he finally tells her, “I know the foreman at an automobile assembling company. If he has any work there, I’ll see what I can do. They won’t be completely free of me – I do business with the foreman, after all – but they’ll be far less likely to be involved with any sort of Ackerman activity. In the meantime, Miss Ral, I’ll be in touch with you.” “Is there no way to be free of you?” Petra mutters under her breath. He’s meant to hear it because she glares at him. She sighs, though, and stands up from her chair. She holds out a hand for Levi to shake. “Thank you for doing business with me today.” “It was my pleasure,” Levi says, standing up. He takes her smooth hand in his rough one, marveling at the differences between them and wondering how she had ever gotten herself involved in such business. Her hand slips through his, and Levi can’t help but ask, “Do you care for your friends that much?” “Yes,” she replies fiercely. She pauses for a moment, waiting for him to say something else. When he doesn’t, she turns on her heel to leave. “You must love them very much,” he tells her as he watches her cross the room, her strides long and fast, “to want to do business with me.” The woman stops in front of the door, her hand on the doorknob. “Want?” she repeats, her hand falling from the knob. She whirls around, her skirts swishing beneath her as she crosses the floor once more. Her hands slam against the desk, and she looks up at him with a savage glare. “I didn’t want any of this. I did it because I had to.” Levi looks cooly back at her, unfazed. Hands in his pockets, he asks, “No one forced you to work for me, correct? You came yourself; you were the one who walked up those steps and asked me for a job for the sake of your friends.”“Believe me, sir, I would not have asked to become involved with you if I had any other choice,” Petra growls. “You had a choice to live your life the way it was or become involved,” Levi says. While her voice rises, he keeps his low and even. “You had a choice to allow your friends to do what they wanted, but you chose instead to meddle in their lives. You had a choice to remain a barmaid, but you chose instead to work even more closely to me, involving yourself even more with this gang that you claim to hate so much. Don’t blame me for your choices.” It must be that she knows he’ll never understand because she glares at him for a few seconds more before stomping back out of the office. Before she leaves, she stops once more at the door, her hand hovering on the knob. Levi thinks that perhaps she’s finally realized what a fool she’s being, what danger she’s signed herself up for, but she turns her head to look at him and asks him quietly, “When you were in the Great War, Mr. Ackerman…in France…was it your choice to pick up your gun and shoot those men?” She looks at him, unblinking. “Did you want to kill those men whose blood is on your hands?” When Levi doesn’t answer her, she opens the door, walking out and letting it swing shut behind her.

#rivetra #petra ral #levi ackerman #snk #gang au #asks #answered #anon #anonymous #requests

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orangeoctopi7 · 6 years

Text

Stanswap AU Part 34

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Part 31 Part 32 Part 33

Here it is, the last chapter! Special thanks to @digikate813 and @eregyrn-falls for consistently reading and reblogging, along with anyone else who ever reblogged this story, it’s because of you that this story has spread. Thanks to @blaiddraws and @hntrgurl13 for drawing fanart (even if I did commission hntrgurl13, still grateful) and of course thanks to @busket because even if our AUs were developed independently, I still took a lot of inspiration from them and their way awesome art.

Speaking of which, this chapter draws a lot of inspiration from these posts.

Chapter 34: Hero Complex

The house was still in one piece when the kids got back. There was no evidence whether the shield spell was still holding or not, but they were all just happy to find a familiar structure to hide out in. They were about to open the door when they all heard something inside. Dipper picked up a golf club that'd been sitting on the porch, Wendy pulled out her crossbow, Mabel readied her grappling hook, and Soos took a karate stance.

“Yaaaaah!” The four friends yelled as they kicked the door open.

“Yaaaaah!” A ragtag group of townsfolk and magical creatures from the woods led by Stan yelled, ready to defend their turf.

“Wait, Stan!?” Dipper and Mabel gasped when they realized who it was.

“Kids!?” Stan disengaged the weapons system in his prosthetic, “I can't believe it! I thought I'd lost you two!”

The three of them shared a happy reunion hug. Tears flowed more freely than at least two of them would care to admit. Wendy and Soos soon joined in the hug. Even if they didn't know Stan all that well, it was still nice to see a friend after everything that had happened.

“It's good to have you knuckleheads back.” Stan said as he finally broke away from the hug.

“Why… what's everyone doing here?” Dipper asked as he surveyed the room. There were Candy and Grenda, dressed like Mad Max cosplayers, and Pacifica, who was wearing a pillowcase or something, and the Multibear, who was wearing an eye-patch on his main head, along with some gnomes, a manotaur, and the boy band Sev’ral Timez.

“Welcome to the survivors’ club.” Stan shrugged.

“Whaaa?” The kids asked.

“Eyebat!!” A gnome cried before anyone could explain. Everyone in the house scrambled to put out all the lights and close all the shutters and curtains. Dipper and Mabel couldn't help but peek outside between some blinds. Sure enough, an eyebat was flapping around outside. The sweeping beam of its paralysing gaze was stopped by a shimmering pink shield the moment it looked towards the house.

“So the shield is still working!” Dipper observed.

“Grunkle Stan, how'd this happen?” Mabel asked once the eyebat passed.

“Well, after seein’ my brother turned to gold and thinkin’ Dipper here’d been eaten, I didn't know what else to do except come back here. That's when I ran into possum breath here” Stan jabbed a mechanical thumb towards McGucket, “leading a group of stragglers through the woods. They needed a place to stay, so I took 'em all in and made myself chief. Plan is to stay here and live off Ford's food storage long as we can. Then I vote we eat the gnomes.”

“Hey, I'm short, not deaf!!” Jeff protested.

“Grunkle Stan, we can't just hide out here, there's a town in need of saving!” Dipper protested.

“Look, kiddo, we’ve got a good deal here.” Stan explained. “It ain’t ideal, I know, but we’ve got everything we need in here. A lot of these guys may look like monsters, but they’re actually pretty nice. Bear-bear here even knows Shiatzu!”

“Yes, I’ve been taking some classes.” The multi-bear nodded.

“We can stay here where it’s safe as long as we need to.”

“Grunkle Stan, you don’t actually think if we wait it out long enough Bill will just go away!?” Mabel was scandalized.

“Yeah, what happened?” Dipper asked, “Before you were all about taking the fight to Bill and not waiting a second, and now you just wanna hole up inside as long as you can?”

“Look what trying to fight Bill got us!” Stan snapped, “I wasted my only shot, that shazbot took my know-it-all brother as a literal trophy, and until you kids showed up on the doorstep a moment ago, I thought you all were dead! At least in here we can live some sort of life, out there all that’s waiting for us is death or worse!”

“But… what about our families?” Soos asked quietly.

Stan didn’t have an answer for that. He just looked away, but as his eyes swept across the room, he saw almost everyone wore the same expression: worry for their loved ones. Not long before the kids had showed up, they’d picked up a broadcast on the TV from inside the Fearamid, where they saw most everyone in Gravity Falls frozen in stone and stacked into a throne for Bill.

“Guys, don’t you see?” Mabel encouraged them as she climbed to the top of the stairs where everyone could see her, “Our friends need us, but we can only save them if we fight back!”

“Mabel’s right!” Dipper joined her, “Bill wants us to run and hide. He wants us to think he’s invincible, but Ford told me before he was turned to gold he knows Bill’s secret weakness!”

“Yeah, and then his oh-so-special research Journals were destroyed.” Stan scoffed. “We got no leads kid. I spent twelve years tryin’ to fight against Bill, and never heard nothin’ about any ‘secret weakness’.”

“Then we’ll rescue him!” The boy exclaimed, “If Ford’s the only one who knows about Bill’s weakness then we’ll have to get it from him! If we all work together, we might be able to save Gravity Falls!”

Everyone cheered, except Stan, who still seemed skeptical. “And how d’you plan on doin’ that? This is the only place where we’re safe, and it’s not like we can carry the shield spell around with us.”

“W-whoa! Holey Hootenanny! Flapjacks an’ Tiddlywinks!” McGucket suddenly burst out, his knee bouncing up and down as he thumped his foot against the floor. “Sorry, sorry,” He said sheepishly as everyone stared at him. “Just got excited is all. But I got an idea hows about we can fight Bill an’ rescue Ford! But I’ll need all’a y’all’s help!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa people, let’s not forget who’s in charge here!” Stan snorted indignantly, “I’ve been on the run from that psycho for the better part of twelve years, and now you want me to just waltz up to the guy’s front door?”

“Grunkle Stan, I’m sure we’re not gonna just walk up to the Fearamid,” Mabel assured him, “Just hear McGucket out!”

“No! There’s no way I’m leaving this house!”

Stan was not particularly happy to hear the plan involved literally taking the house to Bill. Sure, it seemed like a good idea on paper. If the only thing protecting them from Bill was attached to the house, it made sense to bring the house with them. But turning the place into a giant fighting robot!? That was just ridiculous! Nevermind the dimension he’d visited with actual fifty-foot fighting treehouse robots. He was pretty sure that was a spectator sport, and not for actual combat. Certainly not for fighting against the all-powerful ruler of the nightmare realm.

Still, as they began cutting holes in the walls and using leftover parts from the portal to build actual working giant robot arms and legs, Stan began to think this might actually work. Not that he��d ever admit that to anyone.

He’d nearly lost it when people started leaving the safety of the shield spell to try and raid more stuff they needed from outside, but so far everyone who had left for the junkyard and the amber mines had come back safely.

Now the “Shacktron”, as Soos had dubbed it after a comment on the house’s state by Pacifica, was nearly complete, and everyone was enjoying a bonfire as Mabel passed out sweaters, celebrating all they’d already accomplished and what they hoped to accomplish tomorrow.

“Uhg, I go through all this trouble to keep these survivors safe, and they’re gonna risk it all; for what? The chance that Stanford might know Bill’s weakness?” Stan complained to the only person who would listen to him, an ugly gnome who didn’t say much. “It’s a load of… of…” Stan searched his considerable vocabulary of alien swears for an appropriate phrase.

“Shmebulock!” The gnome exclaimed.

“Yeah! It’s a load of Shmebulock!” the old con man agreed. But his rage quickly died into a sigh. “It’s my own fault though. We wouldn't have to go save my brother if I hadn’t talked him into confrontin’ Bill right away in the first place. ...Bill wouldn’t even be in our dimension if my brother hadn’t opened that portal for me….”

“Grunkle Stan, is something wrong?” Mabel asked as she and Dipper suddenly walked into his field of vision. Stan jumped. He was losing his touch in his old age, he hadn’t even noticed they were there.

“Wh-bu-pft-I’m not-- I’m fine!” He spluttered. “How long have you kids been standin’ there listenin’ to me mouth off?”

“We just saw you acting grumpier than usual and wanted to make sure everything’s ok.” Mabel shrugged.

“It’s this plan to save my stupid brother!” Stan harrumphed. “I’ve been working hard to keep everybody safe, and what thanks do I get? Nothin’! But maybe he knows somethin’ about stoppin’ Bill, and suddenly everybody’s ready to risk their lives to save him. No matter what I do, it’s always ‘Stan’s the screw-up, Ford’s the hero’.”

Dipper frowned. He’d heard what Stan was saying to Shmebulock before. “Grunkle Stan, you’re not a screw up. This isn’t your fault any more than it is Mabel’s. Bill tricked you, because that’s what he does! Of course you wanted to come home! Of course you wanted to try anything to stop Bill as quickly as possible! And yeah, things went wrong, but that doesn’t mean you should hide away and beat yourself up for it! We have a chance to fix things now, and yeah, it’s risky, but at least there’s a chance that we’ll be able to save the world, instead of just accepting that this is the way things are now!”

“Yeah!” Mabel agreed, “Besides, you love risk!”

Stan gave a fond sigh and hugged the two of them. “Heh, alright, you kids’ve convinced me. I’ll get on board with Project: Long Odds. Whatever you want me to do, just ask.”

“Yes!” Mabel cheered, “Trust me, guys, tomorrow's gonna be great! We’ll save Grunkle Ford, and then you won’t have to worry about him anymore!”

“What, tch, I’m… I’m not worried about him!” Stan protested, crossing his arms and looking away. “I only care about finding a way to stop Bill, and that know-it-all is our best bet.”

Mabel and Dipper rolled their eyes. “Sure, Grunkle Stan.”

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t feel anything beyond the pain jolting through him. He couldn’t see anything beyond the burning blue light blinding him. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the ragged screaming that he no longer recognized as his own. He couldn’t smell anything beyond the crackling ozone. He couldn’t taste anything beyond the metallic tang that he didn’t have the presence of mind to realize was probably his own blood. This was his world. He knew nothing else.

Then, mercifully, it stopped, and his brain started ticking again. His thoughts and feelings slowly trickled back. He was Stanford Pines, the last one standing between Bill Cipher and destroying the rest of the universe outside of Gravity Falls. He couldn’t break. He couldn’t tell Bill what he wanted to know. He couldn’t let the demon into his mind. He could feel the manacles digging into his skin. He could see Bill and his cronies standing over him like a gang of school yard bullies. He could hear his own labored breathing and the snickering of the Henchmaniacs. He still couldn’t smell much other than ozone, but at least now he knew he was tasting his own blood. It wasn’t nearly as much as he’d expected.

“READY TO TALK NOW?” Bill asked in a bored tone.

“I-I won’t…” Ford rasped. “...I won’t… let you into my mind!”

“WHADDAYA SAY, PALS, ANOTHER 500 VOLTS?” Bill asked his audience. The Henchmaniacs laughed and cheered. Bill was winding up for another blast of electricity when they all heard a thumping noise coming from outside the Fearamid. It grew louder and louder, until… crash! A theropod head burst through the wall and roared.

“WHAT!? I JUST FIXED THAT DOOR!” Bill whined.

Ford squinted to see what was outside the Fearamid. His glasses were so dirtied with soot he wondered briefly if he might see better without them. Was that… was that his house!?

“It’s the Shacktron, dudes!” he more heard than saw Soos cheer. Oh no, what was Soos doing here!? Didn’t he realize the danger? And who else had he brought with him? Ford could only imagine what Bill would do if the triangle managed to nab all his loved ones at once.

“SO THE MORTALS ARE TRYING TO FIGHT BACK, HUH? ADORABLE!” Bill gave a cruel chuckle. “HENCHMANIACS, YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO! TAKE ‘EM OUT!”

It was hard for Ford to see what was going on from his vantage point, but he couldn’t look away. The more he watched, the more anxious he became. He could see Wendy leaping onto an eyebat, he could hear Fiddleford’s distinctive voice calling out commands, and Mabel and Dipper’s cheer after punching out Paci-Fire and Kryptos. He even caught a glimpse of Stan through a window when the Shacktron came near enough to the hole in the Fearamid. But as things went on, his fear was mixed with pride. They were holding their own! Better than holding their own, they were winning! Soon enough all of Bill’s minions were sprawled across the ground, groaning in pain.

“SERIOUSLY GUYS? YOU HAD LIKE ONE JOB!” Bill groaned.

“Bravo, everyone!” Ford cheered defiantly.

Bill sneered at him. “YEAH, ENJOY YOUR LITTLE VICTORY NOW, WISE-GUY. YOU DO REALIZE I’M GONNA GO GRAB YOUR LITTLE FAMILY AND MAKE YOU WATCH ME TORTURE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM UNTIL YOU TELL ME HOW TO REVERSE THE WEIRDNESS MAGNETISM, RIGHT?”

Ford’s heart fell. “No, no you ca--” Bill re-froze him mid-sentence.

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU, SIXER? I CAN DO ANYTHING!”

He didn’t know how long it had been when he was unfrozen. All he knew was suddenly half the town was there, freed from their stony prison, and Bill was still outside fighting the Shacktron. Mabel and Dipper were standing in front of him with identical hopeful grins.

“Kids!” Ford knelt down and hugged them both tightly, “I knew you could do it! That was brilliant!” He caught sight of McGucket just off to the side, apparently trying not to interrupt a family moment. “Fiddleford! Thank you, old friend, I know they couldn't have done it without you.”

“Aw shucks, I'm jus’ glad yer ok.” McGucket smiled as the two old scientists hugged.

“Yeah, nice to see you too, bro.” Stan grunted from behind them.

“Grunkle Ford,” Dipper piped up, “before, you said something about one other possible way to beat Bill. What was it?”

“Yeah, what's Bill's secret weakness?” Mabel asked.

“Oh, right!” The old researcher remembered, and reached for something in his pocket. But be paused mid-motion, looking around the room. “Back when I first learned about Bill, there was a prophecy painted on the cave wall as well.” Ford observed all the people standing around him, and suddenly the puzzle that had eluded him for years finally clicked into place. “Robbie, do you still carry spray paint around with you?”

“Uh… yeah. Why?” the teen asked.

“You'll see.” Ford assured him, grabbing the paint canister and quickly spraying a large circle on the floor.

“Uh, Bill's just outside, I don't know how long the others can hold him off.” Dippy pointed out.

“Yes, yes, good.” Ford murmured in reply, concentrating too hard on whatever he was painting on the floor to really pay attention to what the boy was saying.

“Well, he's finally lost it.” Stan said flatly.

“Like he didn't lose it forever ago?” Wendy asked.

“I'm perfectly sane.” Ford corrected. “And this is how we'll beat him.” He gestured to the finished image: a circle of ten symbols surrounding a simple sketch of Bill Cipher.

“With the world's most confusing game of hopscotch?” Pacifica asked incredulously.

“No… although it would make a pretty fun game of hopscotch.” Ford admitted. “This is what I found painted on the cave wall. Some of the symbols I recognized then, some of them I only recognize now, but the very first people to settle in Gravity Falls, long before any European immigrants, prophesied that these symbols together could generate a force powerful enough to defeat Bill and reverse his weirdnesses. Until now, I thought it was just superstition, but now that I see the ten symbols here in real life, I know that can't be a coincidence.”

“What do you mean?” Dipper asked, “You had this drawn in the Journals and it didn't do anything. Bill still destroyed them!”

Ford smiled and shook his head. “The symbols themselves aren't what's special. They represent people! Dipper: the pine tree. Mabel: the shooting star.”

Dipper's eyes widened as he stood on the corresponding symbol.

“Oh my gosh!” Mabel gasped reverently as she took her place.

“A question mark! This one's unsolvable!” Soos observed, completely forgetting the coin block on the Mario shirt he was wearing.

“And I knew I'd seen that broken heart on your hoodie somewhere before!” Ford said to Robbie.

“Dang man, you've been wearing that thing since the fourth grade!” Wendy pushed her friend forward.

“Whoa, destiny hoodie!” The teen said in awe.

“As well as the star from the Tent-o-Telepathy.” Ford pointed to Gideon, who was standing at the back of the crowd.

“Oooh, don't mind if I do!” The boy took his spot next to Mabel.

“Don't make a big deal about this.” Mabel warned him.

“O-of course not!” Gideon flushed, then chanted under his breath, “Be a person worthy of loving, be a person worthy of loving…”

“And Pacifica: the llama.” Ford pointed to her.

“... This is freaky.” The spoiled girl muttered as she looked between the sweater Mabel had lent her and the symbol on the floor.

“Ok, so some of the symbols are really obvious. But what about the ice? Or the glasses?” Dipper asked.

“They're not all litteral.” Ford explained, “The ice should be someone who's cool under pressure.” The two of them looked over at Wendy. They couldn't think of anyone else in the crowd who fit the criteria, and come to think of it, hadn't Dipped spilt bag after bag of ice around Wendy all summer?

“And the glasses should be someone wise and scholarly.”

McGucket smiled sheepishly and stepped forward. “I dunno 'bout wise…”

“And Stanley, you're the fish.. thing. Whatever that thing on the end of your staff is.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” Stan rolled his eyes. “You realize this is a buncha hogwash, right? You really think a bunch of randos standin’ in a circle an’ singin’ kumbaya is gonna stop that monster!?”

“It's a mystical human energy circuit!” Ford defended.

“You said you thought it was superstition until you saw all these people together!” Stan retorted. “This isn't what you were talkin’ about before, is it?”

“...No.” Ford admitted, “But that doesn't matter now, this will work!”

“How do you know? Just 'cuz some dead guys drew it on a wall!?”

“Come on Stan! I gave your idea with the quantum destabilizer a chance, the least you can do is give this a shot!” Ford yelled indignantly.

“Don't yell at me!” Stan yelled back.

