#Seriously play Ghost Trick NOW! Thank me later.
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The real dog that inspired Ghost Trick's "Missile".
As many people on Tumblr have already pointed out, Ghost Trick is a game that is best experienced going in fully-blind. It offers amazing puzzle-based gameplay, a charming cast of characters and a unique story with plenty of twists and turns that will leave you both stunned and fulfilled by the end. My one true regret with the game is that I can't experience it for the first time again.
So, in trying to hype up the game for its release on Steam, Switch, Playstation and XBox, I decided to go for a novel approach: Instead of gushing about the game and potentially spoiling it for you, I will instead offer some facts about the real-life dog that inspired one of the game's most memorable characters. Knowing those facts won't spoil the game for you and will in fact make you appreciate its story a whole lot more, so feel free to reblog away, adding any facts that I might have missed about the game's Charismatic Cheerful Capable Caring Canine.
You know… This adorable little guy:
Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Missile Takumi!
Missile was a pomeranian Puppy adopted by Shu Takumi on 2007. He was named after a dog appearing in Gyakuten Saiban 1 (aka Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney 1). The dog in the original game was a throwaway gag, not essential in the overall game’s story. The real-life little pomeranian however proved to be an essential part of Shu Takumi’s life.
(Source)
(More facts after the break)
Missile was Shu Takumi’s best friend. The little doggie was always there for him, always available to lift his spirits with a cheerful bark when he was feeling down and always offering a friendly paw even in the gloomiest of circumstances. Missile was a truly loyal friend, offering unconditional love and friendship, helping Shu Takumi get over even the most difficult of times.
(Source)
So when time came to make Ghost Trick, a game about ghosts, regrets, mystery, loyalty, friendship and ultimate redemption, it was perfectly natural for Shu Takumi to give his best little friend a part in the story.
The game’s developers didn’t initially want to put Missile in the game. They didn’t have a problem with putting a dog as a character, they had a problem with the fact that the dog was a Pomeranian and they would have problems animating his fur in-game. Shu Takumi however insisted and eventually, after meeting the little doggie and falling under its charm, the developers relented into putting him in the game in all his Pomeranian glory.
(Image from lparchive)
Not only did they put him in the game, in fact, they went above and beyond in capturing his charm perfectly. They studied his moves and mannerisms, in order to get his movements down pat.
(Image from lparchive)
Missile’s iconic in-game bark was actually a recording of sound-designer’s Nobuyuki Shimizu Labrador Retriever who was coincidentally also named Missile! Shu Takumi wanted to record his own Missile, but Shimizu-san also wanted to put a part of his own dog in the game and Takumi eventually relented.
So, yeah, Missile in the game was voiced by Missile. Just not THE Missile.
In order to make up for not recording his own dog for the game Shu Takumi made a “character song” for Ghost Trick’s Missile:.
youtube
Yes, those barks you hear in the song are recordings of THE Missile, no substitutes this time! This is how the little Pomeranian used to bark!
The song was made to celebrate Ghost Trick’s 3rd year release anniversary and even though the song talks about Ghost Trick’s Missile, a lot of the behaviors mentioned in the lyrics (such as Missile’s tendency to climb on the sofa and then needing help to get back down) are things that Takumi’s pomeranian friend used to do.
The song was later remade by CAP-JAMS and included in the soundtrack of the 2023 remaster of the game.
youtube
And, yes, the original Missile’s barks are still there.
If it’s not perfectly clear, Shu Takumi really wanted to tell everyone how awesome his little dog was. He made the little dog an essential part of Ghost Trick and stealthily made the world, at least that small part of it that played Ghost Trick, fall in love with him.
Ghost Trick was released under critical acclaim, even receiving a nomination for Gamespot’s Best 2011 Puzzle Game, but the fact that it was released near the end of the DS’s lifespan and a lackluster advertising campaign made it 2011’s “Best Game You’ve Never Played”.
The game, however, slowly gained a cult following and within that following, the story of Missile resonated with everyone and became one of its standout points. He might not have been the player-character but he was definitely the show-stealer.
(To tell any more would be going into spoiler territory, but seriously go buy and play Ghost Trick any way you can. It really deserves a bigger audience).
So beloved was the little dog in fact that when Ace Attorney was eventually adapted into an anime, the animators couldn’t resist putting him into episodes 13 and 30 of the first and second season respectively. In fact, in the anime Missile was indirectly responsible for the “class trial” incident that shaped Naruhodo/Wright’s life.
Before you ask, no, Missile was not voicing himself this time (something about working with animals and children). He was voiced by Tomokazu Seki in the Japanese version and by Kyle Hebert in the English dub. Still a nice tribute to Takumi’s little doggie.
One final Missile fact that I can’t find a proper segway for is that Missile also got along surprisingly well with Wagahai and Sankichii, the cats that later also entered the Takumi household, though, the way Takumi tells this, it was the cats that called the shots more often than not.
Missile passed away on the 10th of November 2018. The way Shu Takumi puts it, the valiant little doggie waited for him to return from the US, to spend some final time with him before passing on. We don’t know the exact details just that it was sudden and unexpected.
(Source)
Missile is no longer with us, but his memory lives on. He will always be remembered by Shu Takumi as the friend that always was by his side… and always will be with him.
…and he will always be remembered by the gaming community as the little Pomeranian that stole everybody’s hearts and made Ghost Trick a truly memorable experience.
MISSAIRU TONDEKE!
(Missile’s Launched!)
#ghost trick#missile#puppy#shu takumi#ace attorney#Seriously play Ghost Trick NOW! Thank me later.#Youtube
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Midnights in October
This is not a ghost story. It's a story about friendship, and about regrets. // Lu-Carla friendship fic (aka my “what if Elite had supernatural elements” experiment)
"Thank god you're back!" It's the dominating thought in her head, but Lu still doesn't want to let Carla off the hook just yet. As she's struggling to get out from under the comforter, she bombards her friend with questions. "Why didn't you answer any of my texts? Or anyone else's? Didn't you see Yeray on TV? He is losing his mind! Seriously, where were you? What… How…"
The other girl has the audacity to sound impatient. "Will you let me explain? This isn't-"
"You know what, I don't really care." It's the truth. Answers can wait. Lu is so exhilarated she feels high. Rebeka was wrong and Val was right. Everything will be fine. "Shut up and come here." She finally makes it out of her tangled sheets and tries to hug Carla.
"No!" Her best friend jumps off the bed and looks around until her glance settles on Lu's hairbrush on the dresser. "Here, look at his."
"What the hell are you doing?" Lu's patience is waning pretty fucking quickly now, too. "Yes, I'm paying attention, alright? But honestly -"
The words die on her tongue when she sees Carla's hand go right through the brush, unable to pick it up. "What… what the fuck?"
"That's what I've been trying to say, if you would just listen…"
"This is a dream. It's not real." Lu's heart drops at the realization. "You're not actually here."
Carla sounds pissed. "Ok, that's pretty rude, I hope you know that."
It cannot be real, she knows that, but Dream Carla sounds remarkably like Real Carla. Lu squeezes her eyes shut and crawls back under the covers. All the talk tonight made this happen. Her subconscious is playing a cruel trick on her.
She pulls the comforter up to her chin. No way in hell is she still going to get that sweater now. Ignoring the voice that sounds like Carla's and keeps calling her name isn't easy, but eventually Lu manages and drifts back into a dreamless sleep.
The next morning Guzman pops his head in to tell her he's going to class, that he left her a spare key on the kitchen counter and that she should come downtown to meet him later. Lu makes what she hopes is a confirming noise. As soon as the bedroom door closes, she turns around and groans. Guzman couldn't have put that info on a note?
When Lu remembers her dream, she shakes her head. Definitely no wine for her tonight. She grabs her phone to check whether anyone has posted news about Carla to their group chat when she hears a voice right next to her sounding slightly impatient.
"Uh, good morning, bitch."
"Fuck!" Lu jumps and throws her phone across the bed. "Nope, this is not happening," she loudly tells herself. Maybe the more self-assured she sounds, the sooner this will be over. "I just have to wake up. Wake up!"
Her breathing picks up and she's covering her face with her hands as she's trying to snap out of whatever the hell this is, but the effort is derailed by Carla's voice.
"No, it's ok! I'm really here! I mean… I guess, kind of… You're not dreaming, is what I'm saying."
This has to be the wine from last night. If she just takes three more deep breaths, Lu is confident she can get over this hallucinating bullshit. But the hallucination is pretty damn persistent.
"Lu? Lu, can you please look at me?"
A wisp of ice-cold air ghosts over Lu's wrists as if to pull her hands away from her face and yeah, ok - Lu lets out a hysteric giggle - 'ghosts over,' that's actually a funny way to put it, unless… She takes one more deep breath, then opens her eyes and looks to her left.
Carla is still there, looking just like she did in Lu's dream from last night. Same cream-colored, off-the-shoulder sweater, hair in the same lose waves.
All Lu can do is stare. Carla raises her eyebrows and does a little wave with her hand. "Hi."
#lu x carla#lu x carla friendship#friendly reminder: this gets sad#but also not only!#i still love lu and carla’s friendship#this is basically my love letter to the two of them#some background ships and other friendships#carla x samuel#lu x valerio#midnights in october#ghosts#female friendships#fanfiction#writing#elite#elite netflix
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Unprofessional
as promised, the MSBY manager AU 💕
MSBY Black Jackals x female reader
TW non-con, smut, gang-bang, nsfw(ish)
You second guess yourself, now that the Captain’s right here in front of you, fidgeting in your seat like a little kid sent to the principal’s office.
In all fairness, you were the one to ask him to come in early, figuring that it’d be easier to say what you needed to before everyone else arrived, rather than having it eat away at you while you waited for practice to end.
Yet under the scrutiny of his dark eyes, you wonder whether you should have just let it slide. At least for a few more weeks. Taking a formal complaint to the higher ups was a step too far, and you hadn’t wanted to bother the coaches this close to the start of the season for something so… trivial. Meian seemed like the better choice. He’d listen to you and be able to help; you trust the Captain and you know the team does, too. If he told them to back off, they would, you’re almost positive. But now that he’s here, there’s this nagging feeling of-
A hand touches your shoulder, and you flinch at the sudden contact, jerking back to the present.
“Hey,” he says, a slight frown marring his features. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me - don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been a little out of it lately.”
There’s nothing but concern in his eyes - no judgement, or irritation, and something inside of you eases just a fraction. This is Meian, right from the moment you signed onto the team - granted, only a few months ago - he’s done his utmost to make sure you’ve felt welcomed and part of the team.
You take a breath, offering him a small, tight smile. “I-it’s um, some of the guys- well a few, I guess…” your fingers twist in your lap, and Meian squeezes your shoulder lightly in response.
“Miya hitting on you, right? Getting a little outta hand?” he surmises.
And for a split second, you’re surprised. But really maybe you shouldn’t be. Miya’s the one who’s overt about it, drawling stupid, cheesy pickup lines whenever you walk in, slinging an arm around your side and dragging you close, all the winks and the innuendos about as subtle as a tank.
Of course Meian noticed, but that’s just how Atsumu is. He doesn’t bother trying to hide it because nobody but you seems to mind. And maybe, if that’s all that it was, you’d be able to grin and bear it, but it’s not.
“Yes and… no.”
His brows draw together. “No?”
Taking another deep breath, you begin to tell him everything. Miya’s incessant flirting, all the hugs and touches that fell just the wrong side of what you considered professional. They’re a tactile team, with one notable exception, and you understand that, but the way Bokuto, Hinata and Miya feel comfortable just grabbing you and dragging you around, interrupting you in the middle of whatever task you’re doing to make you pay attention to them is a little alarming.
And then there was the incident last week, when Inunaki had caught you smiling at your phone during their cooldown and called you on it, which drew the attention of the rest of the team - only to have Bokuto snatch it out of your hands and start reading through your messages. Of course, Meian was there for that, putting a stop to it only when the wing-spiker had started reading them aloud, much to your mortification.
But he hadn’t been there two afternoons later, when an old friend of yours had swung by to pick you up and you’d had to deal with half the team glaring daggers at him over your shoulder like a pack of overprotective mother hens.
Even Sakusa, who usually kept his nose out of the others’ nonsense, stood off to the side with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, glowering at your friend until you both disappeared from sight.
The texts that blew up your phone in the hours that followed crossed so many lines, it honestly scared you a little.
Meian doesn’t say a word as you talk, the words flowing easier the more you tell him. It’s not that anything they’re doing is wrong per se. They’re not hurting you, and you think that aside from Miya, the team’s attitude is coming from a good place - some protective, irritating big brother kind of thing.
There’s nothing wrong with it, except the fact that you don’t want any part of it. You’re a professional and this is a job - a new one, an important one. If you ever want anybody to take your dreams of coaching a pro team seriously you cannot have so much as a whisper of anything less than absolute professionalism. God forbid, if rumours start spreading that you were sleeping with somebody on the team you can pretty much kiss your dreams goodbye.
At the end of it, Meian’s chin is resting on his fist, faint dissatisfaction pinching at his face, and for a moment, you’re worried that he’s about to chew you out for wasting his time - you know he’s stressed with the start of the season only days away - but he only sighs, leaning back in his seat and shaking his head.
“Thank you for telling me, I’ll talk to them.”
And it’s like this huge weight just falls off your shoulders and suddenly you can breathe easy. “Thanks, really,” you tell him, and the smile on your face is genuine this time.
“Anytime.”
—
You don’t know when he finds the time to pull them all aside, but the next morning when you walk into the gym and Bokuto catches sight of you, golden eyes widening in delight, he starts to bound towards you-
“Bokuto.”
-and stops mid-stride, face falling like a kicked puppy. His shoulders slump, glancing over his shoulder at the Captain, watching the both of you through narrowed eyes.
He doesn’t say another word to the wing-spiker, turning back around to continue his conversation with Adriah - something about tightening up their blocks before the game against the Adlers - and despite the fact you can see half the team’s attention drawn towards you both, none of them say a word either.
It’s strange, compared to the last few weeks, it’s suddenly like you’re a ghost. They thank you when you pass them their towels and bottles, and for once Hinata sits still when you help him tape up his ankle, though his eyes still follow your every movement with unnerving focus.
They’re polite and respectful, but unless you’re directly addressing them or they need something, it’s like you don’t exist.
Even Atsumu manages to keep his comments to himself when it comes time for the team to stretch out, though judging from the scowl on his face whenever he glances towards the Captain, he’s not particularly thrilled about it.
There’s one more day before game day, and they’ve got bigger things to worry about, but for you it’s like you can suddenly breathe easy. You don’t have to tiptoe around your own discomfort, you can just do your job and help them. It’s not that you hate them, not even Atsumu - though he does grate on your nerves at times - you just can’t afford to let them fuck this up for you.
They’re your team, and you’ll help them and you’ll stand on the sidelines and cheer and support them until you’re red in the face. You’ll celebrate with them and commiserate if they lose, but there has to be a line.
And maybe finally they’re realising that.
Meian sends you home while the others head off to the showers with a clap on your shoulder. “Go home. Today’s been long enough, and you need your rest. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”
You don’t fight him on it, already feeling the exhaustion creeping through your body.
But after months in this job, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to find that by the time you’ve had a quick catch-up with the coaches about tomorrow’s training, changed and gathered up your things, you find yourself falling into step with Sakusa, freshly showered and also on his way out.
Dark eyes find yours, but he doesn’t say a word - at least until the two of you reach the big double doors at the gym’s entrance. “Do you need a lift home?”
It’s rare of him to offer, but you suppose that it’s later than you’d normally leave, the sun already disappearing beneath the horizon. Nevertheless, you shake your head, “No, it’s only a ten minute walk, I’ll be okay,” you say. And almost as an afterthought you smile and add, “Thank you, though.”
He regards you silently for a moment, but simply shrugs his shoulders, “Fine.”
Sakusa turns to leave, heading off to the carpark when a sudden thought strikes you, and before you can think better of it, you call out to him, “Your lineshots were incredible today, by the way. You played well. And please don’t forget we’ve got an early start tomorrow!”
It’s a pointless statement, on both counts. Sakusa doesn’t crave praise the way some of his teammates do, and you can imagine how little it means coming from you of all people. He’s also the most punctual, usually the first in, preferring to get stretched and warmed up before the rest of the team arrived. But the change in plans was kind of last minute and a reminder never hurts.
Sakusa pauses mid-stride, glancing back at you once more over his shoulder. “I know,” he says, and maybe it’s a trick of the light, but you swear there’s something different in his eyes as he stares back at you. Not angry per se, but… you can’t quite put a finger on it. It’s odd, you think, out of character for the usually aloof spiker. “Captain told us.”
—
It’s still dark when you arrive at the gym, and the lights are all off, not a soul in sight. That in itself doesn’t strike you as odd though, checking your phone you see that there’s still twenty or so minutes until you were all supposed to meet, but you would have thought that the coaches at least would’ve been here, or Sakusa maybe, if not Meian.
“Mornin’ princess,” a familiar voice drawls, and you jump a little at the sudden weight of his arm draping over your shoulders.
Atsumu’s smile is far too wide and upbeat considering it’s only a little after six in the morning. You’re used to a dead-stare, don’t-talk-to-me-until-I’ve-had-caffeine Atsumu, and it’s almost startling enough to make you forget the arm he has around you.
Either that, or you’re just bewildered that he’s actually arrived early for once in his life.
“You’re awfully chipper,” you mutter, trying to shove his arm off of you as you walk in tandem towards the gym. It’s a pointless endeavour - he replaces it a moment later, tugging you closer. “And early. Do you normally do this the day before the season starts, or can we expect to see you bright and early every morning for training?”
The corner of his lip quirks into a lazy smirk, and Atsumu laughs, “Nah, I’m actually late. All the others are already here.”
You’re halfway through fishing for the keys when he just pushes the door open, and you falter. “Wait- they’re here already?” you glance inside, and the lights are all still off and there’s not a soul in sight, but- “I thought Meian said we were meeting at 6:30.”
There’s something in the way that his smirk widens that’s almost unsettling, but he’s already pushing you forward, flicking on the lights as you pass.
“Oh, he did.”
Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, but it’s too early and you’re too tired to try and decipher Atsumu’s cryptic bullshit. He already has you on edge with how close he’s got you - you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the familiar scent of his cologne invading your nose. “Fine, whatever. Just- just put your stuff away, grab the others if they’re here and I’ll see you on the court in a few minutes.”
You try to shrug off his arm, but his grip only tightens, “Nope,” he says, firmly steering the both of you in the direction of the locker room.
“Miya,” you start, squeezing your eyes shut. You can already feel the beginnings of a headache taking root in your skull, but Atsumu just chuckles lightly, patting your shoulder.
“Relax, wouldja? Jeeze, yer so tense!”
With no other sound but the eerie echoing of your footsteps across the linoleum floors, his laugh is too loud, too grating. It sets you on edge, and you have to bite back a scowl of your own and remind yourself that you only have to put up with him a little longer - just until Meian gets here. Unperturbed by your silent irritation, Atsumu continues, “We know how hard you’ve been working lately. We came in early to say thank you, y’know, for everythin’ ya do for us.”
And for one split second, regret fills you, snuffing out the spark of irritation simmering through your veins. Here you are, seconds away from slapping the setter when he is - for the first time in his life - actually trying to do something nice for you. You sigh quietly, smoothing your expression over as he slows down and pulls you to a stop.
He lets you slide out from under his arm, your back to the locker room door, moving so that he’s standing directly in front of you. You open your mouth to speak, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but once again, Atsumu beats you to it. “Yer the best manager we’ve ever had.” He takes your hand in his, twining long fingers with yours and steps closer.
Too close.
“Atsu-”
“We really do care about you - love ya, even - which is why it kinda felt like a kick in the balls when the Cap came and told us ya wanted some space. Said we were bein’ too ‘overbearing’ and ‘inappropriate’, just cause we want ya nice and close.” Dark eyes harden, “It hurt us, baby. You gotta realise that.”
