#I guess I’ll keep avoiding mirrors. which mind you is a very hard task for an actor to do

[sawxix]

such a strange experience to be extremely uncomfortable with my own face but not for the reasons people would expect. I say “I really don’t like my face I should probably do something about that” n I’m met with “noooooo you’re pretty you’re gorgeous, don’t let the beauty industry tell you that you aren’t” which is of course very considerate n that means I don’t have the heart to correct people, but truth is I already know I’m the hottest bitch on the planet. that’s not the issue. the issue is that unfortunately I’m my father’s beautiful clone n I very desperately need to be anybody other than that. I fucking WISH my problem was being sad that I don’t look like kim k. frankly it’d be a lot less of a mindfuck

[jangofctts]

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?  

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish​ FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA 

It's curious. 

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is. 

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.  

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.        

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos. 

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.     

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought  it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.     

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.     

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

 And yes, you tried to slip by for this one. 

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.    

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye. 

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?" 

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but— 

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut. 

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit." 

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?" 

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information. 

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.” 

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.” 

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.” 

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting. 

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.” 

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height. 

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces. 

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed." 

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder. 

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well. 

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.  

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.  

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me." 

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts. 

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this? 

This is too good. 

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.  

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions." 

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…  

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.  

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that." 

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.  

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride. 

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest. 

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.   

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you." 

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.” 

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left. 

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.  

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet. 

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.  

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss. 

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this. 

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.   

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything. 

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.     

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin. 

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.      

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this? 

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.   

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.  

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—” 

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name. 

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.” 

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it. 

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.” 

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones. 

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate. 

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part. 

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.   

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.” 

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.” 

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away. 

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit. 

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly— 

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands. 

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here. 

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.” 

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him. 

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.” 

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages. 

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin. 

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you. 

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.   

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever. 

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Leaving Traces Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 留痕之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This date was released on 28 April 2021 ]

MC (phone call): I found your study room. May I invite CEO Victor to state his next instruction!

Victor (phone call): There’s a black file on the third shelf of the bookcase, closer to the right side. Do you see it?

MC: Third shelf... to the right... I see it!

Victor: Mm, open and check it for me.

I tap on the hands-free function, place the phone on the table, then carefully retrieve the file.

Today is the sixth day that Victor is on a business trip, and he gave me a call asking me to help him find a document.

Even though this is for an “official purpose”, being in this room filled with a familiar scent and hearing his voice feels pretty wonderful.

Flipping open the file, what enters my vision is the cover page of a contract.

MC: Is there an investment contract for a public educational welfare program inside?

Victor: That’s right.

When I see the date stamped at the bottom, my lips involuntary curl upwards.

MC: The public welfare program you invested in last year is going to have a charity gala in a few days... Someone keeps claiming that he isn’t a philanthropist, yet does quite a number of things in secret which reap zero returns.

Victor: Actually, it doesn’t count as zero returns. This program offers public welfare courses and training in universities. Each year, there are graduates who choose to work in LFG. The value they create is a form of return.

MC: Do all investors like such long-term strategies? Snatching up investments quickly, but only obtaining benefits after a very long time.

Victor: It’s also possible that there wouldn’t be any benefits. Since risks can’t be avoided, why not shoulder the greatest risk, and find that biggest “fish”.

MC: ...that’s what someone strong and capable would say.

I turn around, storing the file into my bag. Catching sight of Victor’s spectacles on the table, I pick them up, holding them in front of my eyes.

After adjusting to the slight dizziness from the spectacle degrees, I hold the spectacles and scan the surroundings.

MC: Victor, I’ve always been curious. Does the world you look at differ from other people?

Victor: How do you think it’d be different?

MC: For example... can you see the shape of time?

My imagination roams uncontrollably. If I could see time, and even adjust its speed, I might become the second Victor...

However, a sigh at my ear very quickly interrupts my daydream.

Victor: Even if I could see it, it wouldn’t be the way you imagine it.

MC: ...

Victor: If I remember correctly, a certain someone still has the job of broadcasting LFG’s charity gala. If you want to do a proper job, don’t place your hopes on shortcuts.

Hearing his cool voice, I purse my lips.

MC: You’re putting emphasis on efficiency again. You’re really skilful in managing your time... In that case, could I look forward to you returning early? With CEO Victor supervising me personally, my mentality at work will be even better.

Victor: I find that you always have a hundred reasons for not doing honest work.

MC: That wasn’t my main point...

Perhaps hearing my grumbling clearly, Victor laughs.

Victor: But you can look forward to it. Do what you have to do properly, and wait for me to return.

-

The next day, I send the document Victor needs to the office. After that, I take a taxi over to conduct a pre-interview.

Aside from preparing for the charity gala, I’m also doing a documentary with the theme of “Craftsmen of Time”. It records people who are able to maintain their craft despite having a fast-paced life.

Today, I’m visiting a boutique for custom-made suits which has been in business for several decades. It’s hidden in a small alley in the downtown area, and it’s as though time has stopped at a corner.

The boss shows me around the store while giving me introductions. After making one round, he lifts his head to look at his watch, then turns to me apologetically.

MC: Miss MC, I’m sorry about this, but a customer has made an appointment for a fitting, and will be here soon. We do a one-on-one service here. If the customer is unwilling, you might have to step back for a while.

Just as I’m able to wave my hands to express my understanding, the sound of the door being pushed open drifts from not too far off.

What follows is a familiar voice -

?: She doesn’t need to leave.

I turn my head. As expected, I see Victor walking in.

Boss: Mr Victor.

MC: Victor!

The boss and I speak in unison, then stop at the same time.

Seeing the slightly shocked expressions on both of their faces, I’m a little embarrassed as I scratch my cheek.

MC: Ooh... erm. Welcome.

Victor: Mm, thank you.

A few employees behind chuckle softly. However, Victor is unaffected, and he walks over to look at the notebook in my hand.

Victor: You’re working?

MC: Mm, I'm here for an interview. What are you doing here?

Victor: Didn’t you hear it earlier? I have an appointment at this timing. I’ll be interrupting you for a while, but it won’t take too long.

I shake my head to show that I don’t mind. Only then does Victor turn his head towards the boss.

Victor: Today’s the fitting, isn’t it.

Boss: That’s right. The clothes have already been hung in the changing room for you.

Victor: You’ve worked hard.

Victor walks into the changing room. I hold onto his outer coat while sitting on a chair at the side, waiting. Once again, I look around at the suits displayed in the shop.

Before, I used to tacitly agree that formalwear were more or less the same. Today, I realised that there are many differences when it comes to the details.

They can also be custom-made according to various settings and personal preferences, to become a form of personalised “fashion”.

Not following the crowd and not being set in stone is indeed very appropriate for Victor’s style.

After a moment, Victor pulls open the door and walks out. The boss immediately steps forward to check the measurements.

I stare directly at Victor in the mirror.

Even though the suit isn’t finished, the superior quality and lines have already made the person before me appear even taller and more capable.

It’s just that...

Boss: It’s been a long time since I last saw Mr Victor. It seems you’ve become much thinner recently. The suit will be done in a few days. To be safe, we’ll take your measurements again today.

Victor: I’ll have to trouble you then.

I flip the notebook open as a guise, but my gaze never leaves Victor.

The employee measures his neck. Victor lifts his head, and I realise that his lower chin has become thinner. When he’s expressionless, he looks even more solemn.

The measuring tape extends and retracts on his body, leaving light wrinkles on his already-fitting vest.

Ever since we met, it seems like his appearance in my mind has never changed.

A serious expression, wearing a well-fitting suit, always with people clustering around him... just like the sight before me right now.

However, in contrast to the usual, the Victor of this moment is a little different.

What the boss said is correct. He has indeed lost weight. But only a week passed - how could there be such an obvious change?

I recall how he looked before he left on the business trip. For a moment, I find that he was different from the way he is now. In the next moment, I find that he was the same as the way he is now.

I finally realise that before this, I never even noticed that he had grown thinner...

Wanting to look at him more carefully, I narrow my eyes, only to suddenly meet Victor’s gaze.

Victor: Looks like you learnt quite a lot today.

MC: What? 

Victor: Are these numbers needed for work?

Following his gaze, I look at the book in my hand, and realise that I had subconsciously recorded down many numbers.

These numbers seem to be the measurements taken by the employee...

MC: T-this is just an accident!

Seeing that the employee has finished taking measurements, I hurriedly shut the book, stuffing it into my bag.

Boss: We’ll make some adjustments, and will contact you in a few days to collect the finished suit.

Victor: Thank you for the hard work.

After saying this, Victor walks over to me. Pretending to be professional, I shake and open his outer coat, helping him put it on.

MC: Is the new outfit for the charity gala?

Victor: Yes.

MC: When the time comes, I’ll remind the director to do more dashing close-ups of CEO Victor!

Victor: You’re still so proud despite using your professional capacity for personal gain.

Victor casts me a sidelong glance. Since I have nothing to fear, I give him a smile.

MC: Oh yes, why didn’t you tell me that you returned early?

Victor: Didn’t I promise you over the phone last night?

MC: But it’s still too quick... Did you board the plane right after hanging up?

Victor: It just shows that the timing was just right.

As he mentions this casually while fastening his buttons, I can’t help but ask him a question that I should have asked from the start.

MC: So was this chance encounter also a coincidence that was “just right”?

Victor: This wasn’t a chance encounter. You shared your location with me in the taxi earlier. You don’t remember?

MC: Ah, my fingers must have slipped...

Victor: You can maintain this habit. I guessed that you had work to do, so I didn’t send you a message. But I remember that a certain someone mentioned wanting me to supervise her at work, so I came over to have a look.

Victor appears to be in a good mood, and he pats the top of my head.

Victor: I’m done with my task here. You can continue with what you were doing.

MC: Wait!

Seeing that Victor is about to leave, I hurriedly take a step forward to stop him.

MC: I’ll go with you.

Victor: Are you done with the interview?

MC: Today’s portion has been done. Give me a moment.

I blink at him, then run swiftly to the boss to make an appointment for the next collection of materials.

Even though I did hope that he’d be by my side to “supervise me at work”...

When the person I’ve been yearning for day and night appears in front of me, my train of thought is unable to remain entirely on work.

-

It’s rare for Victor’s to have a free schedule, so I urge him to return home to rest.

The sun sets, and the clamour of the city gradually goes away. Life seems to return to its original rhythm in this tranquil room.

I’m leaning against Victor as I tap on the keyboard, yet can’t help but peek at him from time to time in secret.

I watch as he wears the spectacles that were in his study room before, and the curiosity that I shelved aside from the previous night surfaces once again.

MC: Victor, do you still remember when you first stopped time?

Victor: I can’t remember clearly. Back then, I didn't think of deliberately stopping time. I just had a blurry wish.

MC: That’s really nice...

Victor: You seem to really like this ability?

MC: Anyone would be envious. Being able to stop time is both cool and useful. To take it even further, if you want to, life can even be extended.

A soft chuckle drifts from the side, kneading into the sound of flipping paper.

Victor: It isn’t that easy to control time. Simply stopping it for a while doesn’t change any outcome. The time that’s “stolen” isn’t very meaningful either. Instead, why not watch time flow by and see what it can bring?

After hearing his words, I stop typing.

MC: As expected, when it comes to the topic of time, you’re the person with the most right to speak. You really won’t consider letting me add an episode featuring an exclusive interview with you?

Victor: Rejected.

MC: You rejected so quickly... hm?

Just as I turn my head to look at him, a slight sharp pain drifts from the back of my head.

Thinking my hair is trapped on something, I reach out to look for it, and bump into VIctor’s hand accidentally.

Lowering my head, a few strands of hair spread over his fingers. The tips of my hair brush against my hand, and finally fall back into his palm.

Was he... tangling my hair earlier?

This action doesn’t seem to fit with Victor’s style. I glance at his slightly unnatural expression, controlling my laughter as I ask him a question.

MC: Victor, what are you doing?

Victor: ...I just realised that your hair has grown a little longer.

MC: It does seem like a while since I went to the salon.

I smoothen my hair in front of my chest to take a look, but don’t find any obvious changes.

MC: I can’t tell, but it’s definitely a little longer than when I had it cut.

Victor: Of course you can’t tell if you see it every day. But it’s much more obvious when looking at it after a period of time. Yesterday, you asked if I could see the shape of time. It probably looks like this. It isn't difficult to find proof of time’s existence. You can see it too.

Victor smoothens my hair a little clumsily, the corners of his lips lifting upwards.

I suddenly recall my hug with him earlier, and how I felt that his waistline was evidently thinner.

Time is constantly flowing, leaving numerous, subtle traces on our bodies.

And these little discoveries after reuniting are a form of compensation, enabling people to see the things we’ve grown accustomed to in a fresh light.

Lifting my head, I reach out to prop up his spectacles.

MC: So this is the time in your eyes.

Victor: What do you mean?

MC: In the past, I used to think that the passage of time was something a little sad. It seemed like many things fade away and vanish with time. But maybe this isn’t the fault of time. It’s just that we neglected those things because we’ve grown accustomed to their existence beside us.

Victor: Not a bad thought.

MC: See? There are benefits to occasionally deviating from habits! At the very least, I discovered another side of “Victor”.

Victor: A dummy being able to enlighten herself counts as a form of improvement. But based on the number of anniversaries you commemorate, some things are difficult to ignore.

MC: ...just treat it as a periodic review!

Victor: So at this current stage, what do you want to review?

MC: Right now...

I turn my body towards Victor. While thinking about this question, I subconsciously scrutinise Victor up and down.

His washed hair is no longer restrained by hair gel, and the eyes beneath his fringe are warmer and brighter.

I can’t recall when he started looking at me with that gaze often.

How many days and nights have we spent together? There are probably so many that I wouldn’t be able to segment them into “periods” soon.

But no matter which anniversary it is, or which moment I wish to inscribe, my feelings are the same.

MC: I thought of a poem I once read in a book - “Now is the time for drinking!” Being able to discover new surprises from a life one is accustomed to... Right now is the best time.

Victor glances at me, then turns my hand over, making a stamping gesture.

Victor: I approve of this “periodic review”.

-

After a tight schedule of preparations, the day of LFG’s charity gala quickly arrives.

In previous events like this, I’d remain backstage, constantly rushing around.

Even though I'm sitting with the distinguished guests this time, I take occasional peeks at my phone, paying attention to the happenings backstage.

The first half of the soirée goes smoothly, and many people make use of the intermission to rest and relax.

Just as I think of searching for Victor, my phone vibrates. I hurriedly slip away to the corridor of the venue to answer it.

MC: Willow, did something happen?

Willow: Boss, some issues cropped up with one of the auction items for the second half. Come quickly and have a look!

I check the time, realising that there are only twenty minutes before the second half of the soirée starts.

With no time to hesitate, I rush to the props room immediately.

-

People are bustling around backstage, and only the props room is unusually quiet.

Willow leans towards me, quietly explaining the situation before me.

Willow: When preparing the props earlier, we accidentally bumped into Auction Item No. 4 and it fell somewhere. The item’s too small, and we haven’t been able to find it. The person responsible for No. 4 has a bad temper, and is stopping us from working until we find the auction item.

I pat Willow comfortingly.

MC: Don’t panic. Our colleagues are always watching the props room, so it shouldn’t be lost. First, tell the director that this item will appear later in the evening. Pick a few meticulous colleagues to look for it. The others can handle the props as soon as possible. Leave the person-in-charge to me.

Willow nods, and very quickly attends to the matter. I suck in a soft breath, walking towards the person-in-charge who is not too far off.

MC: Hello, may I know if you’re Mdm Zheng? I’m the producer of this soirée...

While I’m conversing with the person-in-charge, my colleagues hastily deal with the props.

And that “missing” Auction Item No. 4 is finally found in between several large paper boxes.

After the person-in-charge checks it personally, she rushes to send it to the stage at the very last minute.

-

Stepping into the house, the phone which has been vibrating for the entire evening finally returns to silence.

The second half of the soirée was more or less spent coordinating the auction issue backstage.

By the time I finished replying to all the messages accumulated in my phone, the car had already reached the house.

I watch as Victor minds his own business and hangs both of our outer coats properly, and doesn’t seem to have an intention to probe. Clearing my throat, I follow after him.

MC: Cough cough. Isn’t CEO Victor going to ask what I was busy with this evening? 

Victor: I heard all about it. You resolved a big problem.

MC: ...you don’t sound very surprised.

Victor: You think I don’t know what you’re busy with? Also, this is something you’re already capable of doing.

MC: Hmph, whatever you say makes sense.

Despite my words, the corners of my lips lift upwards involuntarily.

Victor glances at me, then pulls me towards the cloakroom suddenly.

By the time I return to my senses, he has already settled me down onto a soft chair.

MC: Whats wrong?

Victor doesn’t respond. He squats down in front of me, pinching my ankle.

Victor: After busying yourself for an entire evening, are you tired?

MC: I’m pretty okay. I usually run around like this too. I’m the type who’s good in both books and martial arts!”

Victor seems to chuckle. He lifts my left foot and places it on his lap, then helps me untie the numerous shoelaces.

MC: !

My heel presses against his newly made trousers. I freeze for a moment, subconsciously wanting to retract my foot.

As though undisturbed, Victor continues holding on to my ankle, studying the knot tied to my calf.

Victor: Looks like making you take on a few large-scale events is quite meaningful. I still remember how you used to get nervous when meeting people who were the slightest bit famous. Also, when faced with trouble, you’d first lose your head and panic. After resolving it in a roundabout manner, you’d even ask me for praise.

MC: You actually remember such embarrassing things...

Victor: It’s meant to show how much you’ve improved.

While saying this, Victor tugs at the shoelace, brows furrowing slightly.