“Come on!” Wendy groaned.

“Dang it, old men, now's not the time!” Gideon exclaimed.

“Alright, fine!” Stan relented and joined the circle. “I'm not the enemy here, people!”

“Everyone else get out of here, this may be dangerous…. Now all of you hold hands!” Ford commanded.

“Oh gee, I'd love to.” Stan said sarcastically, “Except there's the little problem of I haven't got one!”

Ford gritted his teeth. “You know what I meant! Just give me your arm… stump… whatever you call it.”

“I wouldn't have it if you hadn't abandoned me, you big jerk!” Stan turned on him.

“Really!? Now of all times you bring that up!? Why do you always have to make everything more difficult than it has to be!? Why can't you ever just do as you're told!?”

“What makes you think you can tell me what to do!?”

The elder twins’ argument just devolved into fistfighting from there. Everyone watched in slack-jawed horror. Everyone except Mabel and Dipper, that is, who were desperately trying to pull their Grunkle apart. But it was too late.

“OH NO, IT'S BILL! ...THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE ALL THINKING, RIGHT?”

Bill was back.

“HAHAHAHAH! THIS IS JUST TOO GOOD! DON'T YOU BRAINIACS KNOW THE ZODIAC DOESN'T WORK IF ALL OF YOU DON'T HOLD HANDS? THANKS FOR BRINGING EVERY THREAT TO MY POWER INTO ONE EASY-TO-DESTROY PLACE THOUGH!” the demonic triangle snapped his fingers and the painting on the ground burned away, catching a few people on fire in the process. He then reached out and grabbed the elder Pines twins. “YOU GUYS WANNA SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU CAN'T GET ALONG?”

“Oh no!” Dipper cried.

“You give them back!” McGucket demanded.

“You've gone too far, Cipher!” Gideon shouted.

“Yeah, we're not scared of you!” Wendy growled, raising her ax threateningly.

“OH… BUT YOU SHOULD BE.” the triangle grew another arm and snapped his finger. Dipper and Mabel watched in horror as everyone around them floated up into the air and was turned into a tapestry, each one depicting its victim in the middle of a wide-eyed scream. “LOOKS LIKE IT'S TOO LATE FOR YOUR FRIENDS, STANFORD, BUT YOU CAN STILL SAVE YOUR FAMILY!” A glowing blue cage rose up out of the ground, trapping the kids. “LAST CHANCE: TELL ME HOW TO TAKE WEIRDMAGEDDON GLOBAL AND I'LL SPARE THE KIDS.”

“No, don't do it!” Dipper cried from inside the pyramidal cage.

“Yeah, Bill makes bad deals!” Mabel agreed.

Bill leered down at her. “DON'T YOU TOY WITH ME SHOOTING STAR! I SEE EVERYTH--”

Mabel grabbed Robbie's spray paint and sprayed him in his giant eye.

“AUGH! NOT AGAIN! WHY THE EYE!? EVERY TIME!”

“I know that hurts, because I've done it to myself!” Mabel crowed.

Dipper quickly pulled out the flashlight with the size-changing crystal attached to the top and grew the cage until they could squeeze between the bars.

“We'll distract him, you guys run for it!” The boy cried to his Grunkles.

“What!? That's a suicide mission!” Ford protested.

“Don't worry! We've beaten him once.” Dipper reassured them.

“And we'll do it again!” Mabel finished. “Hey, you pointy jerk, come and get us!”

Bill finally got the paint out of his eye. He growled and chased after the kids. Stan and Ford were about to run after them too, but a blue wall of contorted bars blocked their path.

“NOT SO FAST! YOU TWO STAY HERE. I'VE GOT SOME CHILDREN I NEED TO TURN INTO CORPSES.”

The brothers found themselves in a cage identical to the one the kids had just been in. Only they had no means of escape. All they could do was bang on the bars and yell after them to stop. But their pleas fell on deaf ears.

“I can't believe this!” Stan sunk to the ground. “The kids are gonna die, and it's all my fault! All because I wouldn't just link arms with you!”

“Don't blame yourself. I'm the one who made a deal with Bill on the first place.” Ford said sadly.

“Yeah, but I'm the one who got you captured.” Stan lamented, “Dipper went back an’ tried to help you, but I… I just ran. Ugh, dad was right about me, I'm a screw-up.”

“No.” Ford knelt down next to his brother. “That's not true. You never made a deal with Bill, not in all those years he tried to convince you. If anybody's a screw-up, it's me. If I didn't drive away everyone close to me, things would have been solved years ago. I'm sorry I always made you second priority.”

Stan barked a sound halfway between a chuckle and a sob. “How'd things get so messed up between us?”

“We used to be like Dipper and Mabel.” Ford smiled fondly. “The world's about to end, and they still work together.”

“They're working together because the world is ending. That and they're too young to know any better.” Stan observed.

Ford shifted and pulled a strange object out of his pocket. It took a second for Stan to recognize it as the memory eraser from his first day back home.

“What're you gonna do with that?” The old con man asked.

“This is the one last possibility to defeat Bill I was talking about before.” Ford said gravely.

Stan's face lit up as he began to realize his brother's plan. “You mean we could just erase him outta your head the second he goes in there!?”

“Yes… but there's more to it than that.”

Stan didn't like the look Ford was giving him. He looked like a doctor about to tell their patient they had cancer. “Ok, what's the catch?”

“Bill isn't a static memory. He won't just let himself be erased, he'll hide in some remote corner of the mindscape. Unless you were to erase everything.”

Stan's expression sobered immediately. That explained why Ford had been so desperate to try anything else to stop Bill.

“What!? Are you kidding me!? You're honestly telling me there's nothing else we can do?”

“Believe me, if there was another way, I'd do it in a second. We're out of options, Stanley! The only alternative would be to actually give myself up to Bill and hope he'll let you and the kids go.”

Stan snorted. “Like he'd make good on that deal.”

“Exactly.” Ford agreed. “So, we agree on what needs to be done?”

Stan's reply was to wrap his arms around his brother and bury his face into his shoulder. “You and your snarfin hero complex! D’Arvit Ford, I don't wanna lose you again!”

“... Neither do I.” Ford returned the hug. “Don't think of it as losing me. I'll still be around. I'll still be me. I just won't…”

“Won't remember anything about me. Or anyone. Or anything.” Stan finished.

“Y-you might be able to remind me.” Ford encouraged him, “Fiddleford has been regaining his memories after they were erased.”

Stan sniffed inelegantly, failing to hide his crying, but he nodded.

They didn't have long to recompose themselves before they heard the kids’ screams, signalling Bill's return.

“ALRIGHT FORDSY, I'M BACK, AND I'VE GOT THE KIDS! MAYBE I'LL KILL ONE OF 'EM, JUST FOR THE FUN OF IT. EENY MEENY MINEY--”

“Stop!” Ford cried. “I'll tell you! Just let the kids and my brother go, please!”

“THAT'S MORE LIKE IT.” Bill said smugly.

The cage holding them dissolved away and a glowing red arm shot out of the ground, wrapping itself tight around Stan.

“No, Grunkle Ford, don't trust him!” Dipper pleaded.

“It's the only way.” Ford smiled sadly. “I-I love you all. Always remember that.”

“CUT THE SAP, SIXER. DO WE HAVE A DEAL OR NOT?”

Ford's only response was to extend his hand. Bill grabbed it, and blue flames enshrouded them both. Bill's physical form turned to stone as his mental projection jumped straight into the old scientist's head.

“FINALLY!” Bill crowed when he found himself in Stanford’s mindscape. The mental manifestation of the old man was standing there coldly. The light was reflecting off his glasses, making it impossible to see his eyes. Which didn't make sense because there wasn't actually any light. Which meant Ford was looking like that on purpose. The drama queen. “I TOLD YOU I'D FIND YOUR WEAKNESS!”

Ford did his best to ignore the mocking. He held up a book that looked just like one of the Journals. “Here it is, Bill, everything I know about weirdness magnetism.”

“AHAHAHAHAH, FINALLY!” Bill chortled, taking the book eagerly. “YES! NOW I CAN--” the book abruptly caught fire. “WHOAH- HEY!” The triangle could only watch as blue flames rapidly ate away every last page. “WHAT DID YOU--!?”

“It's gone.” Ford said evenly, a cruel grin spreading across his face. The light reflecting off his glasses disappeared, revealing a triumphant glare. “It's all gone!”

“YOU IDIOT, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!?” Bill steamed, “I'LL MAKE YOU PAY FOR THIS!!”

“On the contrary, Bill,” The scientist said calmly as the entire mindscape around them went up in blue flames, “You're the one who's finally going to pay.”

Bill's eye grew wide as he realized the extent of what was happening.

“GRAH! THE DEAL’S OFF!” He growled, but as he tried to wave his arm and create an exit, nothing happened. If anything the flames rose higher. “WHAT THE-- NO! NO NO NO NO!

“YOU FOOL!” Bill raged, “”YOU'LL DESTROY YOUR OWN MIND TOO!”

“Gladly.” Ford said emphatically. “If it means you'll never do to another living thing what you did to me.”

“YOU'RE MAKING A MISTAKE, STANFORD!” Bill said desperately, “I-I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT! MONEY, FAME, RICHES, INFINITE POWER, YOUR OWN GALAXY! JUST--PLEASE!”

“Whatever I want?” Ford echoed fiercely. “What I want is to watch you burn to nothing!” He finally lost his cool and roughly grabbed Bill by his stupid bowtie. “You pretended to be my friend, only to use me and manipulate me!” He wound up and punched the triangle. “You got me to drive my only true friend away!” Another punch. “You took control of my body and used it as a play thing!” And another. “You blackmailed me!” And again. “You tortured me!” Another. “And even worse than what you did to me, you messed with my family!” He wound up one more time and punched Bill right in the eye, harder than he'd ever punched anything before. The demonic triangle gave one last strangled cry in a language Ford didn't recognize, and shattered into a million pieces.

“...It is done.” Stanford said with finality. But… it didn't feel right. He'd been fantasizing about defeating Bill for years now, and he'd finally done it! He was the hero! He'd killed the demon, been able to beat him down with his own hands, and yet… this victory felt hollow. Was it because he was losing his own mind in the process? No… he'd always been prepared to sacrifice himself in order to pay for his mistakes.

As everything burned blue around him, the last thing he found left was a familiar tattered photo of two boys standing proudly atop a rotting shipwreck. Ford realized he didn't regret what he was losing, but what his family would be losing. And even more, what he never was for them.

“I'm sorry.” He murmured as the flames licked at his feet.

Stanley found his brother kneeling in a clearing in the woods not long after all of Bill's Weirdmageddon crap cleared up. Ford was still completely out of it. His eyes were unfocused and his mouth hung open.

“Grunkle Ford that was amazing!” Dipper exclaimed, running up and hugging him. Ford jumped at the contact, surprised and maybe even a little uncomfortable with the boy in his personal space.

“Uh, sorry, are you talking to me?” The old man asked in confusion.

The boy's face fell as he pieced together what happened. “You… you don't remember me…”

“No. Should I?”

“Yes!” Mabel cried, “We're your family!”

Ford just looked at them all blankly.

“It's ok, kids.” Stan tried to reassure them, “W-we just gotta remind him, y’know?” he sat down in front of his brother and looked him in the eye. “I-I’m Stanley. I'm your brother.”

Ford was too fascinated with Stan's arm to pay attention to his words. “Your arm, it's metal!” He observed with an eager smile, “that's not normal, is it? What's it made of? How do you get it to move like that?”

Stan’s eyes welled up with tears. “C-c’mon, Ford, it's m-me, it's Stan… I'm remindin’ you, j-just like you told me to… please Ford, it-it’s me, it's Stan!” He finally broke down crying in to his brother's shoulder. “Why d’you always gotta be the hero!? Y-you jerk! W-we never got t-to make thing right.…”

Ford looked at the two children for help. “What did I say?”

They brought Ford back to the wrecked remains of his house, picking up Soos and filling him in on what had happened on the way. The young mechanic was devastated, and he joined with the others in trying to jog Stanford’s memory. They had many opportunities to try. It seemed every step along the way Ford had another question.

“Did you see that little man in the red hat run into the bushes? What was that?”

“It’s a gnome.” Dipper explained patiently, although there was a pained undertone in his voice, “You used to study them.”

“Why do they wear those little red hats?” Ford wondered, “Are they hiding something under them?”

“I-I don’t know.” Dipper admitted, but it didn’t seem to bother Ford. If anything he seemed more excited, and he made to run off after the gnome.

“Wait! Don’t run off without us!” Mabel grabbed his hand.

This stopped him, but only because he’d suddenly become more interested in the small hands holding his own. He looked around at everyone and an expression spread across his face like he’d just found the greatest puzzle of all time.

“Wait a second, I just noticed something!” He held up Mabel’s hand and compared it to his own. “I’ve got more fingers than all of you! Isn’t that interesting? I wonder why it’s like that?”

“You were born that way.” Stan told him.

“Yes, but why?” Ford asked again. Nobody had an answer for him, which only served to make him more curious.

Stan heaved a heavy sigh. “C’mon Ford, we gotta get home. We’re all tired, you must be too.”

“I’m not tired!” The old man insisted like he was a four-year-old, “I wanna explore!”

Stan looked like he was on the verge of losing his composure again, so Mabel stepped in. “Grunkle Ford, if you come home with us, I’ll show you my scrapbook, and we can teach you everything we learned about all the weird things in Gravity Falls this summer.

“Really?” Ford asked, like she’d just promised to watch his favorite movie with him. She nodded. “Come on, let’s go!” He pulled her ahead toward the dilapidated house.

Dipper had to knock the door in, and despite the building being surprisingly still structurally sound, the place was trashed. Ford didn’t seem to notice; he took the state of the house as normal, and only seemed curious with the books and papers strewn across the floor. Everyone else was in low spirits. For all the questions they were answering and all their attempts to remind Ford of who he was, nothing seemed to be working.

“We saved the world, but what’s the point?” Dipper wondered forlornly, “Grunkle Ford’s not himself anymore.”

“I don’t get it.” Stan sat down and held his head in his hands, “Before, he said we’d be able to remind him…. Well, he said we might be able to remind him. Ugh, I should’ve known he was just sayin’ that to make me feel better. I should’ve known better than to get my hopes up!” He punched the wall with his mechanical arm and left a sizable hole.

“No!” Mabel said emphatically, “I know my Grunkle is still in there! We can’t give up, guys!” She found her scrapbook lying under the entertainment center, and sat Ford down next to her on the old couch. “This’ll work. This has to work!” She opened up to the first page and showed him a picture of the three of them at the bus-stop, not long after they’d arrived in Gravity Falls.

“Here’s a picture of the first day we came to Gravity Falls!” Mabel narrated, “and here’s a macaroni art interpretation of my emotions!” She pointed to a macaroni collage of an unsure smile and a question mark.

“What about that time we went to the lake our first weekend here?” Dipper asked as his sister turned the page again and revealed a two-page spread of photos from their picnic. “Or all those times we’ve played Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons together?” He asked on another page.

“Uh, these are all very nice photos, but weren’t you going to teach my what you learned about the weird things in Gravity Falls?” Ford asked innocently.

“They’re photos of you, Dr. Pines!” Soos cried.

“I can see that, but I don’t remember any of this, or any of you!”

That was enough to break Stan down again. The old con man got up abruptly and retreated to the other side of the room.

Ford got up and followed him. “What’s wrong? Why do you keep on crying like that?”

Stan just shook his head and turned away, unable to speak through his sobbing.

“Is it because of me?” Ford asked worriedly, “Is it my fault?”

Stan shook his head again, but Ford seemed to know instinctively that he was lying. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what for, but…” He trailed off and his expression became thoughtful. “I’m sorry…” he repeated softly. He reached out and hugged Stan awkwardly.

Waddles entered the room, drawn by the sound of crying. The pig found two sad men standing in the corner, hugging. On of them was the source of the crying. The pig tried to comfort them the only way he knew how: snorting in between their feet.

“Waddles, do you mind, we’re having a moment here!” Ford pushed the pig away gently with his foot.

Everyone gasped and stared at the old researcher, a new hopeful glint in their eyes.

“W-what? What did I say?” Ford asked nervously, uncomfortable with all the attention.

“It’s working!” Dipper said excitedly, “keep reading!”

“Skip to my page!” Soos insisted, “He needs to remember being the greatest teacher ever!”

“I think you and Wendy are the only two who would ever call me that.” Ford chuckled.

And so they continued to look through Mabel’s scrapbook. Every few pages, Ford remembered more and more about being a teacher, a great-uncle, a researcher, and even a brother. Once they finished with the scrapbook, Stanley swept the house and found some ancient film-reels: Home videos from the elder twins’ childhood. Everyone couldn’t believe their luck. Perhaps this story could have a happy ending after all.

It was one week later, and Stanford Pines felt like a new man. His memories were more-or-less all back now. Sure, he still had some hazy moments when someone would mention something like he was supposed to know what they were talking about, and he’d have to ask for clarification, but the most important things were all back. He knew his family and his best friend and his students and all the strange, wonderful, occasionally annoying people in Gravity Falls.

Of course, with the return of his good memories came the return of the bad. Just last night he’d had another nightmare about Weirdmageddon. But it was easier to shake off these bad dreams now that he knew Bill was well and truly gone. He’d also had a heart-to-heart with Stanley about some of the darker moments in their past, but he felt so much better now that they had.

Now it was time for the kids’ birthday party, and pretty much the whole town, human and supernatural, had shown up. Mabel and Dipper were giving some short speeches after blowing out the candles.

“Y’know, on my first day here, if you’d asked me what I wanted, I would have said ‘Adventure, mystery, true friends’, but looking out at all of you, I realize that every one of those wishes came true. I’m happy with what I have.”

“If I had one wish, it would be to shrink you all down with the shrink-ray and bring you all home with me in my pocket. But since that’s impossible--” She paused and looked up at Ford, “Is that impossible?”

He shrugged and made a so-so gesture. It was technically possible but really not a good idea. People would probably get squashed or suffocate.

“--Since that’s probably impossible, my only wish is for all of you to sign my scrapbook! I’ll never forget you all!” She paused again, pulled out the memory eraser, and smashed it under her foot. Ford couldn’t believe how relieved that made him feel. “Now I’ll never forget you all!”

As the kids joked around with Wendy and her friends about technically being teens now, Stan pulled Ford away from the crowd around a corner of the house.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you in private.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” Ford asked in concern.

“Nothin’, just wanted to let you know I’ve made up my mind.”

“About what?”

“About leavin’ after the kids head home. I’m probably gonna start packin’ once this party business is over.”

“What!?” Ford cried incredulously,

“Yeah, see, this I why I wanted to talk to you about it in private.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“But… but I thought…” the old researcher stammered, “We’ve been making progress Stanley! I truly believed things between us were on the mend!” He sighed heavily and regained his composure, “But… if that’s what you feel is best, I won’t try and force you to stay.”

“Uh, thanks…” Stan said awkwardly.

“...where will you go?”

Stan shrugged. “Thinkin’ about gettin’ a ship, sailin’ in search of treasure.”

“Just… just like we always dreamed about. I… I’m happy for you, Stan.” Ford said, sounding the exact opposite of happy.

“Y’know…” Stan scratched the back of his head with his good arm and gestured with his mechanical one. “If I’m gonna hit the high seas, I’m gonna need someone who knows how to take care of this robot arm along for the ride. I’m still gettin’ the hang of it.”

“Y-you mean… you want me to come!?” Ford asked hopefully.

“No I mean McGucket.” Stan said flatly, rolling his eyes again. “Of course I want you to come, genius!”

Ford gaped at his brother for a moment before shoving him playfully, “You’re the worst!”

“I’m the worst!? You’re the worst for making me feel like a rakkpod for jokin’ with you! Why d’you gotta be so sincere?”

The two brothers re-entered the party, their arms around each other’s shoulder.

“If I could have everyone’s attention!” Ford shouted. “I’d like to officially announce my retirement!” He declared once the crowd had died down, “My brother and I have some catching up to do, so we’re leaving on a voyage, and probably won’t be back for quite some time.”

“Woohoo!” One of the teens cheered, “No physics class this year!”

“B-but what about the repair shop?” Soos stammered. “What about preparing young minds to be the scientists of tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry, Soos, but I only ever started teaching and running the repair shop so I would have a steady income while I was working on the portal. Now that Stan and I are together again… I don’t really have any reason to keep it up.”