The grip he has on your hand is painfully tight, but you don’t have a moment to focus on that. Not as Atsumu sweeps forward to close the distance between the two of you, his lips crashing against yours. Hungry. Demanding. A tongue snaking between your lips, melding with your own.
His arm snakes behind you to open the door, and for a moment you’re stumbling backwards into the dark-
Only it’s not dark, not as the blinding fluorescent lights flicker on around you, and you’re not stumbling, not as you collide with a warm, muscular chest and strong arms find your middle to steady you.
“You took too long,” Bokuto whines, and you’re yanked from Atsumu’s hold and spun, barely having a second to register the gleaming golden eyes before he’s dragging you into a needy kiss of his own.
Dizzy, lightheaded, your heart thumping erratically, you can’t think straight as his hot, wet mouth moves against yours. Greedy fingers grope and squeeze at your body - utterly frozen in shock, pliant under his touch.
“Aw, quit yer whining, Bokkun,” the blonde growls as Bokuto finally pulls back enough to grant you a few precious gulps of air, gazing at you with a kind of love sick adoration that makes your stomach clench.
A scoff sounds behind Bokuto, “A bit rich, coming from you, Miya. The two of you just are as bad as each other.”
It’s then that you realise the three of you aren’t alone. Wide eyed, on the edge of hyperventilating, you glance over your shoulder to find two pairs of eyes watching; russet eyes blown wide, enraptured, and swirling black depths, narrowed and glaring over at the blonde.
Hinata and Sakusa.
It doesn’t feel real. Even with everything they’ve done so far, their possessive behaviour, their smothering affection - even the kisses, it feels like a fever dream.
Even as Atsumu’s fingers are tugging your jacket off and Bokuto drags you forward, you can’t bring yourself to accept it, to properly fight back against it.
(Not that it would make a difference. They’re professional athletes, and there’s four of them against one of you.)
When your eyes fill with tears, Hinata’s there to brush them away, smiling down at you as he shrugs his own shirt off. “Don’t cry, angel. We’re gonna make you feel amazing, just wait!”
His words don’t fill you with ease. They can’t, not when he has that manic excitement bleeding through his expression - the same one you know he gets when he’s lost in the game, flying across the court like the laws of physics don’t apply to him.
Hands are on you everywhere, teasing and exploring, too many to keep track of. Your clothes are pulled off, tossed aside and discarded without a second thought, and theirs follow suit. Fingers are tweaking your nipples and palming at your breasts, smoothing over the curve of your ass and trailing between your legs to play with your clit.
“So fuckin’ pretty, ain’tcha? Our pretty girl, gonna be such a good little cockwhore for us.”
There’s lips against yours, at your neck, trailing down the column of your throat with a pleased hum. And between the kisses, you think that you’re crying, pleading for them to stop and let you go, but nobody listens as you’re manhandled onto one of the benches.
Your legs refuse to obey you, trembling as you try to kick out and wriggle away, only for rough hands to find your hips and drag you back. “C’mon, baby. Be good for us, you’ve already made us wait so long.”
Somebody smacks your ass and you jolt, crying out, only for a hand to soothe over the welt, another squeezing at your hip in a mockery of reassurance. “Don’t make us have to hurt ya, sweetheart.”
It’s easier, you think, to just close your eyes tight and pray that any second now, you’ll wake up in your bed to the blaring of your alarm. But the moment they flutter shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip as fingers dig into your thighs, warm breath ghosting across your sex, a low voice whispers in your ear, “Look at me.”
And you have no choice but to obey, forcing your eyes open to find Sakusa standing to your side, stroking his cock. It’s pretty, you distantly think, and you suppose that it suits him. Well groomed, long but not terribly thick with a slight curve, flushed pink at the tip and glistening with the pre-cum beading at his slit. His other hand comes to rest on your cheek, cupping it with a gentleness that feels out of place, considering the hunger burning in the black depths of his irises.
He doesn’t say another word as he coaxes your mouth open and guides your head forward to take his cock into your mouth, but the low moan that escapes him as your lips wrap around his length makes you shiver.
Sakusa isn’t gentle as he fucks your mouth, his thumb stroking your cheek as fresh tears well, but it’s hard to focus on that alone when Hinata’s face disappears between your legs, his tongue laving at your cunt, eager for a taste of you.
It doesn’t take long for the other two to join, and you’re manoeuvred between them, forced to sit on Bokuto’s lap, his thick cock stretching you out while Hinata sits between your legs, diligently slurping at your folds, sucking at your clit, one fist wrapped around his own length, lazily pumping it. Sakusa continues to use your mouth to get himself off, uttering backhanded praise between instructions, hissing in pleasure when he hits the back of your throat and you choke around him, while Atsumu has one hand playing with your tits, the other gripping yours, forcing you to jerk him off.
It’s too much for your brain to take.
Your sobs and whimpers, already muffled thanks to the cock in your mouth, are lost to the symphony of grunts and moans, lewd squelching and the sound of skin slapping against skin. There’s too many hands touching you, too much pain fused with unwanted pleasure, overwhelming you as heat and panic and terror build up inside of you, and it feels like there’s an inferno burning beneath your skin, and you can’t breathe and you just want it all to stop, you want to wake up, and-
Suddenly, the door to the locker room snaps open, and all five of you freeze in place as the Captain stops dead in his tracks and eyes the scene before him.
There’s no possible way for Meian to misconstrue it, not with everything you told him. Not with your face flushed and teary, your eyes glazed over and all but broken from the sick, twisted debasement his teammates have subjected you to. You’re naked, your body littered in love-bites and bruises, spread out before him like a feast.
And still, your eyes meet his, silently pleading for him to say something and stop this.
Meian takes a single step forward and a muffled whine leaves your lips as the cock inside of you twitches insistently. Sakusa draws his hips back, pulling himself free from your mouth, and despite the burn in the back of your throat, you swallow and try to speak.
“Please.” It’s little more than a squeak, hoarse and choked, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference.
The Captain barely acknowledges that you’ve spoken at all, his attention fixated instead on your body; the way your pussy’s clenching around the base of Bokuto’s length, the tremor of your thighs under Hinata’s rough hands, the way your tits rise and fall with every quickened breath, your lips, swollen and beautifully fucked, glistening with spit before finally, those dark eyes meet yours once more.
And slowly, a grin breaks across his face. “You’d better hurry it up, the others aren’t too far off.”
#yandere haikyuu#yandere atsumu miya#yandere bokuto kotaro#yandere hinata shouyo#yandere sakusa kiyoomi#yandere atsumu x reader#yandere bokuto x reader#yandere hinata x reader#yandere sakusa x reader#tw non con#i honestly don't know how i feel about this one#but it's done#i hope y'all like it anyway#i'm posting it before i can overthink it
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Lightning Scars and Listening Ears
Phic phight prompt by @datawyrms : Danny Phantom's jumpsuit is hiding a secret he'd rather not reveal to anyone. (feel free to be metaphorical if you want.) l
Team Human: @currentlylurking
Most citizens of Amity Park often forgot that Phantom wasn’t human. Sure he would fly through the skies, turn invisible, and shoot ectoplasm at the ghosts who would attack the city on a daily basis, but the way he acted when not saving the city always seemed so alive. That’s where the problem lied though. The ghost kid wasn’t alive, a fact that Amity Park never actually thought much about.
Phantom was playing around with some kids in the park when it all happened. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to see the boy play with the younger citizens of the city, under their parents supervision most of the time. Seeing him give them piggyback rides and playing tag was actually a common sight when there were no ghosts to fight. Phantom had six different kids hanging off of his arms and legs, apparently trying to tackle him and get him to fall down. The group of parents laughed at the sight as the teenage hero fell to the ground admitting his defeat in a dramatic flourish.
“Ahh you got me! Foul villains, you will regret this!” He laughed as he lunged at the closest kid and launched a tickle attack. Childish squeels rang out as the uncaptured children ran trying to avoid being tickled. The little girl in his arms was finally released from her attacker when she turned on Phantom and started to tickle him back. His laughter attracted the other kids who scattered and they joined the counter attack.
“I yield I yield!” He flailed his arms as a dozen little hands tickled any spot they could reach. The kids slowly let up their assault leaving the teen gasping for breath.
One of the children, the girl who started the attack on Phantom, pulled on his arm. “Mr. Phantom? What’s that did you get a owie?” She asked pointing to his neck where part of his jumpsuit wrinkled down revealing a few red raised streaks maring his skin.
Phantom froze eyes jumping over to the adults just a few feet over who had stopped their conversation to try to see what the young girl was asking about. He quickly pulled the collar of his suit back into place. He gave the girl and the other kids surrounding him a pained smile. “Yeah I did get an owie. Don’t worry though I’m fine, doesn’t even hurt anymore.” Suddenly blue frost escaped his lips, the adults sitting nearby never saw him more relieved to have a ghost show up than in that moment. He gave quick goodbyes to the kids before shooting off to find the day's threat to the city.
All the adults gathered waved over their respective kids. While they trusted Phantom to get rid of the threat it was always smart to stay inside during a ghost attack. A loud boom sounded in the direction where Phantom flew off, shaking the ground. They all gave each other uncertain looks. “My house is closest we can take shelter there.” One of the men said leading everyone away.
After a block of running the group was almost to shelter when the ghost fight moved over their heads. The adults grabbed onto the children doing their best to shield them from the flying debris. They held the kids against their chests as they watched the sky in horror. They didn’t recognize the attacking ghost, but it was certainly doing a number on Phantom. The rest of the battle lasted at most a minute when Phantom managed to suck up the ghost into his thermos before he seemed to wobble in the sky and falling to the ground creating a small crater where he landed.
The man who was leading the group passed off the kid he was holding to the man next to him. “David what are you-?”
“Brian just hold her.” He ran over to the fallen teen and picked him up in a fireman's carry and rushed the rest of the way to his house.
Once he arrived he kicked open the door and placed the teen onto the couch in his living room. He looked down trying to assess the situation. Phantom’s jumpsuit was torn in numerous places exposing spots of his arms, neck, and chest that had splatterings of green ectoplasm across the exposed flesh. He started taking the rest of the jumpsuit off of the teen wanting to make sure there were no hidden injuries underneath. Behind him he could hear his husband and the other parents come through the door. “Get me a wet rag and some warm water!” He yelled behind him.
Once he was handed the items he started working on cleaning up the cuts and wiping off the ectoplasm. He silently thanked any higher being out there that he took a first aid class a few years back. The wounds actually seemed less severe than what David initially thought, that or the kid had some seriously advanced healing. One of the parents led the kids upstairs while the rest of them crowded around David and Phantom.
Once Phantom was as patched up as he could be David finally sat back and actually took a full look at the boy. His breath caught in his throat as he examined the body infront of him. In the end all he could get out was.“Oh my god. He’s- he’s dead.”
“What the hell do you mean? Of course he’s not, I can clearly see him breathing right now.” One of the parents protested.
David shook his head. “No.” He went to run his hands down his face before spotting the blood- no the ectoplasm covering them and settled for grabbing onto his husband for support. “No, I mean he’s a ghost.”
“Well yeah he’s a ghost it’s not like that’s news now is it?” Brian said running his hand up and down his husband's back.
“You guys don’t get it.” David pulled back. “Think! Look!” He ran his hand through his hair, staining it green. “Look at him.” He pointed at the teen’s unconscious body.
There were lightning shaped scars running all over the boy’s body, from the base of his neck trailing all the way down to his ankles. Those weren’t the only scars marring his body though, small scars were scattered all over his body, there was a rather large one on his abdomen in the same spot where he was hit the other week fighting off a ghost who was attacking the high school. The gathered adults looked back at Phantom’s face. As he slept he almost looked like a normal teenager, there were small bags under his eyes, his closed eyes hid the toxic green color, and the glow surrounding him was almost nonexistent.
Three things seemed to dawn on the parents all at once.
1: Phantom at some point had died
2: He died young, at most he was just out of middle school when it happened.
3: From the looks of it he didn’t die in his sleep but painfully. They all silently hoped that at least it wasn’t drawn out.
As they all looked at each other they couldn’t help but think of their own children who were just upstairs. Did Phantom have a family? Did his parents miss their little boy? Do they know that Phantom was their son? Even worse, the boy had a jumpsuit on when he died, was his parents the cause of his premature death?
Of course if Phantom was conscious, didn’t have to worry about the whole identity thing, and could read their minds the boy would quickly put their minds to rest responding; yes, no he sees them daily, god no, and sorta it really was more of a case of teenage stupidity than his parents fault though.
Two of those issues though were quickly resolved as two white rings shocked the group out of their grief for a boy they hardly knew. The rings traveled across the boy’s body replacing bare skin with street clothes and white hair with black. Everyone looked at Phantom(?) confused, the boy in front of them was very unghost-like and the scratch on his face that was previously bleeding green now had a red where the scab was forming.
“What the fu- wait isn’t that the Fenton kid, Danny I think?” David asked looking back at the other parents who were in the same amount of shock that he was. Actually he was positive it was him, his older sister Jazz used to babysit their daughter and he would sometimes come along.
If someone was going to respond they were cut off as the boy in front of them started to stir and open his eyes. He sat up almost falling off the couch in his panic, thankfully David was quick enough to catch him. “Woah there Danny, be careful you took a pretty bad beating out there. Hell I’m surprised you’re already awake to be honest kid.”
Danny gave him a thankful smile as he steadied himself. He froze once he caught a glimpse of his hair, his eyes shot down to his clothes. He looked back up and noticed the group of adults in front of him. “Now before you jump to any conclusions there’s a very reasonable explanation for this, or there will be just give me a few minutes.”
“Wait so does this mean you’re not dead?” Brian asked.
“Brian you can’t just ask that! What if it’s a sensitive subject?” David scolded his husband then looked over at Danny. “Sorry about him.”
Danny looked over to the men who for some reason had hope in their eyes. “What? It’s fine. I mean I guess no- well yes- no- sorta- it’s complicated.”
As Danny looked at the numerous questioning eyes he sighed. It’s not like he could convince them that it was a trick of the light or something. And he did owe them since they patched him up better than he would have been able to at home in his bedroom. But before he could start he turned to David. “I’ll tell you guys everything but first um… is that my ectoplasm in your hair and on your hands? Because if so you probably should wash that off, prolonged exposure isn’t harmful per say but you could start to glow or something if you don’t wash it off soon.”
David looked down to his hands, apparently just now remembering he was still covered in the boy’s ectoplasm and rushed to the bathroom to wash it off. He’d worry about why the sight of his own blood- ectoplasm didn’t phase Danny at all later.
Once David returned, now free of ectoplasm, Danny sat down and started from the beginning. At one point in the story he must have started to cry because he was handed a tissue box, which he accepted with a thanks. By the end he wasn’t the only one with tears in his eyes, one of the adults had to go into the kitchen to compose themselves. Danny didn’t really understand why though, sure he sort of half died, but he didn’t see why it would affect any of them. “Hey! It’s fine, I’m fine it’s not a big deal! I mean it’s not like it only happened to me. Vlad went through it too like 20 years ago.” Danny seized up after he said that. “Don’t tell him you know about him though! Me not telling anyone about him is the only reason he’s not trying to fully kill me when we fight. That and he has a weird obsession with my mom and me.”
David paused at that. “So you’re telling us that not only did you go through a highly traumatic situation at a young age, but the only adult that even knows about it has tried to kill you multiple times?”
“I mean I guess but Jazz, my sister, knows about it too and she’s older than me and my friends.”
“Danny she’s also still a kid, an older one sure, but she is not an adult. Even if you didn’t go to your parents, was there no one else you could have talked to about it with? A therapist maybe?” David asked.
Danny laughed. “Ah no, Jazz tried having me go to the school therapist but she turned out to be a ghost who wanted to try to cause as much pain as possible. She even almost killed Jazz in front of the whole school.”
“Dear god.” David sighed. “All right, we will all keep your secret on one condition.” Danny cringed and looked down at his lap, of course there was a catch. He just hoped it wasn’t anything too bad like letting them run a bunch of experiments on him whenever they wanted to. His ghost injuries were bad enough to hide from others, he didn’t need to have to explain away needle marks or something. “You’ll see Brian once a week for therapy sessions. He’s a licensed psychiatrist.”
“Wait what?” Danny looked up confused.
“Oh don’t worry I won’t charge you of course since we are forcing you to do this, and obviously you can choose the day of the week. I usually don't work fridays or the weekends but if those are the only days that work I’m sure we can rearrange some of our family time to make room for you.” Brian smiled. “Now it’s getting pretty late isn’t it? I’m sure it’s about time everyone here starts to head home now hmm? Of course if you aren’t feeling well enough Danny I can call your parent’s up and just let them know you’ll be staying here. I’ll just tell them you were injured in a ghost fight, not exactly lying now is it?”
“Um no I’m fine enough to walk home thank you though.” Danny said. Everyone started saying their goodbyes and calling the children down to get them ready to leave. Danny was the last one left, he was almost out the door when he was stopped by David handing him a piece of paper.
“Here are our numbers, I also wrote down where Brian’s office is, you can set up your appointment over text. As well as our address, you can stop by or call us for any reason Danny and I mean it okay, any.”
Danny looked down at the paper and pocketed it with a nod. As he left he felt almost lighter for some reason. Maybe having adults who knew and didn’t want to kill him but actually wanted to help him wasn’t so bad after all.
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Spooked Teleportation-Todoroki
Full Masterlist MHA Masterlist
+Y/N has a ghost quirk that she does not have complete control over yet. Y/N is a relatively quiet girl that has been able to get close to Todoroki from the beginning. One day, during training, Todoroki spooks her accidentally causing her quirk activate out of her control, teleporting them somewhere. This cause her to over use her quirk.
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“Oi! Spectra! Do you have your part of the project on you?” Bakugo yelled across the room. I lifted my head up from Todoroki’s desk and thought for a second.
“Yeah I do.”
“Good. I need to check on something. Give ‘em to me.” He walked over to my desk with his hand out. I shared a look with Todoroki who rolled his eyes.
“Give me a second.” I turned around and dug into my bag before finding it. I handed it to him and he turned around, walking away. I chuckled before turning back to Todoroki. He was working on his homework and I just watched as he wrote stuff down.
“What?” He asked, darting his eyes up to look at me before looking back at his paper. I shool my head meaning nothing. He nodded before focusing on his work. I was naturally quiet so he accepted my answer. I was also really bored so I started to mess with my ‘ghost magic’ as Bakugo calls it, making a pen float around.
“Doot do-do.” I messed around. I made the pen do tricks in the air, not really paying attention to much else.
“L/N.” Todoroki called gently. I jumped with an eep and the pen dropped right on his paper, where he was writing. I covered my mouth as he immediately stopped writing. He looked up at me again through his eyelashes.
“Sorry.” I yelped. A smile broke out on his face before he chuckled setting down his pencil.
“Having fun?” He asked, leaning on his arms looking at me. I smiled, dropping my hands into my lap. I laughed, blushing and nodding. He shook his head before picking up the pen and holding it out to me. I nodded and he dropped his hand, the pen staying in midair. “There we go. It’s good practice.”
“Thanks.” I leant on his desk again and with both went back to what we were doing. I was lost in my playing until someone else spoke up.
“You know it’s sexy when you use your quirk.” Mineta popped up next to me. I yelped, sending the pen flying and looking down at him.
“Hey, who threw that?” Kaminari yelled.
“I mean it’s really, really attractive.” I looked at him appalled and embarrassed. He was staring at me intently. I looked between him and Todoroki before disappearing from the room completely. I teleported to the hallway, shaken and uncomfortable. I heard yelling in the room from Bakugo, Kirishima, and Todoroki before I heard Mineta scream in fear.
“Maybe you should chill for a minute or two.” I heard Todoroki saw and I covered my mouth to not burst out laughing.