Victor: Why are these shoelaces so complicated...

Glancing at his somewhat perplexed expression, I chuckle as I pull on his hand, guiding him in untying the knot on my leg.

MC: Knowing that CEO Victor was attending the event in splendid attire, I had to work hard to dress up as well. Aside from improvements in work, don’t you find that my aesthetic sense has also improved?

Victor removes my shoe for me, rubbing my toes gently.

Victor: These shoes suit you, but they don’t fit your feet adequately. Your toes are swollen, and you didn’t feel it?

MC: Isn't this what happens when wearing high heels for a long time?

Victor: Things that are truly suitable will be comfortable no matter the circumstances. Although there are improvements in certain areas, there isn’t much progress when it comes to taking care of yourself.

After saying this, Victor once again lowers his head to untie the shoelaces on my right foot. 

Staring at the top of his head, I can’t help but find this situation a little abrupt.

The person who was receiving the applause from an audience just a few hours ago is now voluntarily taking care of me tenderly.

Not only that. Even when I’m unaware, he’s always paying close attention to me.

Even when it comes to details I don’t realise, he takes note of them for me.

In this instant, a faint, stinging emotion is in my heart, urging me to blurt out my genuine thoughts.

MC: The reason why I haven’t made progress is because you’ve been taking such good care of me, isn’t it? CEO Victor may be an investor in other areas, but in this area, you’re a big philanthropist.

Victor: Are you blaming me?

MC: I’m complimenting your conscientiousness and patience, and how you’re willing to spend time taking care of a dummy.

Victor chuckles, and I feel warm breaths faintly on my skin.

Victor: Looks like this dummy hasn’t realised that I didn’t help you this time.

MC: Hm? Are you referring to the soirée?

Victor: Mm. From planning to execution, including the sudden incident, I didn’t provide any advice. Do you know what this means?

MC: It means... that this was a test?

Victor: It’s just a periodic test. Not bad. You passed.

MC: In that case, do I get a periodic prize?

Victor: From now onwards, I can give you the right of choice. You can judge for yourself if you want to accept the programs I give you. Whether it’s a request from other businesses or from LFG. As long as you give me a clear and logical reason, you can reject them.

I’m stunned, and it’s only after a long while before I blink my eyes slowly.

MC: But rejecting CEO Victor’s goodwill sounds like a wastage of natural resources...

Victor: How do you know that everything I give you is “goodwill”?

MC: Huh? 

Victor: I said that I'd let you judge for yourself. There aren’t many good things that fall from the sky.

MC: In that case, if I simply feel tired and want to take a break, could I reject them too?

Victor: If it isn’t because you’re being lazy, you can.

MC: What if it’s because I’m giving the opportunity to our competitors?

Victor: You’ll bear all the consequences yourself.

MC: ...as expected, you’re still an investor.

Victor: If you aren’t happy about it, you could become an investor yourself and confront me.

MC: That’s even more absurd!

Victor laughs, glancing at me.

Victor: The quantitative and qualitative changes will require time. You can get used to it slowly. But the next time you take on several jobs, remember to change into a comfortable pair of shoes. Don’t make others worry.

With a gentle brush of my leg, the shoelaces of my right shoe loosen.

My ankle relaxes, and I subconsciously lower my head to look at Victor, suddenly thinking about something.

MC: Victor... I have one more question to ask you. Is the reason why you’re giving me this reward because of sympathy or because I’ve really improved? 

Victor: The latter of course.

MC: But I can’t really sense any changes in myself. You mentioned it earlier too. What happened tonight was something I should already be capable of doing.

Victor: When I said that you could do it, I was referring to the you of right now. The mistakes you made in the past didn’t surface, and the issue was resolved very well. Of course it’s an improvement.

I scrutinise his serious expression, and the corners of my lips gradually curve upwards.

MC: Is this an assessment criterion CEO Victor made specially for me?

Victor: I treat everyone equally when it comes to work. But this reward was indeed prepared specially for you.

MC: Thank you for the special care, CEO Victor! On a certain level, such improvement should also count as a trace of time.

Victor: That’s right. In that case, I’ll look forward to seeing more time on a certain person.

The final shred of doubt at the bottom of my heart is smoothened out. I cradle Victor’s cheeks, giving him a quick peck at the side of his lips.

MC: T-this is a “stamp of approval”! From now onwards, CEO Victor has to mentally prepare himself for my “rejections”.

After saying this, I try to seize this opportunity to retract my foot, but Victor catches me firmly.

Victor straightens up, looking at my expression with interest.

Victor: You seem to really like this method of “stamping”.

MC: [blushing] Well... After all, this is a tiny special privilege that I have.

Victor: Even though you know that it’s a privilege, you still use it so guiltily. Your face is as red as a tomato.

MC: [blushing] ...

Hearing the teasing tone in his voice, I feel my face becoming even warmer. Slightly embarrassed, I duck my head backwards.

Victor chuckles softly, a hand propped against the cabinet behind me, blocking my way out.

Victor: Don’t forget that this is a “contract” that both parties have to sign. Before I “stamp” it, you still can’t refuse.

The unique scent of the person in front gradually encases me, as though wanting to return in full the warmth of an evening spent apart.

As the distance gradually closes, even the lights are unable to come between us.

My vision begins to blur. It turns out that being at a close range would render one unable to see the person before them.

Yet, I am very certain that at this moment, even if we’re very close, we will still be able to see each other.

The corners of our lips meet gently, and a familiar temperature is branded on my skin.

The subtle ticking of the second hand drifts to my ear, as though penning down this memory.

In the very long time we share, one more stroke is written.

👠 Phone calls: First l Second

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[stardustprompts]

spiritfarer  sentence starters  part 1 change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw :  death ,  depression / mental health ,  language 

‘I thought for a second you would never wake up.’

‘I’m afraid you will have to pick up things where I left them.’

‘In a few minutes I will be gone from this world.’

‘there is no task more important than this one.’

‘oh, how highly inappropriate.’

‘hope is a flame, the light that never falters, the beacon of eternity’

‘it is heavy and inconvenient, but there is no greater duty than this one.’

‘funny how I used to be the one getting you out of trouble before.’

‘I’m not one to jump for joy but this feels good!’

‘you need to come here and give me a hug.’

‘let’s take a look at this chaos.’

‘you know me. I plan things meticulously. very. meticulously. ‘

‘I know you must feel overwhelmed.’

‘I’ll do my best to help you and try to make sense of it all.’

‘the world is your oyster.’

‘hard to know what he has in mind but it doesn’t sound reassuring.’

‘you know how terrible a cook I am.’

‘something scares the hell out of me. a dark presence, and even I cower from it.’

‘yes, I’m fully aware of the irony.’

‘I’ll have to face my fears.’

‘but you’re here. with you I can do it.’

‘I’ll be patiently waiting. slowly digesting myself.’

‘speaking of sleep, time for me to take a nap.’

‘congratulations! for you have become death, the destroyer of worlds!’

‘you know me, I would kill a plastic cactus, so don’t take my work on this.’

‘since I don’t want you to get swindled, I’ll come with you and do most of the talking.’

‘oh let me guess! I’m a bit of a psychic you know ...’

‘a stroll a day keeps the doctor away. which reminds me ... I haven’t been to the doctor in forever.’

‘I won’t let him get away with this.’

‘people like you are the reason we have middle fingers.’

‘next time I see you, I’ll try being nicer. if you try being smarter.’

‘don’t follow me, please. I hate it when people know where I live.’

‘listen. I just don’t want junk mail.’

‘you’ll have to find better mentors than me.’

‘my fingers were all sticky. it just sorta slipped.’

‘it was lonely with my thoughts.’

‘let’s set sail for a great adventure.’

‘you sure know how to treat yourself.’

‘they never stood a chance. you sure don’t mess around.’

‘get ready for the thrill of your life!’

‘I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it for a second there.’

‘I kinda lied earlier. it’s not so great up here. but you’re here so it might get better.’

‘I’d show you the secret handshake, but I don’t know where your hands have been.’

‘my sister keeps asking me for money. how can I say no without saying no? maybe I should ask someone to rob me.’

‘you came to rescue me again, have you?’

‘this time, I’ll be the one doing the teaching.’

‘yes, I feel I can grow quite nicely here.’

‘you see, a garden is a vessel of our love, a mirror we hold to ourselves.’

‘I didn’t want to disturb you with this but for the last several weeks, I’ve been having strange dreams.’

‘you’ve been terrific up to this point and it would be terribly rude of me to blame you for anything.’

‘see, even I can be filled with nostalgia sometimes.’

‘you know me, I’m ‘mr. personality’.’

‘you don’t have to worry. I’ll be alright. sorry I even brought it up.’

‘I’ve been passing the time by writing letters and throwing some in the water.’

‘I’ve been writing poetry. it’s not very good.’

‘our destinies, well, they’re intertwined, are they not?’

‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I have been very tired recently.’

‘I’ve got this surplus of energy.’

‘don’t be scared.’

‘I’ve long wondered why you were so sad. and the best I could come up with is that you were sad in my stead.’

‘now don’t get mad. I don’t have any money to repay you.’

‘apparently I snore at night.’ 

‘I must admit, I’ve been actively trying to avoid it.’

‘as I’ve spent much time with you here, I think I’m ready to tackle this challenge.’

‘I’ll probably only find regrets and sorrows there, but it’s worth a shot.’

‘it did make me miss my kids a whole lot.’

‘I wish I was still there. to see them laughing. for them to fall asleep on me.’

‘it takes real skill to find a target, aim, and hit a bullseye.’

‘I just love that I’m good at something!’

‘I could spit off tall buildings forever! on the off chance that I might hit someone right in the head!’

‘I’ll be back to full health in no time at all.’

‘stones and crystals are connected to the world on an elementary level.’

‘don’t you think it looks lonely?’

‘it’s curious, I’m both excited and anxious.’

‘shit, I’m much more emotional than I thought I could ever be.’

‘nostalgia is not my forte.’

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

Writing Prompt (ignore me if you got this one already): Maddie giving Sonic a bath?

Another Maddie and Sonic prompt! I always love writing these two. I’ve seen a few stories similar to this one, but I’ll take a shot at it.

“Sonic?”

Maddie walked slowly through the hallway of the first floor of the house, listening hard for any signs slight creaks or feet pattering.

“Sonic! You better not be tracking mud through this house mister!” She yelled throughout the house as she looked in the hallway closet.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she went back down to the first floor only to stop on seeing a small clumps of dried mud on one the steps.

‘Oh great, I just mopped this floor yesterday.’ She rubbed her face as she continued down the stairs.

She whipped her head towards the sound of the front door opening, hearing Tom’s voice entering the room.

“Hello? I’m home!”

“Hey babe, I’m over here.” She called out tiredly.

He paused as he hung up his coat, hearing the weariness in his wife’s voice. “You alright?”

“Yeah everything’s good.” He stared at Maddie for a few seconds before he took off his hat and made his over towards her, hugging her.

“Hmm you sure? You sound like you ran a marathon without having the insane smell of rancid body odor.”

She rolled her eyes and punched him in the shoulder as they released from the hug. "It kinda feels like that now, I'm trying to look for you-know-who."

He gave her a questionable look. "Is it Ozzie? Cause I think he's out in the backyard."

"Not him, Sonic."

"Uh-oh, what'd he do this time?"

"You'll see why once you see how Ozzie looks." She moves slightly, motioning him towards the back door.

Tom walks hesitantly towards the window of the door and looks out. "Oh dear god in heaven."

The bottom half of the retriever’s body was covered in mud, which has since completely dried up. He started wagging his tail fiercely as he saw his owner through the window and jumped against the door.

"No jumping Ozzie, get down." The dog obeyed and walked away as Tom made his way back towards his wife.

"Who's that chocolate lab in the backyard?"

"Oh very funny."

"What on earth were they up to out there?"

She let out a breath as she shook her head. "I honestly don't know, apparently he thought it was a good idea to hook the hose up to the sprinkler since it was getting pretty warm out, but Ozzie followed him out, grabbed the hose from him and the rest is history."

He whistled while looking down, slightly chuckling from the described events. "Well that explains everything, so where is the main suspect?"

"That's exactly why I sound like I run a marathon, I found him completely covered in mud trying to wrestle the hose from Ozzie's mouth. Once I told him he needed a bath, he took off like a cat with it's hide on fire and I’ve been looking for him ever since."

Maddie crossed her arms as she leaned against the counter. "I think he's still somewhere in the house, I don't know where he would go if he was still filthy."

Tom shrugged his shoulders. "I mean he was pretty filthy before he came to live with us, heck he barely wears any clothes."

"Oh my, That's....not the point I'm trying to make Tom. I just don't want him and Ozzie tracking mud throughout the house."

"Well then I guess Oz needs to stay outside and have his bath out there. I call dibs on that job."

"Wait, why are you calling ‘dibs’ on that one?”

“I think it’s fair since I wasn’t here to witness the events, I get to choose which one to take care of.”

“That’s not even close to being fair!”

“It is for me.” He ducked his head she swiped her hand at his shoulder.

“Tom! I’m being serious!”

“Yeah me too, last time I tried to give him a bath, I couldn't find him for almost two hours.”

"Oh great, could you at least help me find him? I don't want to keep looking that long."

He placed his chin in his hand and gave him a questioning look. "Hmmm I don't know, I'm putting my life on the line here for you.

Maddie grabbed his tie and tugged it, pulling him closer to her. "How about if you help me with this and you might get a certain reward once the task is done?" She whispers seductively as she lowers her eyes.

Tom blushes slightly as he tilts his head in interest. "Are we both thinking of the same reward here or is it something that could be food related?"

"Well there could be some food involved if you help me out." She gave him a wink as she walked away.

"Oh hell yeah this is so happening." He rushed after her as he loosened his tie from his neck.

=======

'What the heck were they talking about? What's so important about eating food in the tub?'

Sonic listened from the very cramped kitchen cupboard as he heard the couple walk away, moving slightly to regain feeling in his legs that fell asleep.

As he moved, his elbow hit against a pot making a loud clanging noise. He winced as he kept still and listened for any incoming sounds.

After a few minutes, he heard the faucet turn on in the bathroom upstairs. "Oh geez, she's really serious this time." He whispered to himself as he slowly pushed the door open and crawled out on his hands and knees as he looked around the kitchen.

"I can’t believe she’s still looking for me. Usually Tom would just give up at this point." He mutters as he walks over to a nearby mirror.

His azul blue fur was almost completely covered in a dark brown color, splotches of mud were splattered all over his face and torso and his red sneakers looked more like short, brown boots.

'Oh man, that hose really did a number on me.' He winced as he tried to pick at the dry mud stuck in his arm fur. "Oh great not only is it not coming off, it's starting to itch." He growled as he started to scratch his face.

He tiptoed out of the kitchen and in front of the staircase, listening to the cabinets being opened and closed. ‘I know I heard Tom's voice out here, I wonder where he went? Maybe he's with Ozzie outside, he was pretty filthy out there...well no thanks to-.' He pauses as he hears the bathroom door open and sees the light pour into the hallway.

He quickly ducks as he goes to hide behind the wall, peeking his eyes around the corner and watching Maddie’s shadow on the wall.

“You going somewhere?”

He lets out a little gasp as he slowly turns his head and sees Tom standing right behind him, looking down at him while his hands on his hips and a amused look on his face.

“Uh.....no?” He said sheepishly as he stood up straight and faced him.

“Hmm, if that’s the case then why are you hiding from Maddie after she said you needed to take a bath?”

He shrugged his shoulders as he rocked back and forth on his heels. “I....just...don’t feel like taking one?”

Tom gave an unamused look before lowered himself onto one knee. “Listen bud, I’ve been in the same boat before when I was younger.”

“Rolling in mud?”

“Uh no, not wanting to take baths.”

“Oh”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to take one since I still felt ‘clean’ even after a few weeks of not bathing, but my parents were starting to notice that I hadn’t been smelling clean as usual and it got to the point where they stood outside the bathroom door and would checked if I washed throughly.”

The teen’s eyes widened in shock as he listened to the story. ‘I don’t even want to know where they checked’.

“But it’s also important that you do bathe on average, do you realize how many germs you have on your body right now from all that mud?”

He rubbed his fingers against his palms as he thought about that last statement. ‘I mean, he kinda has a point with the whole germs thing, but how much on average does he mean?’

Meanwhile, Tom continued to wait for the hedgehog to give him a answer, only to not receive one seeing that he still thinking about it. Knowing he wasn’t going to get one soon, he simply grabbed Sonic around his torso and stood up, holding him away at arms length.

Alarmed by the sudden motion, he grabbed onto Tom’s arms and looked at him, confused. “What? Wait where we going?”

“Where do you think?” He said with an exasperated tone as he made his way up the steps.

Alarm bells went off in his head as he tried to pry the hands holding him loose, kicking his legs in the process. “Wait! I haven’t made up my mind yet!”

“Well I’m making it for you, you were thinking about that way too long.” He held him farther away from him to avoid being kicked by the flailing feet.

“But you never gave me a chance to say my part on this!” He voice rose in pitch as he continued to struggle his way out of the firm grip.

Stopping at the top of the steps, Tom held Sonic closer so he had direct eye contact. “So what’s your say on it then?” He replies nonchalantly with a blank face.

‘Oh he is not buying this.’ He dropped his arms as his eyes darted around the room. “That I....am.......not...umm...going to-.” He stopped abruptly as Tom continued towards the bathroom.

“Tom! Stop! You’re violating my rights of free speech!”

He let out a laugh as he made his way to the door leading to the bathroom. “Violating- it’s a bath, it’s not your voting rights.”

“It’s still my rights!” He yelled as grabbed onto the doorframe, holding onto it tightly. Tom sighed heavily as he stopped and continued to hold him.

“Sonic, let go.”