Soos looked defeated.

“But school starts in two weeks and we’ll need a physics teacher!” A member of the school board complained.

Ford looked at Soos knowingly. “I think I know someone who could take my place.”

“Wh-me?” Soos asked incredulously. “I haven’t even got my degree yet!”

“You should be able to get an emergency teaching licensure.” Ford reasoned. “That’s how I got hired on full-time.”

“But-but you’ve got a doctorate.” Soos protested.

“Soos, you’re much better with people, and especially teens, than I ever was. And you know more than enough to teach high school. I think you’re the perfect man for the job.”

“We’ll see what the school district has to say about that.” The school board member called from the crowd.

A small group of friends and family gathered at the bus stop the next day in the early afternoon. Mabel and Dipper were all packed up and ready to go. Well, as ready as they’d ever be.

“Thanks for wearing my goodbye sweaters.” Mabel complimented her Grunkles. The elder twins were decked out in matching sweaters: Ford’s a deep blue, Stan’s maroon.

“Eh, it’s cold out, I had to.” Stan grunted.

“It’s over eighty degrees out here, Stanley.” Ford teased him. Stan responded by elbowing him playfully.

Dipper and Wendy said their goodbyes and switched hats just before the bus arrived, the ginger teen slipping him a letter as he walked away.

“Looks like we’ve said goodbye to everybody, except…” Mabel looked back at her pig sadly, “Waddles.” She got down on her knees and petted him sadly. “I don’t know how to explain this to you but… Mom and Dad won’t let be bring a pig home to California, so… you have to stay here!”

She got up to leave, but the pig playfully nipped at her skirt. The girl tried to push him away, tears streaming down her face.

Ford frowned. “Mabel, I think you should take him home with you.”

“But--”

“You’re parents will be surprised to find how easy a pet pig is to take care of. Pigs are actually very clean, certainly cleaner than that cat you have, and they don’t need that much space. I’m sure they’d be happy to have another pet! And if not, well, you can tell them it was my idea.”

“Are you sure?” Dipper asked warily, “Mom was pretty mad when she found out you’d offered to let us stay here without asking her first.”

“I’ll take my chances.” The old man assured them.

“Now hold on!” The bus driver protested, “Bringing unauthorized animals aboard a moving vehicle is strictly prohibited!”

Ford not so subtly pulled out his crossbow, and Stan charged up the blaster in his arm.

“Uh… but this, heh, is obviously a service animal, so it’s ok!” The driver chuckled nervously.

The kids gave one last goodbye hug to Stan, and then to Ford.

“I hope you know I’m not exaggerating when I say you two have changed my life.” The old researcher said fondly. “I… I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough…”

“We love you too, Grunkle Ford.” Mabel sniffed back a few tears.

Finally, they’d run out of ways to stall. It was time for the kids to get on that bus.

“Ready to head into the unknown?” Dipper asked.

“Nope.” Mabel said honestly. “Let’s do it anyway!”

Ford and the others ran along the road, waving goodbye until the bus rounded the corner and drove out of sight. The old researcher felt like a piece of his heart was leaving with them. It must have shown on his face, because just a second later, he felt Stan patting him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m gonna miss ‘em too.” the old con man said sincerely, “But hey, it’s not like we’re never gonna see ‘em again, right?”

Ford smiled. This pain in his heart was nothing compared to the joy of having his brother back. “You’re right.”

“Heh, somebody stop the presses.” Stan chuckled. “Now come on Sixer, we’ve got an adventure of our own to start!”

#Gravity Falls #Stanswap Au #Reverse Portal AU #Fanfiction #Take back the Falls #My Writing

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yoshibb · 6 years

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It’s been a rough month for me and one of the things that helped me through it is @seraphinitegames The Wayhaven Chronicles. A couple playthroughs of this game truly helped lift my spirits. So I wanted to do some fanart for it. I also wrote some fanfiction for this picture too which will hopefully not break the lore too much >.> But seriously, thank you Sera for creating such a lovely and romantic game for all of us.

F!DetectivexNate fiction with a hint of Adam on the side (spoilers: takes place over halfway through the game)

"I'll stay," he offered, the second Adam asked for a volunteer. Nate realized how eager he sounded and attempted to temper his enthusiasm, "I doubt you'll have need for me if you're planning to knock a few heads together."

"I'm sure that's the only reason," Felix grinned at him and Nate rolled his eyes. He never missed an opportunity to grind him.

"Sounds good. Call us if anything happens," Adam said, although he could sense the slightest bit of hesitation in his friend. Adam had seemed reluctant to watch Nate's relationship become any closer with Emma since they'd returned from the Agency.

"I'm sure the Detective and I will be quite capable of handling things while you're gone," he smiled, playing ignorant to it all. Adam's mouth opened and closed, some prudent piece of advice hanging on his best friend's tongue before his lips snapped shut, deciding against it.

"By handling, do you mean--" Felix filled in the gap.

"Felix, that's enough," Adam cut him off, tired of hearing his quips. Nate threw Adam a grateful expression and headed back into the apartment.

"Try not to have too much fun, Natey!" Felix couldn't resist throwing one last dagger over his shoulder as they parted. Nate pursed his lips, shaking his head at his immaturity. Once back inside, he found Emma leaning into the fridge. He stumbled briefly, not sure how much of the conversation she'd overhead.

"I thought today was our day off," she said. She pulled a carton of eggs out of the fridge along with a gallon of milk.

"Something came up that needed our immediate attention. It'll be just the two of us until later in the afternoon," Nate said. Her bare feet padded across the tiled floor, mind set on breakfast. Her robe draped casually off her right shoulder and her hair was tied up in a loose bun. He wondered sometimes if she was doing it on purpose. It wasn't polite to stare but he couldn't draw his eyes away.

"That's too bad," she said. He frowned but quickly hid his expression before she could see.

"That disappointed to be stuck with me?" he asked. She chuckled, throwing half a smile over her shoulder at him.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're my absolute favorite vampire to spend time with," she said as she reached into a cabinet to pull out a pair of bowls.

"I'd be flattered, but technically you only know five of us personally," he said. She clicked her tongue, lightly jabbing his shoulder with her fingers as if scolding him for his pessimistic view.

She pushed up onto her tip toes to reach the dishes and he closed the distance between them instinctively. Pressing his chest to her back, he reached up and easily extracted the mixing bowl her fingers were grasping for. Her pulse jumped at their contact. While not the initial intent, he was more than pleased by her reaction.

"Well, aren't you handy," she played it off as best as she could, getting her revenge by leaning back against him briefly as she examined the dish in her hands as if it were a piece of fine art. His pulse sped to keep pace with hers, "How about... I can't think of anyone I'd enjoy spending time with more?"

"Now you're teasing me," he said and he gripped the top shelf of the cabinet to keep from following her as she moved away.

"I'm thinking french toast. It's been awhile since I had a chance to make breakfast," she said, "What about you? Want some?"

"That sounds delightful," he leaned against the kitchen counter.

"Ok, come take a bite then," she opened up her neck, brushing her loose strands of hair away and gesturing for him to come closer. Nate's eyes widened.

"I would never--"

"I'm kidding. Don't worry," she laughed, reveling in his response. He sighed at one of the oldest jokes in the book. Yet it had still flustered him, "Come on, you know me. I had to use that one at least once."

He finally cracked a smile if only amused at how pleased she was with herself, "The french toast will more than suffice," his eyes lingered a shade longer on her skin, briefly imagining his lips pressing against her porcelain skin. He swallowed, "Do you cook often?"

"Not as much as I'd like to. Being the lone detective in town doesn't give you a lot of free time, especially during a murder investigation," she said, "Not to fear, I won't poison you."

"On the contrary, I was only thinking about what a privilege it is to taste something you've homemade," he said. She mixed together the eggs, milk, and spices.

"Charmer," she said and his smile turned into more of a smirk, his gaze falling, half lidded and low.

"You underestimate me, Detective. I can be much more charming than that," he said. He reveled in the slight flush on her cheeks. However, she matched him blow for blow, smirking as she casually licked her fingers clean of the liquid mix. She turned on the cooktop burner adding to the heat coursing through the apartment.

"How about yourself, Agent, you ever tried cooking?" she asked as she dipped a slice of bread in the mix.

"I've dabbled in it," he shrugged.

"I can understand. You're a little lacking in test subjects," she said, "I really don't want to think what a vampire delicacy would be like."

He shifted uncomfortably at the topic, "I enjoy going out to eat when I can as well, as long as the place is reputable."

"So you're a food snob?" she said with a laugh.

He pouted, "Is it so wrong to appreciate quality?" She chuckled at his reaction as she laid out each individual slice of bread on the griddle.

"You're right, I can't say I enjoy wasting calories on bad food," she said. He maintained his sour expression until she reached up and tapped his pursed lips. He startled and blinked his gaze back to her, "I've never seen you make that face before."

His regular smile returned again, wider than ever, "You always pull the most unique expressions out of me," she shook her head at his flirting, putting her full attention on the french toast. What was it that caused his fingers to tremble in the ache to touch her? He dreamed of peeling off her robe, his course knuckles mapping her curves, relishing in every small shiver of her body. Tsk... he was starting sound like Mason.

In the midst of his thoughts, he found himself surprisingly swaying. He caught himself quickly enough, blinking rapidly in response. He shook the cobwebs out of his head. He frowned knowing the sure signs of rare exhaustion. He tried to recall the last time he even lied down for a nap and came up empty. He could usually last longer than this, but he supposed they'd all been under quite a bit of stress.

He would let Adam know he needed a break when he returned. When he focused his attention on her again, she was plating the french toast.

"Whipped cream? Syrup? Butter?" she raised a brow in question.

"All of the above," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets to ground himself.

"Ugh, I bet you have abs like a washboard too," she said disgusted. He laughed.

"How do you know? You haven't been peeking, have you?" he said mock disturbed.

"I have been unsuccessful so far," she said. He stood up from his lounging position and making his move, capturing her with his gaze. The back of his fingers grazed against the line of her jaw causing her to reflexively tip her chin up to him. A thrill coursed through his veins knowing that she responded to him naturally without any complicated pheromones clouding her judgement.

"You don't need to resort to such desperate measures, Emma," he said. Her heart skipped when he said her name. Not to be outdone, her free hand enveloped his caressing one and tangling her fingers through his. He smiled moving even closer, wondering if he was turning from predator to prey as she drew him within striking distance.

His thigh bumped against the burner, causing it to click and light again. They both turned their attention away from each other, ending the heated moment as she extinguished the flame once again. She picked up their plates, bringing them over to the couch, gesturing for him to follow.

Sometimes he felt like there was otherworldly activity keeping them apart. He stifled his sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he trailed behind her. After he sat down next to her, she handed him a plate and utensils. He held them for a moment not satisfied eating with the plate in his lap. He ended up pulling the coffee table closer and cutting his food from there.

"So, were you a prince in your past life?" she asked. He noticed she'd haphazardly cut her french toast into chunks. He lulled his head in her direction, giving her a weary look, "What?"

"You remind me too much of Felix, sometimes," he sighed.

"That's better than Mason or God forbid, Adam," she said in mock horror eliciting another laugh from him.

"He grows on you," Nate said.

"Like a tumor?" she asked. He blinked, eyes curious, "Did you know that's what he said about Wayhaven?" He closed his eyes, silently cursing his best friend's poor attitude, "Well, it must have, as terrible as it sounds. He's a bit less knotted up now."

"You've noticed?" he asked and she took a large bite with a nod.

"Mm-hmm," she said, "He's even cracked a smile at a few of my jokes."

"He's warmed up to you at least. It may take a little more time for the rest of the town," he finally took his first bite. He let out a muffled groan, savoring the flavor as the bread melted on his tongue.

"Oh come on, it's not that good," her voice cracked although he found her smiling while she watched him.

"It is! I had no idea you were such a talented chef. Why are we even bothering to visit Haley's?" he said. She shoved him lightly, telling him to stop, "Strangely, I usually have to work a bit harder to enjoy food this rich, too."

"Because of your sensitive taste, right? I went a bit lighter on the spices in the mix," she said. He was taken back by the consideration. He let another forkful linger in his mouth for a moment, so he could properly collect his thoughts. When he remained speechless for too long she started to worry, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, of course not, I'm just-- I'm not used to such thoughtful gestures," he said honestly, making direct eye contact. She smiled initially thinking he was joking but her brows raised, smile fading after studying his reaction.

"Serious?" she asked to confirm nonetheless. He ate another bite, not able to deprive himself too long.

"This may surprise you, Detective, but most humans do not react as well as you did to our secret," he said. He averts his gaze, trying not to give away how much that fact hurts him, "It's hard to empathize with your perceived predators," he continues to eat to distract himself, enjoying it until the last piece.

"I guess that was what Felix was hinting at," she said. He glanced back at her in question, "Honestly, I thought the revelation that demons were walking around was much more terrifying. I mean, maybe last century it would be different but have you seen the vampire literature recently? The most terrible you lot are portrayed as anymore is a tad too sexually aggressive," he almost choked as he started to laugh, "Besides, I'm not afraid of things that will eat me. I think lions and tigers are adorable."

"To be fair, it wouldn't be wise to step into a cage unguarded with one either," he warned, his protective side winning out even at his own detriment. His thoughts drifted somewhere distant for a moment, imagining Emma on the other side of a barrier to keep herself safe from the monster. Never truly trusting him, never letting her guard down. His heart clenched slightly until her hand landed on his thigh.

"Well, not until I tamed him first," she said, rubbing his leg in a comforting gesture mixed with a suggestive smirk. He returned a sad smile and slid his hand over top of hers.

"There will always be a risk, though," he leaned closer. When her gaze lifted to connect with his, there was determination there, causing his heart to skip, matching hers.

"A risk worth taking," she whispered. Their lips pulled within a hair's width apart. Her fingertips climbed up his thigh and her pupils dulled slightly. The jolt from his nerve endings almost tore a moan out of his throat.

RRRRing!

He twitched in annoyance, gritting his teeth at the grating sound of his cell phone. He retrieved the phone from his pocket and almost crushed it in his grip. He still put on his best smile for the Detective.

"It's Adam," he lightened up when he saw the name.

"It's alright, I need to get dressed anyway," she patted his knee before getting up and heading into her bedroom. His eyes followed her and his lips quirked at the brief stutter in her step. He barely registered Adam calling for him on the other end of the line.

"Nate, are you there?" Nate juggled the phone before putting it to his ear.

"Yeah, Adam, sorry about that," he quickly apologized, "Is everything alright?"

"It's fine, but this might take a bit longer than we thought. We're having trouble locating the suspect," he sighed.

"I thought he was already in custody?" he said. He grabbed the used plates to wash them in the sink.

"Yes, he was," his voice inflects as if he's sending a very scathing look towards someone nearby, "We're going to search the area, see if we can pick up a scent of where he went. We'll probably be here awhile. How are things there?"

"Great, no signs of trouble here, why?" he asked, scrubbing the plates rougher than necessary, unconsciously trying to peel the paint off with the sponge.

"Well, you sound..."

"What?"

"Cranky," he said and Nate stopped cleaning for a moment, surprised.

"I'm fine, what would I have to be irritated about?" he asked.

"I bet you interrupted a moment with the Detective," he heard Felix clearly and Nate was suddenly glad that they couldn't see him right now. He dropped the plate in the sink before he could crack it beneath his grip.

"Felix..." Adam said exasperated.

"I don't hear him denying it," he could hear his grin from over the phone. Nate rolled his eyes.

"I guess the stress is catching up with me a little," Nate pivoted to another excuse, "It's been awhile since I got any rest."

"I'll send Felix back--"

"No, there's no need for that. You need everyone you can get down there," he said. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck with Felix and his jokes for the day every time he merely glanced in Emma's direction.

"Are you sure? If anything happens and you aren't in shape to defend--"

"Nothing is going to happen in the middle of the day, Adam. Even if it does, I'm sure the Detective is capable of protecting the both of us," Nate said.

"You can't seriously expect--"

"Goodbye, Adam," he said decidedly ending the call. He leaned over the kitchen counter briefly letting out a long shaky breath. Adam could be overbearing to even Nate sometimes. He frowned thinking of the real reason he was irked. There were many complicated emotions rolling through him at the moment.

Especially after what the Detective had just said to him.

"Everything alright?" he turned around, finding core of his thoughts behind him. He ran a hand through his loosely styled hair as Emma fixed him with a curious stare.

"Yeah, apparently they are having trouble locating the man they were supposed to interrogate," he said.

"An interogee is sorta necessary for the process," she said with a smile and he returned it, shoulders loosening.

"They won't be back until late, so I hope you were serious when you said you enjoyed my company," he shrugged.

"You mean I get bonus time? What did I do to deserve such a prize?" she asked with feigning surprise, pressing a flourished hand against her chest. Nate was always happy to see how eager Emma was to return his flirting, "I was thinking of watching a movie. You want to help me pick?"

"Sure," he said. It was probably best that they didn't go out and mingle about town without backup. He hid a small yawn behind his fist as he sat down once again on the couch. She took up a remote and he stared at her in confusion.

"Don't you have a collection somewhere to choose from?" he said.

"Oh, no, I have streaming services so we just pick one from the list and it'll come directly to--" she interrupted herself when she saw Nate's blank stare, "Do you not know what internet streaming is?"

"No--I know--I just find it impersonal and unnecessary," he said crossing his arms with a small pout. Her grin only widened, "What's with that look?"

"You're like my grandfather," she teased him, and he practically repelled, "'What do we need all these new fangled contraptions for? Back in my day we wrote everything by hand. Walked twenty miles in the snow back and forth from school, uphill both ways.'"

"That's not even possible," he said with a roll of his eyes. He noticed she continued to stare at him with an amused grin and he cocked his head. "It's kind of nice knowing that you aren't the master of everything. Makes you seem--"

"More Human?" he finished for her, a disappointed inflection in his tone.

"I was going to say less like a romantic god," she corrected him. His gaze snapped to her in shock as she caught him off guard, "You cook, you clean, you know all the right things to say, and you could make a person swoon with a mere glance. You're a bit much, Adonis."

He chuckled, caught off guard. He rubbed the back of his neck, sinking under the shower of praises, "I'm sure you'll find I have plenty of weaknesses. I'm certainly not perfect."

"Says the guy that can speak almost every known language and could probably recite the periodic table of elements backwards," she said sipping on her tea.

"I've had my share of free time," he mumbled, now thoroughly embarrassed.

"The funny thing is I'm usually turned off by genius types. I'm a B average at best, so it's almost intimidating to spend time with a person that above my head," she said and he tried to ignore the niggling anxiety building inside of him as he waited for her to mention an exception after she finished sipping her tea, "And yet I find you charming."

It was exactly what he wished she'd say so he was speechless for a moment when he heard it. Finally he came up with a standard response, "I'm honored to be considered a special case," he tried not to sound overly relieved, "Still not thrilled about this method of entertainment," he gestures towards the TV screen.

"Come on, old man. Just help me pick," she said, poking him playfully. As they scanned to movie titles and descriptions, he found himself losing focus a number of times. He braced his chin on his palm, resting his elbow on his thigh.

"We could watch Twilight and you could tell me all the things they got wrong," she asked with a chuckle. His lips tugged up for a moment in response and then he inwardly groaned.

"Sounds exhausting," he said.

"Yeah, I wouldn't even subject Adam to that torture," she said. He noted the way it bugged him slightly whenever she spoke fondly or playfully of Adam. It was an unpleasant and unfamiliar feeling. He pushed down the disgraceful emotion and returned his gaze to the screen, "I think I'm gonna go with La La Land. I heard that was good. Will that work for you?"

"Mm-hmm," he answered, his eyelids drooping a tad.

"Nate, are you alright?" she asked, her hand resting on his back, causing him to sit up in alarm.

"Sorry, I'm fine. La La Land is a good choice," he said, answering her worried frown with his usual smile.

"I know this is a strange thing to say to a vampire, but... you look exhausted," she said. He sighed, drawing a hand across his face.

"I'm a little tired, but it's nothing serious. The long week must be catching up to me," he assured her.

"You could rest in my bedroom if you want. I'm sure I can guard the apartment for a few hours," she offered. He put his hand over the one now resting on his shoulder, mimicking her earlier move.