“You can come back in, L/N.” I looked to my left and saw Aizawa-sensei stepping out of the doorway. I nodded and ghosted back in. I laughed when I saw Mineta ‘chilling’ in a block of ice. I looked at Todoroki but he was just casually sitting there doing his work again.
“Wow.” I whispered before turning towards Kami. “Sorry, Kaminari. I didn’t meant to chuck the pen at you.” His head popped up and whipped around towards me.
“It’s alright. I understand!” He said before tossing the pen back to me.
“Okay class. Go get changed and head out to the training fields.” Aizawa instructed. We all started putting away our things before getting up to leave. “Oh and Todoroki, you may want to thaw out Mineta so he can join us. Just a thought…a mild suggestion.”
“Alright.” A thud of his body hitting the floor made a wet plop. He groaned out before getting up himself.
The rest of our day was spent with one on one training or by ourselves. Back and forth really. I was just happy Mineta was leaving me alone. I spent most of time by myself since I still didn’t completely trust my quirk. I was standing messing with my energy beam, ray thingy. I was get frustrated and tired. I took a breath to try and calm myself. I was just about to try again when a hand was placed on my shoulder.
“L/N, do you need…”
“Ahh!” I got scared and accidentally teleported. As soon as I landed and was solid again, I felt the other person was still with me. I felt them stumble before gaining their balance just as I collapsed.
“Hey, hey.” Someone caught me before I hit the ground. My head was spinning and I couldn’t see straight but I could see red and white hair. Todoroki moved us both to the ground, setting my head in his lap. My vision and head cleared but exhaustion set in. “Are you alright?”
“I’m exhausted. I just…” I set my hands on my head. I couldn’t form words very easily right now. I looked up at him and saw worry in his eyes.
“Okay, sh. Just rest.” He said, looking around us. I did too to see that we were nowhere near the school.
“Shit, I’m sorry Todoroki.” I apologized, silently chiding myself.
“Stop.” He said. I looked up at him surprised and confused. “I know what you are thinking and you need to stop. This isn’t your fault and it’s not that bad.”
“Yes it is. I should have been able to control my quirk.” I said sitting up. I got up to my feet but my knees gave and my head spun again. I felt Todoroki grab me before I could even start to fall. He brought me down into his lap, setting my head on his shoulder.
“Stay down.” He said before checking me over entirely. “What has you so exhausted? I have never seen you act this way over your quirk like this.”
“I have never teleported more than myself. You with me took a lot out of me I guess.” I told him feeling my whole body grow heavier with the exhaustion. “Todoroki, I’m feeling really tired.”
“Rest.” That was all he said before he pulled out his phone. I didn’t completely listen but could tell he was calling Aizawa-sensei. I was half asleep when I heard someone walk up on us. I opened my eyes to see Aizawa kneeling next to us.
“Are you both alright?” He asked. Todoroki answered and explained what had happened. They both helped me sit up before standing. I held onto both of their arms as they walked me to a car. My exhaustion wasn’t getting any better and before I knew it I was passing out, falling into Todoroki.
I awoke some time later in my own bed in my dorm. I yawned as I sat up looking around. I noticed the night sky out my balcony doors. Another thing I noticed was that the balcony doors were open, curtains billowing in the breeze. I got up and took a few steps towards it to see the bi-colored haired boy leaning against the railing.
“Todoroki?” He looked over his shoulder at me.
“You’re awake.” He turned towards me as I came out. “How are you feeling?”
“I have a small headache but otherwise I’m okay.” I said, leaning on the railing myself. I took a big breath looking up into the stars. “Thank you for helping me. That was kind of scary.”
“It was my pleasure. You are my friend. I would never let anything come to hurt you.” He said. I smiled before jumping at the sound of Bakugo’s voice yelling.
“DEKU!”
“My god.” I looked at Todoroki with a chuckle. “He is on the other side of the building and two floors up yet we can still hear him. That’s hilarious.”
“Very much. I have to hear that all the time though.”
“Oh that’s right. Your room is above his.” I sucked in air and gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry.” He shrugged.
“I have learned to block him out quite easily.” He said before we fell into comfortable silence, listening to the sound of the city beyond the school gates. “You scared me today. I thought you were seriously hurt. I was…worried.” He reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me closer. His gaze was on my hand while he rubbed circles with his thumb.
“You were worried about me?” I said.
“Mm-hmm.” He nodded. He held my hand tighter. “I care very much for you.” He brought my hand up and kissed it. “So much.”
“Todoroki…” I whispered before smiling and blushing. I looked down before setting my head on his shoulder. I threaded my fingers threw his to intertwine our hands.
“I should get back to my room and let you rest some more. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” He said softly. I sighed.
“Alright but…can we stay like this for a little longer?” I looked up at him through my eyelashes. He smiled.
“Of course but only for a little longer.” He said wrapping his arm around me. “It’s a little cold out. I need to keep you warm.” He said as I tucked my head under his chin. I sighed and nodded, relaxing into his arms.todo
#todoroki x reader#mha todoroki#bnha shoto todoroki#todoroki shoto x reader#shoto todoroki#todoroki#todoroki imagine#imagine#imagines#mha imagines#mha#mha fluff#mha x reader#my hero academia#my hero imagines#my hero academia imagines#mha fanfiction#bnha todoroki#bnha imagines#bnha x reader#bnha fanfiction#bnha fluff#todoroki fluff#fluff#fluff imagine#boku no hero academia#boku no hero imagines#shoto imagine
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Dead Man’s Cell Phone--Chapter 2
Summary: When Emma Swan starts getting phone calls and texts from an unfamiliar number, she decides to check it out–only to discover the number belongs to a Killian Jones, who was killed in a robbery gone wrong six months ago. With some help from a medium, Merlin Emrys, Emma hopes to find out why a dead guy is contacting her–and why she feels such a strong pull to someone she has never met before.
Rating: K+
Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones@kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @a-rose-for-a-savior@in-spirational @gillie @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst@kmomof4 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch@allyourdarlingswans @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @cssns @therooksshiningknight, @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @eastwesthomeisbest @dreamingdreamsalways @xsajx @justren21 @laughterandbooks @cocohook38 @therealstartraveller776
Welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! A big thank you to @cssns, the ladies on the Discord! Thank you also to @eastwesthomeisbest, my artist and my beta @veryverynotgood!
Other Chapters: Prologue 1 3 4 Epilogue
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"So after the phone calls, the text messages started coming," Emma said, settling into her best friend's plush sofa.
"Texts?" Mary Margaret asked curiously before taking a sip of her tea. "What kind of texts?"
It felt like Emma had known Mary Margaret forever. Both girls were placed in the system at young ages-Emma, because her parents abandoned her on the side of a road as an infant, and Mary Margaret, because her parents both died of illness. They ended up in the same group home, and quickly became the best of friends. They were closer than sisters until the day Mary Margaret was adopted by Cora Mills, and then eventually, Emma was fostered by Ruth Nolan.
Even after being placed with other families, Emma and Mary Margaret kept in touch-letters, phone calls, even the occasional visit. On one such visit, Emma's foster brother, David, was home from college, and as soon as he and Mary Margaret met, it was love at first sight.
They were so in love it was honestly a bit nauseating.
When they got married fresh out of college, Emma couldn't be happier. She'd always considered Mary Margaret her sister in all the ways that counted, and now they truly were.
There was no doubt about it - Mary Margaret Nolan was the person Emma was closest to in the entire world, and so it was only natural that when the weird stuff with the cell phone started happening, Emma decided to discuss it with her.
"Weird ones," Emma answered, taking a sip of her own hot cocoa with cinnamon. "Stuff like Help! or You're the only one who can save me!. And then some of them were even stranger. Just...random letters and symbols, almost like someone was randomly pressing buttons on a keyboard."
"So what did you do?" Mary Margaret asked, sitting on the other side of the sofa and turning toward Emma.
Emma shrugged. "I tried answering at first. You know, you hear about people who are abducted and, like, stuck in a basement for years and stuff like that. I kept thinking, what if someone really needed help and I just...ignored them?"
"And what happened when you answered?" Mary Margaret asked.
"Nothing," Emma answered before taking another sip. "No answer, just another cryptic text several hours later. Finally, I decided I'd had enough. Either someone needed help, or someone was messing with me. I decided I'd call the number, decide whether I needed to help them or tell them to go f-" She stopped, glancing over at Mary Margaret's toddler playing with blocks nearby. "Well, go do something not at all child-friendly to themselves."
"Let me guess, your call didn't get through."
"Nope," Emma confirmed, "but it was even weirder than that. I dialed the number just after receiving a text, but it went directly to voicemail."
"But that's not possible!" Mary Margaret exclaimed.
"Right?" Emma said. "So I tried to ignore the whole thing. Maybe the phone was just...I don't know..glitching or something, although I don't know how a technological glitch could make phone calls and text someone. Anyway, for some reason, I just can't let go. Even though I don't know him, somehow I feel a...connection...to this Killian Jones. I just-I don't know what to do about it."
Mary Margaret was silent for a moment, taking several sips of her steaming beverage, before turning back to Emma with a cautious look in her eyes. "There is...there is another possibility, if you have an open mind."
"Just how open are we talking?"
"Pretty open," Mary Margaret said. "What if-and just hear me out, I know this is crazy-what if Killian Jones is contacting you from beyond the grave."
"What, like a ghost?"
Mary Margaret shrugged. "I mean, I know it sounds crazy, but why not? One of the other teachers I work with was talking about this medium. His name is Merlin Emrys. Supposedly he can contact the dead and see ghosts and stuff like that."
"A medium? Seriously?" Emma asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. "Mary Margaret, you know those people are frauds. It's all about researching their marks ahead of time and then cold reading them. They're only in it to bleed as much cash out of vulnerable people as possible."
"I know it sounds crazy," Mary Margaret conceded, "but what if it's not? I've thought about going to him myself. If I could just talk to my parents one more time-make sure they're okay, make sure they've moved on, or whatever happens after someone dies. Well, it would provide a lot of comfort."
Emma's heart turned over, and she took her friend's hand. She knew how much Mary Margaret missed her parents. It was different for Emma. She'd never known her parents, only knew they'd tossed her out like garbage. She wasn't sure she even wanted to find them.
"I know you miss them," Emma said.
"I do," Mary Margaret said, "but that's not the point. The point is...what do you have to lose? Maybe this Merlin is just a quack like you said, but maybe not. Maybe he could be the key to unravelling the whole mystery."
Emma was silent for a moment. It was crazy; she knew it was. A medium wasn't going to give her the answers she needed if all her bail bonds tricks had failed her, but what the hell?
"Fine. I'll go see Merlin," Emma caved.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Emma's eyebrows rose as she took in the small, ranch-style house Mary Margaret had directed her to. She was skeptical before seeing the place, but now-now red flags were going up everywhere.
There was a huge, gaudy sign out front that read "Merlin, the great and powerful. Wizard of the unknown and medium of the great beyond." The sign-indeed the entire front of the house-was decorated with all kinds of astrological signs and symbols.
Was this guy even for real?
Emma seriously considered turning around and getting back in her car, but she'd promised Mary Margaret she'd at least check this Merlin out and give him a chance, and Emma was a woman of her word. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
A moment later, an older man with longish, thinning gray hair and a rather unkempt gray beard opened the door. He was wearing long robes. Really playing the part, apparently.
"Merlin Emrys, I presume?" Emma asked as the man welcomed her inside with a sweep of his hand.
The man chuckled. "I'm afraid not. I'm merely his apprentice. Who might I tell Merlin is calling?"
Emma cocked an eyebrow. "You mean your all powerful boss didn't see me coming with his second sight or whatever?"
Emma stepped inside and the apprentice shut the door after her. "My master isn't clairvoyant. He merely has the ability to speak with the dead."
"Right," Emma said, not even trying to tamp down the skepticism in her voice. "I'm Emma Swan, and I'm here to-"
He stopped her with a raised hand. "Don't say too much. Merlin does not wish to be influenced by his clients. He wishes to sense the energy around you for himself."
Emma shrugged. "Sorry."
"It's quite alright," the apprentice said, moving toward large drapes at the far end of the room. "I'll be just a moment. Please, make yourself comfortable."
Emma looked around the room while she waited, and it took everything in her to keep from rolling her eyes. This guy was really playing up the whole "psychic" thing. It felt like she was in some sort of fortune teller carnival tent. All the signs and symbols. This guy even had a crystal ball. An actual crystal ball.
This trip was a massive waste of her time, but maybe it would at least prove to be entertaining.
"Emma Swan, welcome!"
Emma looked up at the handsome black man who made his way through the curtains. He was dressed in much the same way as his apprentice, only he wore a sorcerer's pointy hat on his head.
"Uh, thanks," Emma said, stepping forward and offering her hand. "Full disclosure. I'm more than a little bit of a skeptic, so if this is one of those 'it can only work if you truly believe' deals, we might have a problem."
"My gift can withstand the doubts of the skeptic," he chuckled before reaching out and taking her hand.
No sooner had his hand touched hers than he gasped, taking a step back, eyes going wide. "Would you-would you care to follow me back to my private sitting room, Miss Swan? It's far more comfortable back there."
Emma cocked a brow again, wondering what this odd man was on about. Still, she didn't sense any overt deception in him, and he didn't seem to be any threat to her, so she shrugged before following him through the curtains.
This backroom was far more ordinary than the room they'd just inhabited. Emma took a plush armchair, and Merlin sat on a sofa across from her.
Merlin pulled off his hat and sat it beside him. "I apologize for all the theatrics, Miss Swan," he said, reaching for a pot of tea and then raising an eyebrow in question. Emma declined the beverage with a small shake of her head, and Merlin proceeded to pour himself a cup. "I attempt to play up to what most clients expect from a psychic. Unfortunately, most poor souls who come to see me are out of luck. The loved one they wish to contact has passed on. For most, all I can do amounts to smoke and mirrors. I could tell the moment I shook your hand that you were different."
Emma inwardly scoffed. She knew enough about cons not to be fooled by a clever con man. Made sense he'd use a different tactic with a skeptic than he would with some poor, grief-stricken sap who was a true believer.
"No offense, but I still think you're full of crap," she said.
Merlin smiled. "It seems those with the most energy surrounding them always do."
"So, what?" Emma asked. "Are there ghosts all around me or something?"
"There are a few spirits here with us today," Merlin confirmed. "There's one who's quite insistent. It's a man; looks as though he died rather young. I don't sense he's family, but you were close. Maybe coworkers? Perhaps friends?"
Emma took a deep breath, a face coming to mind. Surely he couldn't mean-
"I'm getting a G in the name," Merlin said slowly. "Greg or Gray….no. Graham."
Emma's heart turned over. Graham. Sweet, slightly dorky Graham Humbert. They'd worked together on more than a few cases, and they'd become good friends.
In fact, they'd been teetering on the precipice of possibly becoming more than friends when he died suddenly.
"How did you know to mention Graham? How did you know that name would get the biggest rise out of me?" Emma demanded, voice hard.
"I don't choose the spirits who come to me," Merlin explained calmly, "I merely give them a voice. Graham is pleased to see you again. He's glad you're doing well."
The anger came then, spurred on by the pain the memory of Graham's death brought back. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"He died quite suddenly, didn't he?" Merlin asked, ignoring her question. "I'm feeling a tightness in my chest. Something with his heart?"
"Heart attack," Emma confirmed tightly. "He had a heart attack right in front of me and died in my arms."
"He's sorry, so very sorry you had to go through that," Merlin said, putting a comforting hand on her arm. "He never wanted to be a source of pain for you."
Emma felt the tears at the back of her eyes and had to take a deep breath to keep them from falling. "Yeah, well, he didn't exactly have a say in the matter. Look, I don't know how you knew to bring up Graham, but I'm still not buying it."
"He apologizes he couldn't bring you a bear claw today," Merlin continued with a smile. "Oh, and he asks if you remember the day he thought he saw a wolf. He wants you to know he wasn't drunk. It really was there-in spirit at least."
Emma gasped, remembering the night she and Graham had gone to the Rabbit Hole for a drink after a long shift and Graham swore he spotted a big, gray wolf right there on the main street of town. Emma had made fun of him for that, telling him he'd clearly imbibed a bit too much that night. There's no way Merlin could have known about that incident. He couldn't have found it in any newspaper or online article about Graham's death.
Was it...was it possible this guy was the real deal?
"Okay, I admit, it's weird you'd bring that up," Emma said. "Let's say I believe you, can you ask Graham if he's okay? If he, like, moved on or whatever?"
"You just asked him," Merlin said. "He's here with us and can hear you. He wants to tell you that he is okay. He's more than okay; he's happy. He's moved on, and he's at peace, more than he could have ever thought possible."
Emma smiled, feeling comfort at the thought.
"There's someone else here with us as well," Merlin said. "Another male presence, but I don't believe you know this one. This one seems angry, desperate."
"Um...should we be scared?" Emma asked.
Merlin shook his head. "He doesn't mean us harm, only wants his story told. He's too indistinguishable to speak now, but I sense he'll be accompanying us on our journey today as well."
Wonderful. An angry, desperate ghost guide. Just fantastic.
"So, Emma," Merlin said, after a moment, "what brings you to me tonight?"
Emma pulled out her phone and laid out the entire story for Merlin. She told him about the calls, the texts, everything. Merlin took her phone in hand and gasped as soon as it touched his hand.
"There is a huge amount of energy here," he said. "There's no doubt a spirit has attached itself to you-or at least your phone."
Emma felt a chill. "My phone is haunted?"
"Not precisely," Merlin murmured, turning the device over in his hand. "Someone wishes to get your attention; wishes for you to help him, but there's something odd here, something I can't quite place."
"What do you mean?"
"The spirit is...indistinct," Merlin said, "hazy and just beyond my reach. I've never experienced anything like this."
Emma waited, her curiosity more than piqued at Merlin's odd reaction to her cell phone.
After a moment, Merlin's eyes widened. "Your friend Graham cleared up the mystery for me."
"What?" Emma asked. "What does Graham say is going on?"
"The reason I can't get a clear read on the spirit attached to your phone-this Killian Jones-is, well, because he's not dead."
Notes:
-So there you have it. For those of you who have wondered how this story could possibly have a happy ending since Killian is dead-this is how. He's not actually dead!
-Up next: With Merlin's help, Emma finds out how this is all possible-and she finds the not-dead Killian Jones.
Next Chapter-->
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Febuwhump day 20 - Betrayal
Summary: “How bad?” Tony asks.
“Not bad.”
“Pete-”
“I’m serious! I’ve gotten ten times worse as Spider-Man.”
When Tony looks at him, it’s gentle, and it nearly brings him to tears. “But you weren’t Spider-Man, buddy.”
Or, Peter just wanted a coffee.
Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/72739866
------
It’s not everyday that Peter is pistol whipped in the face by a Starbucks customer.
Today, however, is that day.
He’s at the front of the line, finally, and just as the cashier hands him his change a man wearing a crudely cut ski mask shoots two bullets into the ceiling. Everyone screams, ducks, and through the mass panic Peter hears his handful of change roll across the floor.
“Are you kidding me-”
“EVERYONE ON THE GROUND!”
Peter listens, trying his best to keep calm as he assesses his surroundings. The store has six customers and two employees. Another masked individual joins the first, also holding a gun.
That they’re not afraid to use, apparently.
Slowly and praying not to draw attention, Peter’s fingers close around the watch Tony had given him for his birthday and presses the side button three times. He’s only used the distress signal once before, and Tony had been at his side to help within a matter of minutes.
These idiots won’t even know what hit them.
The first man crosses behind the counter and shoves his gun into the barista’s face. “Open the register.”
For a minute, Peter thinks she’s going to refuse, her eyes set with anger and fear. As if getting the same sense, the man with the gun presses the barrel hard against her cheek and she whimpers. “Now,” he repeats, and she obeys with shaking hands.