“No.”

“Seriously? Come on, just let go.”

“No!” He continued to hold on as he felt Tom trying to pull him away from the frame.

Maddie sat on the edge of the tub as she watched the two of them, she let out a small laugh as she turned off the faucet and continued to watch the current predicament.

Tom struggled to pry the hedgehog off the door frame as he tried move his arms to avoid be kicked. He glances back to see his wife, looking at him with a wide smile on her face.

“I could use some help over here.”

“Oh but it looks like you’re doing a great job with this.” She said with fake sweetness in her voice. He glared back at her before turning back towards the stubborn hedgehog.

“Ok I’m giving you one last chance to let go NOW.”

He lets out a ‘hmm-mmm’ noise as he continues to hang on.

“Alright, time to bring out the big guns.” He adjusts Sonic’s body to one arm and uses the other hand to tickle his side and under his arm.

Sonic lets out a high pitched laugh as he kicked his legs and lowered one arm to grab Tom’s hand, loosening his grip.

As soon as he lowered his arm, Tom gave one final tug and wrapped his arms around him, pinning him to his chest. “Gotcha!” He hissed as he felt Sonic’s head quills poke into his chest as he wiggled to get out the unwanted bear hug.

“That wasn’t fair! You can’t use someone’s weakness like that!”

"You should've let go when you had the chance, It’s not my fault that you’re ticklish there.” He walked closer to Maddie, who stood up and held her arms out.

He passed Sonic over to her, who has since given up on trying to get away and limply dangled as he was placed in her arms. “Your package was delivered as promised ma’am. I’m hoping there will be a tip involved?” He bowed as he put on a fake cockney accent and looked up at her expectantly.

She giggled as she adjusts her hold on the grumpy teen. “Oh you’ll definitely get more than a tip when we’re done with this.”

He gave a self victory pose as he quickly brushes off the dried mud off his uniform. “Yes! Love you honey!” He gives her a quick peck on the cheek as he rushes out the bathroom door and closes it behind him.

Sonic gave Maddie a look of confusion as he placed him down on the toilet cover and helped take off his shoes while he took off his gloves. “So, what do you guys even do in the bath with food anyway?”

He saw her eyes widen slightly before her face became neutral. “I'll tell you when you’re older.” She said in a serious tone.

“Uh, ok then?”

=======

“Alright, go on in.” She ushered Sonic into the bath as she got out bottles of body wash and shampoo.

“Ok.” He goes to put his foot in the tub, only to lift it out and face her. “Maddie, I can take the bath by myself.”

She raises her eyebrow at him. “Yes normally I would but since you kept trying to hide from me earlier, I feel it be best if I helped you this time. To make sure you completely clean.”

‘I had a feeling she wouldn’t leave me be after all that. Worth a shot I guess.’ He sighs in defeat and quickly placed his foot in the tub, only to feel his foot slip against the smooth floor and fall in head first with a splash. Maddie gasped as he leaned over the side, coughing slightly.

She pats his back lightly as he continued to cough. “Oh my gosh, you alright?”

He coughed once more before nodding. “Yeah, ugh some of it got up my nose.”

“Did you bump your head?”

“Uh no, I don’t think so.”

Giving a sigh of relief, She got on her knees as she poured some shampoo on a washcloth. “Well at least it’ll be easier to scrub all that mud off now.”

She started to scrub his head with the cloth as he splashed water on his arms. “Goodness, do you realize how much grass and twigs are in your quills?”

“Hmm no, I was too busy try not to drown via water hose from a golden retriever mastermind.”

“Oh, well you really have quite a bit just just nesting in there, there’s enough to build a bird’s nest in there.”

“What? I was just in the grass, how’d I get that much?”

“I have no idea sweetie, that’s exactly the reason why you needed a bath. You would have tracked all this stuff into your bed and heaven forbid if you had any insects on you.”

He freezes up and cringes at the thought of those creepy crawlers in his room, let alone his bed. “Oh god.”

“Exactly.” She removes the last of the debris and rinses some water on his head. She pours more shampoo in her hands and starts to scrub behind his ears.

Pausing from scrubbing his feet, he lets out a soft purring noise as he closes his eyes and leans into the touch. He starts to smile as she also scrubs underneath his chin.

‘Oh my god he’s like a little kitten.’ She bites back a laugh as she continued to wash around his face.

After making sure no more dirt was on him, she rinsed him off with the showerhead, got up and grabbed a towel while Sonic unplugged the drain. "How do you feel now after getting rid of all that mud?"

"A little cold, but refreshed! I kinda smell like apples or something."

"Green apple, it's a good scent to have after a nice bath." She held up the towel in front him as he got out and wrapped it around him, the towel being so big it managed to cover his whole body, including his head and eyes.

He lifts part of the towel off his face as she helps him dry off. "Hey Maddie?"

"Yes?"

She continues to dry off his head until she notices his hands were starting to wring together, making her stop and remove the towel from his eyes, looking fully at him.

"I...*sigh* I'm sorry I gave you a hard time earlier about...all of this. I'm sorry for being stubborn and not listening to you and...wait that's the same thing. What I mean to say is that I'm sorry-oh geez I already said that..um I just wanted to say-." He felt a hand gently lift his head up and saw Maddie smiling at him.

"Apology accepted, your just lucky you're too darn cute for me to be mad at you." She teased as she nuzzled his nose with his.

He lets out a giggle, blushing as she pulled away and helped dry off his arms. "I'm not that cute. I'm probably handsome than most kids, but not cute."

She stops and looks up at the ceiling as she ponders for a second. "Hmm you know what? You're right, you're not cute at all."

Taken aback, he looks up at her shocked at the blunt response. "Wh-what?"

"Nope, not even close."

'Why'd she say it like that?' He blinks as he feels a pout forming on his face.

"You...are....adorable!" She ends the statement by grabbing the unsuspecting teen and hugging him tightly with the towel protecting her from being poked by the quills, earning a grunt of surprise and discomfort from him.

"Ack! Maddie! Your hugging me too tight! I can't breathe!" He cries out as he tries to get out of the death hug.

"How are you talking if you can't breathe right now?" She starts to loosen the hug but still holding him.

He gets his arms free and pushes his hands against her shoulders, trying to make space. "I......don't know?" He makes a confused face as she starts to laugh as she hugs him tight again. "Aww even your confusion is adorable."

"Ow! Maddie! What is with everyone and wanting to hug me so much today?" She pulled back again, looking at him with mock serious expression.

"You can never have too many hugs in one day young man, well that and also one other thing." Before he could ask, she started to pepper small kisses all over his face and forehead.

He squinted his eyes shut as he moved his head from side to side, trying not to smile at the sudden affection.

"I saw that."

His ear twitches at her voice and peeks an eye at her. "Saw what?"

"Don't think I can't see you trying not to smile." She smirked playfully at him while poking his nose. "You don't want to admit it, but you know that you're adorable too."

"No I'm not! Your kisses just feel really weird on my face."

"They feel weird?"

"Yeah...they just do."

"But you were trying not to smile though, that must mean that you actually liked them?"

"Nope! I don't think that at all." He shut his eyes and turned his head away from her dramatically, crossing his arms.

"Oh, well I can think of one more thing that proves that you are completely adorable."

"What?" He says in a whining manner as he braces for her answer.

"Your laugh." She then starts to blow raspberries on his cheeks.

"Mahha-ddie! Stohop!" He struggled to keep a straight face as he let out a few giggles.

"Oh but you're smiling and laughing now, that's usually a sign if you really happy about something."

"Nohoho ihiht doesn't!" He places his hands on her face to push her away and pants as he grins victoriously at her. "Ha! Now you can't give me anymore kisses!"

She jerks her head away from his hands and narrows her eyes at him, who is still has his arms out. "Oh you think you're safe from that?"

His face drops as she quickly digs her fingers in his armpits and lets out a high shriek. "GAH! AHAHAH! MAHADIE NOHOHO!"

"What was that? I can't hear you, you're laughing way too much." She adjusts herself and sits on the floor crisscross, still tickling the squirming hedgehog.

"DOHOHNT TIHICKLE ME!"

"Really? Ok then I guess I'll go back to this then." She proceeded to blow raspberries in his neck while still wiggling her fingers under his arms.

"HAHAHA! NOHOHO! STOP IT! MOM STOP!"

Maddie halts her fingers and freezes as she hears Sonic, still laughing and panting as he sat in her lap. 'Did he just...?'

"Sonic?" He looks up at her, still giggling softly. "Did...you just call me mom?"

His breathing hitches as she sees his eyes widen and looks forward, away from her gaze. "I...uh...I don't know, I might have said it....I'm sorry." His voice lowers to a whisper as he looks down at his hands. 'Oh no, is she mad that I called her that? I didn't mean to, it just came out that way! Oh man this is so awkward-. '

He flinches as he feels her arms wrap around him again, this time softly. "It's ok sweetheart, you can call me mom if that's what you feel comfortable with. I'm not mad, just took me by surprise that's all."

Feeling the tension lift off his shoulders, he wrapped his arms over hers and they continued to sit together the bathroom floor.

"Wait, does this mean I have to call Tom 'dad' now?"

He hears her laugh as she releases him from the embrace. "Well, you don't have to, it's completely up to you. Besides it might make him feel more old if you do."

"Hmm, I'll think about it then." He jumps slightly at the sound of Ozzie's barking and Tom shouting coming from downstairs.

"Oh dear, we better go see if he needs help."

He wraps his arms around her neck as she got up. "Knowing him, he probably does."

She shakes head as she gives him a final kiss on the forehead, putting the towel in the clothes bin and carrying him out of the bathroom.

As she walked down the stairs, she could hear scuffling coming from the living room and turned the corner to see Tom trying to dry off/wrestle Ozzie on the floor.

"Uh Tom? You need any help?" He glanced up to see the two of the looking amused at him.

"Heh, no I'm doing great with this big guy. He just needs to keep still for more than 10 seconds!" He said, falling on his stomach as Ozzie ran away and started to roll over all over the carpet.

Maddie makes an exaggerated face at Sonic, who muffles a laugh behind his hand. She places him on the floor as she makes her way over to Tom. "Well, I completed my task, but it seems like you still having trouble with yours."

Tom brushes off his partially wet shirt as he gets up. "Yeah, luckily this wasn't a contest, though I did hear a lot of laughter up there. What were you guys talking about?"

Maddie zips her lips closed as she glances over at Sonic on the couch, who mimics her as he crosses his legs on the seat, smiling widely at her. "It's nothing to worry about."

"I hope you guys aren't thinking about keeping secrets from me." He places an arm around her shoulders as she looks up at him.

"Either you can know what we were talking about or you don't get your reward tonight." She replies firmly, crossing her arms.

His head jerked as she finished, seeing her expression and backs down, raising his arms up in surrender. "Alright, alright you win this round."

"You bet I do." She kisses him firmly on the lips as she walks away. Tom sighs contentedly as she walks away, with Sonic clearing his throat getting his attention.

"Sooo I'm still confused on what eating food in the bath means. Is it something just adults are allowed to do?"

Tom blinks at him before walking over and clasping a hand on his shoulder. "You'll understand once you get married, get a job and have less time to enjoy certain things." He struts away while clapping his hands and bolting up the stairs.

The hedgehog furrows his brows as Ozzie comes over to him, still panting from rolling around and places a hand on the dog's head.

"Oz, I feel like being an adult is going to be a really weird experience."

[merigreenleaf]

Unexpected Inspiration Character Backstory: The Twins’ Past

The crisp snow crunched under Etri's feet in a sickening way reminiscent of the rough gravel floor of the Sanctuary's acolyte quarter. His skin burned every time he sunk into a knee-high drift, the pain a constant reminder of the flames that waited for him should they be caught. His fingers were numb under thin gloves meant for concealment, not warmth, and his robe was nigh-useless outside the cavern city. It had been cold underground-- every day of his life had been spent shivering-- but nothing had prepared him for this overwhelming numbness spreading through his body. If he couldn't find shelter soon, it wouldn't matter that they had escaped. They would die anyway.

-Excerpt from “Stuck With You”

As their lingering accents and pale features can attest, Sol and Etri weren't originally from Concordia. They come from Montglace, a place far to the north where the population lives in a single city deep below the mountainous snow and ice. At one time, long ago, people lived on the surface, but this was so long ago that the rest of the world mostly assumes the population of Montglace died out, if they're reminded of its existence at all. Possibly this would have been for the best, considering what Montglace has become. The twins do not have a happy backstory.

Montglacian culture is dominated by a dual religious order of light and shadow; the twins were born into and raised by the Sanctuary of Shadow. Within the carved stone walls of the temples, there is no concept of family and children never know who their parents or possible siblings are. Being identical twins granted Etri and Sol some insight, although it took years for them to work this out. While Etri was delivering a message for one of the high ranking priestesses, he came across a mirror for the first time in his life. It was then that it made sense why people had always called him by the wrong name-- he looked identical to one of the other boys. Since their language has no word for brother or twin, the closest they could come up with was "person who looks like me," but this was enough for them to realize the other was important. 

[More]

Etri's shadow magic manifested soon after this and he was allowed a small room of his own. This offered a little more security from the dangers of the temple, but it meant that it was harder to sneak around to spend time with Sol. In working out a way to do this safely, Etri discovered that his magic could turn his body into a shadow, much like the elementals the priest/esses controlled. This brought its own kind of danger in keeping it secret, but Etri has always been careful. He made sure that they were never caught together and when Sol began showing signs of light magic, Etri made sure no one else found out. If this was discovered, Sol would have been sent to the Sanctuary of Light and it would have been unlikely the two would see each other again. Sol played dumb, which was easy when the priest/esses never guessed he could have light magic and instead only tested his control over shadow elementals. To this day, shadows still terrify Sol.

Only one other person knew the truth about Sol having magic and he took it to the grave... but I'm getting ahead of myself. Sol fell in love with another boy in the temple and this needed just as much care to avoid detection since any kind of relationship was forbidden. Knowing how important this boy was to Sol, Etri took a risk and befriended him. Etri tried his hardest to keep both of them out of trouble, but this wasn't an easy task. Sol had a tendency to become easily distracted and not notice a threat until too late. Pierre constantly talked back to his superiors and made himself a target all too often, usually as he tried to divert someone's attention long enough for Sol to get away. Pierre always stood his ground, refusing to be quiet and accept life as it was in the temple. He hated the Sanctuary and while he and Etri were able to give Sol happiness as best they could, both hated seeing him scared so much of the time. There had to be a way out, even if leaving was forbidden. So the three made plans for Sol and Pierre to sneak out of the city and out of the mountain. Etri disliked the idea of losing the people he cared about, but he knew they would have a better chance of escaping if he stayed behind to distract or try to stop anyone who followed them. With his ability to shift into a shadow and avoid being seen, he had a level of protection the other two did not.

Their plan almost worked. At the last moment, their escape was discovered, and both were locked up. Etri tried so hard to break them out, but couldn't succeed before Sol and Pierre were dragged out to the surface of the mountain with Etri following close behind in shadow form. With no witnesses around, the three knew the type of punishment the priest/esses had in mind. What was essentially an elemental firefight went down. Etri, doing the best he could with magic that had never been fully trained, blocked the elementals long enough to give Pierre time to summon shadows of his own to use against the light elementals. Sol, absolutely terrified of everything happening, lost control over his magic. He flared hot and bright like a small sun, which took out a portion of the elementals before he fainted. This was a losing battle and the other two knew it. Pierre urged Etri to get away with Sol, then used every ounce of his strength to buy them time. Etri, in turn, threw all he could into wrapping his magic around the other two to try to shadow them to safety, but he wasn't strong enough. He was able to grab his twin-- just barely-- and pull him away before Pierre drained his own magic dry.

The twins got away and made their way south into Galanvoth and eventually into Concordia. It wasn't easy and they struggled at first, both in terms of controlling their magic and with life in general. As Sol grew more confident with his magic, he decided to change his name as a way of claiming his power for himself and also to get rid of the birth name that reminded him too much of his past. He earned what income he could through his skill in fixing and inventing things while Etri stole what else they needed to survive. This, though, is a story for another day. Seven years have passed since they fled Montlgace and both have grown up and found happiness. They now have safety, security, and friends in their carnival troupe. When they meet Blythe and later Adair and Dray, they gain a family they never had in anyone but each other. Forever at the back of both of their minds, though, is guilt and regret that they weren't able to save Pierre, too.

————————–

This is the next (and possibly last, although I might do secondary characters later) in the series of backstory moodboards I’m doing about the dorks. I have one for Blythe here, one for Addy here, two for Dray here and here, and one for Rosalie & Camille here.

This was made for @homesteadchronicles theme of “mountains” although I started it weeks ago for a theme that might have been “desperation”-- it took me that long to iron out their backstory because I realized I’d broken it as I’ve been outlining the trilogy. Also I swear I’m still writing comedic/lighthearted fantasy despite how depressing this post is. The twins most definitely had the hardest childhood, but it improved drastically after this low point as teenagers, I promise! 

(For the moodboard, most pictures are pretty straightforward, but I’ll explain a few. The pictures represent them in this point of their past-- Etri is naturally blond, believe it or not lol. I liked the heart shape of the guy breathing fire because that’s so very Sol. The necklace represents the one Sol made for Pierre; he put some of his magic into it so it served to protect Pierre a little while they were living in the temple. While Pierre was telling Etri to leave, he passed the necklace back because it was the only thing he could give Sol to remember him by. The crescent moon tattoo on Etri’s side represents the branding he was given when his magic manifested; everyone in the Sanctuaries is branded when they develop magic. In case you can’t see the images, like if tumblr isn’t letting you click them bigger, Sol’s quote thing says “Play Dumb! Not That Dumb!” and Etri’s says “Always have an escape plan.”)