"Thank you, truly, but I could go another week without sleep. Let's just enjoy the movie," he said. She gave in seeing how emphatic he was. To be honest, his reasons for staying awake were two fold. He was dedicated to do his job and that meant protecting Emma at all times. Secondly, he'd finally gotten a chance to spend some alone time with her and he didn't want to waste it. When she turned back to the TV, her hand twisted around and cupped his. She let their clasped hands rest between them and he noted the increase in her pulse and the spreading warmth of her palm. He tightened his grip, assuring her that he enjoyed it as much as she did. -------------------- This movie was not as good as she'd hoped. She didn't know why she kept trying Oscar movies. She should stick with action schlock. However, she had a feeling action wasn't Nate's favorite genre and she wanted to find something he'd enjoy too. Speaking of Nate, he'd made a few observations at the beginning of the movie, talking about the last time he'd been to Los Angeles, but he'd been quiet for awhile now.

She found out why when she felt a sudden pressure against her side, his head perching on her shoulder. She didn't move for a moment, not sure what to do. She'd never seen any of them even close their eyes for too long. She turned her head enough to see his awkward position had to be uncomfortable, as much as she enjoyed it.

Carefully, she guided his body down so his head was pillowed on her lap. He was so peaceful. Her mind flashed back to the moment she'd found out he and the rest of the team were vampires. She managed to bottle it at the time, but between her fear of an unknown world and anger at being lied to, she wondered how everything would effect her relationship with Unit Bravo. Nate in particular.

She knew he'd wanted to tell her the truth for awhile, only to be interrupted every time by Adam. So when he froze, not chancing a blink while waiting anxiously for her response after she'd discovered their secret, she couldn't bear to hurt him. And she was glad she didn't say anything rash because once everything was out in the open and she'd had time to calm down, the whole thing was much easier to accept.

Well, she wasn't going to wake him now that he was out. She'd noticed Nate had been the most dedicated to researching and catching Murphy of all of them. He'd poured over documents and books and went through old Agency files searching for a lead. She guessed even supernaturals wore out after enough stress. She took the blanket that was laying over the back of the couch and tossed it over him.

He released a soft moan and she acted quickly, stroking gentle fingers through his hair, brushing any stray bangs from his forehead. He relaxed again with a sigh of contentment. However, she continued combing his soft locks. They felt like silk sliding through the gaps in her fingers. It was just as soothing for her as it seemed to be for him.

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

Nate wanted to get up but it was like he was paralyzed. He felt so at ease with Emma by his side. Her intoxicating scent, her open body language, the gentle way she touched and held his hand, it was too hard to resist. He'd passed out on her shoulder. His mind cried for him to awaken again but it was as if ten tons of weight were pressing down on top of him.

Instead, her careful hands were guiding him down, safely cradling his head to come to rest in her lap. It felt heavenly, relaxing against her warmth. But now it became an almost impossible nest to escape from. He felt something spread across him, sending him even deeper. He tried to speak and tell her not to worry about him, but instead all that came out was the weakest of protests.

With delicate fingers, she sent him under for good, brushing his hair from his face and caressing him until he let out a content sigh and lost consciousness.

---------------- It was just past sunset when the rest of the team returned. Emma had moved on to watching sports after the movie ended. Nate never woke up the rest of the afternoon. She was actually contemplating nudging him right before the guys had walked in.

"Nate?!" Adam called and Emma sighed in annoyance as Nate bolted awake.

"You could at least be a little gentle about it," she scolded Adam.

"W-What--Emma--Adam--" he came back to his senses, brushing his hair back, and looking between the two of them in utter confusion.

Felix's laughter cut through the tension and Nate visibly winced, "Oh my God, you actually fell asleep and on her lap no less?"

She couldn't help but take a little pleasure in Adam's horrified expression. Mason stood in the background, leaning casually against the wall, smirking at them with approval.

"So how'd the interrogation go?" she asked if only to bail out Nate, who seemed to be computing things at about half his normal speed. Adam jumped at the chance to change topics.

"It was a waste of time. He managed to escape us before we even had a chance to talk to him," Adam said.

"But how about you two, you seem to have made some significant progress?" Felix smirked, mercilessly shifting back to the previous topic.

"I apologize, Detective. That was very irresponsible of me," Nate seemed a bit more with it this time around. She shrugged at his apology.

"You couldn't have been out for more than a few minutes. Pretty impressive how dedicated you were to your job even when you were obviously running on fumes," she said. He kept his gaze on her, smiling bashfully as he knew she was trying to cover for him, "I know you guys don't need that much sleep, but I think there's a limit."

"Well, if you're offering your bed--" Mason finally added to the conversation only for Nate to immediately shut him down with a glare.

"Seriously, Mason?" Nate said.

"Aw come on, Nate. I want some snuggle time with the detective," Felix quipped and Adam finally put a stop to it.

"Alright, alright, this whole conversation needs to end, now," he said as if the topic was physically hurting him. She held up her hands, leaving them to their own devices as she got up from the couch.

"Why don't you all have yourselves a break? I'll be in my room if you need me," she said.

"We don't need to rest. Not to mention it would be reckless to let our guard down for even a moment--"

"Adam, I promise to keep away from all sharp objects and electric sockets. I'm just going to be reading," she mock gasped in horror, "Oh no, that's a terrible idea, I could suffer death by papercut."

Adam ignored the numerous snickers behind him, narrowing his gaze at her with a growing frown, "This isn't a joke, Detective."

"Certainly not, and neither is your health. So please do whatever it is hardasses like you do to relax. Lift weights, wrestle bears, whatever," she said and before he could talk back she jabbed a finger into the center of his chest, "Don't make me pepper spray you again, mister."

"Oh please do, the audience demands an encore," Felix laughed, unable to hold his tongue any longer. Adam growled at the reminder, letting go a huff of frustration.

"You are the most impossible woman," he said thoroughly flustered. She smiled at the reaction, briefly glancing at Nate before she went into her room. She expected to see him enjoying the lighthearted exchange but instead she saw him staring at Adam with a complicated expression, trying to work out a problem he couldn't quite solve. It was as if something was gnawing on him, a mixture of shame and worry. The next time she blinked, however, his furrowed brow had relaxed and he was returning her gaze with his trademark soft smile.

She resisted blowing him a kiss, shaking off her suspicions and making her full retreat.

#The Wayhaven Chronicles #nathaniel sewell #fanart #fanfiction #fangirling

81 notes · View notes

maxdark158 · 4 years

Text

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

hi. it’s been a while. let’s get into the actual chapter then.

oooOOOooo

Marinette wasn’t used to houses as large as the Wayne Manor – that much was clear. Her eyes were wide when she first took everything in. He didn’t take her on a tour, he knew Todd and Drake were somewhere in the mansion and he didn’t want her meeting them until she was ready.

Her jaw did drop when Alfred showed her their kitchen though. Her expression almost made him regret his decision to not give her a tour. The faces she would have possibly made looking at the grand halls and rooms or would have been- not worth Todd and Drake.

Hence the almost.

Marinette seemed to adjust to her surroundings quickly enough. Perhaps the food Alfred managed to make quickly helped with that. She seemed delighted by the taste.

“My parents don’t make these often,” she mumbled, munching on her blondie. “White chocolate is usually used for decoration.”

“I’m glad the daughter of bakers can enjoy my desserts,” Alfred seemed to like her, which was good. He wouldn’t do anything to keep the other two away from her though. Alfred did little to mitigate possible damage done by siblings.

He left after that, though Marinette kept asking if he wanted to eat with them. Damian wasn’t sure why Alfred was so hell-bent on leaving them alone. Unlike Marinette, he didn’t buy that, “I already ate,” bullshit.

However his glare didn’t exactly work through walls, so he instead talked to his an- Marinette.

They talked about a lot of things. What she was planning to do with the fabrics she bought while they were out, she had designs based off Gotham’s superheroes, based off him and his family too but they aren’t as important, then how much free time she would have given where her field trip would be taking her over the course of the rest of her days here, he took a mental note of locations and times she mentioned so he could possibly spend more ti- spring her from spending time with that awful class, which led into what she liked about Gotham so far and what she wanted to see before leaving, which he also made note of. For other reasons- not those reasons though, just other reasons in general. To make sure they were safe.

She seemed happy.

It was a good look for her.

Wait, what the fu-

“Can you help me clean up?” she asked, startling Damian out of his own mental interrogation. He’ll return to it later, it seems.

“Sure,” he picked up his empty plate. Alfred happened to choose that moment to return and help clean up, so the mother fucker was clearly fucking listening in. Bitch.

They cleaned for a few wordless moments before Marinette spoke again.

“Do your brothers know we’re here?” she asked Damian while she took the glasses to the kitchen. Damian trailed after her with the plates.

“No, and we can leave before they find out if we’re quick about it,” maybe she changed her mind about meeting them. He wouldn’t blame her.

“What if I’d like to meet them?” she teased. “They sound fun!”

Fucking fuck fuck.

“Alright Angel, if you’re sure,” he pursed his lips, “but if you want to leave for any reason, just tell me.”

“Master Damian, I do believe that Miss Marinette is capable of taking care of herself,” Alfred almost seemed to be chiding him.

This just in, Alfred is fucking dead to him now.

He began putting the plates in the dishwasher, because unlike fucking Todd, he doesn’t just drop them in the fucking sink and walk away like a heathen.

“What he said, Damian,” Marinette giggled. “I’ll be fine. They can’t be worse than the Riddler or Hawkmoth, and I survived those two.”

Is that how she approaches every situation? Well, it can’t be worse than the fucking Butterfly Terrorist in Paris or the Green Guy with Deadly Riddles! He realized he was gripping the plate in his hands too hard and forced himself to relax.

Then he saw who was behind hi- Marinette.

“Todd,” he didn’t growl, which is a point to him. Todd fucking smirked too, and Damian didn’t murder him. Another point.

“Demon Spawn! I thought you went somewhere else!” He glanced down at Marinette. “Timmy! The Riddler girl is here!”

Of fucking course Drake wanted to talk to Marinette. Of fucking course.

Drake ran in like a fucking lunatic. He is a fucking lunatic but that doesn’t mean he has to run like one. He can run like a normal person just fucking fine. Damian heard him break something on his way to the kitchen, adding to the needlessness of his theatrics. He fought back a sigh and put the last plate away.

“Holy sh-

“Language,” Alfred tutted. Like he fucking cared about fucking language after the Swear Jar Incident.

“You’re actually here! I didn’t think Damian would let you near us!” Damian almost grabbed the dirty plate out of the dishwasher and smashed it against Drake’s head. “I’m Tim Drake-Wayne!”

“Jason Todd-Wayne,” Damian’s least favorite brother said.

No, that wasn’t fair to Drake. They were both his least favorite family member.

Marinette seemed to hesitate for a moment. Her eyes widened briefly, like she had come to a realization. Damian mentally screamed when he found the expression cute. She isn’t cute she’s just his friend who is attractive but he isn’t attracted to her he can just acknowledge the fucking fact-

Then, she smiled. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng! A pleasure to meet you!”

Drake practically fell over himself trying to get the words out. “So you solved The Riddler’s riddle, right?” Tim asked. “Like, knew what the answer was?”

Marinette nodded. “He probably googled it. A toddler could do better.”

Damian frowned. Did… did she not consider the Riddler a serious villain? Did she not realize that his riddles were meant to be difficult…

Did she not realize how impressive it was that she solved it, especially since it was a play on a language that isn’t her first?

Drake lit up at her nonchalance, likely excited that she considered an intelligent adversary easy to defeat. Fuck that shit.

“Drake, don’t harass her with your questions!” he snapped. Because what the fuck. She was his friend first anyway she doesn’t have to be interrogated.

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

“She isn’t uncomfortable-”

“You’re asking about her first and only encounter with a villain of course she is-”

“Are you even looking at her she isn’t-”

“So fucking what if she doesn’t look uncomfortable? You can’t demand the details of something like that for no good god damn reason-”

“You know I have a good reason, you motherfucking asshole-”

“Sure!” he heard Marinette practically shout and-

Wait what?

“What?” Damian asked, interrupting Tim during their argument.

Marinette turned toward him while Todd slung an arm over her shoulder like they were best fucking friends or something. No they fuck they’re not. “Freckles here just agreed to spar with me!”

What.

She turned her head to look at him. “Freckles?”

What.

“It’s your nickname. ’Cause you’ve got Freckles.”

What the fuck is this fuckery?

Damian heard Drake stifle a laugh behind him. The bitch. Damian opened his mouth to argue or say something or stop this because what the fuck Todd but Drake beat him to it.

“Do you seriously want to duel her because she beat The Riddler?” Drake scoffed.

Damian wasn’t sure what he expected but that was disappointing regardless. What the fuck, Drake? Argue better than that!

“You wanted to question her because she solved his riddles!” Todd continued to try and defend the indefensible. “Plus-”

“Todd,” Damian hissed, because they needed to have a talk about not hurting hi- Marinette, it seemed.

“Yeah demon spawn?” Todd sounded fucking bored of all things.

Damian opened his mouth to start his argument when he was interrupted again – was it shit on Damian day today? – wait Marinette is talking-

“-I agreed to it,” she told him, her own beautiful eyes meeting his. “Plus, akuma are typically much larger than me anyway. It’s not like I’m going to break from someone as small as Jason!”

Damian blinked. His brothers laughed but he blinked and tensed a bit. What the hell does she mean akuma are typically bigger than- what are they? He assumed it was some type of gang and while it isn’t that hard to be bigger than his an- Marinette are they all as large as Jason? Larger? How many akuma are there? How much bigger are they? He forced his body to relax. He needed to focus on the now, research this akuma gang headed by a butterfly loving lunatic later.

“We have a gym down the hall,” Drake helpfully said. Todd was still giggling because he thought it was so fucking funny haha bitch. Damian continued to glare. It wouldn’t technically be murder if Todd were killed by a glare, right? Damian didn’t even have powers, so clearly it couldn’t have been him…

“Do you know your IQ?” Tim asked. Like a fucking creep with no concept of personal space or privacy Drake what the ever-loving fuck.

His a- Marinette was rightfully confused by the invasive question but instead of telling Drake to fuck off she was nicer and answered his question. “No, I don’t think I ever took the test.”

Damian was walking ahead of them with Todd to make sure he didn’t pull any funny business but seriously, bitch, mind your own business- “Do you have any measurement of your problem-solving skills?”

Damian didn’t murder anymore. Especially his brothers. Especially especially in front of his- an ang- Marinette. He was tense though, Todd gave him a *look* and he just glared more.

“My parents don’t like playing strategy games with me,” she seemed to be reminiscing something.

“You always win?” Drake asked. She nodded.

“Hey Timmy, stop holding Freckles up!” Todd called from where they were at the gym door.

“Alright, alright,” Drake grumbled. The other two sped up and soon entered the gym.

It was standard, smaller than the one he grew up using. The sparring mat was in the center, which was what Damian assumed Todd planned to use for this unnecessary battle.

Todd took off his jacket and took a position on the mat. Hi- Marinette followed suit, setting her purse near his jacket. When she took a position, it was off slightly.

Todd lunged, Marinette ducked his punch and maneuvered behind him, driving an elbow into his back. He dodged, barely, and went for a swipe under her feet.

She tripped, but he saw her maneuvering her fall so she wasn’t hurt.

Seems she wanted to end this early too.

“Well, that was fu-”

“You can do better than that!” Drake cried. “There’s no way that’s it.”

“Drake,” Damian grumbled. He should just let her lose if she wants! He knows Jason isn’t really trying either, none of them would really try on a civilian. He was still wor- god damn it.

Todd seemed to pause as if his brain needed to process the information like a slow computer. “Wait, you weren’t really trying?”

“I-” she hesitated, “What makes you think that wasn’t my best?”

“The Riddler is bad at combat,” Drake leaned against the wall acting like a fucking know it all bitch and seriously? “But he’s better than that. Why are you holding back?”

“She can hold back if she wants to,” Damian would really appreciate someone not being an idiot here.

“Jason wanted to see how good she is,” Drake retorted. “If she’s holding back, it’s like purposefully failing a test or losing a game!”

“No, it’s not!” Marinette responded hotly, almost… competitive?

“Why are you not trying to win, Freckles?” Todd asked. “This is sort of a competition.”

Damian saw something shift in his Angel’s demeanor… Seems she’s competitive too. He filed that information away.

She got up and assumed a better position. “Fine then,” she huffed.

Todd got into position and this time, she attacked first.

She went for a fake punch to the throat. He grabbed her fist to block and she grabbed onto his other hand to swing onto his shoulders. He attempted to pull her down with the hand she grabbed but she managed to remove it from his grip and grab it with her own.

“What the hell!”

Todd’s wrists were held by her. He didn’t shake her grip off him, though he could if he were trying. He was attempted to buck her off his shoulders, but Marinette’s legs wrapped around him too tight to be shaken off. As he struggled to get her to let go, she began to swing around to make him lose balance.

He didn’t have his arms to stabilize him or catch his fall. His bucking made his lack of balance worse, and with several curses, he began falling backward. Marinette let go of his trapped hands mid-fall flipped off him, somehow dodging his head.

When Todd landed face-first on the mat looking incredibly pathetic even if he could still win, she was there quick as lightning, pinning his arms behind him and his legs with her weight.

“I win,” she grinned.

Todd responded with more muffled curses.

She got off of him and helped him up. After he was standing, she glanced at him and Drake.

Drake’s mouth was open, being overdramatic again for no fucking reason, really it was cool to see a civilian do that though but that doesn’t mean Drake gets to be impressed!

“Holy hell what are they teaching you in Paris?” Todd grumbled, pupping his back.

Marinette bit her lip. “I’m sorry-”

“Why?” Todd asked. “I asked for you to fight me. This was fun even if I got a mouthful of matt.”

“Do you work out?” Drake asked, again with the questions!

“Not regularly,” she responded. “But my parents own a bakery and the flour bags are heavy. Plus, sometimes someone orders a huge cake, and those can get heavy too!”

Drake nodded, likely filing that information away to write some fucking biography on her because she’s oh so impressive for a civilian- she *is* but Drake can fucking leave her alone!

Todd spoke up because since he died he had a death wish. “Hey Demon Spawn, are you rebooting or something?”

Damian scrambled for an excuse, as I’m mentally murdering you and Drake is typically an unacceptable answer. No it wasn’t but he wouldn’t say that around his Ang- Marinette. “Apologies. I’m a bit surprised, as I didn’t see Marinette actually fight The Riddler, I didn’t know what she was capable of.”

“What?” Marinette seemed to snap out of a train of thought suddenly, “I’m sorry I zoned out.”

“You-“ are really impressive.

“He said you did a good job, Freckles,” Todd fucking interrupted him how dare he. But also thank you- god, this was all because of that fucking worry wasn’t it? Fucking god damn worry was poisoning his every thought and action.

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled.

“Okay since that’s over now,” Drake rubbed his hands together. “Marinette-”

“Please tell me none of you died,” Father walked in, surveying the room. “Huh. I’m surprised there isn’t any blood. Alfred told me you were sparring.”

“Jason decided to spar Damian’s girl-”

“Marinette,” Damian interrupted, she’s not his *girl* what the fuck, she’s his friend- “My friend Marinette.”

Bruce Wayne sees her for the first time and Marinette has to shake off the feeling of being analyzed.

“She’s the girl that punched Riddler in the throat,” Drake says unhelpfully.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” she goes to shake his hand. He takes it and shakes. Good, his father isn’t dead to him then. Alfred still has to make up for some shit.

“She won against Todd by the way,” Damian decided to add. Father stiffened a bit. They both knew Todd was going easy on her, but it was still interesting.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Father says. “Alfred wanted to invite you to stay for dinner.”

Since when was that a fucking thing? And *why*? What was Alfred’s fucking angle? Damian’s eyes narrowed. If he thought this would make it up to hi- shit she’s talking.

“-ze, but I must be returned to my class by five-thirty pm.”

“Uh, it’s four forty now,” Todd points out, “How long is the drive, Freckles?”

Marinette pales. “I should probably head back-”

“I’ll go with you,” Damian didn’t want to be around his brothers, he knew they’d find something to tease him about regarding Marinette. “Alfred can drive us if that is alright with you.” He was still the most trusted driver even if he’s currently dead to him right now.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” she smiled and Damian felt… oddly warm. Was he sick?. She turned to his brothers and father, “It was wonderful to meet you guys!”