Even though she complies, the man steps closer, his trigger finger tensing as the first inch of the barrel practically disappears into her face. Spidey sense screaming, Peter stands carefully, hands outstretched, “hey, hey. Come on man. Ease up. She’s doing what you asked-”
“On the ground,” the second criminal yells at him, spit flying from his mask. Peter freezes on the spot, eyes glued on the trembling barista. For one terrible moment, he’s brought back to a dark alley, his hands pressing down desperately on Ben’s chest.
“The register’s open,” Peter reasons, “let her go.”
“Looks like someone’s trying to play hero,” the first robber sneers. He pushes the barista aside and she falls onto the floor with a strangled yelp. “Grab him.”
Peter doesn’t flinch as the man’s accomplice obeys, digging strong fingers into his bicep and dragging him out of line. His back is brought against the man’s chest and the gun is pressed into his throat. He swallows at the pressure and keeps his eyes trained on the first man, who’s stuffing a duffel with cash.
Outside, there’s sirens.
“Damn it!”
The first man slams the empty drawer closed, throwing his gun out widely, “which one of you called the police?”
Peter almost laughs. Almost. “Are you kidding? You would’ve heard it if someone called. It’s a small room, buddy-”
A sharp pain in his face nearly sends him crashing to his knees. Blood pools onto his tongue but he keeps it there, not wanting to scare the other customers. Through the aching pulse in his head he hears a couple of them gasp.
“Not the time to be smart, kid.”
“Well you’re the ones who decided to rob a Starbucks of all places.”
Before Peter can even suck in a breath, he’s hit three more times, all where the first blow had landed. This time he does fall, and the man kicks him in the ribs for good measure when he’s down. The force of it has him gasping and somewhere in the distance Peter hears a kid crying.
Don’t think about Ben, don’t think about Ben.
“Police are here. Damn it. What do we do?”
Peter hears shuffling as he tries to reorient himself, his head spinning like a top. He only makes it to his elbows before his jacket is grabbed at its shoulder and he’s manhandled to his feet. He sways but stands his ground, wiping the blood off his chin with his sleeve.
“We take him with us.”
Peter doesn’t have the energy to argue as he’s dragged to the entrance by his neck. Through the glass and a rapidly swelling eye, Peter sees a semi circle of police, completely closing off an escape. He thinks he sees a flash of red and gold, too, but he can’t be sure.
“Walk, kid. No funny business.”
And he does, grateful, above everything else, that no one got hurt.
With a forceful shove, Peter is thrown out of the store, the grip on his neck still strong. He knows it’ll bruise in the shape of fingers, that he’ll stare at it in the mirror later and shudder at the memory of the touch.
“Drop your weapons!”
Peter yelps as the back of his knee is kicked in, forcing him to the ground. One of the men grabs his hair, forcing his head back, and sticks his gun underneath his chin. “Make another move and the kid gets it!”
It’s only now that Peter realizes his eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on him. Tony is here, standing on the sidelines of officers, his eyes blown wide with panic before his expression is cut off by his helmet.
He feels too dazed to be relieved.
“Let the kid go!” he hears one of the officers yell.
“Let us go!”
Peter chuckles again, and he’s not sure why. He feels warm blood dribble down his chin, and the grip tightens in his hair until he’s sure it’s going to be pulled right out of his scalp.
Whatever the men holding him had thought this was going to go, it must not be working, because one of the hisses a “get up” in his ear. Peter tries to listen, but he feels shaky and weak, and mostly just lets himself be dragged. He ends up back against the man’s chest, the gun pressed so forcefully into his temple that the opposite side of his head nearly touches his shoulder.
Only now does he let himself be afraid.
He could die.
Not as Spider-Man, not as a hero, but as himself. Right now. At Starbucks, of all places.
In front of Tony.
His mentor would never forgive himself.
“Walk,” the man hisses in his ear, and Peter stumbles obediently along with them as they step away from the door. The police follow them with their guns but otherwise don’t move.
“Where are you going to run?” Peter chokes. “It’s already too late.”
“Shut up.”
“There’s no way out of this.”
“I said shut up!”
Peter gasps when his head is hit again, his vision whitening at its edges. He must slump because the man struggles to keep him vertical. Somewhere in his fall Peter hears a familiar blast of repulsors and the hostile touch leaves him instantly. He falls to the cement, barely managing to catch himself on his elbows.
There’s a sudden rush of movement and Peter winces at the sheer loudness of it all. He hears muffled curses, boots hitting the pavement, the hostages inside the store cheering-
“Peter?”
And then there’s Iron Man, crouched down beside him and lifting up his chin gently with a metal-clad hand. Peter blinks away his double vision and musters a weak smile. “Hey man,” he wheezes, “coffee break?”
Tony doesn’t laugh like Peter hoped he would. Instead, he feels the armour shift under his arms and he’s lifted up, up and away. He jams his eyes closed at the sudden vertigo and lets out a tense breath when they land together on a nearby rooftop. In a second Tony is out of the suit and sitting beside Peter, his hands ghosting over the blood and bruises on his face.
“Concussion?”
“Look at my face. What do you think?”
“Cut that sass, kid. I have enough for the both of us. Anything else hurt?”
“Uh, my pride?”
“Ha. Funny. Now tell me the real answer.”
Peter sighs, and somewhere in the middle chokes on the blood in his throat. It makes his ribs flare and the wince he makes must be enough for Tony to piece two and two together.
“How bad?” he asks.
“Not bad.”
“Pete-”
“I’m serious! I’ve gotten ten times worse as Spider-Man.”
When Tony looks at him, it’s gentle, and it nearly brings him to tears. “But you weren’t Spider-Man, buddy.”
He sighs again and this time it’s easier. He lays down against the pavement in hopes it’ll stop the world from spinning while Tony hovers beside him like a worried mother hen. “Didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
“So let me guess,” Tony says, “you smart mouthed them.”
“Yep.”
“Course you did.”
Peter groans, poking gingerly at his swelling eye. He can barely see out of it anymore, which is highly unfortunate. “I lost my change. And I didn’t even get my drink.”
“Well, you’re alive, so that’s something.”
“Starbucks is expensive, Tony. I was treating myself.”
“I’ll buy you the whole damn Starbucks company if it’ll stop you from getting your face smashed in.”
Peter laughs at this. It makes his ribs burn. “Deal.”
Tony is quiet for a minute. “Feel up for a flight back home?”
Home.
He smiles.
“Only if we can pick up a coffee on the way.”
“Good God, kid. Look at these grey hairs. No seriously, I want you to look at them.”
Peter huffs out a laugh, head lolling slightly as Tony pulls him back up by his arms. Before they lift off, Peter is surprised when Tony wraps him in a hug. He blinks, then relaxes into it. It feels as if some of his pain is leaking into Tony.
He feels better.
“Thanks for coming,” he whispers.
Tony pulls away, ruffling his hair softly, his scalp still sore. “How couldn’t I? You were smart for once in your life and actually used the panic button I gave you-”
“Smart enough for a coffee?” Peter smirks, a cut on his lip stinging.
Tony looks at him solemnly and shakes his head.
“Grey hairs, Pete. Grey hairs.”
#febuwhump#febuwhump2021#febuwhumpday20#peter parker#tony stark#irondad#irondad fic#hostage situations#hurt peter parker#gun violene#protective tony stark#protective peter parker#peter parker whump#hurt/comfort#angst with a happy ending#tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure#hope you enjoy! <3
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Buzzfeed Unsolved Part 3
Here's my contribution for Spooky season. This will be mainly class salt but there will be a little bit off the maribat team we love and their usual antics
Lila couldn't believe it
The whole point of pushing Marinette out of class life was to isolate her enough so that Lila would be the new class favorite but not enough that she'll leave
Who was suppose to to provide the class with free sweets and plan all the class outings and events
But here Lila was listening to Ms. Bustier as she made the announcement
Ms. Bustier: please take your seats class. We're going to hold elections for Class Representative
Alya: Shouldn't we wait for Marinette, Ms. Bustier? I mean she's the only one running right?
The rest of the class made sounds of agreement and nodded their heads
Lila tried not to roll her eyes
Ms. Bustier: Marinette will actually no longer be joining our class
Class: WHAT?!
Ms. Bustier: Marinette has been given a great opportunity to go to Gotham Academy one of the top rated schools in the world
Lila seeing a opportunity to spin this in her favor decided to speak up
Lila: So Marinette decided to abandoned us, even though she knew we counted on her. I mean who's going to help with costumes, or babysitting, or give us bake goods?
Alya: That's a good point!
Nino: This is going to mean we're going to have to cut down on our dates
Mylene: Oh no! The next school play is going to be a disaster without Marinette's costumes!
Adrien: How could Marinette just abandon us like this! It's not like her!
Ms. Bustier: Okay class calm down. We don't want any akumas now. Let's focus on the election for the next class representative. Are there any volunteers?
Unsurprisingly Chloe's hand shot up
Ms. Bustier: okay we have Chloe, anybody else?
Alya: how about you Lila? You'd make a great representative
Lila: Oh no I'm far to busy with all my volunteering and obligations, but you should definitely do it Alya. You were Marinette's deputy after all
Alya raising her hand: You're right? I mean how hard could it be?
Alya learned exactly how hard it is when she won the election and was told all her new duties
Alya: Are you serious? Marinette never brought any of these up to me
Ms. Bustier: She didn't want to cut too much into your time
It took awhile but Alya finally got the hang of things
Though none of the class events were as extravagant as when Marinette was in charge
She made Nino her deputy hoping it would give them more time together
And it did but it also meant that a lot of her paperwork was late meaning the class couldn't do as much stuff
But did the class blame Alya for this?
No
They blamed Marinette
Because somehow it was her fault that Alya were too wrapped up in her boyfriend to actually do her job
A couple of months later Lila and Alya watched the Ghoul Gang's (a/n: That's Marinette, Damian, and Jason's group name) first video that somehow had 10k views and already had 25k subscribers
Alya: How is she so popular?
Lila: How does she have so many views?
Alya: How does she have more hits then the Ladyblog?!?
They started scrolling through the short list of other videos that was posted
Adrien: Oh are you watching Marinette's videos?
Alya: You knew about this?
Adrien: Yeah it's not really my taste but I want to support our friend dont you guys?
Lila making her eyes tear up: Why would we want to support somebody who abandoned us
Alya wrapping her arms around Lila: Yeah Adrien she makes a good point. Marinette didn't even say goodbye!
Adrien trying to placate the two: Maybe she didn't have a chance
Lila: Oh please if she really wanted to she would had MADE time to say goodbye, right Alya?
Alya: Yeah!
The two girls showed the rest of the class the videos
And they had to admit they liked them
They were fun to watch and it was nice to see the old Marinette again
Lila could see this and it made her seeth
She had to turn this to her benefit
And she knew just how to do it
Lila: I can't believe you guys would support Marinette! It's obvious that she's just bragging and showing off her new life!
Chloe: I can't believe I'm saying this but Lila's right! It's obvious that Dupen-Cheng is just rubbing her new life in our faces! It's utterly ridiculous!
Alya hated that she agreed with Chloe but she also spoke of her agreement
Some of the other classmates agreed with them, but others like the member of Kitty Section and Nathaniel just thought that Lila and Alya were still a little hurt that Marinette left and Chloe was just jealous
They decided they would still watch the show just not talk about it with the rest of the class
A year later and Lila couldn't stand how popular Marinette's little YouTube channel was
She also couldn't stand that she had a richer boyfriend then her own, Adrien
So with the help of Alya, Nino, and of course her boyfriend Adrien they decided to do their own show
That was SLIGHTLY similar (read: rip off) of the Ghoul Gang's own show
They had Lila and Adrien as the host
Because of course they had to be the host, they were models and had more experience on camera
Nino did all the camera work
And Alya did research and worked sound
A lot of people called them out for being an obvious ripoff of the Ghoul Group's show from their name to their editing
But what people found worst that they were a bad ripoff
Lila and Adrien didn't have the same chemistry as Marinette and Jason
Adrien just agreed with whatever Lila said
There was no fun banter
And because neither of them believed in ghost there were no funny freakouts
Their show was mostly watched just for ripping on
Which both Alya and Lila hated
How could Marinette be so popular!
Lila just had to find some way to prove that her show is superior to Marinette's
And she learned the purest opportunity when she saw Marinette and the rest of the Ghoul Gang filming on some random street
Marinette: now we're back the next day at Rue Des Chantres after our terrifying investigation last night
Jason: What are you talking about it Thumbelina? It wasn't scary here last night. We even ran into the local heroes.
Damian: Which we'll be showing in a special bonus video at the end of our Paris series.
Marinette: Thanks Damian. And it was to scary. Remember what we heard on the spirit box, Green Giant?
Jason: Beep dop ga Apple tatter cre mauf
Marinette: No the other thing
Jason: Do you think we could make apple taters? Could that be a thing?
Damian: Focus Todd
Marinette: Anyway thanks for watching and join us next time to see us explore the famous catacombs under Paris. And for now weither the Rue Des Chantres is haunted will remain...
Marinette/Jason: Unsolved
Damian: And cut! Great job guys!
Marinette going over to hug Damian: Thanks honey. Great job filming as usual
Marinette gave Damian a peck on the lips
Jason: Seriously are Apple tatters possible? They sound good
Marinette: Maybe we can do some experimenting when we get back to the bakery.
Jason pumping his fist: Awesome!
Damian: We just have to finish on time to head to the catacombs. You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to get the catacombs to ourselves tonight
Jason laughing: Calm down demon spawn besides this will be a nice bonus video
The trio walked away and Lils felt a smirk grow on her face
If she and her lackies could best those losers to the catacombs they could have a episode before them and it would look like they ripped off her group instead of the other way around
Later that night the Ghoul Group showed up at the Catacombs fully expecting to be let in only to be stopped by secruity
Secruity: Sorry folks the catacombs are close tonight. Apparently their filming something tonight
Lila looking smug: Yes that will be us we're the Ghoul Group.
Secruity: I'm sorry but the filming permit is under the name Damian Wayne. Is that one of you?
Alya: No, but their must he some mistake. Lila said she called and we were clear to film here tonight
Secruity: Sorry but without a permit you can't film here. Please move along
Lila: How dare you?! Do you no who I am?
Marinette from behind the group: No, but I do
Alya, Lila, Adrien, and Nino turned around to see Marinette, Damian, and Jason standing behind them
Damian walked forward to show secruity his ID
Alya, Nino, and Adrien: MARINETTE!
Marinette: Why are you trying to steal our filming location?
Alya: Why did you abandon us?
Marinette: What are you talking about?
Alya: You abandoned us! You left without saying a word! Who did you expect to pick up the slack after you left?! Who did you expect to do costumes for the school play, or run fundraisers or babysit Chris or the twins?! You completely left us in the lurch
Marinette felt any guilt about leaving without telling anybody melt away
Marinette glaring: I thought that the people who I thought were my friends only saw me as an employee, and you just proved it
Ayla rolling her eyes: What are you talking about Marinette? You're being over dramatic as usual
Marinette: That is what I'm talking about! Think back to the final couple of months I was in Paris. The only time anybody in the class talked to me was to ask me to do something for them, not even asking if I have time to do it just demanding that I complete what ever they wanted me to do! And you know what leaving was the best decision I ever made!
Marinette didn't wait to hear what Alya had to say she joined Jason and Damian at the entrance and followed them inside never giving thought to the friends she left behind again
3 months later the Ghoul Group broke up.
After Lila was shown to be working with Hawkmoth she was sent to juvenal hall
Lila, Nino, Adrien, and the rest of the class were left wondering how they could lose such a great friend because of a liar who tricked all of them
#maribat#damian x marinette#halloween#marinette x damian#buzzfeed unsolved au#maribat unsolved#daminette
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alive (jjk)
Summary- Jungkook was the perfect boyfriend for two years, and then two months ago something changed. It was like a switch had been flipped and he’d gone from doting to distant. For the life of you, you could not figure out what happened, and you hated it
word count- 4.3k
pairing- nonidol!Jungkook x Reader (feat. Namjoon)
rating- R
genre- angst, smut
warnings- explicit smut (including fingering), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it friends), sad sex, talks of depression and anxiety, talks of therapy, character death, car accident
a.n- First off a huge thank you to the brilliant Tailia @namyoongles for the banner! Isn’t it beautiful. Second, this is part of @btswriterscollective secret santa project and I’m so excited to reveal that I’m indeed @therealmintedmango‘s secret santa 🎅🏼I had such a great time getting to know you this month Mango and I really hope you enjoy all the angst in this fic! Happy holidays, love! 💕
As always feedback appreciated. Send me an ask! 💌
-
“Well if you can’t even talk to me, maybe we should just end this!” you screamed, your lungs aching as you looked at your boyfriend on the couch next to you, the room falling into a charged silence. It had been the same fight for months. The same constant back and forth. You would try to broach the topic but he would close off. Every time. His expression was neutral as he looked at you, his doe eyes betraying his defeat as he sighed.
Jungkook was the perfect boyfriend for two years, and then two months ago something changed. It was like a switch had been flipped and he’d gone from doting to distant. For the life of you, you could not figure out what happened, and you hated it. You hated how it seemed to bring all your insecurities to the surface and clawed at your emotions till they were raw. From the corner of your eye you saw Namjoon looking at you sadly, disappointed, before shaking his head at you and disappearing round the corner. You felt a tear roll down your cheek as you looked at your boyfriend, who sat in silence at your outburst.
Jungkook had always been quiet, introverted, and this cloud of mystery was one of the things that made him so unbelievably attractive, but now it was the worst thing about him. You didn’t expect this fight to escalate, you didn’t expect these words to come out, but now that they were you wanted him to react. Needed him to react. Needed just anything more than the stoic expression marring his features.
“Maybe we should…” Jungkook spoke softly, after what seemed like hours. It wasn’t what you were expecting and it only caused your anger to flare. He was seriously going to just throw away everything?
You looked at him next to you as he seemed to have moved further away. You’re not sure if he actually did or your mind was playing tricks on you again, but the seat cushion between you seemed to stretch for miles, Jungkook getting smaller in the horizon.
“You’re not even going to fight for us? You’re going to walk away?” You didn’t care that you were raising your voice, and that the one tear from earlier was now a flood cascading down your features. Maybe it was your fate. You never thought you deserved happiness and this was just another nail in your ever growing collection. You had spent your life chasing after that elusive ray of joy, only for you to get too comfortable when you reached it and it disappeared as soon as it appeared, throwing you into the darkness once again.
It figures that this happiness would vanish too. You wanted to reach out and shake Jungkook. Why did he have to change? Why did he have to do this to you?
“What did I do? What happened?” you asked, your voice small, as you looked at him staring at his hands in his lap. His long wavy hair fell into his eyes, and the longer he sat there in silence, the louder your heart crumbled. “Say something!” you exclaimed, followed by a quieter “Please…”
“What do you want me to say Y/N? You’re the one who wants to end us.” Jungkook finally looks at you, his lips pressed together as his tongue pokes lightly to the inside of his cheek. You’d seen this look before, but never directed at you. It was cold and made your skin pebble, made fresh tears stream down your face.
“Because you changed! Because you hate me!” you yelled indignitedly as he sighs once again. He lifts his head slightly as he looks at you, his eyes glassy.
“I don’t hate you,” he whispers quietly, the words floating in the tension in the air.
“Then why are you avoiding me? Why haven’t you said a full sentence to me these past two months?”
“Because…” He looks away again staring straight ahead at the blank wall of his living room and you can’t help but move closer, wiping your eyes to see him clearer.
“No. You can’t do your stupid quiet guy shit right now! I need to know!” You pull at his shoulder to make him look at you and as he does, his hand finds yours, holding it gently. His eyes swim with the love you’ve come to expect from him but it's tinged with an overwhelming sadness, a sadness that droops his features even though he tries to school them into a small smile on your behalf.
“It’s not your fault, okay?” He is still whispering, his hand squeezing yours as the other fidgets with the untied string of his sweatpants.