Tagging my series tag list. Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list and please definitely tag me in writing things you share, too!

@homesteadchronicles @ageekyreader @lynnafred @the-gay-hufflepuff @oceanwriter @desperatlytryingtowriteabook @muffindragon227 @theguildedtypewriter @toboldlywrite @wchwriter @dreameronthewind @shadow-maker @pen-for-sword @loopyhoopywrites @emptymanuscript @madmoonink @perringwrites @megan-cutler @elliot-orion @thatwriternamedvolk @indecentpause @writer-on-time @ravenpuffwriter @siarven @musicismymoirail @lady-redshield-writes @bluemartlet @reeseweston @worldbuildingwren @hiddswritingrefs @cay--scribbles @focusdumbass @enasroterfaden @missrobinswritings @joshuaorrizonte @zofiehelen @kainablue @kalis-scribbles @inspirited-goddess 

[a-simple-imagine]

Mother of Exiles

Synopsis: Guess it’s time to get the ball rolling on this revolution but first a party

Pairing: Dolores Abernaty x fem!reader

words: 2.6k

A/N - Sorry this is late. I have a lot going on.

Warning: Guns. Mentions of nudity. 

PREV

"Did you find something?"

Her gentle voice draws your eyes from the mirror as she walks towards you joined by another. For your first mission, you had been given the ultra dangerous task of.... going shopping; not exactly what you expected but here you were stood in some overly pristine clothing establishment. It was rather small and didn't appear too busy but just about everything in her cost more than your apartment. You wonder if Dolores knew that when she brought you here. It had been a while so you flash a smile at her return. You weren't sure how much longer you could put up with being here, or Karen who keeps asking if you need any help every five minutes. Although you did appreciate the compliments being thrown your way with every new outfit.

The AR mirror was a particular favourite of your shopping adventure. It made the tedious notion of shopping a tad more bearable. Your reflection wore a black and navy blue peak lapel tuxedo jacket with matching flare pants. It wasn't a bad look, minus the flare.

"Not really," your entire body slumping with a groan. "Nothing looks right,"

With a hand placed delicately over your shoulder, Dolores takes control of the AR menu. You watch as she shifts through the various options; dashing suits, delicate jumpsuits, elegant dresses before finally making her selection. It's always a treat to watch a new outfit unravel across your reflection and this time was no different. The most elegant of black dresses descended, a delicate embroidered flower pattern lines the chest that stopped above the waist. The V-neck plunged deep between the valley of your breast. It reached to the floor and from the shoulder was a cape. It was beautiful and you're almost in awe of her choice however it wasn't the most practical of outfits.

"It looks good on you," You meet her blue eyes in the mirror just before she turns to her companion. "Wouldn't you agree, Caleb?"

So his name was Caleb. You wonder who they are to each other as you await his response. He gives a half-hearted smile. "Yeah, looks good."

The corner of your lips turn up but you're still unsure of the choice. Staring at yourself, all you could focus on was everything possibly wrong with the outfit. Was it too long? Did the v-neck show off too much skin? Should you go for something simpler? Shorter?

"What is this for?"

"A party." Her hand glides off you shoulder as she steps back. "And you need to blend in,"

"I don't think a fancy dress is gonna make anyone believe I'm part of high society."

"It's tribal," Dolores insists. "They use plumage to identify themselves which makes them easily fooled."

"She said the same to me just go with it," Caleb adds, taking a seat off to the side.

"I couldn't possibly afford this," You explain in a hushed tone, twisting your body so you could have a gander at the back. It mimicked a backless dress through its use of see-through material and edged with flora of eccentric lace.

"I think this is a winner," Guess she made up your mind. You didn't mind though, making decisions when it came to spending could be... difficult at times.

"Wouldn't something a little more practical work better if we're on the job," You counter as you step down from the podium almost weirdly relieved to be in your everyday clothes.

"It won't matter," she insists. "We are not doing anything complicated."

"So what are we doing anyway?"

Dolores explained the operation as if she was explaining something very complex to a young child. To summarise you were planning to attend a party of sorts in order to find and detain Liam Demphery Jr, a figurehead of Incite Inc. So as you got ready, you mentally prepared yourself to kidnap a man or more so borrow. You could live with that. It wasn't like you were some corporate bootlicker; you were just new to all this crime business and you didn't exactly have much of a choice. Help Dolores or die w're your options.

Even in an age of speed, you're still surprised by how quickly they altered the dress to your liking. You just wanted it a little shorter so it was easier to walk in and run should the moment arise. Goes to show that money really was power. The dress may not have been the most practical but it did look the part. Dolores was sporting a simple but frankly spectacular jumpsuit that stopped just above her chest. Her beautiful blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. She looked amazing, not that you had been staring as you walked in just a few steps behind her. Meanwhile, Caleb was beside you dressed in a black tuxedo with a black shirt and tie. You had to admit the man cleans up well; he looked very dapper. You all matched in a sense; all in team colours if you will. When Dolores had said party, she meant party. This was in no way you average get together but an almost overly pristine masquerade event full of elites. Women adorned beautiful white dresses while there wasn't a man in sight not in a tuxedo. The walls were covered in artwork of the finest caliber, some of it was even animated. The rich sound of the violinists filled the entire room with an aura of elitism and sophistication. You’re in awe of the world you've stepped into even though it wasn't for long. Heading towards a table decorated with a variety of masks. They had simply ones of one colour to ones with bold designs and feathers. You eye a white one with an intricate gold pattern but Dolores hands you a simple black one.

"What is this?" Caleb asks as he is given one too.

"I thought your world would be so different than mine," Dolores starts, placing the material mask over here head and fitting it against the bridge of her nose. "But there isn't any difference at all."

Dolores heads into the crowd and Caleb trails after. You place on your mask and follow in toe.  Your eyes scanning the crowd for the target but you can't help but take in the sheer size and bizarreness of it all. It was like a different world; one filled with the finest of things but only for those in dresses worth way too much. It was surreal to be surrounded by so much wealth. There were various podiums set up around the room, each had a crystal chandelier of sorts hung above. And on display were tastefully naked individuals being ogled by the wealthy. You didn't feel any particular way towards nudity, you didn't see it as an abomination or indecent. You just didn't quite grasp what they were doing or what this whole event was even about.

"I'll take him when he's alone," Her words break you from you existential crisis over how rich people choose to spend their time. Dolores wore a small but knowing smile. "Wouldn't want to spoil the fun,"

You don't bother asking because if there's one thing you know about Dolores it's that she never answers your questions: and when she does it's usually vague and unhelpful. From the corner of your eye, you notice a server as they pass, quickly grabbing a flute of champagne off their little tray. Two sets of eyes fall to you and you buckle under the pressure. "What? I need something to calm my nerves-" You huff like a child being scolded. "Dolores just said to have fun."

It was true. You were feeling on edge and this would help with your confidence since Dolores insisted that you should stop using limbic tabs. You weren't sure how long you'd last without them but so far so good... kinda. "Stay focused."

"I can multi-task." With a heavy sigh, both of them continue walking. "How long is this gonna take?"

Bringing the glass to your lips, you take a small sip to gauge the taste. Fine bubbles exploded against your tongue in an explosion of dainty flavours. It had a floral taste to it with hints of fresh fruit. Maybe a hint of peach? You couldn't be sure but either way, it tasted expensive. You've had champagne before but it never tasted like this.

"You're not enjoying yourself?" Caleb asks from a few steps ahead.

"Can't say I'm particularly interested in anything here,"  Your shoulders rise in a casual shrug as you narrowly avoid crashing into a couple who had no intention of moving out the way for you. "couldn't afford it either, the champagne is good though."

As your path drifts you find yourself separated from the others. Everything about this place absolutely reeked of privilege and nobody even suspected that you didn't belong. Guess Dolores was right in saying they are easily fooled. All it took was a gorgeous gown and a mask you never imagined yourself wearing. Staring up from the edge of a podium, you admire the man who was so proudly on display. He wore nothing but a Victorian ruffle style collar paired with sleeves. His muscles so defined as he lay his body bare for the world to see. You couldn't imagine being in his position but each their own. You tried not to look but you couldn't help your curiosity as your eyes drifted from his abs down to his rather... large penis and back. Jesus Christ, he could do some damage with that thing; not that you were judging him or choosing to objectify him. It was just an observation. You're unsure of his role at such a high-end event until you overhear someone ask to place a bid and all the little pieces fall into place. You were currently attending a sex auction? What even were rich people. Turning on your heel, you go in search of your companions and they weren't all that hard to find.

"Good, we're ready to intercept him," Dolores declares, turning to you as you approach. "Ready?"

You nod a little too eagerly. Your adrenaline was pumping. You could do this. There was no turning back now. It was a simple job just grab the target and leave, right? The blonde has you following her out of the ballroom and up the stairs. Readying a gun you didn't even know she brought with her. Where exactly had she been hiding it?

"Where did she get that from?" Your voice but a whisper as you speak to Caleb. The target, Liam, was being guided by two others. Dolores fired three rounds; each one an assault to the ears even with a silencer. You weren't used to it. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The taller of the two gentlemen came charging towards you all, Dolores strikes him first. Knocking the wind clean out of him. Looking to you two, Dolores holds out the gun. "Stay on Liam, I'll handle him."

"You sure?" There was uncertainty in his voice and you couldn't really blame him.

"Take it, I won't need it."

Caleb looks between the two of you before running off down the stairs. "You should go too,."

You don't want to leave her but you nod just once. Hesitating at the stairs; you glance back at her. Was she going to be okay? You've seen her shoot two men before your very eyes but this was an entirely different ball game. Whatever they were talking about, you were too far away to hear but for a second your eyes meet and it was enough to put your mind at rest or at least to send you chasing after Caleb.

Deep breathes as you finally break out into the cold night air, hunched over as you calm yourself down. You're pretty good in heels but apparently not when you need to be because you almost slipped down the stairs. Luckily nobody was around to see you but it was still embarrassing. After a moment, you stand up straight and walk up beside the man. He had the gun held up at Liam's surprise guest. Seemed like everything was under control.

"You're helping her aren't you- Dolores," The stranger spoke slowly and clearly; a little cautiously if you will. "are you one of us?"

"One of us?" You repeat looking to Caleb with furrowed brows. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," He growls. "Just give me the asshole and I will let you walk out of here."

With a nudge of his head, you take the hint but before you can even grab Liam he's calling out to someone. "Connells- the fuck took you so long."

Twisting around, you spy yet another gun; you were feeling very unprepared for this battle. Unsure of who he was pointing at, you back away a little in surrender. Flinching at the sound of gunfire but when your eyes open, it's to see him shoot the rest of his men. What was going on? The plan had changed so drastically.

"What the hell are you doing?" You know it's Liam. He's the only voice you weren't familiar with now but you don't dare to look. Focused in on the man with the gun.

"Don't you fucking twitch," The silver-haired Scott spat with a firm grip of his weapon. It was pointed in the same direction as Caleb's. You exchange a confused look with Caleb. Who were all these people? As the Scott drifts to Liam, you're quick to move out of the way.

"Run." Liam stumbles against the side of the vehicle; the rest of you too stunned to make a move. "Run, before I put a bullet in your pointy little head." His Scottish accent was thick which made him sound a little harsher than expected. Liam was hesitant, a little surprising for how cowardly he seemed, "fucking run!"

The fear was clear as Liam ran for his life; you were half expecting to witness a shooting but thankfully it never happened. Instead, his attention is drawn between you and Caleb. Guess he was on Liam's side after all.

"You better go after him," Or not. Caleb watches him and then turns to you; your shoulders rising up in the smallest of shrugs. You didn't need to be asked twice. Caleb is faster but you put that down to the fact he didn't have to put up with wearing heels all night as you jog along. You couldn't wait to trade them for a comfortable pair of boots.

"Leave me alone, I- I'll pay whatever you want." Rounding the corner, Caleb has Liam shoved up against the wall. The gun Dolores gave him being put to good use in front of his face.

"Oh yeah? Pay me with what, Huh, I have all your money."

"You do?" You question, Dolores had only filled you in on the plan but you were beginning to realise she had left a lot out.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm with her," Caleb spoke, his gun falling to the side as he lets the poor guy relax. You'd be questioning him if it weren't for the whisk of blond that just sauntered past you. Dolores.

"Hello, lover."

Wait... lover?

NEXT

[satan-the-avatar-of-wrath]

A Worthy Life

This is a submitted story, writer wishes to remain Anonymous. Credit to the anon, this is not my work.   (A story with Satan)

Inspired by true events.

~A Worthy Life~

Satan never thought of humans as something special to him. He neither liked nor disliked them. He only regarded them as fragile beings that have shorter lifespan and more vulnerable than demons like him. However, his view changed after that encounter. It all started when Satan had to go to the human world again after he begrudgingly received another troublesome task from the asshole Lucifer.

As usual, after he finished the task, Satan chose to spend his remaining time by reading his book in the local park. He was still in the middle of reading when he heard a faint meowing sounds from the bushes behind him. “Hm? Oh, hey there kitty kitty~ are you alone? Come here, I won’t harm you,” Satan closed his book and reached out his hand to the kitten, but that only made the kitten more frightened and ran away from Satan. “Uh- hey wait!” Satan decided to chase after the kitten. He was concerned with how dirty and frail the kitten looked.

Satan didn’t even notice where he was going or which road he took while he was chasing the kitten, but in the end, he managed to catch the kitten. “Hey come on- stay still. I just want to check and treat you.” Satan said as he lifted the kitten to inspect for any wound.

“Let go of my cat! You evil ugly blondie head!” Satan was surprised to see a little boy standing in front of him. ‘Where did this brat sprout from?’ Satan wondered. “Were you talking to me cheeky brat?” Satan asked in an irritated tone.

“No, I was talking to the garbage can. Of course, I was talking to you panini head. Now give me back my cat!” the boy shouted and stomped on Satan’s foot. “YOU-“ Satan almost snap and go demon mode before a woman appeared from across the street; visibly looking panic. “Vian! Where have you been?! You know I was worried sick looking for you! You shouldn’t be out in your condition!”

Satan turned his attention to the woman. “Is this rude brat your kid? Or perhaps your little brother? Maybe teaching him some manners would help” Satan said as he put on his usual fake smile; trying to keep every last bit of his self-control. “I’m truly sorry! Please forgive him. He isn’t my son or my brother but I feel responsible for taking care of him.” The woman pleaded with teary eyes.

“Don’t be mean to missy! She is the only one who cares for me. And you! Give me back my ca-ugh” the boy suddenly doubled over and coughed violently. “Vian-“ the woman immediately carried the boy and excused herself; leaving Satan alone. Satan could only stare. Dumbfounded. ‘Tch, humans are so fragile’ was the only thought that crossed his mind.

He glanced down at the kitten and felt a bit responsible. The boy got agitated because of him after all and besides, he just realized that he…is kinda lost. He didn’t know his way back, he also wanted to return the cat so he decided to join them.

The woman thanked Satan once they settled into the woman’s house, “Thank you for returning the cat, Mr. Sam. And once again I offer you my sincerest apologies on his behalf. He…has a hard time trusting new people,” Satan could only listen to the woman while he stared at the little boy who was already asleep. Satan was still annoyed, but the boy looked pathetic in his eyes so he decided to just let bygones be bygones. He won’t go as far as avenging someone way weaker than him, especially not a puny defenseless little human.

“I bet he is really a handful for everyone isn’t he?” Satan noticed there was something wrong when the woman looked quite offended when he asked that. “This is quite a sensitive issue. Especially for Vian. Vian is actually a good boy. But everyone reject him, even his parents, because of his chronic disease. Most people still believe the disease he is suffering from is extremely the contagious one and should be avoided at all costs. That’s why he always put on a brave front because he immediately thinks that everyone hates him.”

Satan fell quiet with an unreadable expression and only then the woman realized she was spilling too much information to a stranger. “Ah, I’m sorry, I’m blabbering too much. Uh you previously said you need me to show you the way to train station right? I’ll guide you there.” Satan put on his trademark smile again. “Very well, thank you for your assistance.”

—

It was already a few days since Satan returned to the Devildom, but something was bugging his mind since then. ‘Ugh that brat. Maybe I’m still annoyed with him after all? Maybe I should avenge him? Wait, no. That time was different. I didn’t sense any malicious intent from him. In fact, I only sensed…fear? Sadness? Anger? Hurt?’

Meanwhile, Mammon who was counting stolen his money across from Satan could see it clearly how distraught Satan had become. “Yo! Is there somethin’ wrong? Ya have been puttin’ on serious scary face but ya seem stuck at the same page of your book.” Satan finally snapped and retorted back; venting his anger toward Mammon. “Uh- shut up. If you are looking for what’s ‘wrong’ then you can try putting your face in front of a mirror and you’ll see what’s wrong.”

“Geez calm that temper will ya? You’re more salty than usual that means there’s somethin’ up with you. Well, I don’t know and I don’t really care but if ya want to do somethin’ you should just act by what you really desire. You’re a demon and yet you think too much before even following your desir- oops that’s my cue to go, adieu!” Mammon immediately bolted out from the room as soon as Satan gave death-glare to him. “Damn it. I guess I’ll just go. I can check up on the cat. Yes, that’s the only valid reason,” Satan tried to reason to himself.

After he managed to get Lucifer’s permission, Satan came back to the human world. It was a good thing he still remembered the way to that boy’s house.

“Ah! You are the yellow-head catnapper from before!” the boy already jumped to his defensive mode as soon as he saw Satan in front of the house. “Vian, please be polite, I already told you he was only trying to tend to Bobby.” the woman lightly scolded the boy.

“Ahaha that’s right. You should listen to your missy, cheeky brat,” Satan plastered his usual fake smile, but he didn’t feel as annoyed as before.