“I’ll win the sparring match next time, Freckles,” Todd told her. Was he going to hold back less or something? He better fucking not.

Drake said something about another invasive idea for a test that Damian would deal with later, when he could use his sword. “You better come back,” he said out loud. Why the hell would he demand things of her?

“I’d love to return if I’m invited.”

“When,” he told her.

She managed to smile again. “When.”

At this rate, there wouldn’t be a fucking when if this shit happens every time.

They left the room and Alfred led them to the car. He allowed the silence as she didn’t appear to want to talk. Maybe she wanted to relax? He wasn’t sure, so he didn’t start a conversation. Was he overthinking things? Weedkiller, he’d get the fucking weedkiller soon...

“The brothers I met were nice,” she began to talk suddenly, she must want a conversation. “They seem annoying-”

“You can say that again,” he grumbled automatically.

“-but they seem like decent brothers,” she finished. “They’re fun people too.”

Damian shrugged. “Sometimes.” Like when he’s using them for target practice.

There was more silence. But now he’s thinking, well wondering? He’s thinking and wondering and-

“Do you have secrets?” he asked suddenly and Fucking fuck fuck he shouldn’t ask that what the fuck he was mad at Drake for the invasive questions real fucking hypocritical of him huh- “You don’t have to tell me, obviously, but you’re aware that there are things I’m not comfortable telling you yet and-”

“I have secrets,” she interrupted his fucking worried rambling he would kill the worry he swears. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

Oh. That… To earn enough of her trust like that… Damian smiled slightly, even if it felt foreign on his face. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wish to, Angel. It’s only fair that I give you what you’re giving me.”

Marinette grinned wide. “Thank you.”

Maybe he could get a bit more used to smiling, seeing a smile like that…

“We have arrived,” Alfred said from the front seat. Damian was shocked, glanced out the window and- oh, they have arrived… he was disappointed, but only in his inability to realize himself. Nothing else. Nothing. At all. Nothing.

He got out with her, and a moment of clumsiness seemed to overtake her. She tripped over Damian’s feet.

“Oh my- I’m so sorry,” her accent was heavier, she must be struggling to speak a second language while… embarrassed?

“It’s alright Angel,” he should try to soothe the embarrassment, right? Is that how that worked? She seemed tense as he helped her up, and she turned to face him and- is she alright?

“Is something wrong?” he was worried.

“I’m okay,” she said, brushing off her knees. “I used to fall like that all the time, but I’m okay, I promise.”

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I won’t.”

After some hesitation, she left. She walked back into the building, safe and unharmed. He got back into the car and Alfred drove them back to the manor.

oooOOOooo

It was easy to slip into the building unnoticed. Well, not unnoticed, the jester did kill the man behind the desk and leave him there. But he died with a smile on his face. They’d all die with a smile on their faces. And this would be fun for the jester too. the jester would have a lot of fun, so much fun, so much fun, a lot of so much fun you see…

The jester waited behind the desk with the lights off. Another girl was there. Not the one the jester wanted, no no not yet. But perhaps she’d join her little friend. The jester would get two. Have even more fun.

The jester grinned, hidden by the dark. But soon the jester wouldn’t be. And it would be so, so much fun.

#Damian Wayne #daminette #Damian al Ghul #Marinette #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #maribat #fic #fanfic #writing #my writing

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goforwardgreenwriter-blog · 6 years

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The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 5 - 6

“Last chapter was probably my favorite, and gave me hope that maybe everything won’t be so bad.” -a fool’s last words.

Aelin stared and stared at that piece of paper, at the names that had been signed long before tonight, the men who had decided against her without meeting her, the men who had changed her future, her kingdom, with just their signatures.

I feel like SJM is trying to make us feel sorry for Aelin, but.... no? She hasn’t proved herself worthy of being a queen at all! She flat out admits that these men have never met her - does she really expect these people to hand over the throne of their kingdom to someone they’ve never met?!?!?! WHAT IS gOING ON WHERE IS THE LOGIC

Aelin breathed, “Our doom gathers in the South of Adarlan—yet this is what you focus on?”

Umm yeah because the ruler of the kingdom is a very important job and one that is needed for war?? They need a strong leader to help guide them through the upcoming battles, Darrow is absolutely right to be concerned about this.

“The Bane,” Darrow spat, “is now ours to command. In the event that there is no fit ruler on the throne, the lords control the armies of Terrasen.”

You go Darrow! He’ll be the leader Terrasen needs and defend his kingdom while Aelin prances around demanding her crown be handed to her without her doing any work and threatening anyone who refuses to kiss her ass.

Something cold and oily clanged through [Aelin]. Marriage to a foreign king or prince or emperor. Would this be the cost? Not just in blood shed, but in dreams yielded? To be a princess eternal, but never a queen? To fight with not just magic, but the other power in her blood: royalty.

Hoo boy, the “I can’t marry for love but I have to marry for my kingdom” trope. I don’t mind this trope if it’s done well ( I guess I’m a sucker for that drama) but SJM is either gonna A. sweep it under the rug afterwards and never address it again, or B. milk the angst for all it’s worth and then come up with a last minute solution that doesn’t make Aelin have to make any decisions or compromises or work for her happy ending.

She had laughed once at Dorian—laughed and scolded him for admitting that the thought of marriage to anyone but his soul-bonded was abhorrent. She’d chided him for choosing love over the peace of his kingdom.

Karma is a bitch ain’t it

Aelin spoke into the dark, toward where Darrow was seated. “I suggest, Lord Darrow, that you become accustomed to this. For if we lose this war, darkness will reign forever.” There was a scratch and a hiss—then a match sputtered as it lit a candle on the table. Darrow’s wrinkled, hateful face flickered into view. “Men can make their own light, Heir of Brannon.”

Darrow literally takes no shit!! Why isn’t there fanart and posts dedicated to this bad ass old warrior instead of countless fans gushing over Aelin? Seriously, I’d ask for a Darrow backstory novel but SJM would fuck it up, no doubt.

But Aelin looked to Ren, his face tight. And over the roaring in her head, she said, “Whether or not you vote in my favor, there is a spot for you in this court. For what you helped Aedion and the captain do. For Nehemia.”

*chokes back on sobs* I miss when it was just Nehemia, Aelin, Dorian, and Chaol in the glass castle..... they really were simpler times.

Darrow expresses that Nehemia was a better princess than Aelin is (which is true) and references her death and Rowan fuckin’ threatens to kill him. So gg, you all are just proving Darrow’s point that none of you are fit for the responsibility of ruling/helping Aelin rule.

A messenger arrives and informs them that Rifthold will soon be under attack from the Ironteeth witches.

Aelin wondered if Manon Blackbeak would be leading the attack—if it’d be a blessing. The Wing Leader had saved them once before, but only as a payment for a life debt. She doubted the witch would feel obliged to throw them a bone anytime soon.

Ohhh is this foreshadowing that Manon is going to join Aelin’s side or am I reading into this too much? I’m worried that SJM is gonna reduce Manon to just another blind follower of Aelin hnghhh.....

Rowan’s hand brushed [Aelin’s]. “I will save him,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t ask this of you unless it was … Dorian is vital. Lose him, and we lose any support in Adarlan.” And one of the few magic-wielders who could stand against Morath.

Uhh and you’d lose one of your first friends you made after you were freed from the mines? The guy who you were once in love with? Seriously, she’s talking about Dorian as if he’s some weapon right now and not one of her best friends! I s2g as soon as Aelin met Rowan it was like Chaol and Dorian never existed in the first place and all that development she had with them got swept under the rug.

Since Darrow said that they needed allies, Aelin plots for them all to meet up in Skull’s Bay after Rowan rescues Dorian. Wait.... Skull’s Bay is from The Assassin’s Blade. But that means-

“I thought you knew Rolfe,” Aedion said. Aelin gave him a grim smile. “He and I parted on … bad terms, to say the least. But if Rolfe can be turned to our side…”

Rolfe!!! He was another interesting character from the first book (not a good guy, if I remember correctly, he owned slaves) who actually made Aelin work in order to beat him and gain victory. I’m excited to meet him again.

Alone with Rowan, Aelin said, “Darrow expects me to take this order lying down. But if we can rally a host in the South, we can push Erawan right onto the blades of the Bane.” “It still might not convince Darrow and the others—” “I’ll deal with that later,” she said, spraying water as she shook her head. “For now, I have no plans to lose this war because some old bastard has learned he likes playing king.”

Uhh fuck you?? For acting like Darrow is the bad guy here?? He cares about his kingdom and rather than let his grief over his deceased lover consume him, he fights hard to protect his people and makes sure the crown doesn’t go to anyone who will start a war over the stupidest shit. Fuck you Aelin, Darrow would be a much better ruler than you.

But if Rowan was caught, if Dorian was caught … “I can’t—I can’t let you go—” “You can,” he said with little room for argument. The voice of her prince commander. “And you will.” Rowan again traced her mouth. “When you find me again, we will have that night. I don’t care where, or who is around.”

That really is their only motivation at this point, huh? Aelin just wants this war to be over so she can bone her fae prince whenever she wants without any interruptions. I need a drink.

So Rowan leaves in hawk form to go rescue Dorian and Evangeline is going to stay with Murtaugh, since Aelin at least has the sense to not bring a child to a pirate paradise.

Aelin kissed the girl’s cheek and whispered into her ear, “Work your magic on these miserable old men while you’re at it.” She pulled away to wink at the girl. “Win me back my kingdom, Evangeline.”

I almost felt my heart melt at this cute interaction, but then I remembered that Aelin means Darrow and SJM wants the audience to hate him and that mood flew out the window. I’ll be the only Darrow stan on this website if I have to, damnit.

Aedion said to Ren, “Unless you want to swap one tyrant for another, I suggest you get the Bane and any others ready to push from the North.” Murtaugh answered for his grandson, “Darrow means well—” “Darrow,” Aedion interrupted, “is now a man of limited days.”

LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK AEDION!!!! Darrow rightfully denies Aelin the crown and you’re gonna fucking murder him? You need his alliance if you’re gonna win this war holy shit y’all are so fucking stupid!

Aelin said, “We don’t touch Darrow.” “What?” Aedion snapped. Aelin said, “I’d bet all my money that he’s already taken the steps to ensure that if he meets an untimely death, we never set foot in Orynth again.” Murtaugh gave her a grim, confirming nod. Aelin shrugged. “So we don’t touch him. We play his game—play by rules and laws and oaths.”

For once Aelin is finally using another method of negotiation other than killing people but stop framing Darrow as if he’s ~evil~ for not giving you your crown when you’ve done nothing to prove to any of the lords that you’re fit to rule! I am utterly baffled that SJM really thinks Darrow is in the wrong here.

So Murtaugh has been loyal to Aelin’s family, treated her with respect and kindness, and offered to look after Evangeline while they’re gone, so Aelin.... slices her palm and threatens him that if anything happens to Evangeline she will burn all of them. I’m not even joking.

Aelin clenched her bloodied palm into a fist, holding it in the air between them. “Because of that loyalty, you will understand what blood promises mean to me when I say if that girl comes to harm, physical or otherwise, I do not care what laws exist, what rules I will break.” Lysandra had now turned to them, her shifter senses detecting blood. “If Evangeline is hurt, you will burn. All of you.”

Seriously, can someone tell me if I’m going crazy?? AELIN THESE ARE PEOPLE WHO WANT TO BE YOUR ALLIES YOU CAN’T GODDAMN THREATEN ALL OF THEM!!!!! Murtaugh has not said one bad word to you and you’re threatening to burn him!!! WHAT THE FUCK AELIN THIS IS WHY YOU ARE NOT QUEEN YOU STUPID DKAHDFJAHFKDH

“Threatening your loyal court?” sneered a cold voice as Darrow halted a few feet away.

Oh thank god Darrow is here, a character who isn’t brain dead stupid. Seriously, number 1 Darrow stan right here.

Her heart strained, but Aelin said to Ren, that scar hidden by the shadows of his rain-drenched hood, “I wish we had time to speak. Time for me to explain.” “You’re good at walking away from this kingdom. I don’t see why now would be different.”

HOLY SHIT REN IS JOINING IN THE AELIN ROASTING!!! Ren and Darrow are the only good people in this entire goddamn kingdom.

Aelin said, “I promise you that no matter how far I go, no matter the cost, when you call for my aid, I will come. I promise you on my blood, on my family’s name, that I will not turn my back on Terrasen as you have turned your back on me. I promise you, Darrow, that when the day comes and you crawl for my help, I will put my kingdom before my pride and not kill you for this. I think the true punishment will be seeing me on the throne for the rest of your miserable life.”

>IMPLYING THAT DARROW WILL EVER NEED YOUR HELP YOU STUPID FUCKING ASSHOLE WHO CAN’T EVEN GET THROUGH A SIMPLE MEETING WITHOUT ALMOST STABBING SOMEONE

I FUCKING HATE AELIN SO MUCH TO THINK I WAS ON THE FENCE BEFORE HOLY FUUUUCK

Ungh... I can do this. So they finally get their asses moving and Aelin sees the Little Folk have left her another present.

Brannon’s temple on the coast had been rendered carefully—a clever little contraption of twigs and rocks to form the pillars and altar … And on the sacred rock in its center, they’d created a white stag from raw sheep’s wool, his mighty antlers no more than curling thorns.

Obvious foreshadowing is obvious.

Finally chapter 6 holy shit. Chapter 4 gave me hope that the book was picking up but chapter 5 just shit all over my hopes and dreams.

Dorian Havilliard, King of Adarlan, hated the silence.

Dorian’s POV! Sadly since the books utterly forgot of his existence aside from torturing him emotionally after book 2, Dorian doesn’t get a lot of attention anymore. I liked him in the first three books, but given what happened to the other characters, let’s see how SJM butchers him..........

He lifted his hands before the view, his palms callused from the exercises and swordplay he’d made himself start learning once more.

A ruler who teaches himself how to fight in order to help protect his kingdom? Fuck yeah.

Dorian has some inner turmoil about being held captive and tortured and the revelation that his father had been possessed by a demon for years, and it’s.... good? It’s well written, Dorian’s problems are understandable and sympathetic, and he’s clearly taking precautions so it doesn’t happen again. Nicely done!

Dorian flexed his fingers, frost sparking in his palm. Raw magic—yet there was no one here to teach him. No one he dared ask.

I mean, the poor guy can’t even control his magic because all his friends who have magic are off pretending to be a good queen. *glares at Aelin*

He was halfway through the pillars of books and papers when he spied the horizon. When his city began screaming. Spreading into the distance, blotting out the sunset like a storm of bats, flew a legion of wyverns. Each bore armed witches, roaring their battle cries to the color-stained sky.

And here we go! I’m hoping for a good action scene, since the witches are so badass (even though I feel bad for Dorian and his people). We also switch to Manon’s POV.

With the height and distance, Manon fully beheld the carnage as the horizon at last revealed the sprawl of the capital city. The attack had begun without her. Iskra’s legion was still falling upon it, still spearing for the palace and the glass wall that crested over the city at its eastern edge.

This build up is really good! I’m excited to see Manon kick ass (even though again, the people she’s fighting are innocent).

Manon aimed Abraxos for the stone castle atop the hill, barely peeking above that shining glass wall—the wall she had been ordered to bring down— and hoped she had not been too late in one regard. And that she knew what the hell she was doing.

A cliffhanger to end the chapter. Although the wording leaves me to believe Manon isn’t actually going to do any fighting, but we’ll have to wait and see.

#the worm talks #the worm reads: eos #anti sjm #anti tog #anti eos

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fordarkisthesuede · 6 years

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At the Brink of Midnight - Chapter 7

Sorry for the wait, guys, but my big brother’s wedding came first! To make it up to you, this chapter is pretty dang long! So long, in fact, that the next chapter is going to pick up right where we leave off today!

As always, thank you for all your support! And a super-special shout-out to @littlebigdalek for making this beautiful piece of fanart for Chapter 6!!!! It’s amazing and I could gush about it all day!!!

Important Spoiler Tags: death (mention), drugs (mention), suicide (mention)

(Read on Ao3 or continue below)

Chapter 7: Behind Closed Doors

There was something strange about driving another person’s car. Bruce didn’t pay it much mind last night, since he’d been concentrating on just getting John to the Batcave as he ran through several different plans of what exactly he would do, but now that he was driving it again, hands gripping the thin steering wheel with the only pair of breathable gloves he owned, he realized how foreign it felt. Like he was intruding on a stranger’s private life.

Bruce stole a glance over at passenger seat – John was staring out the clear window, probably enjoying seeing the city streets pass them by. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable (Bruce had long gotten used to being alone while he drove) but somehow he wanted to say something distracting.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask – how did you get that security guard’s I.D.?”

“Hm? Oh, that. I just knocked into a guard. One little grab was all it took.”

“That’s impressive,” Bruce offered honestly, “It took me a long time to be comfortable working with slight-of-hand stuff.”

John gave a little laugh. “Well, I’ve had ten years to practice!” He went quiet for a moment, still staring out the glass, but his face was at least visible now. “You know, I think this is Jerry’s car.”

“Jerry?”

John opened the glove compartment. “Ah-ha! Binoculars!” John pulled them out – they were tiny, but Bruce recognized them. He had an identical pair at the house, perfect for when his drone’s cameras were down or when his mask’s visors were acting up. How did someone at Arkham drive a thirty-year-old car but afford high-end binoculars? “Jerry’s a twitcher,” John answered without prompt, “Of course the guy can’t see too much around here… I used to wonder if he wasn’t just using it as an excuse to spy on people,” he added with a humored little grin. “Until I heard him talking to the other staff, anyway. He’s the reason half of Arkham call Crane ‘Scarecrow’ behind his back.”

Bruce recalled one of the lab technicians making a passing reference to Crane like that. “Let me guess – Crane scared the birds outside the asylum away?”

“Bruce, you beat me to the punchline!” John laughed, playfully slapping Bruce’s arm. “But it’s not just a one-time thing, Brucie. Birds avoid the guy like he’s got the Avian Flu! I once saw a whole murder scatter the moment he stepped out of his car!” John looked thoughtful, his grin unchanging. “I suppose it’s also because he’s really skinny; he might as well be stuffed with straw! Though, if it weren’t for that nasty personality, I’d say he’d still be pretty dreamy…” John trailed off with a scowl.

“He’s not that good looking,” Bruce retorted, trying to keep his eyes on the building numbers.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” John teased, turning towards him with a spark in his gaze.

“Of course not,” he answered more defensively than he wanted to. “There’s nothing to be jealous of – he’s a psychopath with a good face and no muscle mass or empathy.”

“Oh, Bruce, there’s no need to feel threatened.” John leaned his elbow on the center console between their chairs to get a closer look at him; Bruce avoided looking over at him, despite the urge to. “You know you’re the most stunning sight in Gotham.”

Bruce thought he should’ve been used to John’s flattery by now, but even after months of similar comments it still made something inside him squirm with an awkward warmth he didn’t entirely dislike. He’d heard similar things for years from Gotham’s socialites and his lifetime of dates and (almost always short-term) relationships, but coming from John it always threw him for a loop. Maybe because he knew he didn’t deserve it.

Just as Bruce was going to politely brush the comment off as always, there was a crack like plastic snapping, and both the cheap armrest and John knocked right into him with a yelp.

Bruce swerved to stay in his lane, despite no one else being in the road with him yet; that was definitely a hand on his lower thigh. Heat seeped right through his jeans and seemed to creep up a lot farther than it should.

John pushed himself up, using Bruce as leverage, and busied himself trying to fix the center console. “Oh gosh, sorry, Bruce, i-it just broke! It, uh, doesn’t want to stay up, either,” he fumbled, readjusting the plastic armrest. “I’ll, just, um, lean it towards me…”

It apparently had been far too long since Bruce had that sort of human contact. He tried his best to shove the feeling down and bury it deep, like the rest of the ones he knew he shouldn’t have, but it was quickly morphing into the idea of what would have happened if that hand had slid upwards instead. It would be so dangerous to keep driving as it kept moving towards the middle of Bruce’s legs, but he knew he would have, even if John grasped him fully and gave a gentle squeeze…

“Uh, are you okay?”

He was definitely not, but John’s voice shook him out of the little runaway fantasy. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He was used to telling this lie; he’d been doing it for years. The twinge of guilt still sat in his stomach anyway, as it always did when he lied to John. “Really.”