“What’s not my fault? Please Kook. Please talk to me!” You remove your hand from his and cup his face in both of yours, needing more, anything to help clear the haze in your head.
“I can’t.” His voice louder, he pulls your hands away from his face as he goes to stand up and you grab at his legs to stop him.
“Why not?!”
“Because you’ve never loved me and I had to find out when you were drunk!” Jungkook yells. He never yells, not at you anyway, but it’s not his volume that stuns you, it’s the words echoing through the small studio apartment. Words that make you freeze, dropping your hands from him as you feel the breath knocked out of your lungs.
“What?”
“That night after the club. While I was taking care of you. Me!” He points at his chest, his eyes ablaze as he continues. “Making sure that you didn’t get puke on your hair or fall or get hurt, you looked at me and do you know what you asked me?” His shoulders fall as he quietens once again, sighing and running his hands through his hair. His face distorts into one of heartbreak as he says the next words, his tone even and calm. “‘Why don’t I love you as much as him?’ And here I was like an idiot believing you every time you said you loved me”
You stand at his words. That wasn’t true. It wasn’t true. You remember that night. Not most of it but you know yourself enough to know you would never say that to him, not after he had worked so hard to put you back together again. Jungkook wasn’t your soulmate, you didn’t believe in those anymore, but Jungkook was your rock, your best friend. He was there when you couldn’t get out of bed for days. He was there when you didn’t know how to stop crying. He was always there. And you loved him.
“I do love you. Jungkook, please!” You grab his hands, holding them tightly as if he would disappear too. You looked at him desperately, trying to convey your feelings through your gaze, but all you found in him was defeat.
“I just can’t do this anymore. You’re right. I can’t compete with a ghost… not anymore.” He sighed again as his lip quivered. It stuttered your breath and you felt your chest tightened. You couldn’t lose him, not after Namjoon. As you felt the panic rising, the drunk haze of two months ago came into focus, spiking your adrenaline and paling your face.
You danced to the loud EDM pulsing through the club as neon lights flashed across your skin, setting your white dress aglow. Jungkook was pressed against your back as his lips ghosted the skin of your neck, his hands grazing your hips as he pulled you closer. You hadn’t felt this content in years, the tequila warming your veins in a sweet comfort as your boyfriend’s hips moved against yours, your arms around his neck, fingers playing with his hair.
You missed this. Missed going dancing and drinking because it was fun and not because you were trying to forget. Surrounded by your friends, you smiled as you opened your eyes, finally happy. Until you saw him and your heart dropped, making you freeze.
Namjoon smiled at you from the bar, the sweet dimpled smile that creased his eyes into crescents as he waved. How was he here? How was he back?
You felt your heart kickstart as you pushed Jungkook off you and raced to the bar. You’d apologize to him later, but you needed Namjoon right now. Needed to feel him in your arms, needed to smell his calming scent, and so like an addict you raced through the club looking for one more hit. When you reached the bar, he wasn’t there anymore and the sheer weight of disappointment made you sob. You felt a pair of strong arms surround you and the familiar smell of bergamot and vanilla encased your senses, pulling you closer into a firm chest.
“Baby what’s wrong?” A soft voice asked as you looked at Jungkook’s worry filled eyes. You hated that you were doing this again. It had been almost a year since this happened, and your mind felt numb as you grasped Jungkook’s black shirt.
“He was here! Kook he was here!” you exclaimed, your loud voice carrying over the music. You were sure you looked deranged, mascara running down your cheeks, lipstick smeared where it met Jungkook’s shirt, as you desperately cling to him. He looks at you sadly before pulling you into his chest once again, holding you tight, his fingers running soothingly on your scalp.
“I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry.” He repeated that phrase as he stroked your back, trying to calm you down as you continued sobbing and onlookers peered at the two of you curiously.
The memory of the night jolts you as you grab onto Jungkook’s shirt the same way you did at the club, looking at him pleadingly. His face blurred behind your tears as you yelled.
“I was with him for five years and he fucking died!” There’s no volume behind your words, only the distraught behind the truth you felt you were never ready to face. You weakly punched at Jungkook’s chest trying to make him understand your agony. But you didn’t need to try, he already knew, had lived through it with you.
“Yeah Namjoon died! But I’m here! I’m alive!” His voice was broken as the tears finally escaped his eyes. He grabbed your hand from where it was knocking against his chest and held it there. “You feel this? That’s my heart racing for you! How it always does! Because I love you.”
“Kook-”
Before you can say anything else, he grabs your face and crashes your lips together desperately, wanting you to feel just an ounce of what he felt for you. Your sinuses full of tears, your lungs burn as you pull him closer. You want him to consume you, make you forget again as you taste the salt of his tears. The overwhelming guilt breaks you more as his fingers move from your face to your waist, digging in hard enough to leave bruises.
Three years ago you never thought you would love someone again. You didn’t deserve to not when it was your fault you could never see Namjoon’s face again. Your fault that the world would never know what difference he would have made to it. But when you stood outside the funeral his parents had banned you from attending, arm in a cast and stitches on your forehead, caving into yourself from grief, Jungkook found you. Held you tight enough to stop you from breaking and told you it wasn’t your fault, that there was no way to have known that the 14 wheeler would run a red. And he reminded you everyday till you believed him, till your dreams no longer weaved your memories into nightmares, till you no longer saw Namjoon everywhere you looked. Till you felt worthy to love Jungkook back.
When the air in your lung runs out, you pull away, but Jungkook pulls you closer, trailing his lips from your jaw to down your neck. He kisses you with fervor, nibbling the skin and soothing it with his tongue till you're moaning. You grip his hair and pull him back to your lips, his tongue caressing yours as your tears give way to the passion. Your heart stutters as his hands move to the back of your thighs and he effortlessly lifts you without leaving your lips, walking towards his bed.
Amidst the kisses, he bumps into the bookshelf that separates his bed from the living room causing a few books to fall to the floor, the loud thud breaking the silence in the room. He ignores it as he tosses you on the bed, climbing over you as you look up at him. There are still tears in his eyes as he slows down and presses his forehead against yours.
"I love you," he says softly but the sadness in his eyes never gives way to the usual warmth. It feels like a goodbye and you feel another wave of grief wash over you. Why did you have to be like this? Why couldn't you give him what he needed when he gave you so much?
You cup his damp face and he leans into your hands, closing his eyes as you kiss him tenderly, hoping to convey how much you needed him. You pull at the hem of his shirt, running your hands under it, feeling the light shudder that goes through him as his skin pebbles. He pulls the shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor as he kisses you again more urgently, his lips molding to yours, igniting a familiar fire in the pit of your stomach. He holds on to your face as if you would run away if he didn't.
You push gently against his chest and he looks up in alarm before you make him lie next to you and straddle his waist. You continue kissing him, trailing your lips over his neck, painting his golden chest red as the lump in your throat grows. Despite the tears still running steadily, you whisper 'I love you's, hoping he'd believe you, but you're not sure if you're trying to convince him or yourself.
He's right, you don't love him like you loved Namjoon. You don't think you can ever love anyone the way you loved him. Namjoon was your shelter amidst the rain, but Jungkook was the light amidst the darkness. It's different, it's incomparable. You never needed Namjoon the way you need Jungkook. Never woke up in the middle of the night relieved to find him still sleeping next to you. You had never depended on someone like you depended on Jungkook, and so, wasn't that love? Wasn't needing someone the same as you need oxygen, love?
You trail your kisses lower, but before you could reach his waistband, he lifts your shirt pulling it off you, and with his arms circled tight around your waist he kisses you again. The two of you kiss for a while, relishing the feel of each other's skin, his grip tightening till you can't breathe. He's never like this, never this needy and your heart breaks as you realize that he still thinks he's competing.
You don't know if you're still crying, but you pull yourself up and stare at him. "Jungkook, I love you. I need you. Please-"
But before you can finish your sentence, he rolls the two of you over, pinning you under him as he pulls your shorts down your legs. You didn't mean this need, but you couldn't deny how wet his length hardened against you made you. He traces his fingers over your soaked panties, groaning into your mouth before pushing them aside and thrusting two fingers in.
He swallows your moans as you arch into him. He sets a fast pace right from the start as his lips move to your chest. His mouth moves over your nipples, capturing one to tease it with his tongue, lapping at it furiously. He nips it lightly and you feel your whole body alight, leaving all your thoughts to tumble out of your head. All you see are the flashes of red behind your eyelids, all you hear is the sounds of his fingers thrusting in you, all you can feel is him as Jungkook does what he does best - make you forget.
“Want to make you forget. Want to make you mine,” he whispers against your chest, as he removes his fingers, pulling your panties off your legs as he takes his shorts and boxers off in a haze. You don’t know what’s going through his mind as he looks at you with a darkened gaze, his eyes roaming your body, before he kisses you again. It’s hard and rough, teeth clattering against each other, his tongue licking into you as you mewl.
His cock grinds against your clit as he kisses you and you can’t help the way your hips buck up against him. He looks up at that, a hand moving down to line himself up against you. “Please tell me you want me,” he pleads against your lips, and another tear rolls down your cheek as you nod vigorously before kissing him. Another wave of guilt rushes through you seeing your usually confident boyfriend pleading at you, and for the first time as he slowly sinks into you, you don’t think of Namjoon.
You gasp against his lips as he fully sheaths himself within you. “Jungkook… Kookie. Please… want you, need you.” He rewards your pleas by slowly pulling out and thrusting in again, gripping your waist tightly and bracing his knees against the bed to start rocking into you faster.
“I’m here. Me. Me. I’m the one here for you.” He repeats again and again, the mantra powering his thrusts, leaving you a moaning mess below him as he consistently hits the spot that makes you see stars. You wrap your legs around his waist, stuttering his name and holding tightly onto his forearms. You can feel your orgasm build up as you lose yourself in his touch, letting him move your body as he pulls you in each time his hips meet yours.
You tighten around him as you feel the high of your pleasure coursing through your veins. At the feeling, Jungkook moves forward, bracing his arms around your head, his forehead against yours as he commands you to open your eyes.
His eyes are glassy as he looks at you lost in pleasure like it’s the only thing he needs. He kisses you again, softly, a total juxtaposition to the hard movement of his hips that’s quickly tightening the coil in your stomach. His movements are sloppier now as he approaches his high as well, but he moves a hand down, fingers circling your clit.
“Cum for me, baby, please,” he moans as you lose yourself to the euphoria he provides. Jungkook watches your face contorted in pleasure as you writhe under him, finding his release soon after you.
You pull him closer, your arms tight around him, as he thrusts as deep as he can before stilling and filling you. He collapses on you right after, still buried inside you with his head in the crook of your shoulder, your pants echoing through the room.
He lays on top of you for a while, his crushing weight smothering you to the mattress, but you don’t move him, welcoming the intimacy after months of distance. You think he’s fallen asleep, but then you feel his shoulders shake, your neck getting damp as he sniffles next to you. The guilt returns as you stroke his back gently and let him cry, your own reservoir long empty. Without lifting his head, he grabs one of your hands, lacing your fingers together, as he holds it tightly.
“I’m sorry I’m not him.” He mumbles against you. You go to say his name but before you can he interrupts you. “I’m sorry I can’t make it hurt less. I’m sorry I can’t bring him back. I’m so, so sorry.”
You try to move his head to see him but he just nuzzles his face in deeper, his hair tickling your neck gently. Your mind feels heavy, like if you thought more your brain would simply shrivel up. You wish you were a different person, had a different life, made better decisions. You hate yourself for making Jungkook feel like he’s responsible for your happiness, responsible for putting you back together, but most of all you hate yourself for making him feel like he has to bring Namjoon back for you to feel happy.
Before Namjoon died, Jungkook was a different person. He was funny, energetic, competitive, but afterwards he just became quiet. Sure, he was introverted before, but he just lost the spark behind his eyes. It wasn’t surprising. Jungkook had known Namjoon even longer than you did. He grew up with him and looked up to him like a younger brother would. In the beginning of your relationship, you even felt that he thought he had some kind of responsibility to take care of you for him. He never pushed you, always relented to your requests.
The first time you slept with him was only three months after the funeral, when in a drunken haze you begged him to make you forget. He wiped your tears and held you as he helped you forget. In the two years following he never asked you to do anything, except for one thing. One thing you were always too scared to do because to you it would be admitting that you were broken. As you laid with your arms tight around him, lamenting how you broke him worse, you decided to give it to him.
“I’ll go to therapy.” Your voice was low but firm, and it jolts Jungkook to move up and lean on his hands next to your head. The movement makes the two of you wince as he suddenly pulls out of you, dragging his release down your thighs. His red rimmed eyes roam your face looking for deceit.
“You will?”
“I can’t expect you to fix me, Kook. I can’t put that on you.” You sigh, a hand reaching out to smooth the crease between his eyebrows. Your thumb brushes over his lower lip that juts out in a slight pout, and you can’t believe how lucky you are to have him in your life.
“You can. I’ll always be here for you, you know that right?” He whispers and it makes your heart ache when you think about how defeated he seemed earlier.
“Kook… I love you… I really do.” Your eyes are glassy again and you wonder how it is that your body can keep producing tears. He hugs you at that, his arms going under your waist to gently lift you and scoot the two of you upwards, resting your head on the pillows. He lies next to you, a little distance between the two of you, your hands laced together as you both stare at the ceiling, the emotions of the night turning to exhaustion.
“I should’ve talked to you instead of trying to run away.” Jungkook speaks after a while, making you turn your head towards him.
“I didn’t mean what I said-”
“It’s okay if you did. I miss him. I wish he was here too.” He looks at you with a small smile.
“No. It’s not okay. You don’t deserve this. You could be with someone else and you’d be happy. You could be happy Kook. Don’t you want that? To be with someone who doesn’t imagine their dead ex all the time?” Your voice is firm, even when it wavers slightly towards the end, your grip around his hand getting tighter.
“No. I want to be with you.” His thumb caresses your hand as he turns on his side as he puts his arm around your waist. The warmth you missed these past months was back in his eyes, but instead of it raising butterflies, all it did was produce dread for when it would disappear as he continued. “I would’ve left a long time ago if I wanted to. If you don’t want me, I still can... if that’s what would make you happy.”
“I think you need to be with someone who you don’t have to put together again.” Your voice is small as he sighs again, letting go of your hand to pull you close to his body, cradling your head into his chest. On instinct, you wrap your arms and legs around him, nuzzling into his chest. The touch of his skin on yours never failed to comfort you.
“You’re not broken. I’m not putting you together. I just… I don’t want to lose you.” His voice reverberates through his chest as he holds you tighter, kissing the top of your head.
“But maybe you need to.” You want to be selfish, keep him for yourself but shouldn’t you let Jungkook go for his sake? Let him find someone with less work, no matter how much it hurts you? It was bad enough that your mental health was terrible, did his need to be too? You feel his heart pound under you and it causes yours to speed up as well, anticipating his words. You don’t know how you would react if he agreed.
“Tomorrow. Let’s talk about this tomorrow.” He says after quiet contemplation. “I love you. More than you’ll know.”
“And I love you. You. Jeon Jungkook. Even if I’m selfish and ruining you.”
He shushes you at that, stroking your hair as the two of you fall in a dreamless sleep. You didn’t know if your relationship would survive past the post-orgasmic endorphins, but you knew one thing for sure. You were in love with Jungkook and tomorrow you were going to set up your first therapy appointment to make sure you never made him feel like he lost again.
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I hope you liked this angsty piece, for more fics of mine check out my masterlist
#bwcssy2#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook x reader#btsnoonanet#thebtswritersclub#bts scenarios#bts fanfiction#jungkook x yn#jungkook scenarios#jungkook fan fiction
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Silenzio, Bruno!
The afternoon breeze was soft, the sea that expanded in front of the little quiet place that was Portorosso was as calm as always, everything seemed to be fine and the only sounds that could be heard were the birds that were returning to their nests and the quiet conversation of the few people who were still outside, also the sound of the stubborn kids who insisted on staying outside until the very last ray of sunshine got out of sight. So… why is that with even the best of atmospheres, a lone soul was sitting by the water with such a somber look on his face?
Ercole knew Alberto was probably looking for him already, he seemed to be the only one that did it… but he honestly couldn’t bring himself to face him at the moment. Not when his thoughts were plagued by horrible ghosts of memories, if there was something that he hated more than anything was when his mind played cruel tricks with him. He takes a deep breath to calm down and maybe, just maybe, make it all go away. It doesn’t work obviously, because life seems to never do that with Ercole, life always has to remind him that he doesn’t get the good things and as if on cue, as if to just mess a bit more with him, memories from that terrible day flash before his eyes. And just like that he is transported, the orange sky, the sound of the waves who seemed to sense the tension of what was going one, agitated and cold, the screams and the fear… especially the fear and sadness in Alberto’s eyes. Those eyes would haunt his mind for a long time, at least nowadays thy would because he knew for a fact that back then Alberto’s fear was the last thing he cared about, back then that same way of thinking could have taken Alberto from their lives… from his life. He groans and hides his face in his hands, letting the sounds around him hopefully sooth his thoughts.
A little bit later the sounds of footsteps and soft panting could be heard behind him, he sighs, he knows exactly who it is and even though he wants to he can’t bring himself to look at the person behind him.
“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you” The voice was just as excitable and carefree as ever and it honestly just made Ercole curl up more into himself.
The movement made Alberto raise his eyebrows in confusion and most of all concern, this isn’t anything like Ercole, he was usually much more lively (and much more annoying). He slowly approached him.
“Hey… You okay catfish? You don’t look like yourself” He hesitantly brings his hand up to the others shoulder, such a simple gesture and yet that’s all it seems to take for the dam that was holding all the emotions inside of Ercole as he takes a shaky breath.
“Why did you come and look for me?” The question is quiet and shaky but its feels so heavy that it could almost suffocate the older of the two.
“Uuuhh what?” The growing look of confusion in Alberto’s face made his stomach turn and his skin itch.
“WHY?! WHY DO YOU CARE SO MUH ABOUT ME? WHY DO YOU STICK AROUND EVEN AFTER ALL I’VE DONE TO YOU? I TRIED TO KILL YOU!” He was panting now, in the process of his screaming he had gotten up, pacing around in the sand and gesturing wildly as he spoke- “It doesn’t make any sense… I was a complete asshole to you and Paguro and Giulia for so long! You should all hate me!” He looks down and bites and closes his eyes “Instead you became one of the most important people in my life…” He catches breath, wrapping his arms around himself in a very poor attempt at calming down.
“Silenzio, Bruno…” He hears the other mutter
“What?”
“Silenzio, Bruno! Say it!”
“Alberto I’m not saying that-”
“SAY IT!!”
“… Silenzio, Bruno”
“LOUDER!”
“Silenzio, Bruno!”
“LOUDER!”
“SILENZIO, BRUNO!” He finally screams, breath shaky.
“There we go! Are you feeling any better?” Alberto asks, squeezing his hands gently.
“… Yeah… I think so. Thank you” He doesn’t really have time to even look up because Alberto is already pulling him into a bone crushing hug that only he could give, it was warm and conforting and it felt right to be there.
Alberto looked at him and pulled away slightly, a sigh escaping his lips “I came looking for you because I care about you, stronzo! Yes you used to be a jerk but that was ages ago, we were kids and you made amends and try to be better… even though you are still annoying as all hell” That last part gets a chuckle out of both of them before Alberto looks at him seriously “Were good, Catfish. Don’t worry about it.”
And there it was… that damn smile that somehow managed to make everything ok and pull another out of Ercole’s face even if he was trying not to.
“Alright! Let’ go, Massimo is probably already done with dinner and we don’t wanna be late. Luca and Giulia are gonna call soon so come on!”
He didn’t really have a choice, Alberto was already dragging him up to the little house that he had to come to know so well over the last years, laughing and telling him a story that he wasn’t really paying attention to but still nodded along. And he was ok with that, as long as they “were good” he would gladly be pulled anywhere the other wanted to go, with maybe only minimal complaining but that’s really just part of his charm.