“Don’t call me that! My name is Vian! Missy, you are wrong! That yellow-head is an absolute meanie!” Vian ran up behind the woman.

“You are calling me with weird names so why can’t I also call you with one too?” Satan smirked. He was satisfied. He felt like he won an argument.

“Come on Vian. You shouldn’t judge someone immediately like that. I’m sure he is a…nice gentleman. Although a little petty-minded?” The woman added the last words only in her thought. “As proof, he was trying to help Bobby right?” the woman tried to reassure Vian. “And Mr. Sam, is there something I can help you with?” the woman asked.

“Oh err right. This may sound out of the blue, but I came by just to make sure if the cat is all right. I’m quite confident in my knowledge about animal anatomy so I thought I can offer you some help since your cat looked a bit unwell the last time I saw it,” Satan said; trying to find a strong excuse. It’s partially true that he was concerned about the cat, but he felt like there is another thing he was more concerned about and Satan still wouldn’t admit that the boy was part of his concern.

“Oh, my. Really? Actually, you are quite right. I’ve been trying to tend to it but I think my effort alone is not enough so I’m grateful for your help. Please come in. Vian please wait here and keep Mr. Sam accompany while I go fetch Bobby, okay?” The woman said before she went off to another room; leaving Vian alone with Satan.

Now that they are alone, Satan could sense the nervousness and confusion emanated from the boy more clearly. “Why are you helping my cat? Or more like why do you still bother to come here?” The boy finally broke the silence with a low voice, almost as a whisper.

“Hmm? I see you still have the guts to talk. With how you look now I was sure you’ve turned into a stone, but I see you still want to talk and ask me before throwing anymore accusation at me again?” Satan showed his exasperation passive-aggressively with his smile. The boy instantly felt guilty. “I- I’m sorry.” The boy was on the verge of tears while saying that.

“Uh- okay, okay apology accepted. Anyway, why do you think it’s weird for someone to come here and offer help?” Satan quickly went back on the topic and decided not to intimidate the boy any longer. It would be troublesome for him to handle a crying child.

“Didn’t missy already told you? I- I’m different. I’m different from everyone. Everyone is healthy and I’m..not. Because of my disease, everyone around me never thinks of me as a worthy one. They only see me as something bad and they all avoid me. At least I still have missy who can still accept me.” The boy looked crushed when he explained it.

At that moment Satan felt like the boy would crumble into dust and gone at any given moment. There were also that sharp pangs tugging his heart. It was a very unfamiliar feeling for Satan. He gave it a moment, but he still couldn’t put a name into that new feeling.

Satan was speechless until the woman came back. “I’m sorry to make you wait. Here’s Bobby.” The woman said while holding the kitten. “Please lie it down in here. I’ll check it.” Satan began to dutifully check the kitten. It didn’t take long for Satan to pinpoint the problems. “Yes, your cat is sick. I have the remedy for the cat, but I need a few days to gather it. I’ll come back when it’s finished. Until then, please keep your cat hydrated, clean, and fed well. Luckily, I brought some special wet cat foods. You can feed it with these.” Satan said before leaving. Satan smile when the woman thanked him, however, his eyes were more focused on the boy who only kept silent.

—

Back in the Devildom Satan prepared the remedy faster than expected. Preparing it wasn’t a problem for him. What troubled him was the weird feeling he got that day. He wasn’t sure at first, but after he gave it more thought he got some idea. ‘Maybe, just maybe I can relate to that brat?’ Satan thought to himself. They are both very different. He is a demon, a high-ranked demon and that boy is a human, just a powerless little human. However, there was one thing in common and Satan only came to that conclusion after he was finally sure of what he sensed from the brat. It was mostly a feeling of insecurity.

Satan hates to admit it, but he is aware of his own insecurities. How he felt he needed to prove himself, his worth, so his existence won’t merely be seen as someone else’s shadow. While that boy, even if that boy struggles over a different thing, Satan could see the boy also wanted to be seen as someone worthy, as he really is, not as something else, especially not as a weakness.

Since he started to realize it, a new desire started to grow on Satan. Satan didn’t want to take Mammon’s word, but that time, he just followed on his desire. A desire to support that one little fleeting life.

Satan began to rummaged through his pile of books; trying to find any explanation and cure for the said disease. Satan was devastated when he found out there was still no cure that can completely heal the boy’s disease. “AARGH! Damn it! Can’t I really do something about it?! Satan threw his book away in frustration. Satan didn’t know what else to do. For the first time he felt powerless and his demon power won’t do any good. In the end he went to the human world again with a heavy heart.

—

“Welcome, Mr. Sam. Thank you for sparing your time to come here again.” The woman welcomed Satan as he arrived.

“I already promised that I would come here again so it’s only normal if I keep my words, right? And here, you can feed the cat with this medicine” Satan flashed his smile when he handed the medicine to the woman, but his eyes were busy scanning the room. “Is the boy not with you today?” The woman looked hesitated to answer when Satan asked her. “Ah, you mean Vian? He is resting in his room now. His condition is worsening again.”

The woman then looked at Satan with a pleading look. “Umm I know it would be rude of me to ask a request to someone I just know recently, but could I ask for your help to look after Vian for a while? There’s no one else I could ask for help and I need to go buy medicine and some supplies for Vian. Also I believe you are a good person, so, please?”

Satan gave it a thought. There’s no harm in helping her and he is also curious with the boy’s condition. “Sure, I’ll help. Don’t worry about it.” Satan said. The woman thanked Satan and showed Vian’s room, after that she went off to buy things.

Satan sat beside the bed where the boy sleep in. Satan could only look at the boy’s face in silence. ‘He looks paler than before. What could’ve happened to him while I was away?’ When Satan was lost in his thought, the boy suddenly shifted uncomfortably in his bed. He looked as if he was in agony. “O-oi! Brat?! What’s wrong? Wake up!” Satan gently nudge the boy, but panic was clear in his voice. He was afraid if the boy is in pain or having nightmare.

The boy’s eyes shot open, his breath was ragged. At first the boy didn’t notice Satan presence. It was Satan’s gentle voice and touch that brought the boy back to reality. “Are you ok now?” Satan asked; genuinely worried. He was never this worried over someone else before, not even to his brothers.

The boy couldn’t process anything. He only covered his face; trying to muffle his cries. “Oi, come on. You should tell me what’s wrong. I won’t know unless you tell me.” Satan kept urging the boy to speak; his hand rubbing the boy’s head in an attempt to soothe the boy.

“I-I’m s-sorry. I just had a-a bad dream.” The boy said with a hoarse voice. Satan handed the boy a glass of water and said, “here, drink this first, then tell me what was it about.”

There was only silence until the boy finally spoke. “I dreamt about it again. I was alone. Then I saw in the distance there were people. They were having fun and looked very happy. I wanted to get close to them to join them, but they immediately steered away from me. They only saw me with disgust. Then I heard they all talked badly about me. ‘He is different, he shouldn’t mingle with us.’ I always heard that same words.” A shed of tears streamed down the boy’s cheek as he retelling his dream.

Satan couldn’t take the heart-breaking sight. He brushed away the tears from the boy’s cheek gently with his finger; trying not to startle the boy. When he realized the worried look on Satan’s face, the boy quickly added, “umm sorry, please don’t worry about my silly dream. This is something I usually get when I feel down and sick.” The boy said. He tried to lighten up the mood and put up a smile.

But Satan won’t be fooled by something like that. “No, you shouldn’t say sorry. And about dreams, someone I know, well, my brother, once said that dreams are the manifestation of our subconscious mind. They are often influenced by our experiences and they reflect what we really feel about it and what we really want from it. So I wouldn’t think your dream as a silly one and you too, shouldn’t think of it as silly.” Satan held the boy’s hand in his. He put on a serious expression, but his touch was calming. The boy could feel the warmth from Satan’s touch and words. “You mentioned that you only got this dream when you feel down and sick. Care to tell me what happened? What triggered your dream?” Satan asked.

“Umm…so yesterday when I was strolling around with missy to take fresh air outside, there were some neighbors who shooed us away. They didn’t want us to get any closer to their house and said something about being ‘vile outcast or a ragtag bunch of misfit’. I don’t really understand what they meant, but missy wouldn’t explain it to me and she looked sad. So I think that must be something bad.” The boy was fiddling with his fingers as he told Satan what happened. Satan felt the anger inside him instantly rising up. He wanted to throw curse words and go hunt the culprit right there and then, but that time, he knew the boy needed him more.

Satan took a deep breath; trying to calm himself before he began to talk. “Listen, I won’t hide anything. I’ll be honest and tell you everything you need to know and hear. You are right. Those huma- I mean people are talking bad about you. BUT, those people are wrong. People who can only oppress the weaker and can’t try to understand the others are the real trash, not you or your missy.”

The boy looked like he was going to cry again. He thought only his missy can try to understand and give him the support he needed. He already gave up on his wish to be accepted by other people, but he knew deep down he still yearns to be accepted and recognized. And here he found another person who can understand and support him.

Seeing the boy started to cry again, Satan gave the boy a hug and patted his back. “I may only know you just recently and I may regard you as cheeky brat the first time I met you. But after knowing more about you I think you worth more than you ever think, more than other people think. Wait, scratch that. You are more worthy than those people who can’t see your worth. Those people have no place to decide your worth because you are the only one who can decide your worth. So, for now, you shouldn’t worry about being liked or not. Those who see you as you are and appreciate you will still like you and grow together with you. That means if you are doing something right they will support you and if you are doing something wrong they will help you to correct your way. You have your missy and Bobby that can support and help you. And now you also have uh…me at your side.” Satan said the last words with faint blush dusted on his cheeks.

“Ahem, do you understand it now, Vian?” Satan released Vian from his hug. Vian was moved by what Satan said so he eagerly nodded his head, he felt better after hearing that.

“Good.” Satan smiled. Satisfied with Vian’s reaction. He then ruffled Vian’s hair playfully until the Vian feels irritated. “Ughh…stop it!” Vian swatted Satan’s hand from his hand. Satan didn’t take Vian’s act as offensive at all. In fact, he was pleased. “There you go. I like it more when you show that fiery spirit. Remember, you don’t have to worry too much. You won’t know what the future has in store for you. I’m pretty sure you’ll find your own place to be happy and when you do find it remember your hard time as a lesson. That way you won’t fall into the same level as those trash people.” Satan smiled again, but that time it was a genuine smile.

His smile then shifted into a low key malicious one. “And if anyone dares to talk or do something awful to you, just tell me. I’ll make it certain that I will pay them a visit and give them a ‘lecture’ or two.”

Vian, who didn’t really understand the hidden meaning behind Satan’s choice of word with ‘lecture’ could only agree. “Um, okay! Pinky promise!” Vian said. He showed his pinky finger to Satan.

Satan was a bit confused at first, but then the boy showed Satan how it’s done. A new warm feeling began to spring inside Satan. It was different from the usual hot boiling sensation he felt whenever he is angry. This new feeling was very pleasant for Satan. “Ahahaha, you are really something aren’t you” Satan laughed. At that moment Satan had decided that keeping Vian’s life as a worthy one is something he can do. Meanwhile, Vian only tilted his head. Confused by what Satan meant or why Satan laughed.

“It’s a bit too late to ask, but umm since when you were here?” Vian asked Satan. He just realized his missy is not with him. “Oh, your missy is out to buy things and ask me to stay with you while she’s out.” Satan explained everything that happened before.

“Brat, do you want to hear some interesting stories?” Satan suddenly wanted to tell some stories. Satan was thinking about telling stories from some books he had read before, but maybe he can also use his brothers’ shenanigans as a bad example.

“Hey, stop calling me that, or do you want me to call you with weird names again?” Vian pouted. “Ahahah, sorry that name kinda stick with you. And actually, I don’t care anymore if you call me with anything weird. I know you don’t really mean it.” Satan said jokingly, but he really didn’t mind it since the boy is special to him now.

“Sorry, I’m late. Oh, you’re awake already Vian? Thank you for your help, Mr. Sam.” The woman said when she returned home. She noticed the cheerful look on Vian’s face and that was the first time he ever showed such look in front of someone else other than her and that also made her happy. “Missy, missy, come join us! Yello- I mean mister said he wants to tell us some stories.” Vian excitedly called her. They all gathered and enjoyed their precious moment.

END

Thank you to the individual who i can not name, for submitting this good read. 

To anyone who reads this, and is inspired to write, you too can submit to this blog if you wish to be Anonymous. It doesnt just have to be about Satan, it could be about anything.

Thank you x - Ty the Mun

Satan: .... Please kittens do submit, we enjoy reading all stories you write to us.

[thekoshertribble]

Women of Star Trek #20 “Mirror, Mirror” Marlena Moreau

“Mirror, Mirror,” the first Star Trek episode to feature the Mirrorverse, introduces us to some truly nefarious characters: the mirror counterparts of Sulu and Chekhov are pretty frightening, and even though Spock appears to be good at the end of the episode he is still quite intimidating. However, we are also introduced to a new character who is arguably just as formidable, and more complex: Lt. Marlena Moreau, the “captain’s woman.”

Marlena might be the most dangerous person on the ISS Enterprise, next to the captain. She is the only person besides Kirk to have access to the Tantalus field - she uses it to spy on prime-universe-Kirk kill mirrorSulu’s henchmen - and she can use it without the captain’s knowledge. She could easily assassinate anyone on board, including the captain. (So why not just kill him? Killing the captain would likely open up a power vacuum with various factions of officers and crew fighting for the position. It’s too risky a move to take.) 

There are a lot of questions I have about this character. Yes, she gets a lot of screentime and plenty of dialogue with Kirk but we’re still left with some big questions, two of which I’ll try to address:

1) What is a “captain’s woman” anyway, and

2) What is her endgame? (Why does she kill Sulu’s henchmen and why did she want to go to the prime Universe?)

So let’s begin. We first meet Lt. Moreau in mirrorKirk’s quarters. A very confused primeKirk finds her sleeping on his counterpart’s bed. She wakes, and seeing Kirk return, gets them some drinks to chat over. “We had quite a time in the chem lab picking up after the storm,” she says. From this first line, and from her blue uniform, we can assume that she is a science officer specializing in chemistry, but we don’t get any more details. (What does she do in the “chem lab?” Chemical weapons? It’s the mirror universe so that sort of thing is plausible.)

Anyway, Marlena doesn’t seem too focused on that aspect of her career. In her later confrontation with Kirk, after he refuses her advances, she makes her intentions clear: “I’ve been a captain’s woman and I like it. I’ll be one again if I have to go through every officer in the ‘Fleet.” She feels that mirrorKirk hasn’t given her enough attention and respect, and therefore wants to transfer to another ship. “On the Enterprise, I am humiliated. On another ship, I can hunt fresh game.” Marlena appears to have two different roles on the Enterprise. First, she is a science officer (possibly working on chemical weapons). This is her official role, but she also appears to have a secondary, unofficial yet equally significant role, that of the “captain’s woman.” I think this role is similar to that of the crewmen who ally themselves with certain officers onboard as “henchmen.” It’s probably not on their official records, but it is just as important in their day-to-day life on the ship. There are likely numerous women or men in Starfleet who act as parmours/concubines to other officers or crewmembers. Like the “henchmen,” these paramours act as free agents, partnering with officers of their choosing for status and security. (And of course, they can switch sides if the balance of power shifts.) By this logic, Marlena is one of the most powerful individuals on the ISS Enterprise, and not just because of her access to the Tantalus Field. As the Captain’s Woman she is granted a high degree of respect and security; anyone who threatens her risks incurring the Captain’s wrath. 

Marlena clearly sees her role as the Captain’s Woman as an active partnership. Not simply satisfied with being a paramour, she is invested in Kirk’s rise to power, offering her own advice and observations. In her first conversation with primeKirk, she quickly reminds him of her part in this relationship:

MARLENA: You're still in trouble with Starfleet Command. What you've got in mind this time is beyond me. You're scheming, of course. The Halkans have something you want, or, is it all some clever means to advance you to the Admiralty? Kirk. The Cabinet itself? KIRK: Further than that, if I'm successful. MARLENA: Really? Well, you must know what you're doing. You always do. If I'm to be the woman of a Caesar, can't I know what you're up to?

Marlena sees Kirk as an ambitious and cunning individual, slowly and ruthlessly advancing his career; so why not join him on his way up the blood-stained ladder? And why not give him some tips? When Spock presents Kirk with the ultimatum, Marlena has this to say:

MARLENA: Let's drink a toast to Spock, The only man aboard with the decency to warn you, and he'll die for it. They'll never find another man like him.

KIRK: I don't intend to kill him.

MARLENA: Are you going to act against the Halkans before the deadline?

KIRK: No, but I'll avoid killing Spock.

MARLENA: Just get him out of the way, he and his men.

KIRK: I'll get out of his way.

MARLENA: Shall I activate the Tantalus field? You'll at least want to monitor him, won't you?

Marlena admits she doesn’t like the Tantalus field, but she suggests Kirk use it to protect himself from his imminent execution. She regards it as a necessary evil. (She uses it on Sulu’s henchmen, but the motivation behind this particular act is a bit different, but we’ll tackle that later.) Marlena is clearly active in this relationship, and she expects the same from her Captain. Unfortunately, it appears that he hasn’t been keeping up his part of the bargain, at least according to Marlena. We don’t get a lot of info on why MirrorKirk and Marlena are having problems, but this line is indicative: “I'm afraid I'm a little out of practice. Maybe that's what happened to us? It's very hard for a working officer to shine as a woman every minute, and you demand perfection.” Kirk and Marlena are officers, outside of their relationship. Marlena tries to put the blame on herself, but it’s most likely Kirk who is neglecting to pay attention to her. This continual neglect culminates when primeKirk rejects her sexual advances, and she reaches a breaking point: 

KIRK: I've got to go.