John was watching him, but let out a little sigh of defeat and returned to leaning against the window. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright, John. At least it’s not my car.”

John gave a chortle, and Bruce felt himself smile back a bit.

It only lasted a few seconds – they’d arrived at Crane’s condo. Bruce slowed down, eying the windows on the opposite side of the street. A few were lit up, but only one didn’t have any kind of curtain or blind drawn, and it was a little bit down the lane. He had to choose between picking the lock on the front door (it would take a bit of time, but it would be easiest, and the Wayne Tech security system had a failsafe code he could punch in by the door), or trying to break in from the backyard, which would require hopping fences.

There was no guarantee that someone (or someone’s dog) wouldn’t be out in the back, and if someone happened to see them in the front, they could always act like they were returning home or waiting around.

Bruce parked between an unmarked sedan and an old Jaguar and checked the backyard drone’s camera on his tablet one last time – it was still sitting where he had landed it, and nothing seemed to be out of place since he’d last looked. (Now that he thought of it, he still had a few small explosive projectile sitting in it. If push came to shove, he could always fire one as a distraction.)

“So, we’re picking the lock and acting natural, right?” John asked, only the corner of his mouth pulled up in amusement.

“Exactly. If anyone sees us, we act like we’re just coming back.”

John stared. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to act like we were just leaving? I mean, I doubt his neighbors know more about his sexuality than anyone at Arkham does, but I bet they’ve seen him come out of his own house…”

It took Bruce a second, but he realized by John’s widening smile that he had not only made a good point, but also a pun. Despite the complex feeling he had at the prospect of pretending they were leaving after a night of sex (and with Crane of all people), he let out a small snort. “That’s a terrible joke.”

“But you’re still smiling at it!” John pointed, looking pleased.

Bruce did a quick check of the review mirror; no one was around to see them. “Come on,” Bruce prompted as he opened the car door, sliding the tablet into the small of his back, held firm by the belt in his worn jeans.

The 619 above Crane’s door shone slightly in the orange light of the streetlamp. Bruce checked the windows once more, the nagging thought that the doctor just might be home refusing to really leave. The windows were so dark, despite the streaks of orange reflecting off the surfaces.

If it weren’t the middle of April, Bruce would have expected dead leaves to be whistling past them at that point.

Instead, all Bruce felt was the light chill of the spring night on his face as he bent over the doorknob on the stoop, doing his best to pick the deadbolt with his kit as John stood next to him with his hands in his jacket pockets.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” John began, “All these people, going through their morning routines, eating and sleeping with their partners or families like there’s nothing at all that could hurt them… Like they don’t live here…” Bruce switched picks, taking the brief moment to look at John staring at the condos across the street with a darkly humored expression. “Like they don’t live across the street from a monster… Everything’s just peachy for them.”

Bruce lost the will to concentrate.

“I wish I knew what that was like…” He finished with a little heh.

It was at times like these that Bruce felt like he truly understood why John had likened them to two threads in the same stitch. He’d had similar thoughts in his darkest times, and even in some of his better ones. It was more a fierce protectiveness that charged it, but he couldn’t deny to himself that he, too, jealously longed for that blissful ignorance some nights, where the bachelor Bruce Wayne wasn’t just a facade and he had something more to live for than just his drive to fix the city. Things were a bit different, now.

Bruce put his hand on John’s shoulder. He felt like he should do more, but didn’t want to dwell on what the other options for comforting him were. John’s green eyes met his with a sad sort of ache. “You’ll get there. I know you will.”

John gave the slightest smile in return, knowing sympathy seeping through his gaze. “Right back at ya, buddy.”

Finding himself pinned once more under John’s inherent knowledge of Bruce’s inner workings, the billionaire refocused his efforts back on the lock. The deadbolt gave way with a bit more prodding, but apparently Crane wasn’t in the habit of locking the bottom handle; the door opened with a simple twist.

Bruce went in first, keeping his eyes open for anything remotely suspicious as he punched in the failsafe code on the security system’s keypad. (November 6th, the one day he felt he’d never truly forget.) The backlight of the security system went from yellow to blue, and Bruce breathed a little easier. Crane thankfully had not installed a camera system anywhere. Or, at least a Wayne Tech one that hooked up to the system…

The curtains seemed to be blocking out all the light coming in from the street. Figuring it was safe enough to turn on a light, he kept trying the switches until the light above the kitchen illuminated the place partway. John carefully closed the door behind them, even turning the deadbolt shut. (Good thinking; if Crane came home, they would at least have a bit of a warning.)

Pine-scented cleaner and something vaguely vanilla filled the air. It was a simple open floorplan, with carpeted stairs near the door and the living room and kitchen stretching the way to the back of the condo with light orange walls. The furniture was all carved dark wood and creamy faux-leather, sitting on the off-white carpet that looked like it had been worn in to the ground. One couch, one armchair, and one rather elegantly carved coffee table with a well-used candelabra on top sat in front of the open fireplace; a very old clock perched on a black doily was the only thing on the mantelpiece, the loud ticking telling its age more than the simple shape or the old numbers on the face. There was a single painting on the wall – a large abstract piece of red lines with harsh, fast strokes done in various shades, like the artist couldn’t paint fast enough.

“Hey Bruce, can I borrow your phone?”

“Why?”

“So I can take a picture,” John said with a look like it was incredibly obvious. “If we move something, we’ll know where it goes.”

Ah… Bruce was glad he hadn’t just outright asked if John was going to take a selfie. “Good thinking. But let’s try not to move anything,” Bruce advised, sliding over his smartphone after he’d put it in airplane mode. John stood next to him and held it out at arm’s length to capture the whole room, but just as Bruce was going to move away, he switched the camera mode over and grabbed Bruce’s shoulder.

“Aaand one of us! Smile!”

Bruce decided not to fight down the smile tugging at his lips. (John’s enthusiasm was infectious, even now.) He could backup the photo to a more secure location later; he doubted anyone was trying to snoop through his camera roll right now. The light flashed, and Bruce saw John’s smile widen a little further as he pulled away.

“Ooh, that’s a keeper,” John commented before sliding the phone into his pocket. “It’s still weird to see my face like this, but… Can you sneak me a print later?”

“We’ll see.”

“O-kay, then, I’ll go check the kitchen,” John said helpfully, already walking towards it as he donned his own gloves. There wasn’t much to see on the surface – outside of a very fake owl sitting on the fridge, it was just a few basic appliances on the counters and two rustic-looking stools sitting under the breakfast bar.

Bruce decided to examine the large bookshelf in-between the two rooms, hoping he’d find something useful, or else get into Crane’s head a little further.

There were a few books on the history of demonology, witchcraft, and old religions. A curious collection, considering Crane came off like a practical, if highly immoral, man of science…

There was one on the history of Gotham. Bruce picked it up, running through his mental catalogue of his own library. He had this one, but an earlier edition. Crane had bookmarked a page, so he decided to read it:

“The Court of Owls, founded by Gotham’s original pioneers, was believed to hold their meetings in an underground chamber beneath the city. The remaining records of these founders’ meetings with their ‘court’ prove the group to be a cult with a paranoid, criminal streak - they often wrote of a ‘dark god’ trying to infiltrate their city through various human guises, and their method of fighting it was to kidnap and train children from young ages (known as ‘talons’) to fight and kill anyone who showed signs the ‘owls’ felt were evil enough to be the ‘dark god’. In one recorded meeting, it’s mentioned that they felt that the children’s innocence would make god’s power weaker, as the adults assigned to the assassinations would often become corrupt or insane after a period of time.

“The Court apparently began to fall to disgrace when they began to sacrifice their own members in a further attempt to appease the dark god “who came closer to the inner sanctum with every passing day”, as the record of members and Gotham’s census shows a steep decline in population, but neighboring towns showed an incline. When the ‘talons’ unwittingly killed the beloved mayor of a neighboring city on the ‘owls’ command, the remaining members of Court of Owls fled Gotham, fearing that they had been working for the ‘dark god’ all along, while all but one ‘owl’ committed suicide in the underground chamber in an attempt to ‘cleanse themselves of their sins’. The last surviving ‘owl’, the then-mayor of Gotham, Vincent Wolf, was arrested alongside the ‘talons’ responsible, and was reported to have swallowed his own tongue a month later.”

Bruce remembered reading the story about the cult as a child, having snuck the book away from his father’s library so he could read under the covers. His father had always disapproved of Bruce reading material far above his age, but Bruce had always been too curious; he recalled lying awake that night, the images of the underground rooms and sacrifices by people in crude owl masks and cloaks flashing in his mind’s eye, the idea of people stealing children to teach them to murder tearing him away from sleep with a dizzying excitement.

It had been both terrifying and interesting back then. Now it only brought disgust and disturbed shudders down Bruce’s back.

“Hey, John? Did you ever hear anyone talk about the Court of Owls?”

John pulled away from the cupboard he was snooping through. “Hmm… Only once, I think. It was after Lady Vicki put that huge hole in the floor. No one had seen those catacombs until then; I kinda remember one of the orderlies from downstairs blabbing about the history of the place.” John rocked far back on his heels, holding the doorknobs on the cabinet to stretch himself out. “Why?”

“Crane bookmarked a mention of it.”

“Well, it was a crazy cult, right? All motivated by the fear of some god? Sounds right up Crane’s alley…”

“Right…” Bruce put the book back on the shelf and resumed looking.

There was an entire shelf dedicated to Stephen King, and another holding nothing but numerous collective works of horror stories. Essentials of H.P. Lovecraft, Masters of Horror, Sleepy Hollow and Other Tales… The paper spines were all lovingly worn and the hardbacks still had their sleeves, with the exception of a leather-bound The Raven and Other Writings.

“Yuuuck,” John groaned from the open fridge. “What kind of freak likes Squirt?” He turned slightly to the door. “And…catsup? I thought it was supposed to be ketchup.”

“Tom-mate-o, tom-a-to,” Bruce commented with a slight shrug.

“Ha ha ha!”

Outside of about twenty stand-alone horror novels (most of which Bruce had never heard of), the rest of the immense bookcase was taken up by CDs: there were things he recognized, like Souxie Soux, Nick Cave, and Eels, as well as some classic compositions, but there were a lot of film soundtracks and country albums Bruce hadn’t heard of. (The covers suggested they weren’t the upbeat square-dance kind of country that made Bruce want to cringe, but they were definitely something he wasn’t familiar with.) Bruce glanced at the kitchen, spying an older CD player sitting on the only exposed shelf in the corner.

John was flipping through the calendar on the wall. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Crane had to get out more…”

“Is there anything on it?”

“Nothing useful, but I found this note under the plastic owl on top of the fridge,” he said, holding up a green piece of paper: P.I. @ 10:30PM, Tues was scribbled in pen. “Why have a calendar if you’re not going to mark down when you’re meeting your own private investigator?”

“He must have been worried someone was going to see it.”

John raised a skeptical brow. “Who? I’m pretty sure he doesn’t entertain. Outside of some coffee syrups and a surprising amount of peanut brittle in the cupboard, the guy’s got nothing but the complete basics around here,” John gestured to the rather bare rooms, his expression shifting into something a bit more thoughtful. “He must be looking into something really shady.”

Bruce recalled the moment of interest that flashed on Crane’s face when the doctor had mentioned having a spot open on his couch for him. He didn’t like the thought that Crane was trying to look into him, but it was a possibility, and Bruce didn’t like to leave potentials off the table. The only reason why it could happen was because John was Crane’s patient…

John peeked into a door for a few seconds, then shut it with a bored expression. “Just a bathroom. I swear, the doc’s got no taste in decor…” He opened the door next to it, and the smell of earth and musk wafted into Bruce’s nose. John felt on the wall for a switch, but apparently there was nothing; Bruce stepped over to him, seeing only a dark stairwell with the glimmer of a gas tank at the bottom. “Tch, figures… Well, shall we descend into the depths of darkness together, Brucie?”

Bruce felt his mouth twitch at that. “Might as well.”

“Good thing I brought a light, then,” he commented cheerfully, pulling out a heavy Maglite from one his long coat pockets. (Was it the one from Bruce’s kitchen? Or the one from the guest bedroom…?) “Please save all your questions ‘til the end of the tour,” John joked in a mimic of a cheerful female tour guide.

John seemed to be watching his step carefully; Bruce was keeping his eyes and ears open for any sign of a trap, ready to pull John away at a moment’s notice. He could still feel his heart jumping at the memory of the booby-trapped stairs in the Vales’ house…

John flicked the light switch sitting by the bottom of the stairs, causing the long florescent bulbs to flicker to life with a dull buzz – unlike the rest of the house, the basement looked rather full. Jonathan Crane clearly used it as his lab; there was a long workbench with distilling equipment that looked like it hadn’t quite been cleaned out, and a trash can next to it whose lid was barely holding on. Across from it was several long tables with large planter boxes sitting below bright white lights.

Two boxes held only recently-turned earth, but the third had a few mushrooms. Bruce narrowed his eyes – he didn’t doubt they were the hallucinogenic type. He’d seen ones like them before on a couple of his drug raids. He grabbed a plastic zip-lock bag from his back pocket and took a broken piece of mushroom lying in the dirt of the planter.

John snapped a picture before he started examining the cabinets. “Crane’s got a full chemistry set down here…”

If Bruce remembered his research correctly, Crane had minored in chemistry during his college days. “See if you can find any samples of his formula. I’m going to look through the binder above the washing machine.”

There was only one white binder on the shelf with the laundry soap, but it was definitely about Crane’s toxin. Bruce wished he could just carry the whole thing out with him, but he settled for taking pictures with his tablet, reading through on the way. It acted more like a diary than anything, with lots of previous equations crossed out in harsh blocks of blue ink, like Crane had been furious with himself. (That, or very thorough, but the depth of the indents on the page suggested frustration to Bruce.) It got more apparent as pages went on, with notes like ‘STILL not right!!’ and ‘IGNORE - NO REACTION’ almost covering the entire page in black marker. There was a bit of paper that suggested Crane had torn a page out, and Bruce figured it had to have been the formula page he had gotten right. He doubted Crane would catalogue all his failures beforehand, only to resort to tearing out one.

A few pages had the status of the growing process of the mushrooms and their distillation written in places. The last couple of pages had nothing but these sorts of notes...

The mushrooms are growing livelier every day. I actually found myself humming to them earlier. They do say music is supposed to make plants grow hardier, but I’ve never tried it before. I feel ridiculous like this…

I decided to play some Saint-Saëns to the mushrooms while I worked on distilling the oldest one. I wonder if the music choice will induce more horrifying pictures in my patient’s minds? - 3/15: Perhaps it’s not just a silly notion after all. Even the little sock puppet attached to my patient’s hand today seemed to be experiencing worse hallucinations than before…

My old friend sold me a rare plant, saying it would be exactly what I was looking for. Trust is so hard to come by these days, but I trust them with that knowledge, at least. The care instructions they provided for me, though, are so outlandish! Surely these little flowers can’t be that fickle…

Such tiny flowers produce such big results! A.M.’s session today was so satisfying that I’m almost ready to declare my Fear Toxin a complete success… -3/27: A.M. is dead! He was so frightened out of his mind he clawed himself to death after we returned him to his cell! What fantastic results!

The flowers are starting to wilt. I decided to play music near them non-stop and increase their intake of that ridiculously-expensive food…

The flowers are dying. I don’t understand. How can one step in the instructions be the key to their survival? I must salvage what I can and make as much of my little potion as possible...

The flowers are all gone, but my Fear Toxin is finally complete. J.D.’s last session was a perfect example of what fear can push people to do. He’s been awfully hardy, but I finally got him to break. Thank you, little flowers; your deaths are not in vain…

“Bruuuce,” John called, poking Bruce’s side and almost making Bruce jump. “You in there, buddy?”

He was, but he didn’t want to be. Disgust kept squirming around in his stomach and the fierce protectiveness over others he usually associated with the Bat was coming to a head. Just looking at John – makeup or no – made him want to wring Crane’s neck. He wanted to ask how anyone could treat the people that were supposed to be receiving help so completely cruelly, but knowing his own father had likely had similar thoughts about his experiments with insanity-inducing drugs, he felt there wasn’t any sort of realistic answer he could take.

“Yeah, sorry,” Bruce answered, sounding drained.

“It’s okay, I get really focused, too, sometimes. I found his stash,” John said, holding up the little bottle of FDR-26. “This one’s kinda old, but it’s the newest one in there.”

Bruce eyed it. It was one generation behind the fake sample he had taken home with him. Was it worth the risk? He supposed he might be able to look at the levels in a small dose of it versus the sample John had injected into him, and see what the difference was. He might still be able to salvage it and create more antidote, if they needed it.

“It’ll have to do.” Bruce gingerly plucked it from John’s outstretched fingers and pocketed it. “Good work.”

“You find anything in there?” He asked, pointing to the open binder.

“I think he took his working formula with him, but the only thing I really found out is that he got some special plants to combine with the mushrooms from an ‘old friend’.”

John raised a painted brow. “And I’m guessing they’re the secret ingredient?”

“They were. Apparently they all died.”

John looked away, like he had seen something in the upper corner of his vision, but the look only last a moment. “Ooh! I know!” John hurried to the trash can and started to root around in it before Bruce could warn him against breathing in anything in there; thankfully, he didn’t take long. “Ta-daaa!” A single dead flower, dried and brownish-yellow, was held up in his gloved hand. “Bruce,” he started, walking towards him with a softer look in his wide grin, “will you accept this dead, withered mystery-flower?”

“Aw, John, you shouldn’t have,” Bruce replied sarcastically, feeling a smile of his own struggle through as he placed the dead plant as carefully as he could in another plastic bag. With any luck, there’d be pollen he could analyze. “I don’t think there’s anything else to find down here.”

“Yeah, I didn’t see any secret panels or giant, door-concealing clocks or anything,” John joked with a sly smirk. “Let’s see where our doctor lays his fat head at night…”

“Put the trash can lid back, first.”

“Oh, heh, right…”

The ascend upstairs was quiet, having double-checked all the lights were off and all the doors were closed. Bruce kept darting his eyes towards the front door, wary that someone would come in at any minute. He took deeper breaths and told himself that they could escape out the back if they had to; plus, John was carrying his grappling gun, so that could make for a faster getaway…

“You know, I wonder if Crane was ever in witness protection or something,” John pondered aloud, looking around the empty hallway as he flipped the nearest switch for a bit of light. “I haven’t seen a single photo anywhere.”

“The message board of his former students I looked into mentioned how he didn’t like having his picture taken; I’ve only ever seen two, and both were staff pictures.”

“Hmm… Maybe he had a different face at one point?”

“I actually considered that, but he doesn’t have any plastic surgery listed on his medical records.” Bruce opened the nearest door, which turned out to be the bedroom. “I think he just likes his privacy.”

John took a picture and scoffed before poking his head in the nearby closet. A normal amount of button-down shirts and decent slacks hung on hangers, but Bruce spotted a fair amount of jeans and flannel shirts in the mix. “Yeah, right. Mr. I-was-published-in-the-biggest-psychology-journals likes privacy. I know you haven’t spent much time with him, Bruce, but that guy wants people to know how amazingly smart he is. People like that aren’t very private.”

Bruce poked around in the nightstand. Nothing interesting except a library book that looked to be another horror novel. “Then why do you think he doesn’t like to been seen on camera?”

John whirled around to face him, clearly frustrated. “Ugh, that’s what I’m trying to figure out, Bruce!”

There was a single photo on the dresser in front of the window, and both Bruce and John seemed to spot it at the same time. An old wooden frame showed a young boy standing between two excited adults in front of a haunted house. It was surely a young Jonathan with his parents. He actually looked somewhat happy; there was a spark of life in his small eyes.

“God, he looks just like them,” Bruce murmured, taking in the picture’s faces.

In the glass’ reflection, Bruce could see John’s eyes dart over the picture, then to Bruce.

“Maybe he doesn’t like the way he looks,” John offered up, staring at Bruce with a probing look. “People have always passed you off as just a rich pretty-boy, haven’t they?”

Bruce put the photo back just where it had been before, not quite getting where John was going. “Pretty much. Until I graduated with honors, anyway.” He snapped a picture of the framed photo with his tablet, feeling like there might be something significant in it.