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Heavily inspired to do this because of milich96 who has such a cozy art style and the best ideas for ships on god
#i havent written in so long#so please bear with me lmao#Luca pixar#alberto scorfano#ercole visconti
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101, 104 and 110 for the dialogue prompts 🖤
Hello!
101. “I’m ok, thank you. Just please, stop talking to me.”
104. “You weren’t supposed to laugh! I’m so embarrassed!”
The 110 one is not included here, but I also got it from someone else so it's gonna be filled later :)
* * *
Robbe hears the doorbell coming from downstairs, but he stays put, knowing his mom is in the kitchen so she’ll open the door while he adds two last sentences to his final history essay. He’s clicking ‘save’ when there’s a knock on his door, and without waiting for a response, Sander’s smiling face pops from behind it.
“I didn’t say you could come in,” Robbe grins at him cheekily, standing up from his swivel chair for the first time in hours. He immediately pulls Sander into his bedroom, looping his arms around his neck as the boy kicks the door closed behind him, licking into Robbe’s mouth in no time.
He feels a light slap on his butt as a response to his words, and then Sander disentangles himself from him to flop dramatically on the bed, a groan leaving his mouth.
“I’ve just participated in the dullest lecture known to humanity,” he complains, pouting at Robbe. “I need you to entertain me or I’mma die of boredom tonight.”
Sander’s pleading eyes make him snort, but he grabs his laptop and joins him on his bed, rearranging the pillows to make it more comfortable for them to sit straight.
“Okay, drama queen, what do you wanna watch?”
“I get to choose tonight?” Sander’s face lights up with excitement and it’s adorable how little it takes to make him look like that. When Robbe nods, amused, he gets a kiss on his shoulder as a thank you before Sander turns his attention to the screen where Robbe started the endless scrolling on Netflix.
He’s a picky viewer so eventually Robbe leaves him with his computer and goes to the kitchen to make them popcorn and grab some chips. It’s where he’s confronted by his mom who catches him midwalk back to the bedroom to gently remind him that she’s staying home tonight and not going out and that please take that into account, honey. And then she shoots him a wink and now it’s Robbe who’s going to die.
Of shame.
Beet red and mortified, Robbe enters his room and at Sander’s questioning look he tells him his mom basically requested them to keep quiet this time. Unsurprisingly, Sander is unaffected, grinning at Robbe like it’s funny.
“It’s all your fault, by the way,” Robbe accuses him, thinking back to last Friday night.
“You’re right, I’m so sorry I’m so good in bed you can’t contain the noise you ma-”
He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence, cut off by the popcorn Robbe throws at him.
“Who’s being a drama queen now?!”
“My mom heard us, Sander, do you understand how embarrassing that is?!”
Sander rolls his eyes and pulls at his sleeve to make him sit back on the bed, careful not to spill the bowl full of popcorn.
Once he has him where he wants him, sulky eyes on him, he frames his face with his hands and says placatingly, “This isn’t a big deal, Robbe.”
Robbe looks very unconvinced so Sander leans in to catch his frowning lips in a kiss to ease his worries.
Then he claps his hands, nodding at the screen. “Look, I chose a movie for us?”
Robbe turns around reluctantly to check it out and cocks his brow when he sees the newest horror that everybody’s been talking about.
“You really want to watch this?”
“You don’t?”
“No, I do, I love horror movies, but knowing you I thought you’re gonna choose some psychological drama.”
Sander shrugs. “I wanna see what the hype is all about.”
It’s a surprising turn of events, but Robbe is not going to question it any longer because he really wants to see that movie. They turn the lights off and get comfortable on the bed, sitting upright for the time being to avoid choking on the popcorn. But Robbe is not capable of having Sander in his bed right next to him and not having any type of body contact so he innocently swings his leg on his lap, scooching a little closer, a small smile blooming on his face when Sander doesn’t even question it, just starts drawing random patterns on his sweatpants-clad thigh.
An hour into the movie and Robbe is having so much fun because it’s just the right amount of scary combined with some weird psycho shit and frankly, that’s his all time favorite combination. He’s been feeding Sander chips for the last ten minutes, his arm absent-mindedly traveling between the bowl and his boyfriend’s mouth as he himself has been completely engrossed into the movie, eyes wide and jaw dropped, not paying much attention to his surroundings.
It’s why he doesn’t notice the slow but steady attempts of Sander’s to merge his body into Robbe’s. It’s only when he turns to him to comment on the latest jump scare he realizes half of Sander’s face is hidden in Robbe’s left sleeve, eyes wide and scared as they peek reluctantly at the screen.
“Sander?”
“Yeah?” he squeaks out.
“Are you scared?”
“No.”
That earns him a doubtful look, and Sander had to realize he’s not very convincing at the moment because his shoulders drop, the defensive look on his face replaced with resignation.
“I have a confession to make,” he takes a deep breath as if he was about to drop a bomb on Robbe. “Horror movies terrify me.”
Robbe blinks at him in confusion. “But you were the one who chose this one for us to watch.”
“I thought I got over it. I was wrong. I was so wrong.”
It’s not that funny. Really, it isn’t. But there’s something about the face Sander is making that pulls an involuntary giggle out of him.
His boyfriend’s not very happy about that.
“Shut up, you weren’t supposed to laugh!” he whines at him, accusation in his voice, and his cheeks couldn’t be redder if they tried, Robbe notices as Sander hides them in his hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“I’m sorry!” he pauses the movie and turns fully to him. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear. It’s actually kinda adorable,” Robbe adds in a soothing tone, trying to remedy the situation, but Sander’s not very happy about that particular comparison.
“Great, now I’m adorable, that’s so much better,” he mutters grumpily, and then he ostensibly leans away from the kiss Robbe’s about to place on his cheek in order to pacify him.
“Seriously?”
His question is met with silence as Sander keeps being stubborn, still offended.
“Play the stupid movie.”
“Are you su-”
“Yes!”
Robbe has to bite his lip to keep from laughing again, knowing it wouldn’t be well received. He’s not exactly worried about Sander being mad at him right now because he’s well aware of having a couple of tricks up his sleeve to smooth his ruffled feathers. For now, he resorts to pressing “play” and trying not to coo at Sander’s pouty face.
The movie only gets scarier and more twisted since then onwards. For Robbe, it’s top entertainment, but when he glances surreptitiously at Sander’s face it’s ghost-white, and something tells him it’s not only because of the light from the screen. And it’s not like Robbe actually enjoys seeing his boyfriend suffer.
“Are you alright?” he asks softly, hand reaching to rub his thigh in what he hopes is a comforting touch.
“Yes, I’m okay, thank you. Just please, stop talking to me.”
Okay, still mad then.
Robbe keeps his hand where he put it and counts it as a win when Sander doesn’t swat it away.
They get to hour and 40 minutes, an hour of the movie still ahead of them when Sander reaches his breaking point.
“Fuck, I don’t care anymore, call me a wuss or whatever, but please turn it off, I’m done,” he groans, a pained expression on his face as he brings his legs in and hugs his knees, looking like a little boy and breaking Robbe’s heart a little.
He shuts the computer right away, his bedroom swamped in darkness as a result, only the moonlight creeping in through the big window making it possible for him to see Sander’s pale face. He gathers him into his arms, grateful he’s not putting up a fight and instead eagerly letting Robbe hold him.
“Do you honestly think I’m gonna call you a wuss? Especially in not, like, a teasing way?”
The shrug he gets as a response is miniscule, but it’s there.
He sighs, nosing along Sander’s hairline and pressing a kiss to his forehead which makes Sander cuddle even more into him. Robbe takes that as a sign of forgiveness for his previous unfortunate laughter.
"I kinda know you wouldn't, but... I want you to think I'm, you know, cool and stuff," comes a small voice from under Robbe's jaw.
Awwww.
"But I will always think you're cool and stuff."
"Yeah?" Sander blinks at him with his insecure eyes.
"Yeah."
He places his head back in the nook of Robbe's neck, nuzzling in like a cat.
"Okay."
"Okay."
They're silent for a few seconds before Robbe speaks again.
"Can I kiss you now?"
"Yes, I'll allow it."
Robbe snorts, fingers tangling in the brown strands as he angles Sander's head for a proper kiss and once he's done with him, his cheeks look much more human-like, blood flowing back to his face.
"Wanna watch stupid TikTok videos for a change?"
Sander nods against his chest, a smile on his lips now.
His arm tightens around Robbe's waist as he says, "I hope you're aware I'm sleeping here tonight cause there's no way in hell I'm gonna be alone in bed after this shit."
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Love Me Anyways
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Summary: What is there to say? You’re a dark and twisty assassin and Steve Rogers is definitely... not that. When you get an opportunity to run, will you take it?
Notes: Tiny bit of smut and angst with a happy ending. If you feel like you’ve seen/read this before, you may have. I’m reorganizing and this was previously part 1 of Haunted Woman, Broken Lover. When I originally wrote this, it was meant to be a one off, but sad endings don’t always feel right. I then struggled to turn it into a series, so here is HWBL reimagined with a different ending as a one shot. The series will still be a thing, but now I actually feel good about it!
They call you a ghost. It isn’t for the way you seem to slip through walls or the way you look at death as a reflection. It’s the hollowness of your eyes that earns you the nickname. Hazed over orbs coated in grey.
Clint asks you if they’ve always been that color, you tell him you can’t remember anymore.
Fury lets you run your own thing after you agree to attach yourself to the badge. He’d rather not know how exactly you get the job done, so long as you’re on their side.
You’re solo most of the time, it’s better that way.
They learn quickly how deadly you are, leaving your enemies questioning the validity of your existence and holding the same vacant stare as you. It wasn’t just physical injuries you specialized in.
The first time you met Steve Rogers was an accident. You had a rogue Armenian scientist tied up in his basement. He had been about to run when you appeared at his kitchen table, and, for a moment, you thought a heart attack might get him before you could.
You were sat before him, leaned forward with your tools on a bench beside you. A small blade aching to break skin sat hot between your fingers, but so far, your words had been enough. Steve opened the door, barreled down the steps, and stopped in his tracks. You locked eyes with him and, in a flash, you saw something hauntingly familiar within the blue.
That’s when something inside you shifted.
He took one look at the scene before him and shut it down immediately. You slipped away when he called it in and left no trace of your existence except for a long thin line gushing red from the scientist’s throat.
Steve find’s the plans for a chemical attack on his desk that night and where to find each accomplice wrapped in a pretty bow of nylon. Alive, your note assures him.
“She’s like a cat. Brings home dead things to show her affection.” Clint says one day. You promptly shove an elbow in his gut.
He learns how to spot your work past blubbering grown men and catatonic stares. Natasha tells him you hold your liquor well, Clint comments on your gambling abilities. He asks if your eyes are naturally that color, they tell him you don’t like to answer that question.
Later he asks Fury how they found you. He’s not sure how you became what you are today, but he knows this world has not treated you well, yet here you are, working to protect it regardless of what had been done to you. That’s the only reason he didn’t order Clint to take you out.
“So, she’s good?” Steve asks.
Fury pauses for a moment. “For our sake, I hope so.”
The next time you see Steve Rogers, you’re slinking through the Triskelion halls trying to stick your nose somewhere it probably doesn’t belong. He bumps into you, grabs your arm and your side to steady you. You know he can feel the scars beneath the thin material of your shirt and jump from his touch.
He shakes it off. “Tell me,” He starts. “Do you have an actual name or are you really just a ghost.”
You think for a moment. “Y/N.” He raises a brow, both your voice and an answer surprising him. “What, were you expecting a cryptic answer on the relativity of life and death or something?”
He chuckles. “Guess not.”
A moment later, he gets distracted, turns a way for a split second and then you’re gone.
“Yeah, she does that.” An agent passing by comments.
You continue on your path, leave him the gift of a solved problem on his desk sometimes. He sets up cameras and lasers, trying to catch you just once. It takes him a few months to realize the janitor drops the files and notes for him. You and Natasha laugh at his expense.
He starts to leave files in various places he knows only you could find. The worst of the worst. Men and women he thinks you’d be happy to cross off. You can’t tell if he leaves them for you, or because they’re just terrible people. Either way, the change in narrative surprises you, but you never bring it up. You’re the last person that would ever judge someone.
Natasha taunts him over it.
“It’s a modern-day love story with an assassin twist.”
“Why not that one?” “She doesn’t like Oklahoma.” “How do you know that?”
“She sent booze as thanks for your last tip. Are your cheeks seriously red right now, Rogers?”
Eventually, you concede and stop leaving him only the locations of gift-wrapped bodies with detailed lists of committed crimes. Complete with proof, of course, you weren’t lazy. You start to send him alive leads, people that can be questioned. Sometimes they’re unharmed, usually they’re mostly coherent. He’s surprised by the change in narrative, but he never brings it up. Sometimes people change, but that was none of his business.
Natasha is sure to point it out, though, consistently.
“You see him more than anyone else.” “That’s not true!” “…” “He’s here more than you, so it’s only by default.”
“Wait, you left that guy alive?” “Steve needs to question him.” “What about that one guy I needed answers from?” “You didn’t say please.”
“I’ve known you longer.” “He leaves me sex traffickers.”
When a body comes up dead that shouldn’t have, your signatures blatantly displayed, they send him to bring you in. He doesn’t believe for a second you could kill a kid, but he’s the only one who can get close enough. Fury’s only half sure you won’t kill him.
You battle with the idea of running, knowing they’ll never find you if you don’t want them to. You saw the evidence; you knew you were screwed. Fury told you from the very beginning that if he ever sensed you had turned, he’d take you out. No warning, no questions. Still, you wait patiently in your living room.
The window by the fire escape opens and Steve slides through, tip toes his way in and around the corner only to find you sitting there, an amused smirk tugging your lips.
“What calf exercises do you do? They look fantastic.”
He rolls his eyes and catches site of the artwork around him, the soft whites and greys of your walls and furniture giving spotlight to their colors. He never even considered you could have a home. You follow his gaze and shrug. Assassins can have taste too.
“The diplomat’s son, did you kill him?” He asks. You watch him silently. “Fury thinks you did.”
You walk slowly towards him, watch him curiously and tilt your head. “And if I did?” You prompt.
“I have orders to bring you in.”
You’re a breath away now, gliding your fingers along the Kevlar of his arm and trailing your way to his jaw. You trace his collar with a fingertip, watch as the pulse of his jugular quickens. You look up at him and he swallows thickly.
“And if I don’t want to?” You graze tentative fingers along the edge of his jawline. “Tell me, Captain, would you kill me?”
He hopes the eagerness in your voice is misplaced, the envy misinterpreted. Or perhaps the girl who surrounds herself with death does it with the idea that it may one day take her.
You don’t give him the opportunity to dive into that rabbit hole.
When you place your lips on his, soft and remnant of something sweet, he can only taste the brilliance of life. He wraps himself around you, slips in his tongue when you’re startled by his sudden switch. You thought you’d leave him shaken enough to slip away, disappear with the rising sun.
But now? Now you’re just as hungry for him.
He carries you, lays you across your bed. He runs the pad of his thumb along every scar left behind by a blade, places a kiss on each one from a bullet. You knot you fingers in his hair as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh, scream his name when he brings you higher than you’ve ever been before.
When he slides into you and stretches you deliciously so, you allow yourself to feel just this once. He catches the shift in your eyes, convinces himself his mind is playing tricks on him when the grey haze appears to fade.
He moves slow before he finds his pace. You dig fingernails into his back and trail them down hard enough to make him hiss. He nips you from shoulder to jaw, hips rocking into you, and you swear nothing has ever felt this good.
You lay there in silence, sweat coated limbs still entangled. He sighs heavily and you just know he’s about to ruin the moment.
“Stay.” You whisper. He looks down at you wrapped around him. “I’ll go with you in the morning, just stay tonight.”
He tightens his grip on your bicep and nods. “Ok.”
You’re still awake when dawn breaks, you had gotten lost in the simple rhythm of his heartbeat. A dream that one day life could be even just an imitation of normal. The thought makes you sad more than anything else.
You slip from his arms, grab a bag, and pack the essentials. Watching him sleep, he seems so peaceful, so good. You ache to wake him and stick around long enough to fix this mess. He deserves that.
Could you do it? Forget your past and pretend to be anything other than the hollow shell those before carved you into?
Ah, but this was your MO. Slip away in the dark when things took a turn either way. ‘Flight risk’ has always been written on the back of your eyelids. You weren’t quite sure why you felt you owed Steve more, but you did.
He awakes to a bright sun and a cold spot beside him. There’s a torn piece of paper where your head should’ve been. He brushes his thumb over his name and opens it. It states your innocence and exactly who he should be looking for, where to find them. At the bottom is a separate line.
‘Careful, Captain, or I just might be your future.’
Three years later.
You grab the tiny umbrella in your drink to twirl the ice around again. Undoubtedly a nervous habit you picked up in response to the very crowded beach bar you’re currently sitting at.
It was an alert you received in the middle of the night notifying you of your cleared name a year ago. You can’t be sure how whoever it was reached you, but the screenname ‘Tiny Dancer’ gave you a few ideas.
In that moment, reading those last two words you’re free, something changed. Perhaps it was months of being on the run from people who you allowed to know you well enough to track you that left you felling so drained.
Of course, you thought about the beautiful man you left behind first, knowing that there was no one in this world who would fight harder for your freedom. You wanted to go find him, you really did, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you felt different this time. Like maybe this was your chance to start over. A chance to live a life that had been stolen from you so long ago.
The bartender, a lovely middle aged man who strictly wore floral button ups, watches you down the rest of your drink and is quick with the refill. You try to thank him, but he waves you off.
“Anything for my favorite customer.”
You push your bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “Are we not friends by now?”
He barks out a laugh and leans forward against the bar in front of you. “Friends get invited to drink with me, which you do almost everyday. Family gets invited to the cookout. Which is Sunday, by the way. Show up early and bring an appetite.” He shoots you a playful wink before pushing off to help another customer.
You lean your head back slightly to feel the warmth of the sun and tune into the sound of the crashing waves. It’s the lightest you think you may have ever felt with the sand sticking to your bare legs and salt water in your hair.
Nothing could interrupt this perfectly blissful moment.
Well, almost nothing.
“Sand looks good on you.” A deep voice says beside you and you smile, face still tilted towards the sun.
“Took you longer than I thought.” You turn to Steve still smiling. “How long can you stay?”
He moves his sunglasses from his eyes to the top of his head and looks around for a moment taking in the view. When he turns back to you, the smile that breaks across his face almost stops your heart.
“As long as you’ll let me.”
#Steve Rogers#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers x reader#captain america#captain america x reader#captain america imagine#mcu#marvel#avengers
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"This is nice," Myka says, sipping her beer while surveying the bar.
"Consuming alcohol in a public house?" Helena asks.
"Yeah," Myka says, eyes angling down as she picks at her label. "Working with Pete...this wasn't a thing I could do much. Then Steve and I had a drink here, and I remembered what it was like. I used to go on my own in DC just to unwind. Feels like a lifetime ago."
“In many ways it was," Helena says, idly stiring the ice left in her drink. "Could you ever have imagined the company you now keep?"
"I don't think so," Myka says, shifting closer to Helena. "But I like it, a lot. Doing this with you feels...normal. Two people, spending time together, not a care in the world."
"You care for nought?" Helena says, fingers tracing a line from Myka's thumb to her wrist where her hand rests on her thigh.
"Ok, one care," Myka says, eyes flicking up to meet Helena's. "Hey, I know that look. We said we'd stay for the band tonight, not just hole up in our room."
"Is there not another band tomorrow?"
"Yeah, but we said we'd stay for this one." Myka slips her hand from Helena's.
"As you wish," Helena says, settling back on her stool, frustration evident in her tone.