MARLENA: Ship's business? An important task on the crew deck? Well, I guess it's over. 

To her surprise, PrimeKirk ultimately assures her that she is still the Captain’s Woman, “until he says you’re not,” and leaves her to ruminate on why her captain is suddenly acting like a stranger...

...Which takes us to the second big question: what is Marlena’s ultimate objection? Why did she save primeKirk and his crew, and why did she want to go with them, back to their universe? I have two contrasting theories:

Theory #1: Marlena is seeking security. I’ve illustrated above what I think the “captain’s woman” role is, but the episode doesn’t explain why Marlena is so adamant about being one. Does she just want status of being a partner to powerful officers in the imperial fleet, or is there more to the story? As a Captain’s Woman, Marlena is one of the most powerful and most secure individuals on the ship. She’s almost untouchable. She’s a smart woman, but she’s living in a world that values physical violence, and her combat skills appear to be lacking. (For example, PrimeUhura disarms her almost immediately.) So maybe Marlena is ultimately looking for ways to become powerful (i.e. more secure) without being a skilled fighter. Why be a good fighter when you can “partner” with one instead? This is not to say that mirrorKirk is a safe partner - he’s not, he’s most likely abusive, mentally and/or physically. We see evidence of this in Marlena’s “breakup” with primeKirk. She has to ask him if she still has her rank after threatening to leave: “I’ve got my rank - don’t I?” There’s a lining of fear in her voice, she’s afraid of some kind of retribution, physical or otherwise. She’s confused by primeKirk’s belief in her abilities, and by his gentleness: “It's been a long time since you've kissed me like that. You're a stranger. Mercy to the Halkans, mercy to Spock, to me.” If Marlena’s objective is to get herself to a place of relative safety, then the discovery of a less violent parallel universe would completely change her plans. Like the Tantalus Field, being a “captain’s woman” is a necessary evil, the best survival tactic in a violent universe. 

Theory #2: Crack Theory! Marlena is seeking glory. Okay, this is a bit more far fetched but hear me out. Remember the conversation primeKirk had with her about the Tantalus field:

Marlena: Now, I always thought that was funny, The great, powerful Captain Kirk who owes everything to some unknown alien scientist and a plundered laboratory.

KIRK: Well, if you don't take advantage of your opportunities

MARLENA: You don't rise to the command of a starship or even higher.

MirrorKirk would not be as successful as he is without the Tantalus Field, a device he found by accident, and then exploited. What if Marlena is doing something similar, with her discovery of the prime Universe? Remember, Marlena is a scientist. She could study the process Scotty developed to bridge between the two universes, combined with the ion storm phenomenon. Marlena might have wanted to travel to the prime Universe with the prime Crew, (pretending she wanted to go there to be secure like in theory 1), in order to study them and assess their weak points. With this information, she could be a one-woman vanguard leading the Empire to conquer the prime Universe. 

Like she said, you can’t rise to the top unless you seize opportunities. 

Up Next: The Apple

[blakescoven]

Undress Rehearsal (Duncan Shepherd x fem!Reader)

Summary: You got a fashion degree and moved to DC to work as stylist assistant. Unexpectedly you meet a familiar face during a meeting and it seems there’s a spark between you two...but things may take a wrong turn.

A/N: Hey lovelies!! This is my first fic EVER, so be nice! Also, forgive any grammar mistake (English isn’t my first language). Since the ending is kinda open, I guess I could write a PART 2. I’m so happy to finally be able to post this one-shot, even though it sucks! I’d appreciate every comment/reblog/DM about it and about how I could actually improve my writing. This is a sort of experiment! I’m still trying to figure out “my style”. Oh and this is important: bold type means flashback, italics are Y/N’s thoughts and // means a few days passed! ENJOY and thank you for reading! I love you.

Warnings: mean!Duncan (just a little), making out and veeery light NSFW, plot!twist, lol I think that’s enough(?)

Word count: 6.1K

moodboard by the talented @hecohansen31​

You were late again. It happened twice this week. But how could that happen? You had always been a punctual and reliable person, at night you ensured that the alarm was correctly set and you never went to bed too late, afraid to not being able to wake up the morning after. So how could it be possible? Maybe because of your jetlag, but after almost a month, well, this had become a really bad excuse. Then perhaps, the frenetic pace was already affecting you that much, making you too tired to hurry up and get ready. This couldn’t happen again; you were jeopardizing your new dream job because of this straggler behavior. While you were running along the streets of Washington DC, those were your recurring thoughts. Your wheezing and the speeded-up heartbeats, pounding in your hears, were drowning out any deafening noise coming from cars and traffic, which always filled the city driveways.

From the early hours of the day, the avenues were swarming with people going to their office, each of them withdrawn into oneself, busy minding their own business with their smartphones, bringing takeaway breakfast on the other hand. You were way too anxious and distracted from running breathlessly; you had already bumped into three stupid human beings, slowly strolling down the sidewalk like damn sloths. Every single step was followed by a quick glance at your cellphone screen, checking the time and ensuring there was no missed call of your boss.

If you knew anything in this world, it was that you had to take this job seriously, dealing with the fact that your exhausting dues would have allowed your eager ass to work your way up and finally become a fashion designer. So, you didn’t expect any great satisfaction to come very soon. And starting from the bottom was really tough. After years of studying and a well-deserved university degree, you were prepared for whatever the future might have brought. Despite that, you didn’t expect at all to end up in DC, working as a stylist assistant. Sure, this would have opened the door to your real dream job, be part of the style department, designing collections for a luxury brand. You had tried your luck moving to New York, but you ended up broke, with no savings left and no available job opening. For this reason, you decided to take that chance here. You hadn’t made any progress till now though. You were new, yes, but your tasks and assignments were hardly restricted to bring coffee or running around the Capital with tons of garment bags for upcoming fittings.

Finally, after that insane 3km rush, without even stopping for a second - no, you couldn’t afford an Uber ride every time -, you arrived. Your feet hurt like hell, your cheeks covered with scarlet shades like the worst of sunburns and your breath coming in short gasps…and your hair, oh dear Lord, it was a mess. You were sure you were also sweating. Luckily, Richard, your boss, was quite nice to you and somewhat tolerant; he was sincerely impressed by all your efforts, skills and abilities, so much that he wasn’t utterly certain what you were doing there.

Five minutes past the established hour and, thank God, the client hadn’t arrived yet. You didn’t have much information or details about that meeting. You only knew that you had to help during a fitting for a client, extremely influential on the political scene. He needed a few new looks and outfits for public appearances, interviews, and fundraising events. Of course, you assumed he would have been an old middle-aged white man, with too much money to count and eager for power.

Mr moneybags is getting late tho. Too busy making grands? you thought.

Meanwhile, you were trying to look more presentable, also to not risk damaging the brand reputation.

“Y/N?”

Your calves burned and, in that moment, you thought that bringing extra sneakers would have been a good idea.

“Y/N?!”

Since the client hadn’t arrived yet, maybe you could sit down and rest for a minute on that super comfy booth near the mirror…

“Y/N!!!! HELLOO!!!” Your train of thoughts was abruptly interrupted by your boss’ yells, which suddenly caught your attention.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, I zoned out! Forgive me, what can I do for you?”

The man, a healthy and elegant 40ish brunette, looked at you concerned “Y/N I know it’s hard to settle down, but I need you to be 100% focused today. The man who’s coming is a big deal for us, he’s a powerful figure in Washington politics! He has recently taken her mother’s place as CEO of the family company. So, I want us to make a good impression!” after saying that, he looked at you from head to toe, a bit baffled.

“So…” he continued “…I need you to – in that moment you really hoped you were about to receive a major task, finally a turning point – ..to run to the bar across the street and buy some coffee, and come back quickly!” All your expectations fell apart in a sea of disappointment. “Hurry up!”

You put on a forced smile and went straight to the exit.

After having waited in line for centuries, you figured that probably the client had to have arrived, and therefore, just as you had started your day, you came back running as fast as you could, to save time.

You were holding the coffee cups in your left hand, while you were struggling to turn off your phone, which had started ringing. Opening the glass door with your hip, you were still trying to silence the ringtone, this, without even minding where put your feet up. Ugh, mom, stop calling me...always the worst timing! you screamed in your own mind, frowning. Before you could slow down your steps, one of your heels didn’t grip well the lacquered floor, making you stumble and trip. A sudden change in your balance and you couldn’t avoid slipping forward, causing the not-so-angelic flying of coffee directly on the special guest of the situation.

Damn it.

And to make matters worse, you fell to the ground, cursing the day you were born. Hell no, it can’t have really happened to me. You had just made a complete ass of yourself. You would have rather sink below the waves into the oblivion.

“OH SHIT SHIT SHIT I-I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know h-how it happened!” you were apologizing, still keeping your eyes fixed on the once-full cups rolling down the parquet, next to your badly chipped mobile touchscreen.

“The floor must be slippery…please let me make it up to you, I ca- ” you stopped all of a sudden when you lifted your gaze, for the first time since you had stepped in. Standing in front of you there was the most attractive man you’d ever seen. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on you, like two burning flames almost forming deep holes in your soul.

It’s hot in here or it’s just me?

He was tall and his toned arms were easily visible through the once-white shirt. Now that expensive fashion piece was all covered by a huge stain of hot coffee. And it was your fault. You were speechless. Your attention all focused on the man’s features. Your gaze was busy running down those perfect shaped cheekbones and the sharp jawline. Oh boy, gods’ gift indeed.

Oddly familiar to you though.

You clearly remained to stare for too long to not be noticed, because the man himself broke the silence.

“Uhm, don’t worry” he seemed taken aback for a second “I’ll send it to the cleaners or I’ll throw it away, I don’t care” he said, immediately composing himself, while carefully unbuttoning the ruined shirt, with those long fingers... You were blushing. His low soothing voice sent shivers down your spine. But his tone was plain, no apparent emotion, he seemed almost indifferent, maybe even a little annoyed. Ah, pompous ass.

Your attention was caught by your boss, who, with a worried voice, while pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed, proposed him to choose another shirt among the others and take it as an apology gift. The man accepted, nodding with a crooked smile and with smug remarks about the needlessness of gifts for a man as rich as him.

Cocky asshole! You mused, with a roll of her eyes.

Anxious to change the subject, Richard, started the introductions. “Mr Shepherd, she is my smart – but clearly clumsy – assistant, Y/N” at that very moment that name awoke the memories in your mind.

No. It can’t be true.

“Well, nice to meet you” he remarked “Y/N”, repeating your name like he was tasting it on his own tongue “..or so.” he added, with a stupid smug grin on his breathtaking face. When they shook hands, you felt a sort of jolt and realized you had been holding your breath all this time. You remained silent.

That was the same man you met 6 months ago on the flight you took to go to New York, when you moved for the first time. It was him the influential man of the meeting.

Duncan-fucking-Shepherd.

//

Duncan. This name was the only thing in your mind right now, while you were lying on the couch, in your little apartment, with a glass of wine loosely resting on your lower lip. Oh my God, did he recognize me? Did he figure out it was me? How had he called me that day? Oh, his angel, right. Fuck.

Your head hurt, but you couldn’t help but keep on repeat your two first meetings again and again in your mind. The Duncan Shepherd from today was completely different, compared to the man you had encountered on that plane.

He hadn’t talked about himself very much, just spilled that he was a businessman traveling for work. You had immediately noticed how mature he was to be in his late 20ish. And incredibly handsome. And charming. And seductive.

Ok, stop.

You still couldn’t understand why you. Among all the attractive available women he could easily have, during all the time of the flight, he had been flirting with you. You. He made you feel sexy, desirable and safe, after a very long time.

It was the first class. You were there because of a lucky misunderstanding. While the plane was taking off, you two had a moment, since he saw you panicking. You had started talking for real only two hours after having left Milan. The conversation started casually, then developed into a flirty game. Little did you knew that a few hours later, you would eventually find yourselves making out so much intensely, whilst the rest of the passengers was sleeping with lights off. This wasn’t like you; you were strangers after all. Damn, you only knew his first name. But you couldn’t help your crazy attraction towards him. A sort of electricity, a particular connection that you had never felt with anybody else in your life.

You were staring off into space, completely lost in your inner thoughts, while biting hard your lip and fidgeting with the hem of your oversize t-shirt. You nervously swallowed and closed your eyes. Your hand began to move from the fabric and wander over your bare legs, brushing them with your fingertips. Throwing back your head and swallowing again, you frowned and sighed. You couldn’t make those thoughts disappear. He got under your skin and no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake him.

His soft lips on yours, hot and peachy, the trailing of his wet open-mouthed kisses along your throat and the series of marks he was leaving on your skin, on the way down your collarbone. Feeling the smile of the other against your lips as you two kissed. The best feeling in the world. His small moans when you had pulled his lower lips between your teeth, while his hands were touching and roaming all over your body, as if he wanted to memorize each spot, each curve, each part of you. “Baby I wish it was just the two of us right now, damn, I want you so badly” he whispered. God, if they had been alone, you’d have gone further for sure. You were both turned on, you could tell, especially from the prominent bulge on his designer pants. All you wanted was to climb on top of him, straddling his hips, panting in his hear and feel his hot breath all over you. Intense was the craving to undress him, feel his skin against yours. Shit, it was like a living a dream.

The meeting had been canceled and rescheduled for tomorrow. The situation was quite unpleasant. What you were supposed to do now?

//

Judgment Day had come. You hadn’t slept at all, all night spent tossing and turning between the sheets and looking at the ceiling. How were you supposed to act now? Should you have mentioned anything? What was really killing you, was the feeling that ‘your moment’ had meant nothing for him. Yes, after 6 months, you had gone over it, also because you had no idea how to contact him. But after seeing him again, all the buried thrills came rushing back. You absolutely needed to test the waters today. What did you have to lose? Well, your dignity maybe. If he wanted to, Duncan could have easily said something. And of course, a man of his status could have anything, or anybody, he wanted. Maybe you were overthinking, maybe not.

Since it was almost dawn, and the sun was peeking through the blinds, creating a delicate play of lights and shadows on the curtains, you decided you could actually distract yourself choosing what to wear for the meeting. You shouldn’t have done it. Your bedroom had become a battlefield, all your clothes scattered all over it, like some lifeless leftovers of the closet, now empty. Almost like a little bomb went off. You kept trying combinations on combinations, each time taking off the pieces and throwing them away anywhere around you, as if you were on the verge of a breakdown. It was still a business meeting; you couldn’t dress up too revealing or doll up too much. But at the same time, you’d never give up on being yourself and express your personality through what you wore. Respecting yourself was the most important thing. Self-love. However, this didn’t solve the problem at all. You wanted to appear at your best, challenge him, in a subtle way.

On your way to the office, an unexpected call tuned you away from your own thoughts.

“Richard! Good morning! Are you calling me for coffee? Because I’ve already stopped off at the bar, now tell me who is the best assistant in the whole world?! And I’m not even late!” your smile vanished as soon as your boss answered.

“WHAT?! What does it mean you won’t be there today?” Your heart skipped a beat and started pumping so much blood through your veins, that you felt as a heatwave was rushing inside of you. “W-well if you have family issues, we agree that it’s necessary to postpone the gathering..I-” your eyes widened at the realization that you’d be alone. With Duncan.

You almost fainted on the spot.

“I’m sure you can handle it on your own! You can still reach me with a phone call, if you ever need me. Plus, don’t you think this would be the right chance to prove yourself and finally level up, get noticed and considered for that vacant position in the style & design dep.? My money’s on you, girl!”

How could you blame him, though? He was always so encouraging.

You sighed through the phone, so he added “Look, it won’t be hard. Remember that Mr Shepherd is in your hands. We have to turn him into one of the brand advocates; he’s young, a self-made man, the best choice to promote the brand awareness. It’s up to you now.”

Wow, that’s very reassuring you figured, shaking your head.

“Ok, you can do this, I have to go now, let me know how it goes. Bye!” Fuck.

“W-wait! I can’t do that withou-” he has already hung up. Looking up to the sky and letting out a frustrating grunt, you allowed yourself a childish whine and mumbled a ‘why me’.

Now you were standing outside the building, trying to collect yourself before entering. You were wearing an oversized see-through blouse, tucked in a black knee-length skirt, and an *accent color* blazer with rolled-up sleeves, to complete the look. You were ready to fight. No more clumsy bullshit.

Breathe, remember to breathe you reminded yourself, looking at the elevator door.

You strode next to the receptionist’s desk, Tiffany, or, as you liked to call her, ‘Crazypants’; since her eyes were always so disturbingly wide open – Does she ever blink? – and her hair painfully pinned back, so tight that must have hurt her. She seemed a cross between a barbie and a psycho killer. As soon as you walked by her desk, Crazypants greeted you overly excited, calling you with her earsplitting high-pitched voice. You put on your fakest smile and replied,

“Morning Tiff, uhm, I wish I could stay and chat, but I have work to-”

“The client is already here. He’s waiting for you in the fitting room” she winked. Hell, you hoped your blushing wasn’t so obvious, you couldn’t even have a few minutes to be psychologically prepared. Well, maybe better pull off the band-aid.

“Thank you for warning me! I’ll be right there” you answered. Not even before your exams you felt all this pressure.

Why is it always so hot?!

Walking along the hallway as if you were going to your own execution, you found yourself in front of the door of the rehearsal room. You gently opened it and entered. Do you know when, at some point in movies, there’s a slow-motion moment with background music?! There it was. Precisely. He had his back turned, gazing the skyline through the glass wall. And the second he heard the clicking of a pair of heels, he turned his head, smiling at you and looking intensely at your figure. You were about to die for real now.

How could someone be so beautiful?