“Exactly. Pretty faces are always the first thing that gets attention. Crane probably doesn’t want people to just drool over his face…” John looked hard back at the photograph. “Especially since he really does look like a perfect mash-up of his parents. I bet they’re dead.”

Bruce winced at the casual way John said it, but he’d had the same thought. You put your beloved relatives’ pictures in places where you could see them often, and as this was the only spot in the house with any photo, and very close to where he slept, it clearly meant something special to Crane. “Let’s check elsewhere.”

“Right a’ Rooney,” John said slightly higher pitch, as if he were imitating someone.

The hallways closet and bathroom yielded nothing, and one look into the medicine cabinet told Bruce that Crane wasn’t on any kind of medication.

The only other room in the condo was the office, and when John opened it and turned on the light, Bruce didn’t blame him for looking shell-shocked.

It was almost like a different person was living in it. Where the rest of the house was simply furnished and fairly bare of any kind of decor, the office was filled with shelves of DVDs, VHS tapes, and books, with a computer squirreled away in the corner, sitting next to a wall of masks hanging on display.

There were even a few movie posters for horror films, the biggest of which sat right above the waist-high shelf holding what appeared to be all of Crane’s work-related materials.

“‘The Walking Scarecrow’? Man, that’s got to be a stinker,” John grumbled with a wince at the old poster, which featured hand-drawn art of a looming, dark figure on a cross in a field of wheat. “I’ve never seen any of these actor’s names before.”

Bruce looked up and down the shelves. Nothing but horror movies, documentaries on the making of said movies, and true-crime shows or hour-long specials showcasing criminal behavior. There was a small television with a built-in VCR sitting on top of one by the wall of masks; it made Bruce feel old just looking at it.

“Let’s see: Psychology Today, Modern Psyche, yada yada yada… Huh, Cinema’s Greatest Monsters, what a surprise...”

Bruce looked over at the wall of masks. “He certainly has quite a collection…”

John turned, still kneeling on the floor. “I think I’ve seen a few of those before. The weird bat one looks familiar.”

Bruce looked at the grotesque, hairless bat-face. It had a small nameplate under it – Man-Bat, 2015. “A movie, you think?”

“…huh, there’s one missing…”

Bruce looked up, and sure enough, there was an empty hook on the top row. He couldn’t read the plate. “You still have those binoculars?”

“Sure. Here you go, pal-o’-mine,” John said with a playful smile, plopping the small binoculars into Bruce’s hand.

Bruce focused in on the plate: The Walking Scarecrow, Reproduction - J. Crane.

“He took the Scarecrow mask.”

John’s eyes widened, the smile slipping off his face. “Oh… That’s…” He darted a look at the binders on the shelf. “I’ve seen that one before.”

“You have?”

“Yeah…” John trailed off, a vulnerable, thoughtful look crossing his features, like he was trying to remember something horrible. “The last session I had with him… He had it with him. I…think he wore it.”

Notes: I couldn't find a precise date for the Wayne's death, so I kind of just picked one. And yes, I am TOTALLY messing with the Court’s lore here, because this is the TellTale universe and anything goes! It was fun to pull bits and pieces from the Court’s usual backstory and warp them into something new! It’s somewhat inspired by Silent Hill, so I made a nod to it with ‘Vincent Wolf’, a combination of ‘Vincent Smith’ and ‘Lenard Wolf’ from my SH3, my favorite in the series. Crane’s world is horror and fear, so I think he’d love stuff about ancient people’s fears and how it drove them to do certain things, which influenced me showing that by pulling the Court stuff out of nowhere. He probably has a book on the Salem Witch Trials somewhere, too. :T

Can you tell I used to be a big horror buff? Horror is in my blood, of course, but not as much as it was in my teenage years. I used my old obsession as fuel for Crane’s hobby, and did my best to blend “minimalist doctor” with “lowkey Goth” for his decorating choices. I looked at a lot of the Halloween/autumn blogs I follow to get in the mood for writing this chapter, but as a side-effect, I’m now filled with the desire to redecorate everything in sight with a lot of candles and dark gauze as I munch on candy and watch Carpenter’s <em>Halloween</em>. Alas, it’s still summer, and I don’t have enough black gauzy fabric…

See you next Saturday! (I super-duper-pinkie-promise!)

#at the brink of midnight #batjokes #juce #atbom #telltale batman #fordarkisthesuede writes #death mention #suicide mention #drugs mention #i'm really happy with how Crane's house came out #he's a total weirdo #i wonder if anyone caught onto my AVPM reference...#i just need to make a mst3k reference and i'll feel completely satisfied #kisses to you all!!!! ilu!!!

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kingtodoroki · 6 years

Text

Domestic Desire

hi so i haven’t written in years so i’m a little rusty; but, i’ve really been wanting to get back into writing again! it’s something that i love to do and this fanart inspired me to write a short little tododeku one-shot ♡ read it if you want, you don’t have to. i just missed writing so much and decided to give it a go! if you do read it, thank you so much! ♡

“We were brushing our teeth.” Izuku muttered. He felt his cheeks become a little too warm for comfort and nuzzled his face in between his knees — that were tucked up to his chest — as a response.

Uraraka cocked her head to the side, a confused expression washing over her cute face. “Brushing… your… teeth?” She more so asked than said.

Izuku further buried his face in between his knees, his embarrassment seeming to grow by the second. He already knew how stupid it sounded before he had even said it out loud.

“It was um…” Izuku lifted his head up just a little bit so his eyes were just peeking over his bent kneecaps. He stared at his mug of tea that he hadn’t even taken a sip out of yet. It had probably gone cold by now. “… after our last study session, you know? The one Yaoyorozu was holding for Kaminari and Ashido? Then you wanted to join in, so you asked IIda and I to join you? Then the whole class ended up joining?” Izuku already knew Uraraka knew about the study session he was talking about; he didn’t have to add all the extra details. Uraraka had been there.

Still, Uraraka simply nodded, motioning for him to continue. “Yes, I remember.” She said. She had gotten used to the fact that Izuku added a lot of unnecessary information before getting to the point when he was nervous.

“You remember how I ended up falling asleep before anyone else?” She nodded again. “Well… Todoroki stayed with me until I woke up and uh… everyone had already went back to their dorms and everything, so… it was just the two of us.” She nodded again, feeling as if she needed to keep letting Izuku know that it was okay to continue. “We, uh… we went to the bathroom and just brushed our teeth together. That’s when I realized that I… that I uh… you know…” Izuku trailed off, not wanting to say it again out loud.

“That you’re in lo-“

“Uraraka!” Izuku yelped, cutting her off.

His cheeks felt so hot, Izuku was almost scared that they’d start melting off. Or maybe he as a whole would just start melting into a puddle. That honestly didn’t sound that bad to him at this moment in time.

Uraraka, much to Izuku’s horror, laughed. She was in a fit of giggles and that is when Izuku declared in his mind that he would definitely love to melt into a puddle right about now.

She wiped her eyes, still laughing slightly. “S-sorry, Deku-kun.” She stuttered, trying to catch her breath in between giggles. “It’s just… you’re acting like I’d be surprised or something.”

Izuku popped his head out completely from behind his knees. “Huh?” He asked, fear lacing his tone.

“Oh come on, Deku-kun.”

“A-are… are you saying that I was… that I was obvious about it?” If Izuku had wanted to melt into a puddle before, then he now wanted that same puddle to evaporate and to cease to exist.

Uraraka put her finger to her chin. “Well… I thought you were.” Izuku stared at her, shocked at her tone. It almost sounded as if she had thought saying that would make him feel better. “It might also just be because I know what you look like when you have feelings for someone.” She smiled, referencing the fact that there was a time when Izuku had had feelings for her.

“Oh my God, are you trying to kill me?!” Izuku slammed his forehead on the table, his mug of tea shaking in the process. “You know, if you are trying to kill me, then go ahead.” He mumbled against the table. “Please, do it. I’m actually begging you to kill me-“

“Be quiet.” She snapped, karate-chopping the back of his neck. Izuku let out a yelp in surprise and looked at her like she had gone insane. “Just because I noticed doesn’t mean Todoroki-kun noticed. He’s probably just as oblivious as you are.” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

One of Izuku’s eyebrows rose, confused. “Oblivious as… me?”

Uraraka had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Don’t butt in, Uraraka. She scolded herself in her mind. They’ll figure it out on their own. They’re big boys.

“Look, Deku-kun. All I’m saying is-“

A knock on the door interrupted her. She looked at the door, then back to Izuku who shrugged in response. She pulled herself off of Izuku’s dorm room floor and strode over to answer it. Just before she had grabbed the doorknob, she heard someone call through the barrier separating them.

“Are you in, Midoriya?”

Uraraka snapped her head around so fast to stare at Izuku she felt as if she had given herself whiplash.

Izuku’s face was priceless. He shook his head desperately, signaling to Uraraka to stay quiet and to pretend that they weren’t there. “No.” He had mouthed to her.

She almost snickered. Izuku took one look at her face, already knowing what she had in mind, and his eyes nearly tripled in size.

Uraraka grabbed the doorknob and twisted it before Izuku could protest any further. She swung it open, smiling (a little too brightly) at the boy in front of her.

“Todoroki-kun! Hello!”

Shouto’s eyebrows raised in slight surprise, but only for a moment before his face returned back to its emotionless state. “Uraraka… hello.” He spoke in his usual monotoned voice. “Is-“

“Deku-kun’s here!” She exclaimed. “I was just leaving!” She walked around Shouto, who stayed still outside of the dorm room entryway, and patted him on the shoulder. “Enjoy yourselves!” She couldn’t hide the mischief in her tone even if she had tried (which she didn’t). She left without another word.

“Enjoy…?” Shouto muttered quizzically, watching Uraraka’s figure slowly get smaller and smaller as she walked further down the hallway. He turned his attention back to the inside of the dorm room, where Izuku was sitting on the floor with a notebook in his hands. He was silent, almost as if he had forgotten Shouto was there. “Midoriya.”

Izuku slowly raised his head from his notes that he was pretending to look over. He kept his eyes on Shouto’s chin, too flustered to look into his heterochromatic eyes. “Todoroki-kun.” He smiled, his eyes squinting in the process. He was praying to the Gods above that his cheeks had returned to their normal color. “Why, um… what brought you here?” Izuku scratched the back of his neck and tried to look anywhere that wasn’t Shouto’s eyes.

Shouto raised one of his eyebrows at him. “Are you all right?” He asked, finally taking a step inside the dorm room. He continued to walk closer and Izuku could smell his laundry detergent. Oh my God, he smells like mint and fresh linen I think I’m going to die. Izuku thought to himself as he felt Shouto’s presence get closer and closer. He averted his eyes back to his notebook. “Midoriya.” Shouto said, kneeling down on the floor in front of him. “Oi.”

“Oh, sorry.” Izuku let out a small laugh, scratching his cheek nervously. “I just- I’m fine. I’m all right.” He reassured, more so trying to convince himself.

Izuku felt Shouto put his hand on top of his head, rubbing it gently.

Badump. Badump. Badumpbadump. Badumpbadumpbadump.

Izuku’s heart felt as if it were a caged animal, desperately trying to escape.

“Okay.” Shouto whispers simply, his hand still in Inzuku’s hair. “Just making sure.” He added before giving his head one last gentle pat and returning his hand back to his lap.

Izuku had to resist the urge to grip his chest and heave over. He felt as if his stomach was in a literal knot. How can Todoroki-kun just do stuff like that? He thought to himself, biting on the inside of his cheek.

“So…” Izuku was the one who broke the silence. “W-why…”

“Oh.” Shouto perked, remembering the reason he came by in the first place. “You were saying last night that you hated the laundry crowd on the weekends.”

“Uh, y-yeah. It’s always difficult to get any laundry done on Saturday or Sunday.”

“I figured we could do it now. No one should be there on a Wednesday night.” Shouto said and looked back at Izuku’s door that was still open. Izuku looked over Shouto’s shoulder to see a stuffed laundry bag.

Izuku lit up. “Ah! That’s a good idea, Todoroki-kun!” He beamed, and he could’ve sworn he saw Shouto’s lips curl up just a little bit in response.

The sight was not good for his already pounding heart.

Izuku got his dirty laundry together and made his way to the laundry room with Shouto by his side. Once they got there, Shouto had been right — it was completely empty.

Izuku let out a sigh of relief. He had never been to the laundry room when it was empty, even when he had tried to go extra early over the weekends. There was always at least five other students there.

“Do you have laundry detergent?” Shouto asked, breaking Izuku away from his thoughts.

“I usually use the ones provided.” He replied. The laundry detergents the school provided them wasn’t bad. It didn’t have much of a scent to it, but it got the job done.

Shouto grabbed Izuku’s laundry bag out of his hands and began to put it in the washing machine next to the one that was already filled with Shouto’s dirty laundry. Izuku was about to protest, but he couldn’t form any words.

The sight before him was so… nice.

It was the same feeling he had when the two of them had been brushing their teeth together. He watched Shouto pull out a small bottle of laundry detergent from his own laundry bag and pour a little bit of the liquid in each washing machine’s dispenser drawer.

He felt as if he was hypnotized.

Shouto closed both of the washing machine doors and hit ‘start’ on both of them. He turned around, widening his eyes at Izuku’s face.

Izuku’s green eyes were almost… shining. Shouto couldn’t think of a better word to describe how they looked in that moment. They almost resembled polished emeralds. His lips were slightly parted, his freckles standing out due to the slight blush on his cheeks.

Shouto gulped, feeling a small tickle in his stomach.

“Midoriya?” Izuku snapped out of his trance, his cheeks and the tips of ears heating up from embarrassment. How long had he just been staring? “Are you sure you’re all right?”

No. Izuku thought. No, he was definitely not all right. He was far from all right.

“I’m all-“

“Can you at least look me in the eyes when you say it?” Shouto cut him off, making Izuku gasp in shock. “You haven’t… you haven’t looked at me all night. Actually, you haven’t made eye contact with me since Sunday.”

Of course I haven’t made eye contact with you since Sunday because Saturday was the night I realized that I was completely and hopelessly in love with you and I came to realization that I want us to do mundane, domestic things together like brushing our stupid teeth and doing stupid laundry and-

Izuku let out a heavy sigh, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I’m sorry, Todoroki-kun.” He offered him a weak smile. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

For some reason, Izuku’s smile squeezed at Shouto’s heart. He could tell that his smile was forced. He could tell something was wrong.

“Did I… do something?” Shouto asked hesitantly. “I want to apologize-“

“What?! No!” Izuku exclaimed. “You didn’t do anything.” He lowered his voice significantly, almost whispering at this point. Izuku let out a small chuckle and ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Ah… this really is no good.” He muttered, mostly to himself.

“What?”

Izuku took a deep breath and exhaled, repeating this process two more times. He looked up from his feet and stared directly into those beautiful eyes he adored so much.

Shouto swallowed heavily, the intensity of Izuku’s stares almost too overwhelming. He suddenly felt as if he needed to sit down.

“I love you.”

Silence.

Neither of them moved a muscle, the only sound being the washing machines doing their job and their heavy breathing. Neither one of them knew why they were breathing as if they had run a marathon or something, but both felt as if there was just not enough oxygen.

“You- oi!” Shouto started, but immediately stopped when Izuku spun around and literally sprinted out of the laundry groom. “Midoriya!”

I wanna die I wanna die I wanna die I wanna die

The same phrase repeated in Izuku’s mind over and over and over again like a broken record. He said it. That was it. He said it and he was rejected. It wasn’t like he was expecting Shouto to return his feelings, but actually having it play out in real life…

I wanna die I wanna die I wanna die I wanna die

Shouto bolted down the hallway and immediately was able to spot Izuku not that much further down. I’m so stupid. He thought to himself. Why hadn’t he answered right away? Why did he just stare at him? Izuku had mustered up the courage to say that and Shouto just stared.

I’m so stupid I’m so stupid I’m so stupid

A strong hand wrapped around Izuku’s elbow before he was basically slammed against the wall of the hallway he had aimlessly decided to run down. Shouto’s forehead was pressed against his, their hot breath mixing together.

Izuku gulped loudly. Shouto’s face was so close… if he were to just tilt his head up slightly-

Izuku’s thoughts were interrupted by Shouto’s lips pressing against his. It wasn’t aggressive; it was careful, as if he was asking for permission.

“Wait-“

“I love you.” Shouto mumbled against his lips. “I… I love you.”

“You…” Izuku breathed out, not finishing his question. Shouto nodded and hummed in reply, already knowing what Izuku was about to say. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Shouto leaned in a little more, his lips ghosting over Izuku’s. “Can I…?”

“Please.”

Shouto closed the distance between them, his hands on either side of Izuku’s head as his soft lips moved slowly against Izuku’s. Izuku let out a small moan, grabbing at Shouto’s t-shirt to pull him closer and Shouto was just gone after that.

He grabbed the back of the smaller boy’s neck, pushing his lips harder against his own to deepen the kiss. He couldn’t hold back his tongue from swiping over Izuku’s bottom lip, sneaking its way through and letting them tangle together.

They kissed against the wall in the middle of the hallway for what felt like hours, but it almost felt as if they were making up for lost time.

After a while, they had gone back to the laundry room and had put their clothes in the dryer. Izuku was sitting on top of the counter with Shouto in between his legs.

“Can I ask you how long?” Shouto asked, his hands resting on Izuku’s thighs.

“I think I have for a long time.” Izuku admitted, looking down in embarrassment. “But, uh… I guess I sort of… um…” His words came out in mumbles and he felt Shouto stroke his thigh comfortingly. He could feel the coolness of his right hand from his quirk and it instantly calmed him down. “I kind of pieced it all together when we were uh… brushing our teeth…”

“Really?”

“I know it sounds weird-“

“Me too.”

“What?”

Shouto smiled. It was a small smile, it’s always a small smile, but it’s still enough to make butterflies swarm in Izuku’s stomach. He had always thought the phrase “getting butterflies” was a myth until he met Shouto.

“I enjoyed doing that with you… doing something so simple and, um…”

“Domestic?” Izuku smiled.

“Mm.” Shouto hummed. “It was… nice.”

Izuku pressed his forehead against Shouto’s, their noses brushing over each other. “Hey… we have time before our clothes finish drying.” He placed his hand over Shouto’s left hand, which was still laying on his thigh. Izuku felt it heat up slightly, and he wonders if that was what happened when Shouto blushed. “Wanna go brush our teeth?”

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greenfleeze · 7 years

Text

Tranquility

Steve and Natasha enjoy their honeymoon at a secluded cabin by a lake.

Corresponding fic to @sous-le-vernis’ Lake fanart #12 and sequel to It’s Never Too Late to Say I Love You

“Is the water cold?”

“Why don’t you stick your toe in and see?”

“Mm, I’m not falling for that one, Steve. You stick your toe in first. After all, that wonderful super soldier serum should protect you from freezing if it is cold.”

Steve gave his new wife - wife, how amazing that word sounded in his head - an innocent smile. “Ladies first.”

“That won’t work on me either, honey. I think you know it’s cold and you want to have a good laugh at my expense.”

“Aw, c'mon, Nat. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“Sure. Maybe not around our team, but when you’re with me, your mischievous side comes out and I have to watch you more carefully…”

“Fine. I’ll test the water out, but it hurts that you don’t believe me.”

She smirked. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

Steve took off his shirt - ah, she would never get tired of looking at his body - and went to the edge of the lake and waded in. After a handful of moments passed, he held a thumbs up to her. “The water is good. Not really cold, but cool. You can come in if you want.”

“Of course I’m coming in. I didn’t bring this swimsuit for nothing.”

Her husband silently agreed with her. The yellow one piece swimsuit that Natasha wore was very flattering and it made her skin glow. She looked absolutely breathtaking.

Natasha slid into the water, sighing in pleasure as it came up to her shoulders. “Oh, this feels great.”

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Natasha hummed and leaned her head back against his chest. “Coming to the cabin for our honeymoon was such a good idea. I love how quiet it is here.”

“Well, we had to be far away from other people. Otherwise, you’d have disturbed the peace with all of that yelling.”

“Funny, I don’t remember you being particularly quiet last night.”

“Touché,” he said with a laugh and he pressed his lips to the back of her neck.

“I love the fact that you bought this place to get away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. It’s so nice.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it? Are you kidding? I love it. As much as I’m used to the cold, I prefer being in the summer sun than freezing in the winter.”

“I second that. I hate the cold.”