"More drinks, ladies?" the bartender says. "The band's about to start."
"I shall need one," Helena grouses.
"Stop being dramatic," Myka snips.
"Fine," Helena snaps. "Bourbon. Neat. Top shelf, please," she instructs the bartender.
"Comin' right up." The bartender steps away to complete the order.
"Oh, we're getting drunk now, are we?" Myka quips.
"When in Rome..."
"I'd actually like to see that, a drunk H.G. Wells," Myka says, poking Helena in the arm.
Helena flinches. "You may very well if you keep behaving as such."
"Seriously though, when's the last time you drank enough to let your guard down, even a little."
"In the company of others? Not in recent memory. And you?"
"Same."
"Here you go," the bartender interrupts, setting the tumbler on a napkin in front of Helena. "Another beer?" she asks Myka.
"You know what? I'll have the same." Myka waves her bottle at Helena's drink.
"Cavalier, Ms. Bering."
"We'll keep each other in check. We deserve to get super tipsy, at least."
"Color me intrigued."
The band strikes its first cord just as Myka's drink arrives. She tugs Helena's arm, and they relocate to a table near the stage.
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The Adventures of Bering and Wells ("Warehouse 13" Season 5 replacement)
Season 1: Episode 4
Title: New Orleans: Laissez les bon temps rouler!
Summary: Myka and Helena follow whim rather than duty, driving south, detouring around Washington DC, avoiding a second emotional rabbit hole so early on. After a wi-fi-free week in a cabin, deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains, they feel ready to tackle urban density again. ("The Rockies are better," Myka declares. "We'll go there, too.) Vowing to stay as touristy as possible, the pair head towards history-filled New Orleans. But far too soon their carefree trip hits a snag and they're in need of Warehouse help.
Previously: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3
-----------------
***BONUS SCENE***
"Exactly how touristy have you been?" Abigail asks.
"Pretty touristy," Myka answers.
"Practically flâneurs," Helena says, grinning as Myka looks up at her with sparkly eyes.
"Well, that narrows it down," Steve mutters, typing into the keyboard. "Let's start with your hotel. Why'd you pick the carriage house?"
"The lack of adjoining suite and the king-sized bed."
"Helena!" Myka smacks Helena on the arm. "Because it's cute and charming."
"So this ghost isn't listed on their website? Wedding dress woman, Civil War soldier, dancing patio woman?" Steve asks.
"No. And the manager hadn't recognized the description I gave," Helena explains.
"So not all ghosts," Abigail says.
"If seeing them is normal," Myka says.
"Let's say the ones on their website are but H.G.'s isn't," Steve says.
"Are we to assume I've been 'whammied' then?" Helena says.
"You freeze in place. I have to shake you out of it," Myka explains.
"Perhaps I'm studying the phenomenon."
"You're never that still. It's creepy."
"Then I think we should consider it," Abigail says.
"Where else have you been?" Steve asks.
"Um, everywhere?" Myka answers. "That blacksmith's bar you and I went to. And The Gas and Lights Museum--"
"Such memories. So many details wrong," Helena gibes.
"On a carriage ride--"
"Highway robbery! Sixty-five dollars for a turn around the park. And not in the least authentic."
"You said it was nice!"
"I said it was familiar. The sound of it took me back," Helena says.
"I thought you'd like it." Myka leans back and looks up at Helena questioningly.
"I enjoyed the company quite thoroughly," Helena says, laying her hands on Myka's shoulders and grinning down at her fondly.
"Aww," Steve coos.
"Did anything about the carriage ride scream 'lady ghost will now appear at will?" Abigail asks.
"Not to my knowledge," Helena says.
"We also went to the Pharmacy Museum. And on a steamboat ride," Myka adds.
"Not that I'd have stepped foot on that death trap without proof of modern safety precautions. In my day, they exploded frequently," Helena explains.
"Ok...let's start with the Pharmacy Museum," Abigail says as Steve types. "Could this woman have afforded a doctor?"
"She often appears in her Sunday best, but also in, shall we say...less. She didn't strike me as particularly monied."
"Did she look sort of vampire-ish?" Steve asks. "I'm reading that people with consumption were rumored to be vampires due to how the disease aged them."
"I'm familiar with that premise, and no, this woman was not withering away."
"Could she have died on a steamboat?" Abigail asks.
"She doesn't give off that sense. There's a calm about her. She's not in danger."
"Let's try another angle. The neighborhood you're staying in, Storyville, claims to be the birthplace of jazz," Abigail says, reading over Steve's shoulder. "Maybe she's related to that?"
"Myka took me to hear this 'jazz,' and I can't say I was at all impressed."
"I like it. Steve does, too. You really hated it?" Myka asks.
"The bleat of the saxophone evokes vaudeville for me."
"Play her some Charlie Parker. Or John Coltrane. That might change her mind," Steve suggests.
"Does this relate to our ghost?" Abigail presses.
"I don't see a connection," Helena answers. "Her dress is previous to that of jazz, of an age closer to my own."
"Storyville was once a legal bordello district," Steve explains. "The whole neighborhood was shut down in 1917. So maybe she's from then?"
"That makes sense," Myka says.
"Do you see her inside or outside?" Abigail asks.
"Thus far, outside."
"But," Myka protests, "last night, when we were...t-the blindfold, you said 'just in case.'"
"Did that not heighten our activities?"
"That's not the point. I can't believe you--"
"Punish me later, darling--"
"Why don't you two hash this out, and we'll get back to you," Abigail suggests.
"Wait, is this her?" Steve asks.
Steve shares a black and white photo of a woman, seated outdoors, in front of a makeshift white backdrop, her hair styled into a modest, shoulder-length coif. Her linen top, trimmed with lace, hangs off one shoulder, and a string of pearls adorns her neck. Her lipstick, rendered as a middle grey, matches the kohl lining her eyes, giving her a soft, silent movie-era look.
"Hm, possibly."
"Here's another."
Helena leans further over Myka's shoulder, looking closely at the image. "Yes, I believe that is her."
"That's, um, really off the shoulder. Shoulders..." Myka says. "Isn't that kind of racy for the time?"
"Quite tame compared to some. Her expression is unusual, contemplative almost, recalling solemn greek statues rather than the usual fodder meant to titillate men's desires."
"How would you know?"
"One encounters all sorts of materials as a Warehouse agent," Helena says with a smirk.
"As an agent. Uh-huh."
"Listen to this," Steve interrupts, "these prints were made from a stash of glass negatives found locked in a desk drawer years after the photographer died. Many are of Adele, the woman you're seeing, but there are other women, too. They were shot in the 1910s, but these prints were made in the '60s. If there were any original prints, they were never found."
"May I see the images again?"
Steve cycles through and adds a few more, one depicting a roll-down desk with a shrine of photos arranged above, all of women, vignetted portraits and romantic depictions of the female form more typical for the time.
"Not sure if that last one is related. But it says it's by the same photographer."
"Could you send that one over? I'd like to look more closely."
"Sure."
Myka trades places with Helena, and Helena clicks the link. She enlarges the photo and inspects the array of images.
"I vaguely recall flicking through a basket in a shop with ephemera such as this. Perhaps this ghost woman was amongst it, but printed in a manner such as the images depicted here."
"So you're saying the photo in the shop might be a photo from this photo?"
"That is what I'm hypothesizing."
"So when you see her, you freeze like you're her photograph trapped in this photograph."
"Or perhaps I am her, caught in the decisive moment of the image being captured."
"That's really meta," Steve says.
"No matter what, neutralizing that photo should do the trick," Abigail suggests. "Heck, neutralize everything in the basket, just in case."
"Do you remember which shop you were in?" Steve asks.
"My recollection is hazy at best due to the copious amount of drink someone encouraged me to consume the evening previously."
Helena looks at Myka and scowls. Myka looks back, endearingly.
"I don't get hangovers."
"Lucky you," Helena quips.
"I hope you find it soon," Steve says, "because being happy looks good on both of you. You should get back to that."
"Thank you, Steve. And thank you, Abigail, for all your help," Helena says.
"Anytime," Abigail says.
"Have a great trip. Send some postcards!" Steve says.
"What a marvelous idea," Helena replies.
"Isn't flicking through postcards how we got here?" Myka warns.
"Shall you pre-screen everything I touch from now on?"
"Maybe I should--"
"We're hanging up now," Abigail says.
The screen goes blank as Myka and Helena devlove further into playful bickering.
*End Scene*
-TBC-
NOTES: "Laissez les bon temps rouler!" is Cajun French for "Let the good times roll." In season four, Steve and Myka go New Orleans and both say they like jazz, so I'm not making that up. I see Myka as more of fan of popular tunes - Billy Holiday, Duke Ellington, Nat King Cole, etc., whereas Steve would know the genre through and through (and try as he might, never gets Claudia quite on board with it all). The photographer is E. J. Bellocq - I was going to incorporate that more, but the politics behind photos I mentioned is...complicated. I want this B&W show to focus on our ladies journey, artifacts are side-plot motivations. But if you're interested, look him up, and I suggest reading both Susan Sontag and Nan Goldin's essays for some clarity on why the images hold the status they do. From the research I've done, his images are plastered all over Storyville businesses, so if you've been there, you've seen at least one. Oh and I had a roommate once who could drink anything and never got a hangover. Some people are lucky like that.
#BERING AND WELLS#w13#fanfiction#fan art#Myka Bering#Helena HG Wells#new orleans#road trip!#canon divergent au#it's nice using the characters you like and wish had more screen time in spin off shows#while others need not appear
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Can you do a oneshot with reader and twst boys having a sleepover at the Ramshackle dorm playing games and stuff, then reader suggests they tell scary stories with her story being the scariest and she starts to scare the others like in those animes. Sorry it’s kinda hard to put it into details or you can just write a regular sleepover scenario. Can’t wait for you to write about this idea and I really enjoyed your story when reader turned into a cat. Good luck on writing more stories!!!!!!😁
I have never been to a sleepover before, so, this is kind of new to me! I had fun writing this! I could seriously see MC/Yuu doing this sort of thing!
Anyways! Thank you for the request! I hope the story is up to your standards! Also, thank you for liking my neko!Reader story! <3
And without further ado, on with the show!
What if you had a sleepover? (Ft. Ace, Deuce, Grim, Epel, Sebek and Jack) (Lilia is mentioned)
“Time’s up puppies! Please pass in your quizzes like the obedient puppies you all are. This is all for today, I will hand you back your tests next week.” Boomed a certain professor. One-by-one students were standing from their seats and placing down a test on the desk of the professor.
“This should be a trick… Ah, I see, there’s no way the equation for these two chemicals can be balanced. In fact, the answer should be Calcium Hydroxide.” You mumbled to yourself as you scribbled down the answer. You took one final look at your test, making sure everything was alright. There were a few questions that you didn’t know here and there, but you tried to answer them nevertheless. You nodded to yourself, satisfied with your answers and headed to the professor’s table. You placed down your paper and left the classroom.
“Man, that was tough! Who knew that they didn’t provide the list of plants to us!” Ace whined, standing outside the classroom with Deuce, Grim, Jack, Epel and Sebek.
“I didn’t know there were so many writing questions. I actually thought there were going to be a decent amount of multiple-choice ones!” Grim yelled.
“Because you would usually choose the longest answer for those instead of actually thinking about the answers, right?” Jack asked the furball.
“Fgnaaaa… I got caught….” The creature said as he sheepishly looked to the ground. You walked up towards the group.
“Hey guys.” You smiled.
“Ah, (Y/N), what took you so long?” Epel asked you.
“I needed to double-check my answers. Anyways, do you guys have any plans after this?” You said, grabbing Grim and he crawled to your shoulder and rested himself there.
“Nope! I don’t have any plans for today.” Said Ace.
“Yea, me neither.” You replied.
“Same here.” Deuce, Epel and Jack said together. Now, everyone’s eyes were on Sebek.
“I have to make sure Malleus-sama is alright. So, I do have something to do.” Sebek said, crossing his arms.
“In other words, you too have nothing to do.” Grim said from your shoulder.
“No! I do!” Sebek yelled back.
“Okay! Everyone except Sebek has nothing to do.” Deuce said, trying to calm the Diasomnia dorm member down.
“So, what do we do? Since tomorrow is a Saturday.” Jack asked.
“How about a sleepover then?” You suggested.
“Sure! But, where should we have the sleepover?” Epel said.
“What about our dorm? I mean, it’s only the two of us, if you don’t count the ghosts.” Grim said. The others nodded.
“Sounds fun!” Deuce agreed.
“I won’t be attending, as I said, I have to take care of Malleus-sama.” Sebek reminded.
“Alright, so it’s settled. We’ll have a sleepover at the Ramshackle Dorm tonight!” Ace said. You noticed Sebek was feeling a bit left out. So, you went to him and asked him.
“Sebek, are you sure you can’t come?” You asked him. “I mean, I’m sure Dorm Leader Malleus would understand.” Before Sebek could reply you, a new voice spoke up.
“Oh, he can go.” You jumped slightly. You and Sebek turned to see Lilia standing behind you two, smiling.
“I heard everything, don’t worry Sebek, I’ll tell Malleus that you have plans tonight.” The upperclassman said to his fellow dorm member. Sebek tried to protest though.
“B-but!”
“No buts, you are going to have that sleepover at Ramshackle Dorm and that’s final. Seriously, me and Silver can take care of Malleus too you know, plus, you need to spend more time with your friends.” Lilia said to him as he turned to you. “I’ll be leaving Sebek in your care (Y/N)~” You nodded to him.
“Yes, Lilia-senpai.” He smiled, and started to walk off.
“Well, I’ll be off now, have fun!” You waved to the upperclassman and turned to Sebek.
“Looks like you’re attending the sleepover after all!” You smiled to him and he blushed slightly.
“T-Then, I better go pack.” And with that, the Diasomnia dorm member headed off to his dorm.
“Ah! We should better go too! We have to ask permission from our dorm leaders and pack! See you tonight (Y/N)!” Epel said, waving to you as he, Ace and Deuce ran off to their respective dorms.
“Welp, that settles our boredom.” You said to Grim who was now on top of your head. “We should go back to prepare for them, right Grim?” You asked but there was no reply. You picked the creature from your head to see him sleeping peacefully. You shook your head and laughed softly. “Right, we should better be off then.” And the two of you headed back to your dorm.
While you were preparing, you were trying to come up with some activities for the night.
“We should play games. But, what games?” You said to yourself. You began to think about some of the games that you would normally play.
Uno? No. You were pretty sure you can’t even get a single round done with those cheaters, specifically Ace, Deuce and Epel. You also knew that Uno destroys friendship and you didn’t need to have magic flying all over the lobby so Uno was off the list.
Old Maid? Nope. You played with Ace, Deuce and Grim before and you clearly remember the face Grim would make if he got the Old Maid, which would result in him getting mad and annoyed. You did not want to put out any fires tonight either.
Blackjack? No, you didn’t want to gamble as you didn’t have extra madol to spend. Unless, you can manage to get the guys to agree to not gambling then the game would probably be played. So, you put this game on the possible list.
There were so many more games like Charades and Pillow Fights, you couldn’t really choose. However, after thinking awhile, you had an idea. You scribbled down your idea, noted down a few things you needed. Then, you grabbed what little madol you had, hoping it was enough, told Grim that you had to go supplies for tonight and left your dorm to go to Mr. S’s Mystery Shop. You walked into the shop, only to be greeted by Sam himself.
“Oh, why, if it isn’t (Y/N)!” The man greeted.
“Hi Sam! Can I buy a few things?” You asked, handing him the note of the needed supplies. Sam looked through it and was slightly taken aback.
“What a weird combination of stuff! But, I know what you’re trying to do.” He said, surprising you. You blinked a few times before asking him.
“How did you know?”
“My friends from the other side told me so.” He said as he prepared your stuff. “I think it’s a splendid idea for a sleepover. You should also try asking the ghosts for help, you know, to have that extra effect.” He then faced you with all the stuff you needed. You were shocked, like seriously! Why does this shop have everything?! You gave Sam the madol needed for everything and thanked him. You took his idea into consideration and decided to go back to your humble dorm.
Grim was still asleep when you reached back home, but the ghosts welcomed you back.
“Guys, I need your help in an event later.” You said to them, they looked at you, confused.
“What do you possibly need help with?” One of them asked.
“Well, I need you to…” And you explained your plan to the ghosts. The ghosts listened attentively and started to laugh.
“I never knew you were such a prankster (Y/N), heheheh~” One of the ghosts said to you.
“We think it’s a splendid idea. Right, we want to be amused too, so we’ll help you with this.” Another one said.
“Does Grim have to know?” The third ghost asked you and you thought about it.
“Nope, he will be one of the victims.” You said to them and they smiled.
“We can’t wait (Y/N), hehehehe~” And with that, the ghosts went off to prepare for the ‘event’. You started to set up the lounge for the sleepover, since it was almost time for them to arrive. You pushed the sofas to one side, clearing out the middle for your sleepover. However, you did set a large mirror that you bought from Mr. S’s Mystery Shop in front of the fireplace. You were excited too, not only were you going to have a fun time with your friends, you were also going to scare them and your plan to do so is incredibly detailed.
After an hour or two of prep work, you were finished. You even set up yours and Grim’s sleeping bags, usually Grim sleeps with you, so you only prepared one sleeping bag. You quickly changed into your pajamas and waited for the boys to arrive. You shook Grim awake and the furball just yawned and looked at you.
“What do you want (Y/N)?” He asked.
“It’s almost time for the sleepover, since you’ve slept that long, I figured you’d want something to eat before we start.” You said, holding up a tuna sandwich that you made to him and his eyes light up.
“Food?! Yay!! (Y/N), you’re the best!” The creature said and took the sandwich from your hands. You smiled and patted his head.
“Eat up, you’re going to need it.” You said to the furball. Not long after, knocks on your main entrance were heard.
“Oh, that must be them!” You said and told Grim to wait for you on your sleeping bag as you went to open the door. Once you did, there stood Ace, Deuce, Epel, Jack and Sebek.
“Hey guys! Come in!” You said as you stepped aside, letting them into your dorm.
“Wow (Y/N), you went all out.” Deuce commented as he saw the lounge. The boys began to put down their sleeping bags in a circle. They began to chat as you excused yourself to go grab some snacks. As you arrive in the kitchen, one of the ghosts was there waiting for you. You tied an invisible string to your ankle and gave the roll of string to the ghost. You winked to him, grabbed the snacks and went back to the lounge. The ghost just snickered and continue to wait in the kitchen.
The sleepover started off nicely! You guys played some Blackjack, Charades and even one or two rounds of Old Maid. Thankfully, Grim didn’t set the entire dorm on fire like he did last time, the creature even focused on perfecting his poker face. But, it wasn’t enough because every time he got the Old Maid, you could still see him frown a little.
It was about midnight, when you guys finished your last round of Old Maid.
“So, what do we do now?” Ace asked.
“We’ve done almost everything a sleepover would do, maybe it’s actually time we went to sleep?” Jack replied.
“No, there’s one more thing that we haven’t done yet.” You said, standing up to turn off the lights. “We haven’t told ghost stories yet.” The boys froze.
“G-Ghost stories?” Grim asked, trembling slightly. You grabbed a candle and lighted it, and sat in front of the mirror. You guys were in a circle so no one really cared about the mirror.
“Yes, ghost stories. I’d love to hear what you guys know about ghosts! After all, I’m not from here, so, spook me!” You said to the boys, smiling. They were shocked. Why were you so cheerful with telling ghost stories?
“A-Ah…. I don’t think I know any… How about you guys?” Deuce asked. Ace, Epel, Jack and Sebek all shook their heads no. You pouted slightly.
“No childhood fears? No urban legends? Wow.” Honestly, you were quite surprised. These guys didn’t know anything about ghost stories or urban legends? Well, this fit in quite nicely to your plan, so you decided to launch phase 1 of your plan.