His hair perfectly styled, his hot stubble,... Oh, that stubble was your weakness. You could already feel it between your legs and…

“Hey hey, easy with that” he teased with his deep honeyed voice, pointing the take-out coffee cups you were holding. You winced and giggled

“I’ll never stop apologizing about that, ehm, incident…but if you want one, go ahead!”

You looked at each other smiling for a while, until you had to break the silence and eventually get down to business. “So, I guess it’s better if we start…Mr Shepherd, so then you’ll be free to go back to work”, he exhaled and nodded

“Oh please, just call me Duncan.”

You saw a sort of shift in his features. His face went blank. He adopted a bossier and intimidating position, like last time. Ok, maybe he just wants to keep it professional, I understand.

“When is Richard coming?” he questioned while taking his trench coat off. “To be honest, it’ll just be me today, but it’s all right, you’re in good hands” you slightly smiled. He sighed again and you rose your eyebrow, taking it as an unspoken insult.

“Is there a problem?”

“Well, yes, I didn’t come here to waste my time with a newbie assistant.” Your jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

“No need to get upset darling, this is what you are, after all” he stated shrugging. You were speechless; yes, you were an assistant, but the way he said that, as if you were a dumb zero…What an asshole.

“Oookay, since I’m here..let’s continue” he glanced at you, waiting for her next move. “I agree, you can change in the wa-” you paused; he was literally undressing in front of you.

“What? There’s nothing you’ve never seen...I guess” You were confused…was he teasing you or something? “You should be more professional, I’m saying it for you”, your rage slowly increasing and flowing throughout your entire body. He was a completely different man, with all those unnecessary mean remarks. He gave you mixed feelings. You would have punched him, but at the same time, contemplating his perfectly-shaped heavenly body, his toned muscles, his thighs..you wanted to jump on him, kiss him and be his, in every way possible.

“You’re staring.”

“W-what?! No. I’m waiting for you to finish undressing, so I can give you the first change to wear..”

“Sure.”

You’d already had enough of his attitude. “I suggest starting with this evening suit, since Richard told me you’ll attend a charity gala in a few days.”

“Hush, please, save it. I don’t need all your pointless suggestions. I can handle it by myself.” he seemed almost..angry? You didn’t know how to hit back anymore. Why was he acting like that, all of a sudden? He tried on a few different outfits while you were staying there, silent, shifting your weight from a leg to another, your eyes wandering through the room, your lips pressed into a thin line and your mind trying to figure out what was happening. Duncan, noticing the tapping of your fingers on your thigh, rolled his eyes and gave you an annoyed look.

Then he huffed “Impatient, uh?”

You were hovering on the brink of an outburst.

“Why don’t you do your job and bring me some water, or take notes, or whatever you get paid for?”

“My job is helping you find a set of appropriate clothes for various occasions, trying to create the right mix & match that suits your taste and personality...” you retorted in a plain tone.

“Oh, thanks for the not required explanation, Wikipedia..”

“..but I’m not stupid, I know what a fucking stylist does” he was pushing your buttons.

“If you’d allow me to do my job, instead of questioning me, I could recommend something..”

“No need to whine, baby girl…So do it, instead of staying there like a scared little girl.”

“If relying on someone to select your wardrobe really bothers you..why don’t you choose them by yourself?” you sassed, struggling to remain polite.

“Well, I’ve demanded the help of a professional, not that of a ‘coffee-bringer’…and I’m wasting my time here”.

Ok, that’s enough.

He was still a client, but for you being treated like that wasn’t acceptable anymore. “You know what? I don’t fucking care if I get fired after saying these words. But I’m done with your dumbass comments. You’re a douchebag. I’m trying to do my job and, just because you’re rich and influential, you think you can treat me like that. Like I’m trash?” you were finally giving in to an outburst “The saddest thing is that I really hoped you would remember me. About that moment we shared 6 months ago, on that flight to New York. But obviously, I’ve given it much thought. Turns out that I’m just one of many, aren’t I? I’ve been thinking about you for weeks and when I saw you again, it all came flooding back. I’m so stupid. It’s not your fault, I was wrong to think that day could have really meant something.”

While talking, you were struggling to hold back the tears, you weren’t supposed to look pathetic, but your eyes were already watering. “So, do me a favor: end this meeting now. I’ll call Richard and tell him to take care of you, since you do not believe I’m capable enough to fulfill your needs..”

“..oh and don’t worry about seeing me again, I don’t want anything to do with you! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” you spat, entering the small wardrobe room, without bothering to switch on the light, hoping that your angry tears would have remained unnoticed in the darkness and that Duncan would have gone for good. So you started moving crutches on the clothes stand, to make room for those outfits to restock over.

Unexpectedly you felt an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. It was Duncan. He hadn’t left.

His body pressed against yours, you were paralyzed, his arms keeping a firm grip on you. What’s happening? You knew you should have pushed him back and kick him out, but something inside you decided against it. It was like a part of your dumb heart wanted to stay still in that position forever. You two remained silent, until he whispered in your hear, with his hot breath and his cologne filling your nostrils - a mixture of cinnamon, sandalwood and tobacco.

“I’m sorry..” he sighed. He sounded sincere.

“..I went too far.”

Now your own hands were resting upon his arms. You could feel the heat his body was radiating right now. With a honeyed soft tone, he murmured “Please forgive me, I don’t know what came over me. It’s just that having you standing here again, in front of me, stunned me. I didn’t know what to do and I misunderstood your demeanor. I thought you were pretending nothing had happened, or that you didn’t recall that day, or that you simply didn’t care.”

His hold slowly loosened, allowing you to turn around and look at him with narrowed eyes and a puzzled expression, without a word.

“Uhm, I’m not very good at communicating my emotions, but you’re right. I’ve been a dick. You didn’t deserve it, but I was overwhelmed by the attempt to suppress my own feelings. Since I saw you again,”

he paused,

“you are all I can think about.” he admitted, stroking your tear-stained cheek with his thumb, but you tried to resist him,

“I hope you’re not trying to play me, because otherwise I’ll smash that stupid hot smirk to the ground.”

“So do you think I’m hot, uh?!”

“You dumbass.”

“God, you’re so damn sexy when you’re mad.” he teased, coming closer.

“What?” you giggled. He stared at your lips “I just can’t stop thinking about kissing you right now…” and unexpectedly, his hand drifted to your hip, pulling you even closer. You inhaled deeply. You were against his warm chest, sculpted to perfection. Why must he be so perfect? You placed your hand against it, intending to push him away, but instead you left it there. You froze, from both fear and excitement.

You two stared into each other’s eyes and his breathing quickened as did yours. He slowly leaned in, so his forehead rested against yours. You closed your eyes. Your faces were inches apart now, and he lightly traced your lips with one finger. His other hand placed behind your neck, shortening the distance even more.

Your noses bumped and your mouths matched up slightly-opened, breathing each other’s air directly. He brushed his lips against yours and you freaking loved it. You loved the way your body melted into his. The way your lips perfectly fitted like two puzzle pieces. The way Duncan held you tighter and tighter. It sent shivers down your back. His only desire was to touch you, to move his hands under your layers and feel your smooth skin.

You two broke the kiss for a second to catch your breath. Then he pulled you in, claiming your mouth again, hungry and intense. Duncan lowered his hands down your hips, cupping your ass and dragging you impossibly close. You deepened the kiss swallowing his groan of pleasure as you lost into each other, no space between you two. His hands were exploring your body, while you grabbed his hair tightly to restrain your own moans.

Slowly, you started exploring each other’s mouths with your tongues. Sometimes sucking his lower lip and biting it a little bit. He started kissing your jaw and leaving hickeys on your neck. He didn’t want to let you go, so he pulled you again and kissed you so hard, with much more intensity. He squeezed you, suggesting that he wasn’t going to stop. You didn’t mind at all and continued making out.

He slowly put his hands under your blouse, trying to reach and unhook your bra, eager to run his fingers along your breasts and rub it. You began unbuttoning his button-down, seductively leaving wet kisses and love bites on his chest. He moaned. Then Duncan raised your blouse and took it off completely, so he could see you.

“You’re beautiful” he purred, and started massaging your chest and kissing it hardly, licking and biting gently your nipple. While Duncan was playing with your body, you could only keep on tugging his hair, making his moans vibrate against your body. Then he kneeled down kissing your stomach.

Both of you couldn’t silent your groans anymore, the entire room was filled by sexual noises. But you didn’t care at all. You knew where it was going. Duncan pushed you against a wall, grinding on you and you could clearly feel his hardness pressed against your body. You needed more friction.

“Jump.” he suddenly hinted, and used his veiny arms to hold you up by your thighs lifting you off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Your core was throbbing at that very moment.

But you were brought back to planet Earth right after; that divine feeling was ruined by a pesky thought that clouded your mind.

What if he’s just interested in sex?

He sensed your sudden slowing down. “If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he whispered. When you remained silent, he brushed his mouth against your temple,

“Or now.”

he followed the line of your cheekbone,

“Or now.”

now he was kissing your chin,

“Or—”

then your lips were against his, again. You kept undressing slowly, savoring the moment.

But that damn thought came back, stuck in your mind. And eventually it hit you. “Wait…wait” you said, trying to steady your breathing.

“What’s wrong angel? I did something wrong or..” he questioned worriedly. “No, not at all, it was perfect..but I don’t think this is right.”

“Wait what?! Why?” Duncan replied in disbelief.

“I’m not a yes girl, Duncan. I’m not looking for casual hookups, I really want to know you better and see where this leads us.” you smiled reassuringly, caressing his cheek. You were scared as fuck. Maybe he wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship, just random booty calls. But you had to take the risk. You wanted to.

“Uhm..yeah. I guess that sounds fair enough.” he chuckled and you released the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “How about a coffee date? I know a place, it’s quite secluded, to not attract the attention of press and journalists” you tilted your head and frowned,

“What do you mean?”

“Angel, I don’t want you to be targeted by newspapers, they aim to find some dirt on me and make every aspect of my private life public. I prefer keeping a low profile, and put you in an uncomfortable position is the last thing I would want.” “Oh, ok. I got it.” you were a little thoughtful, to be honest. But in that moment, you would have agreed with everything he was saying. You used every inch of strength you had, to stop and not go further. Not that there was anything wrong with that. You just wished to learn more about that handsome man in front of you; his desires, his passions, his values and aspirations.

“I’d better get back to work, they’ll wonder what happened to me.” he smirked. “Yeah, you better hurry up, then” you laughed, while putting your blouse on. “I’m gonna put aside the chosen clothes” you informed, but before you could leave the cramped room, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back in his arms, giving a last soft peck on your lips.

“How can I focus now, with the thought of you against me?!”

“You’ll have to make do with the memory..” you shot back “..for now.” you cooed, whispering in his hear.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch. You had exchanged numbers and with all those texts you were sending to each other, you felt like a schoolgirl again. Nothing could have ruined that sensation. Before going back home, Richard called you, questioning you about the meeting, not noticing your struggle to not make disconnected sentences or beat around the bush, to hide your embarrassment. Then, to thank you for having his back, he gave you another assignment: a high-society lady had requested a selection of gowns to choose, to attend a few fundraising events. Another important add-on for your CV. A few more efforts and they would have finally offered you the long-awaited position in the creative team.

//

The consultation had been set up two days later, you had to go to the customer’s penthouse this time. Ugh, lazy rich people. You rang the doorbell and right after you were greeted by a thin blonde girl, all fake boobs and tinted tips, wearing a dress that seemed closer to a long top, rather than an actual dress.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Come in! I’ll be right back” she yelled. You came in holding the garment bag; you were shocked when you found out how actually big the apartment was: super modern, black & white themed and with some art hanging on the walls.

Uhm, de gustibus you muttered to yourself.

“Here I am, sorry for the waiting. I am Madison!” Why rich people seem so reluctant to share their last name with me? you mused, smiling to yourself.

“Let’s start, shall we?”

And then Madison took you to what has to be her large bedroom. Odd. That seemed more like a bachelor to you, but judging wasn’t your thing.

The fitting went smooth as silk. This Madison was a bombshell, every single dress fitted her body as it was sewn on her. For the upcoming event she chose a nude silk dress, that perfectly matched her skin tone. She looked pretty excited for the pick, so much that she started screaming and calling out loud, making you aware that there was someone else around.

“Muffin come here!!! I chose the dress!! It’s perfect oh my God! You must see it before I take it off!”

MUFFIN.

Seriously? Do not laugh, please, do not laugh.

You were biting her lip a little too hard. While Madison kept calling her…muffin, you decided to do something and began packing all the stuff back up into the bag.

“Oh finally, you walk so slow, babe…now, look! What do you think?” Before the man could answer she continued “Oh wait, how rude I am. Y/N, this is my fiancé...”

As soon as you turned around and lifted your gaze, your heart stopped beating.

“…Duncan!”

His smile soon disappeared too, replaced by a shocked and guilty expression, like a deer caught in the headlights. You froze in place.

You were trying to hold back the impending flood of tears, washing it away with your anger. A million different feelings rushed through you, but at the same time you couldn’t feel anything, just your own heart, literally breaking down in pieces.

“Do you already know each other?” Madison asked, noting Duncan’s surprise. You gathered all the strength left within you and stated

“Just one of the many customers.”

Then, lowering your broken voice, you sputtered a “Now I really have to go.”

Without saying anything more, you took the garment bag and run straight to the door, shutting it down behind your back. Right after, a teardrop rolled over your cheek, and your eyes started watering. Once that the first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. Before turning into a sobbing mess, you walked fast down the hallway, reaching the elevator and waiting for the doors to open up.

Before you could take another step, a large hand took you by the wrist, keeping you in place. You turned around and instantly pushed him back, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“Please,” he begged,

“Let me explain. Please, I don’t want to lose you! We have something..w-we can talk about it, please, wait!”

“Go to Hell” you snapped;

and then you shoved his hand away, entering the elevator. Stupid. I am so fucking stupid. You two looked at each other one last time, shedding tears. The eyes of both soaking blatantly. And then the doors shut.

That heartbreak felt like concrete drying in your chest.

________________________________________________________________

Tagging: (I hope you don’t mind BUT tell me if you want to be removed, I was just curious to know your opinion about it, if you'd like to read it) MUCH LOVE @ladynuwanda @hecohansen31 @michael-langdon-appreciation @sojournmichael @so-langdon @stupidocupido @sammythankyou @emmyrosee​ 

[crewhonk]

Of The Line (6)

Summary: The team meet Vision, Giovanna and YN talk boys, Pietro introduces himself

Words: 3.8K

AN: PLEASE, PLEASE COMMENT AND LIKE AND REBLOG OUR WORK! We’re getting a little discouraged due to the recent lack of notes on this series!

Till The End Masterlist / Of The Line Masterlist

_____________________________________

The next morning, YN woke to the sound of Natasha in the shower and Giovanna rustling restlessly in the bed next to her. She was groaning at the prospect of getting up and just as YN threw back the sheets to rise, Giovanna grunted and threw her arm over YN’s waist, not letting her leave to get ready for the day.

“Dude, we gotta get up.” YN laughed and Giovanna huffed, not saying anything. “We have to get ready to go back home— we have shit to do.”

“You are really not great to wake up to, you know that?” Giovanna grumbled and fell onto her back, throwing her arms dramatically over her face to block out the light.

“Oh yeah? And who would you want to wake up next to? Carter Baizen?” YN teased and sat up, hunching her back before straightening it and letting her spine crack.

“Someone who looks similar,” Giovanna mumbled. They hadn’t spoken about their Visions as fo yet, but there was something that told YN that it was about this similar looking guy. YN walked over to her duffel and pulled out a long sleeve, throwing it on and running her hands through her hair.

“Lance Tucker?”

“Very funny.”

“Dayton White?”

“Oh, I forgot about him.”

“How could you? You walked about fucking him in his racer for at least a month.” YN grinned, wiping the leftover mascara off of her face in the vanity mirror.

“True, but no.”

“Gio?” YN said, pulling a sound from Giovanna. “Was your vision about Bucky?”

The stretch of silence answered her question and YN could feel her heartbreak for her friend. This case had pulled Giovanna away from everything, and she could see the stress of finding Steve’s best friend in her behaviours.

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” YN asked.

“No.”

“Do you wanna hear about what I did last night?”

“What did you do last night?”

“Steve almost kissed me.”

“WHAT.” __________________

“This is a big mission. We need everyone exactly where they’re needed, and for you and Giovanna that is at the compound preparing for the package.” Steve reprimanded the impatient YN who had actually stomped her foot when he said she and Giovanna were to return to the tower with Bruce.

“Come on, Steve. You and I both know you need all hands on deck.” She whined, and he had half a mind to smile at her adoringly. Instead, he furrowed his brows even more and crossed his arms.

“We need all the best hands. You two haven’t gotten the proper training for something like this, and we would all be able to focus on the task at hand if I know— we all know that you’re home safe.” YN caught the slip-up, and she turned her head to avoid showing him the natural flush of her cheeks. They had yet to talk about the night before, but something between the two people had changed. There was no change in behaviours, but even Bruce had picked up on how they seemed to be dancing around each other almost playfully.

“Don’t use your captain voice on me.” She surpassed a grin, trying her damn best to keep her pout going for as long as possible— anything to make him keep looking at her the way he was now.

“Guess what?”

“What.”

“I’m using my captain voice on you. Go home. Stay safe. Get ready for us to get there.” YN broke the act, laughing lightly and looking up at him through her lashes.

“What’s in it for me?” She asked, rocking back on her heels and then her toes. He looked at her fondly, eyes dropping to her lips and blushing when he met hers again— the satisfaction of her affect on him completely apparent.

“Satisfaction of a job well done?”

“Do better.”

“I’ll stop waking you up for morning runs?”

“Stop waking me /and/ Giovanna up for morning runs and you got a deal.”

“Less grumpy kids for me to deal with the better. Fine. Go home.”