Natasha understood why Steve felt that way without having to ask him why. Even though it’d been nine years since they pulled him out of the arctic, he still had a strong aversion to cold weather. She turned in his arms, facing him and kissing his lips softly. “Then I guess it’s a good thing you have me to warm you up.”

“Nat, I’m always warm around you. I wouldn’t be surprised if I broke a thermometer.”

“Mm, well, if you ever need me to play nurse…” She stroked the back of his neck and kissed him again before continuing, “just let me know.”

Steve’s pupils dilated as his wife pulled away from his arms and gave him a suggestive wink. Damn, she always knew how to work him up. “Well, seeing how hospitals are like a lucky charm for our relationship, I’d be willing to do that.”

Natasha grinned widely, remembering how they’d gotten engaged in the hospital a few months ago after she’d been shot on their dinner date. Steve wanted to talk to Natasha, but instead of wake her from her sedated sleep, Wanda helped him communicate with her by connecting his mind to hers subconsciously.

It was there that Steve and Natasha confessed their love for each other and also, became engaged. When Natasha woke up, she and Steve informed their fellow Avengers that they’d gotten engaged and the reactions had been pretty funny.

Tony thought they were joking around and demanded to see a ring, Peter got excited and hugged them both - he also told Natasha that she could be a “Mama Spider” when they had kids - Clint shared a look with Wanda and smirked - probably because he knew they’d become engaged in Natasha’s mind while everyone had been outside. Steve and Bucky argued about which one of them would be Steve’s best man.

Needless to say, it wasn’t very quiet in that hospital room after Steve and Nat made their announcement. In fact, their team raised so much ruckus that they actually got thrown out of the hospital itself. That made the day even more memorable - and hilarious.

They didn’t have to wait very long to get married, though. With help from Tony, Pepper, Maria, Wanda and even Peter, they took care of the publicity and the wedding planning itself, so within a month, Steve and Natasha were saying their vows in a lovely, private ceremony with all of their friends in attendance.

After the reception, they immediately set off to the cabin that Steve had bought several years ago after he joined the Avengers. It was a secluded place and where he’d often go when he needed a break from the superhero life. No one knew about it besides Steve and Natasha. Even though Tony had offered to send them there in his private jet, Steve kindly refused because he and Natasha wanted to get there by driving on the road.

They both enjoyed road trips and would often take them together whenever they wanted to explore and go somewhere in the states they’ve never been. Once they arrived at their destination, Natasha had piped up and became more animated than Steve had seen her before. They went on bike rides, went fishing, had several nature hikes and climbed trees in the forest behind the cabin.

Steve hadn’t felt so young and alive before in his life and it made him feel brighter to know that his wife brought that feeling out in him. It was something that he loved and would always love about her.

Natasha hummed lightly to herself and stroked Steve’s hand with her own. The peacefulness of this shared moment between them was something that she knew she would seek out with him many times in the future and cherish it like nothing else.

As much as she liked being in his arms, though, Natasha was in the mood to liven things up. “Hey, I’ll race you to the pier.”

“You want to race?”

“Yes, it’ll be so much fun!” Natasha tugged his arm, grinning.

It was kind of cute, seeing the expression on her face. Steve already knew he was going to give in just from looking at her. “Tsk, alright, but don’t get mad at me when I beat you, okay?”

“Oh, you think you’re gonna beat me?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

“Eh…well, Nat. I am stronger than you, so it’s likely that I’ll end up winning.”

The redhead raised an eyebrow at him. “How incredibly sexist of you, Steve. You think you can beat me just because I’m a woman?” She had to fight not to smile because it really was so much fun teasing him.

“Wha? No, no! That’s not what I meant!” His cheeks began to flush a bright red. “I only meant that since I have the super soldier serum and you don’t, you’d be at a disadvantage. That’s all.”

“Huh. I suppose you have a point, but let’s race first and see what the outcome is.” She waded a few more feet away from him and waited for him to position himself. Once he did, playfully rolling his eyes, she grinned again. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

“We’ll go on the count of three. One…two…three!”

They both took off immediately, swimming as quickly as they could to the other side of the lake. For normal people, it would take several minutes to reach the pier, but Steve and Natasha were both Avengers and in prime condition.

It took roughly forty-eight seconds for their race to finish and to Steve’s surprise, Natasha beat him by a hair.

“Ha!” She shouted and splashed him with water. “Who’s cocky now, Mr. Super Soldier Serum? I don’t even have it and I still beat you!”

“Yeah, yeah. You barely beat me. One second’s difference and I would have won."He sounded sulky and it just made Natasha laugh harder.

"But you didn’t!” Natasha giggled and put her arms around his shoulders, blowing air on his neck. “Say you were wrong!”

“What? No way.”

“Say it or I won’t kiss you anymore.”

“Okay, that’s cheap blackmail, Nat. Besides, we both know that you couldn’t resist staying away from me for too long.”

She reached under the water and snapped his swim shorts.

“Hey!”

“Just admit you were wrong and I’ll stop bothering you about it.” Natasha refused to let up and she nibbled Steve’s ear playfully.

“Fine! I was wrong. You were right.” The words came out in an annoyed tone, but Natasha didn’t care. Steve was very stubborn when it came to admitting defeat.

“There, now. Was that so hard?”

Steve sighed and looked up at the sun. It was covered by clouds and there was a nice cool breeze in the air. “No.”

“Now stop acting like such a baby. I’m sure there’s a lot of other things you can beat me at anyway.” Natasha pecked his ear, then she hoisted herself out of the water by placing her hands on the pier and pulling up. “I’ll go get lunch.”

That got Steve’s attention. “Lunch?”

“Yeah, I figured we’d both be hungry after a swim, so I made us some sandwiches and salad. There’s also iced tea because I know how addicted you are to that stuff and there’s lemonade, too.” She jogged to the cabin and pulled a basket out from a hidden spot near some vegetation that covered the beige coloured container.

When she came back to the pier, she sat down, letting her feet dangle in the water. “Come on. Everything is still cold because this basket has a special lining that keeps temperature for five hours. So we won’t have to worry about soggy bread or melted ice.”

Steve’s eyes widened when he saw the delicious food she began to take out of the basket. As he joined her on the pier, he said, “That was so thoughtful of you, Nat. Thank you. I am pretty hungry after that swim. Guess I should have had a heavier breakfast.”

“Heavier than four pancakes, five eggs, six pieces of bacon, six sausages, four hash browns and three pieces of toast?”

He shrugged innocently. “A growing boy’s gotta eat.”

“True, but you are definitely not a boy anymore. You’re a man.” She handed him a sandwich and he started unwrapping it.

“Oh, I’m glad you noticed,” he replied with a wink, nudging her with his elbow.

Natasha smiled and shook her head. Even though she acted like his silliness was annoying, she really did love it. Steve had really opened up and grown from the serious man she’d met on the SHIELD helicarrier all of those years ago. “Goofball.”

“But I’m your goofball.”

“You certainly are.” Natasha watched her husband take a sip of his tea and smile up at her. The wind blew his blond locks around his forehead and he looked so happy there, so content. She felt a tug in her heart the same way she did when they looked into each other’s eyes on their wedding day. “Steve?”

“Yeah, Nat?”

“Thank you…”

He furrowed his brow in confusion. “You’re welcome, but for what?”

“For being such a wonderful partner and asking me out last year. I’ve been happier ever since you came into my life and if I’d known that being with you as your wife, would feel like this, I would have proposed first ages ago.”

Steve blinked in surprise. “If anyone should be grateful, it’s me. You’ve enriched my life as much as I have yours. I couldn’t imagine not having you in it.”

Tears filled Natasha’s eyes and she smiled at him as they fell past her cheek. “Oh, Steve.” She bent down to pull her husband close, pressing a loving kiss to his lips and entwining their fingers.

They stayed like that for a while, simply holding each other in a warm embrace. Eventually, they would pull apart and continue to eat their meal, but Natasha would never let go of Steve’s heart and neither he, hers. They were bound together by love and trust.

Forever.

49 notes · View notes

nyrandrea · 7 years

Text

Family

So, about that break, heh...

Well, after receiving some amazing fanart and lovely words from all you wonderful people, it honestly made me feel great, which...I haven't really felt in a while, I won't go into any detail but like...holy hell, folk actually really liked my content, what.

And so...writing is going to be my way of thanking you all.

Once again, this story is based on the 2D Bendy AU created by the wonderful @shinyzango. I can't recommend checking out her artwork highly enough, it's pretty damn amazing. c:

Enjoy!

...What was wrong with him?

“Bendy...”

He had attacked his already injured friend, he was so close to killing him...

“Bendy.”

He was just a monster like everything else in this place.

“Bendy!”

The little demon shook his head as he was snapped out of his thoughts, he looked up to see Henry looking down at him with a concerned expression.

“How are you holding up?” The man asked, tentatively. Bendy could tell right away that not only was the human concerned, but also seemed a little wary.

Of course, why wouldn't he be?

“I’m fine...” The cartoon mumbled.

Henry frowned, but seemingly dropped the matter and kept moving, still using his axe as a makeshift crutch.

Bendy was sitting with his knees up to his chest and his arms crossed in a sulking manner, he took this quiet moment to examine Henry, discreetly of course. He didn't want to make it obvious and make the older man uncomfortable.

‘Geez, you couldn't make the guy more uncomfortable if ya even tried, numbskull.’ The devil bitterly thought to himself.

Sighing slightly, he looked down towards Henry's leg first, as that was where the most severe injury was. The rip in the trouser leg was still there, leaving his now bandaged calf a little exposed. Henry had managed to stop the bleeding and had roughly stitched up the wound with a needle and thread.

Bendy shivered slightly at the recent memory, that whole ordeal was so horrible that he couldn't even bear to watch. All he remembered was hearing Henry's muffled, pain induced cries, the worst being when he had to apply cleaning alcohol to the wound to keep it from becoming infected.

The small devil noted to make sure that no ink got onto that leg, and to see to that the other “Bendy” never got anywhere near Henry ever again, no matter the cost.

'Heh...easier said than done.’ Bendy amusedly thought to himself, that monster sure was hard to detect, as it had access to the pipes and could slip in quietly without being noticed, that was how it had managed to sneak up behind Henry and attack him. But he was going to try his darn best to look out for it, for both his sake and especially Henry's sake.

His line of sight travelled up to Henry's torso, and he nervously swallowed as he examined the huge black handprint that had been imprinted on his shirt.

He had done that. Him.

Bendy didn't even fully remember what had happened, only that he was fighting off the Searchers and the other Bendy, trying to protect Henry, and then there was that huge thumping sound in his head and then...nothing. Just...haze. But that didn't excuse the fact that he had nearly killed someone who had done nothing but look out for him.

And the worst part was that Henry wasn't even angry at him.

Despite everything that had happened, despite the fact that the man was so close to death at the literal hand of his supposed ‘Friend’. He had just...brushed it off like it was nothing, granted he still looked shaken up from the attack, but he just told the demon that it wasn't his fault and had swiftly moved on.

Bendy unconsciously put a hand to his forehead, that was how Henry had calmed him down, by doing the head bump. He wasn't sure why but the simple form of communication just seemed to make him feel so...safe and secure. Like he knew that he wasn't alone in this place anymore, like he had someone he could fully trust.

The devil looked back down.

'And now you've went and tarnished that trust for good...' Bendy solemnly thought.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, y'know.”

He glanced back up at Henry.

“It honestly wasn't your fault, bud. It was that...thing, the uh...” The man paused for a moment. “The pentagram.”

Bendy frowned in an annoyed manner.

“But it was me that attacked ya, Henry. I should'a been able to control myself , but I couldn't.”

“Well...technically you did. You stopped.” Henry contradicted. “I mean, you could have killed me, but you didn't.”

Bendy was about to retort when a moaning sound suddenly caught their attention. They both looked ahead, only to see that there were Searchers in their way, a horde of them were blocking the path. It seemed as though there was no choice but to face them head on.

“Ah shit, you've got to be kidding me...” Henry mumbled as he slowed to a stop.

Bendy frowned worriedly.

Henry needed his axe to help him with walking, what with his injured leg and all, and there was no way he was going to be able to fight with it. Which meant...

“I’m sorry to be the one to ask this but...would you mind giving me a hand with these guys?” Henry asked, with a sheepish look.

The devil was conflicted, he would need to go into his other form to defeat those things, but on the other hand, he didn't want to risk hurting Henry again. They could turn back but...what was the point? They needed to move forward, and he sure as heck didn't want them running into the other “Bendy” so soon after the last encounter.

Bendy stood up and nodded silently.

Henry smiled in a grateful manner. “Thank you.”

Being sure not to get too close to the Searchers, Henry carefully set the paper near enough to them that the ink pool around them would soak into the paper, and stood back as the ink started to bubble and rise.

Within a few moments, the monsters were nothing but black splatters across the wall.

Bendy thoroughly examined the area before being completely satisfied that there was nothing left to attack them, for now at the very least.

“Good job, bud. You really don't mess around with those things, huh?” Henry amusedly praised as he hobbled over to the large ink demon, who gave a low warning growl in return, surprising the older man.

“W-what’s wrong, Bendy?” He questioned, trying his best to hide his nervous tone. “Are you...feeling alright?”

The devil huffed in response and backed away, creating a fair amount of distance between the two. That was when realisation seemed to hit Henry, as he closed his eyes and sighed in a defeated manner.

“Bendy...I already told you that it wasn't your fault. You shouldn’t be torturing yourself like this.” He said with a sympathetic smile. “We both know that you wouldn't hurt me on purpose.”

The monster just gave him a slightly annoyed look as he made a rough sounding noise and gestured at himself, like he was trying to get some sort of point across. Henry couldn't for the life of him make out what the demon was saying, but he did get the general idea.

“You’re not dangerous.” Henry replied in a somewhat more firmer tone. “It was that pentagram that made you go wild, besides...” The man sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “You were out of your page for too long, which was my fault, not yours. I should have kept on top of that...”

This made Bendy throw up his large arms in frustration, resulting in ink being splattered across the walls.

Why wasn't the human acknowledging the fact the he had almost died? . Didn't he know how much danger he was in? Why was he so darn...relaxed all the time? He should’ve been terrified!

Henry shook his head in what seemed to be disappointment , which snapped Bendy out of his thoughts for a moment. He tilted his head, curious as to why the man was doing that.

“You're being pretty selfish, you know that?”

Bendy blinked in surprise. He certainly wasn't expecting that.

“Do you want me to go on alone? Is that it? You do know that I'd probably die, right?” Henry stated in an angrier tone. “Those things are still down here and my leg looks and feels as though it's been ravaged by a God damn wolf! There's no way I'd be able to make it!”

Bendy frowned at this outburst. Of course he didn't want to put Henry in any kind of danger, it was the last thing he wanted! How could he even suggest-

“You accidentally attack me one time and suddenly you just want to give up?”

N-no, of course not. He wouldn't-

“And leave me alone to face the danger?”

That was the final straw, as Bendy slammed his fist into the ground and snarled at Henry, his face hovering mere inches away from the human's. The rising ink on his back flared up angrily as the demon narrowed a single eye at him.

The last thing that Bendy wanted was to see his human companion coming to any kind of harm, he wanted to protect him and make sure that he got out of this place! But the guy still had the nerve to call him selfish?! How dare he! Why would he even think-

Bendy's eye widened slightly when he felt a hand start to affectionately pet the top of his head.

Henry's angered expression had completely changed into one of a more gentle nature. He smiled as Bendy gave him a very confused look.

“See, bud? You can't even attack me when I insult you to your face, and that's because you choose not to, with your own free will. You see where I'm getting at?” The man questioned as he pulled his hand away.

The large demon simply tilted his head with the same confused look on his face, making Henry chuckle lightly.

“Despite all those hurtful things I just said, you didn't attack me, because you don't want to, am I right?”

Bendy quickly nodded his head.

“And that's because you're not like everything else in this place. You're not under the same influence that made you attack me. Believe it or not, you have a good heart, you're not the monster that you think you are.” Henry explained with a smile.

The devil slowly smiled back and nodded, but quickly looked back down again with a somewhat sombre frown.

This made Henry concerned as he limped over and put a hand on the ink monster's arm, he flinched at the human's contact, but didn't pull away this time.

“What’s up, bud? You know that I didn't actually mean any of those horrible things that I said, right? It was just to prove my point that you wouldn't attack me. I know you wouldn't leave me. I mean, we both still have to get out of this place after all.” Henry said as he started to slowly hobble down the hallway.

This caught Bendy's attention as he stopped for a moment to blink, before quickly turning and moving to catch up with the human, looking down at him with a questioning expression as they made their way down the corridor.

Wait, both of them? He knew that Henry had to get out of the studio, but him? The thought had never really crossed his mind, as they had both been too preoccupied with surviving. But...what was he actually going to do once this was all over? Did Henry want to take him to the outside world with him? How would he even fit in? Was he... going to live on a piece of paper for the rest of his life?

Needless to say, he wanted an explanation.

The demon let out a high pitched whine.

“Huh?” The older man looked up at the confused and somewhat worried looking monster. “What’s up?”

Bendy whined again as he pointed at himself, then to Henry, and then proceeded to point upwards, towards the ceiling, before looking back down at the human with a sheepish expression on his face.

Henry gave him a sympathetic smile as he quickly realised what Bendy was asking:

'You want to take me with you?' The devil's expression seemed to say.

“Of course you're coming with me. What, you'd think I'd just leave you here by yourself? Nah, you and me are going to get out of here, and you’re going to enjoy life outside of this damn place.”

He paused as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don't know how it's going to work out exactly. If I can get back to that machine, maybe we can use it to get you out of that page and into reality permanently, but I can't promise anything, of course. But don't worry, no matter what, we're sticking together. We're practically family now, bud.” Henry said, chuckling as he tried to put Bendy at ease.

He slowly stopped when the demon didn't give him an answer back, and looked up to see if he was alright.

Only to see that Bendy was staring back down at the him with big, jet black, gloopy tears running down his face and a huge, genuinely happy grin. It honestly warmed Henry's heart to see the demon so joyful, it was nice to see him back to his old self again.

Bendy quickly lowered his head to Henry's level and nuzzled him affectionately, whining happily as he did. The older man stumbled slightly at the sudden movement, but regained his balance with his axe crutch, and smiled as he petted the spot between the demon's horns, earning an even happier response from Bendy.

“You’re welcome, bud.”

Henry stepped back and smirked. “Now come on, we've got to keep moving. Do you want to go back onto your page?”

Bendy shook his head. No, he wanted to walk with the human a little longer.

He nodded back with a smile. “Alright, I trust you. Now let's get-“

Henry suddenly hissed in pain as he clutched his leg, earning a panicked look from Bendy, as the demon reached out a hand to support the older man, should he fall over.

“Heh...don't worry about me.” Henry coaxed, straightening up as lifted his injured leg slightly. “Just put a bit too much pressure on it, that's all. Give me a minute. I’ll be fine...”

Henry closed his eyes for a moment and breathed, trying to relieve the sudden shot of pain. Bendy watched him with a worried look before his eye widened slightly, a grin spread across his face as an idea came to mind.

Being careful around the injured leg, Bendy wrapped a hand around Henry and lifted him up to his shoulder, setting the human down gently onto it and made sure that he was secure enough so that he wouldn't fall off.

Henry blinked in surprise. “Bendy what are you-“

Bendy interrupted him with a grunt and pointed at one of his horns, leaning his head towards the man so that he could grab on for support.

“You do know that you don't actually need to carry-“

He was interrupted again, this time by a low whine.

“I...” Henry sighed and wrapped his hand around the horn to balance himself. “Alright, I won't argue with you. You're the boss.” He said in an amused tone.

Bendy rose up to his full height and turned his head to look at Henry with a proud and somewhat smug grin, before pressing on down the corridor with a confident and swift stride.

No matter what, Bendy was going to make sure that he and his family were going to make it through this.

After all, he really wanted to see the outside world and all that it had to offer.

XXXX

So I noticed that a lot of you seemed pretty...upset after the last chapter, so I decided to try and have this one be a bit on the lighter side.

Let me know what y'all think!

Chapter 1 - Friend - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/160888670286/friend

Chapter 2 - Rest - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/160888769001/rest

Chapter 3 - Enemy - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/160963746341/enemy

#bendy and the ink machine #2d bendy au #shinyzango #fanfic

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