“Well, since you didn’t know any stories, I’ll tell you one!” Now, their attention was fully on you. You smirked slightly and continued. “There is a ghost that has been haunting humans ever since I was a child. We called her, Bloody Mary.” As you told the tale of Mary, the ghost was slowly sneaking his way to the mirror, you noticed this and nodded slightly to him. After awhile, you began to tell them how the ritual of summoning her is done. Some of the boys were trembling slightly, but all of them were listening very attentively.
“Now, they say, if you say her name three times in front of a mirror, whilst holding a candle, Bloody Mary herself will appear! And she’ll either drag you back into the mirror or drag you away to return to her dwellings with her. And that’s the urban legend we call Bloody Mary.” You said and looked at the boys.
They were scared! Visible fear on their faces! Grim was hugging you very tightly, Ace and Deuce were hugging each other, Jack, Sebek and Epel were holding a blanket over their heads or just holding the blanket very tightly. You smiled and laughed a little. They looked at you as if you were crazy.
“You know, when I was a child until now, she never appeared. I’ve always thought of her as a joke, I never knew you guys would take me so seriously! Hahahaha!” You laughed out loud, the boys all had an ‘irk’ mark on their heads.
“Aha.. It’s okay you babies, I’ll go get the lights.” You said and went to flick the lights on, however, there wasn’t any response. You tried again and again but to no avail.
“I-I’m sure it’s just because of your lousy dormitory.” Ace said, looking at you trying with the lights.
“Hmm, I’ll have to ask the principal for help tomorrow, oh well.” You shrugged. When you were about to sit down, your candle had been blown out.
“W-What’s going on? I thought you closed all the windows!” Sebek said to you.
“I did! There shouldn’t be any wind! Ace! Was this your doing?” You asked your friend.
“N-No! I didn’t even bring my magical pen! Neither of us did!” He said back to you.
“Then, how did the candle go out?” As soon as you asked though, the mirror started to shake. The boys noticed this and ran to the corners of the lounge. You were right in front of the mirror now. It was only then, Jack figured it out.
“(Y-Y/N)…. You sat in front of that mirror right?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“You were holding the candle right?”
“Yes.”
“How many times did you say Bloody Mary’s name?” You took a while to think.
“I’ve said it three tim- oh.” As those words left your mouth, you fell down. The boys yelled for you.
“G-Guys! I think something is pulling my le-AAHHHHHHHH!!” And you were pulled to the kitchen. The boys froze. A few seconds later, 6 screams and shouts of your name were heard.
In the kitchen, you quickly untied the invisible string and nodded to the ghosts who were snickering.
“Now, onto phase 2.” You said and dressed yourself in an old and torn apart dress. Don’t worry, you still had your pajamas underneath. You wore a black, long-haired wig and had tomato sauce dripping all over your body. You definitely looked like a ghost with all the getup and thanks to the dark atmosphere, you looked terrifying. You then held up a fake broken mirror shard. You slowly walked back to the lounge.
“W-What do we do?! We don’t know where (Y/N) went! For all we know, she might be taken away by that ghost!” Deuce said to his friends.
“We should go find headmaster! He’ll know what to do!” Sebek said and the rest nodded. And that’s when you decided to take a few steps into the lounge. The boys looked at you, frozen in their place.
“Who…. Summoned…..“ You started, and took a few steps closer to them. You then raised your fake mirror shard and looked at them in the eye.
“MEEEE?!”
They boys screamed and ran from you and up to the second floor. You watched them flee and smiled to yourself. The boys were breathless once they reached the second floor.
“I think we lost her.” Said Epel, exhausted. But then, a crash was heard.
They boys turned to see a mirror had been broken at the end of the hallway. Suddenly, another mirror was broken, next to the first and closing in to the boys. Then a third, fourth and fifth. They boys screamed again and ran back downstairs. However, they saw you coming up the stairs and something was also coming down the stairs from the second floor. They were cornered.
“Now….. KNOW MY WRATH!!!!” And you rushed to them. They screamed and braced for impact. But… Nothing happened? They were confused, they should’ve died a moment ago, right? Slowly, they opened their eyes to see you taking off your wig.
“Boo.” And you laughed like there’s not tomorrow. 5 boys, and one creature, stared at you in shock. They couldn’t believe it. (Y/N), the student who was always trying to not cause any trouble and fixing their messes, would be striking fear into her friends one day. And that day was today.
“(Y-Y/N)?! That was all you?!” Deuce asked you. You smiled and nodded.
“Yep, I also had help from the ghosts.” You said and the ghosts made themselves visible to the group.
“Hahahaha! (Y/N)’s plan worked!!” The ghosts said to you. The boys just stared at you and the ghosts and slowly slumped down onto the floor. They felt tired and just want to go to sleep.
So, the 7 of you head back to the lounge, with the boys mumbling something about not messing with you and whatnot. You took off your dress, got yourself clean and wiggled into your sleeping bag, Grim doing the same but he snuggled into your arms. The boys got into their respective sleeping bags and wished you goodnight. You wished them as well and you all drifted off into dreamland, where hopefully, no bloody figures in mirrors will appear.
Let’s just say, from that night on, the boys can’t look at mirrors the same ever again. Was it worth scaring the boys? Absolutely, positively, 100% yes.
It took you months to explain and reassure them that the legend wasn’t actually real. Well, at least in Twisted Wonderland, it wasn’t real, right?
#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland fic#twisted wonderland x reader#ace trappola#deuce spade#grim#epel felmier#jack howl#sebek zigvolt#mc/yuu#disney twst#twst wonderland#lilia vanrouge#twisted wonderland imagines
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Out of This World
Niki watches despairingly as her new roommate, one Mr. Wilbur Soot, once again pours water into his cereal. He seems to prefer it that way; Niki can’t help but wonder, not for the first time, whether her roommate is a literal alien from outer space, or just the weirdest motherfucker she’s ever met.
What kind of a last name is Soot, anyway? She thinks to herself unkindly. At least he doesn’t leave dirty clothes on the floor for her to clean up like her last roommate did. But seriously, Niki can’t tell if this man is a crackhead or not.
“Niki, can you pass the salt?” Wilbur says, breaking her out of her reverie. Without thinking, she plucks it from the lowest shelf of the tiny kitchen cabinet and hands it to him. She regrets it instantly when he begins to salt his cereal.
Breathing deeply so as not to grab him by his bony shoulders and shout, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”, she flees the scene of the food crime. When Niki was in college, she was surrounded by people who asserted they had the world figured out. Atoms and gravity and wavelengths. But Niki knows that humanity is desperate to control the uncontrollable, define that which cannot be explained. Science, Niki knows, isn’t just throwing out what doesn’t fit, but rather taking all the data and asking the question, “Why?” So, she thinks, let’s consider the data.
-------
Niki sneaks trepidatiously to the door to Wilbur’s bedroom. Who knows what sort of unholy, confusing mess he’s got in there, lurking in wait for its next unsuspecting victim. A pinch of guilt hits her. Yeah, Wilbur may be a lunatic, but an alien? Really? It’s a bit uncharitable of her to think such a thing. Shaking herself, she knocks on the door.
“Yes?” Wilbur’s voice carries from inside the room. “Come in.”
Steeling herself, she turns the doorknob with a sweaty palm and is faced with…
A bed. A desk with a computer on it. Two pairs of shoes lined neatly near the closet. Wilbur is taking off his headphones-- he was playing Minecraft. How… ordinary of him.
“Hi, Wilbur. Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted, uh, to see how you were settling in.”
Wilbur smiles his pretty smile. “Thank you. Quite unaccustomed am I to the comforts of-- apartments.”
What Yoda-ass kind of phrasing is that? Niki thinks. A figurine of the marshmallow man from Ghostbusters stares her down from its place on Wilbur’s desk. She meets its eyes warily.
“Oh! Noticed my Ghostbusters statuette, have you?” Wilbur says brightly. “I have more in my closet, if you should like to see them.”
Niki is filled with a sick sense of curiosity. Yes, she wants to see whatever insane thing Wilbur hides in his closet, but she also doesn’t. She idly wonders if Wilbur has ever read The Cask of Amontillado. She feels like he has. This is not comforting.
Wilbur doesn’t sense her hesitation. A small corner of her brain thinks it’s because he’s unfamiliar with human body language. Without pause, Wilbur opens the closet door, revealing…
Niki’s first thought is, where does he keep his clothes? Because the closet is filled with Ghostbusters paraphernalia. The entire. Fucking. Closet. It wasn’t even that great of a movie?? How much did Wilbur spend on this, anyway?
Her roommate misinterprets her blank uncomprehending stare as a marveling gaze. He puffs up proudly.
“Such a profound impact have these movies made! I am truly fortunate to have met a lass of such upstanding artistic caliber, that you should also enjoy the Ghostbusters franchise.”
“Thank you for showing me this,” she says slowly. “I need to-- water the dog. I mean, I left the stove on. At my friend’s house. Uh, see you later.”
She beats a hasty retreat, leaving her apartment for Eret’s place. Something whispers in the depths of her mind: Doesn’t one of the Ghostbusters movies have aliens in it?
-------
Orange is her favorite nail polish color. Eret paints the nails on her right hand in that soft warm shade of orange as he listens to her complain.
“Am I being irrational? Like, do you think I’m going too far?”
Eret hums noncommittally, putting a little flamingo sticker on her index nail. “He does sound like an unusual person, but I don’t know if I would say he’s an alien.”
Niki nods her head, since she can’t gesture with her hands. “Okay, yeah, sure-- but he puts salt in his cereal with water. He has a literal dragon’s hoard of memorabilia from shitty movies that came out like three decades ago. And his vibe is just...off. Like when I talk to him, he’s there, but his head’s drifting off somewhere in outer space. God, I’m the worst.”
Eret protests. “Hey, hey, you’re not the worst. Look. I don’t know why this dude is bugging you out so much, but you said he didn’t seem dangerous, right?”
Niki nods dejectedly.
“So, we can figure this out together,” Eret says with a flourish, screwing the top back onto the bottle of polish.
The tender moment is interrupted by Niki’s ringtone. It’s from Wilbur; speak of the devil and he shall appear. Gingerly, so as not to ruin the wet paint on her nails, she picks up the phone and puts it on speaker. “Hello?” she says, motioning for Eret to remain quiet.
“Ahoy, Niki! Wherefore are mine frog legs gone?”
“What?” Eret mouths at her. Niki doesn’t understand either.
“Sorry, Wilbur, what was that?”
“My frog legs,” comes the crackly timbre of a phone in an area with poor reception. “They are no longer in the refrigerator.”
Niki sputters. “Why did you have frog legs in the-- no, never mind. I don’t know what happened to your frog legs, Wilbur.”
The phone line repeats static to her for a moment as Wilbur pauses. “Interesting. Perhaps they walked away, as legs are so oft wont to do. Niki, would you mind dearly to purchase some more? And perhaps, be you willing, some condensed milk?”
Eret silently gags at the idea of frog legs and condensed milk together. Niki doesn’t blame him.
“Okay,” Niki says.
Eret shakes his head at her, as though begging her not to torture herself like this. The moment Niki hangs up, the first words out of Eret’s mouth are, “That man is one hundred percent an alien. I am so sorry I ever doubted you.”
-------
With frog legs, condensed milk, and an Eret in tow, Niki enters her apartment the following morning with new-found assurance. The rest of the evening goes about as normal as it can, with Wilbur humming nursery rhymes and stirring a pot of, quite frankly, poison. Niki and Eret hide in the living room watching all the Ghibli movies until the only light left comes from the TV in front of them. The front door opens and the floors creak as Will enters. I thought he was in his room?
Eret seems to be on the same page as her. “I didn’t hear him leave,” he says, distant fear in his eyes.
Niki’s ears pick up a faint sound. “Shh!” she hisses. “He’s on the phone.”
Though the apartment is dark (the only light being the TV), Wilbur’s eyes glow like an animal caught on camera. Niki shivers. She only barely catches a glimpse before he ducks back into the entrance hallway, but what she sees unnerves her.
“Philza, calm down,” Wilbur says from the hallway as he takes off his shoes. “It is fine, she suspects not.”
A pause. The other person on the line, Philza, is talking.
Wilbur replies, “She was impressed with my Ghostbusters collection, you know-- Ghostbusters is a great movie, fuck off!”
Another pause. Wilbur sighs.
“Aye, I must admit you may have been right on that one. Pretending to be human is--”
“I FUCKING KNEW IT!”
Wilbur’s head peers around the hallway’s corner in a panic to see Niki and Eret. Niki is pointing her finger at Wilbur with pride on her face, and Eret looks as though he wants to be doing the same thing.
The two in the living room both flush a bit at the outburst, but Niki doggedly continues. “You’re an alien!”
Even though Wilbur’s phone isn’t on speaker, Niki and Eret hear Philza’s laughter from all the way across the room. Wilbur sputters and angrily hangs up the phone, before turning the corner to properly face the two humans. His eyes are actually glowing, it wasn’t a trick of the light, Eret observes. Of course, he also notes that Wilbur’s eyes are the size of dinner plates, and he looks about ready to jump out the window to run from them.
“I am… not an alien,” Wilbur says softly.
“Wh-- but you just said--” Eret says, then cuts himself off when Wilbur phases through the fucking floor.
“He’s a ghost,” Niki whispers, all the pieces clicking into place. Old English, weird taste in food, Ghostbusters are you kidding me. If Niki didn’t just watch her roommate evaporate, she’d be banging her head against a wall and asking her professors to revoke her degree.
Wilbur phases back up through the floor, much closer this time but still hesitant. He sits down a few feet away from the pair of humans nervously. He’s more afraid of us than we are of him, Niki thinks. Like the bears at the zoo.
“For many years, observed the living have I,” Wilbur begins slowly. “I wished to commune with them once again, as one of their own. My father-- Philza-- said unto me that I knew nothing of the modern era. I confess that he was right. Willst you cast me out of your home, knowing now of the spectre that I am?”
Niki tries and fails to suppress the amused quirk of her eyebrow. “How about this: Eret and I show you the ropes of being alive in the 21st century, and in return, you keep the frog legs on your side of the fridge?”
Wilbur smiles that pretty smile again. “Deal.”
-------
“Niki? What is an OnlyFans?”
FIN
#this was a collab written with barnaclegirl on discord#she doesnt have a tumblr so i cant tell yall to follow her :(#mcyt#nihachu#wilbur soot#eret#philza#ph1lza#me.txt#dream smp
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Jo finds out she's pregnant in 14x24 and her dress doesn't fit
Has this been half written in my drafts for weeks? Maybe... but I finally got around to finishing it today soooo you’re welcome friends. Have fun.
She doesn’t realize it at first, at least not consciously. Once she registers exactly what’s happening though everything seems to fall into place. Her excessive fatigue and missing period that she’d chalked up to pre wedding stress, a light headed feeling that she assumed was from standing too long during surgeries, tender breasts and decreased appetite that she’d simply pushed to the side. Now though, as she stood in her bridal suite with Meredith tugging desperately at the zipper on the back of her wedding dress, she had figured everything out.
“Stop! It’s not going to zip no matter how hard you tug it,” Jo’s thoughts trail off as an undeniable feeling of nausea overwhelms her body. “Oh god.”
Before she can stop herself or even think to move Jo is leaning forward and vomiting straight on to the soles of the expensive silver heels she’d bought herself. She can hear Meredith shriek in disgust as she leaps away from her, Jo’s hands falling to her knees as she leans over and wills herself not to throw up again no matter how desperately her body wants to. The door to the room bursts open and she’s sure she’s a sight to see with her dress unzipped and vomit all over her shoes. Her stomach flips and she can tell she’s going to be sick again, but Meredith places a trash can in front of her and a broad hand rests on her exposed back before she has a chance to ruin her shoes even more.
“Jesus Christ what’d you do to her Mer,” Alex’s voice is accusing as he runs his hand up and down Jo’s back in a soothing motion. “Get out! I’m sure she doesn’t want you all gawking at her while she’s sick.”
Jo’s thankful that the room is clear now as her body lurches forward again and more of her breakfast reappears in front of her. Alex wraps an arm around her shoulders and helps her onto the couch, letting her drop her head against his shoulder once she’s done being sick.
“What, did you get cold feet already,” Alex chuckles as he runs his fingers through her hair, her eyes closing at the comforting feeling. “Seriously, what’s wrong? Are you nervous? Cause you seemed fine this morning.”
Jo shakes her head, the hint of a smile playing onto her lips, “You’re gonna laugh.”
“You threw up onto your shoes an hour before our wedding, what could possibly be funny about that?”
“I’m pretty sure that I’m pregnant,” Jo lifts her head from Alex’s shoulder to take in the shocked expression she’s sure he has. Instead, he’s grinning back at her barely suppressing his laughter. “I told you you’d laugh!”
“You’re kidding right? You’re actually just super hungover and you’re trying to trick me.”
Jo shook her head, joining in Alex’s laughter as he buried his face in her neck. His beard tickled the soft skin he was nuzzled against, lips ghosting over her neck as he spoke, “When the hell did this happen? I thought you were on the pill.”
“I manipulated my pills so I wouldn’t be even more stressed out for the surgical innovation contest,” Jo threaded her fingers through Alex’s hair as his lips continued to press against her neck. “But I must’ve messed up. I mean I could be wrong, I haven’t taken a test yet. But I’ve been exhausted lately and I missed my period, among other things. Plus my stupid dress won’t zip up.”
“Well,” Alex finally pulled himself away from her neck, a crooked grin glowing on his cheeks as he looked her over. “I’m sure Kepner, the most prepared woman in the world, probably has a test stashed away somewhere. And she can probably help with your dress too.”
Jo bit her lip as Alex watched her. Of course she wanted a baby, especially one with the man who would be her husband before the end of the day. However, she couldn’t help but feel like this might’ve come at a terrible time. She wouldn’t be able to go to Mass Gen, she’d have to balance being a fellow with being a mother, and she’d probably be on an opposite schedule from Alex. Head swirling with her overwhelming thoughts, Jo barley noticed Alex’s hands as they came up to cup her cheeks.
“Stop overthinking things. Let’s sort out whether or not you’re actually pregnant first, then we can go get married and figure everything else out later,” Alex pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, letting Jo lean back into his embrace. “Unfortunately I don’t think that even Kepner will be able to fix those shoes for you.”
+
“For the longest time, ferry boats made me sad.”
Jo honestly couldn’t believe how the day had panned out. If you had told her even a week ago that the perfect wedding day that April had planned for her would end with her standing on a ferry boat at sunset wearing Alex’s boots she would’ve laughed.
“But from now on, I will look at them the way my husband did. I will see the beauty. I will see the wind, the air, the sea, the motion. I will see the possibility because of the two of you.”
The whole day had been ridiculous, from finding out she was pregnant to missing their original ceremony because she’d been sick to having to wear Alex’s boots because her shoes were covered in vomit. But now as she stood across from Alex, ready to finally tie the knot in front of all of their friends, she couldn’t be more pleased with how the day had gone.
“I have never seen two people bring out better in each other. And if the two of you can take this day and turn it into lemonade, then you can do anything.”
Both Alex and Jo chuckled at that, knowing that not many people that stood around them knew exactly what they’d gone through that day. Alex squeezed Jo’s hand, a subtle reminder that if they could get through today they could tackle anything that was heading their way in the coming months.
“So, Alex Karev, do you want to marry Jo Wilson?”
“I do.”
“Jo Wilson, do you want to marry Alex Karev?”
“I super do.”
Without waiting for Meredith’s next words Alex swooped down to capture Jo in a breathtaking kiss. When they pulled apart Alex held her close to him, his fingers trailing over her stomach as the two shared in their secret. The sounds of their friends cheering around them faded out as Jo relished in the fact that she was finally married to the love of her life.
#jolex#alex karev#jo wilson#jo karev#greys anatomy#jo x alex#jolex fanfic#jolex fic#nina writes#greys anatomy fanfic
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