“See you there.”

He really liked the idea of going home to her.

_____________________

Nat had gone missing— taken by Ultron in his haste to have something to hold over the teams' heads— a sense of immunity, as Tony had called it.

Giovanna and YN had called it bullshit as they stomped anxiously and angrily around the lab, slamming tools into place and glaring at anything that had chosen to breathe the wrong way. They had stayed close to each other, and YN tried not to show just how horrified of the situation she was. This— this had been a part of the Witches Vision. Everyone whether willingly or unwillingly was going to leave her and it was wholly out of her power.

Just as her heart rate and breaths began to pick up, Giovanna placed a hand on her back. The weight of it calming YN.

“She’s going to be okay. We would know if something happened.” Giovanna whispered, reaching around to grab a wrench from he desk YN was leaning on. “We’re going to be okay.”

YN turned, then and saw her dad and uncle talking low in the doorway. Clint on top of the package they had just received (containing a red and silver humanoid robot in it) trying his very best to jam his fingers in any crevice to open it. Saw her best friend there, too, smiling at her despite her eyes filled to the bring with anxiety. Even JARVIS had made a surprise return— protocols, personality, even the command Giovanna and YN created which made JARVIS play “Cheerleader” by OMNI whenever they had done something right and cheered for their project success.

Things were going to be okay.

____________________

Things were most certainly not going to be okay.

“Our dads are crazy. They’re actually psychotic.” YN whispered from the other side of the glass wall in the lab. She was pouring over her notes she had made when she was nineteen, trying to find a flaw in their plan— anything that would stop Tony and Bruce from making the same mistake.

“Where do you think we get it from?” Giovanna sighed, pulling on a new suit arm prototype— a stealth weapon, apparently, despite the many wires currently exposed. Giovanna pointed a finger at a dartboard they had set up and shot a small, single blast at it, hitting the bullseye. At Giovanna’s ‘whoop’, “Cheerleader”  began to play.

YN and Giovanna laughed and thanked JARVIS.

“Anytime, ladies.” He replied.

Their celebrations as caught short, however, when three shadows entered the lab in the low lighting. The middle man was Steve, YN knew that easily, but the two people following him made a cry erupt from YN’s mouth.

“YN what— are you okay? Oh, holy Christ on a cracker.”

The twins flanked Steve, both looking nervous, both looking cautious, both looking exponentially scared at the sight of Tony standing over the coffin-shaped package. YN and Giovanna rushed out of their half of the lab, shoving the doors open and meeting Steve’s hard glare head-on.

“Did you two have any hand in this?” He growled, pointing a finger at both of them. The Dads made sounds of protests and moved to stand in front of their daughters before they could respond.

“Hell no! You know we’ve never fucked with AI, Steve.” Giovanna protested. “We stepped away the second they even started mentioning it.”

Steve looked to YN and she nodded, confirming Giovanna’s story and leather notebook in hand. The boy twin had yet to take his eyes off of her, and she shifted her weight at the intensity of his stare. She had showered and simply put on leggings and a hoodie, hair swept into a tight bun at the base of her neck, and she didn’t like anyone but Giovanna, her father and Natasha see her like this, let alone the man of her dreams and a stranger particularly keen on gaining her attention.

“I would never, but—“ She stared, tearing her eyes away from the silver-haired man. She looked at her dad and held up her notebook. “I was trying to find an issue with this plan of yours, and the only one I could find was that his personality would be pre-developed. There’s no way of manipulating or controlling his behaviour after you do this— he won’t be taught like a puppy or a kid— he’ll already have his own beliefs and his own opinions separate from that of us or JARVIS. There are too many unknowns in his psychology that it’s too much of a risk.” She explained.

“So, physically he’ll be perfect, but mentally he’ll be a wild card.” Tony hummed, crossing his arms and looking down at the humanoid. “He’ll fit right in.”

“Dad, no. This is out of your control. How can you but a shield around the world when you keep introducing new elements we don’t know how to control.” Giovanna stepped forward and placed a fist on her hip.

“This is the shield.” He replied, mimicking her posture and standing closer. YN averted her gaze, having been in the middle of far too many Stark Battles to know to get involved.

“Shut it down.” Steve snarled once more and YN pressed her thighs together in an attempt to stop any form of her body betraying her. Damn, she loved it when he was angry.

“You don't know what you're doing.”

“And you do? She's not in your head?” Bruce said, pushing YN behind him protectively. No way was he going to let this witch hurt his girl again. YN made to make a sound of protest when he took another step.

“I know you're angry.” The girls' voice was high-pitched and heavily accented, and YN’s heart broke. Jesus, they were just kids— this wasn’t their fault.

“Oh, we're way past that. I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade.” YN had never seen her dad this angry and not even show a remote sign of the green tinge in his skin. He was perfectly sober and perfectly angry and YN was perfectly afraid. Her grip was strong on his arm and his head twitched in her direction, acknowledging that he knew she was there.

“Dad, she’s young. She’s a product of circumstance.” Bruce grunted and YN squeezed her eyes before pulling the card she never showed. “I’m a product of circumstance. I’m only this good because I had a great teacher. She didn’t.”

“Banner, after everything that's happened—“ Steve tried to reason and YN could have facepalmed right then and there— he had to do his hero resining right now. Just as she had managed to get her dad to loosen up just the slightest.

“That's nothing compared to what's coming!” Tony shouted.

"You don't know what's in there!” The girl screamed back, fear making her hands shake. God, this was shattering YN, and by the looks of it, Giovanna felt similarly to her.

“This isn’t a game!”

“The creature—“

And then, in a sudden flash of speed and silver, the whole of the lab was destroyed. The silver-haired twin looked anxious but satisfied as he glared at the Bruce and Tony.

“No, no. Go on. You were saying?” He asked, accent thicker than his sisters. His eyes shot to YN and he winked, making YN drop her eyes nervously and Steve bristle. Damn it, it was hard to be on this kids side.

Then, much to Steve’s satisfaction and the redhead's horror, the glass shattered under his feet, sending him plummeting eight feet to the floor below. Clint stood there, staring down at him as the girl ran tot he edge of the hole Clint had just shot through.

“Pietro!” She cried, and YN looked towards the boy who was groaning on his back. Yeah, he seemed like a Pietro. Tony whipped to the control panel, moving to reroute the upload just as Steve threw his shield at the wall beside him. Tony as quick, however, and he pressed the button on his wrist, making his watch transform into a blaster and shooting Steve nine feet away from him.

“Steve!” YN cried, running from her fathers' protection and kneeling beside Steve who had a burn over his right shoulder. YN moved to touch it but hesitated and instead grasped Steve’s arm with one hand and guiding his face to look at her with the other.

“Hi, by the way.” He muttered teeth clenched at the pain he was feeling through the burn.

“You’re an idiot,” YN said, shaking her head and helping him up. He stumbled a little into her at the force of her pull and she looked up to him, his eyes already on her face. She was flashed back then, to the night previous— his hands on her waist, his lips brushing hers, promises of never leaving.

YN took a step away, then, needing to stay focused on the situation unfolding in front of them.

It wasn’t a huge deal, anyway, as Thor had appeared suddenly, jumped up on the casket and pulled his hammer to slam on the window just above the Humanoid’s forehead. Lighting surged through the room, and Steve turned, shielding YN from the blast with his own, and she pressed her forehead into his neck, bracing herself and most definitely not noticing how Steve smelled like subtle cologne and summer warmth.

The lights stopped flickering, and it took a second for the backup generators to kick in, plunging the team into silence and tension as they waited for something to happen. And happen it did.

The casket burst open and the man flew out of it, ending on the floor in front of them.

He was taller than YN had expected as she peeked from her place in Steve’s neck. Broad and lined with something resembling muscle. He had fingers, but no toes, and a bright yellow stone glimmering in the centre of his forehead. He looked around at them all, eyes frightened like a scared deer in headlights. He jumped at Thor, but Thor was quick to act, throwing him further across the room where he slid to a stop in front of the window, looking at himself.

YN could almost hear Giovanna say ‘me too, honestly.’

The rest of the team ran after him, and but he time they got there, the humanoid had morphed an outfit of grey and a cape very similar to Thor’s own. YN ran up the stairs and stopped to watch carefully as the creature moved towards them, less frightened but still cautious.

Few things had been explained in rapid succession following this birth.

The Vision, as Thor had named him, had a gem in his head apparently called an Infinity Stone. The yellow stone was of six— mind (the one in Visions head), time, soul, power, reality (which apparently wasn’t really much of stone at all) and space. Each of these stones could level a galaxy alone, but combined, they could destroy the universe.

“So why does this guy have a stone? Why don’t we destroy it?” YN asked, gesturing to The Vision vaguely. Thor shook his head.

“They cannot be destroyed— it was them who allowed for the Universe to be created and if one of them were destroyed, it would subsequently end.” He explained, and YN could hear Giovanna mutter quietly to herself (‘cool, cool, cool, cool, no doubt’) nervously.

“Okay, why is the stone in this guys forehead and not in a vault somewhere?” She asked.

“Having me here with you all is 98% safer than even the safest, highest guarded structure in the galaxy.” YN shot him a look— he was just born, what the hell did he know.

“Also, why does your "vision" sound like JARVIS?” Steve asked and it hadn’t been until then that she realized he was very much right. Steve walked up beside her, arms crossed (again) and staring both Vision and Thor down.

“We reconfigured JARVIS' matrix to create something new.” Tony piped up, and Steve huffed a sigh.

“I think I’ve almost had my fair share of new.” He muttered to YN who smiled up at him.

“Almost?” She asked quietly as the rest of the team continued to talk. Giovanna caught YN’s eye from over Steve’s shoulder and made a circle with two-fingered and slid one in and out of the hole. YN glared her quickly and missed the way Steve looked her up and down.

“Almost.”

“I looked in your head and saw annihilation,” Wanda growled and Vision looked to her, seemingly shocked for some reason at the sight of her standing up to him.

"Look again.” He murmured gently.

“Yeah. Her seal of approval means jack to me.” Clint glared.

“Their powers, the horrors in our heads, Ultron himself, they all came from the Mind Stone, and they're nothing compared to what it can unleash. But with it on our side—“ Thor cut himself off with a shrug and YN hated how smart and logical he could be in the scariest of situations. Admired it— but damn, it annoyed her. Any under pressure, both her and Giovanna threw plans out of the window and wung it (much tot he distress of almost everyone in the tower).

“Is it? Are you? On our side?”

“I am on the side of life. Ultron isn't, he will end it all.” Vision replied.

“What's he waiting for?”

Vision looked at Tony and there was a pause. “You.”

“Where?” Her father sounded weak, and tired and aged. YN would have moved to hug him, but she stood beside Steve, rooted in place— not only because she liked the way his arm brushed hers, or their fingers almost touched three times already, but because if she tried to walk, her knees would actually give out.

“Sokovia. He's got Nat there too.” Clint announced, and the team whipped their heads to him.

“Natasha’s alive?” Giovanna whimpered, and YN’s breath seemed to leave her whole body in one ‘whoosh’. Steve’s hand hovered over the small of her back, ready to catch her if she fell.

“If we're wrong about you if you're the monster that Ultron made you be—“ Bruce’s voice wavered.

“What will you do— oh,” Vision seemed to realize that the teams ere still fearful— still raring to defend each other against this new intruder. Even the twins seemed to be a little more guarded by Steve. “I don't want to kill Ultron. He's unique, and he's in pain. But that pain will roll over the earth, so he must be destroyed. Every form he's built, every trace of his presence on the net, we have to act now. And not one of us can do it without the others. Maybe I am a monster. I don't think I'd know if I were one. I'm not what you are, and not what you intended. So there may be no way to make you trust me. But we need to go.”

And in one sweeping motion, Vision swept to pick up Thor's hammer and walked out.

____________________

“I never did catch your name.” A voice piped up from behind YN, and she looked up from her guns and batons and harnesses to see the familiar sight of silver hair and cocksure smile. He walked over with a pair of new sneakers hanging from one hand, the other shoved into his pocket.

“YN. YN Banner.” She replied, smiling despite herself. “Sorry for punching you earlier this week.” She said, squinting at him.

He only shrugged. “I liked it.” And then he smiled and winked and YN felt her fingertips warm. He truly was a gorgeous man.

“You did?” She giggled and he leaned against the table, watching her pack her things in their places and strapping her uniform together.

“Not really, but someone as pretty as you paying any attention to a street cat like me? I’ll take it.” He murmured and she looked up, rosy cheeks and hot ears.

“Ain’t you just a smooth mother fucker.” She hummed, and zipped her jacket up to her neck and swept her hair into a tight ponytail. She shouldered her duffel back and he followed her out of the armoury, strutting beside her lightly.

“Only when I have a girl to impress.” He joked and she rolled her eyes, smiling.

“Oh, who would that be?” She played along as she entered the hangar walking to the quinjet that was fired up for them. He sped up, turning around and walking backwards so he could smile at her. She surveyed the room, seeing Giovanna and Tony talking about their suits and the new AI he had activated, Clint with Wanda seemingly talking sternly. She saw Thor and her dad talking and watching the agents load up the jet for them. Then, Steve, who saw the way that Pietro was looking at her and the way YN flirted back easily with a bright smile. Steve, who frowned and stormed into the jet. Steve, who much to the thrill of Giovanna, was amazingly, epically jealous.

“Here’s your comm,” Giovanna walked up to the pair of them, tight under-suit showing off her beautiful, tiny, strong body. She handed them the small tech pieces.

“I should go and see my sister,” Pietro said when he realized Giovanna was staring hard at YN. He had a sister, he knew that look. He turned, and YN tilted her head watching him go.

“You have a Steve, you know.” She said and YN rolled her eyes. “He’s super jealous.”

“He is not!” YN shot back, stuffing the comm in her ear and turning it on to make sure it was functioning.

“Is too. He’s pouting in the jet if you want to see it for yourself.” She replied, walking beside her and up the ramp. YN tried her best not to look up at the driver's seat— she didn’t want to give Giovanna the satisfaction.

“He won’t do anything about it though,” YN whispered, and Giovanna groaned in annoyance.

“Are you kidding me? He literally tried to kiss you last night.” She pulled on her Iron Suit censors over her ankles, waist, and wrists looking up at YN as she tied the laces on her boots.

“Yeah,” YN said, mimicking her and tightening up her own combat boots. “But he won’t try anything like that again. We were tired and emotional and it showed. It’s nice to have someone openly calling you pretty and making me feel more than a pining teenager.” YN whispered back, eyes darting over to Steve to make sure he wasn’t listening. He gave no indication of hearing anything if he was.

“I know, Bun.” Giovanna hummed and kissed her temple.

“I just want to get dicked.”

“I know, Bun.”

__________________________

Taglist (must reblog at least three chapters, send an ask to be added): buckybarneshairpullingkink / staringmoony / through-the-crevices / highladyofasgard / @i-am-always-famished / @filia-sapientiae / @somekryptonitewriting / @fashionlive15 / @godlymissbalor / @fanfictionjunkie1112 / @nerdy-bookworm-1998 / @songforhema / @army-crawl-andersen / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @shynara51 / @deathofmissjackson / @a–1–1–3 / @liffydaze / @shymarvelfannanni / @freakpotterfan / @callie-bear15 / @sunflower-borhap-boys / @criedwolfwritings / @vxidnik / @captainomad / @lazinessisalliknow / jjlevin / @gwlaxygirl / liaswhorable

[fangirling-throughlife]

I promised

Summary: Shawn has to try to relax his kids on their graduation day because their mom is being held back at work.

Word Count: 4764 words

Warnings: none

A/N: I suck at writing summaries, but here it is.

When the call for the urgent heart surgery came in, she cursed under her breath. She can’t believe that, on the one day that she needs to be home early, her patient, an 18-year-old girl, needs the surgery she’s been trying to avoid for weeks. Jane shakes her head as she’s scrubbing, trying to keep the negative thoughts out of her head.

She finds that complicated, as today’s Rose and Peter’s graduation. Shawn has planned the year around today, knowing that the twins would be crushed if they don’t get to spend their graduation with all the family. Her eldest daughter Leah is coming in from college in New York, Jane’s parents and her sister and her family have flown in from England, Karen, Manny and Aaliyah and her family are going to be there. And she won’t make it, she realizes. This is a very complicated surgery, they won’t be done in 2 hours, which is by the time the graduation starts. Even worse, if she gets out in less than 3 hours, she can’t even go home and change or be in the family pictures.

She looks at her colleagues and sighs. It’s time for them to get inside the OR and do their work, and now their personal lives don’t matter.

Shawn dials Jane’s number for the fifth time, looking at his daughter, who’s getting more stressed by the minute because her mother’s not there to do her make-up. He checks the time as he hopes, almost prays, to get her on the phone. Their guests are going to arrive in less than ten minutes and he hasn’t heard a word from his wife for the past 2 hours, when she said she was going to make a last round to check on her patients. He checks on the location she shared this morning so he could estimate how long she would be away, and sees the last signal came from the hospital, 15 minutes ago.

“Rosie, I’m sure mummy will be coming home any minute now. Just go and put on your dress and shoes.”

“Dad, she won’t get home in time, and you know it as much as I do.” She’s trying to hide it, but Shawn sees her eyes watering and her lower lip trembling.

“Go on and get dressed, Rose. I’ll go check up on you in a few minutes.”

Rose starts walking upstairs with her head down, muttering something Shawn can’t understand. Shawn starts to walk towards Peter’s room when he hears the front door bell, announcing the arrival of the first family members. He rushes to the door, knowing already he’s going to find Aaliyah, Josh, Kate and Jonah behind it. Kate is complaining about something Jonah is doing, as usual.

When Shawn opens the door he immediately rushes to his sister. “Liyah, I need your help. Jane’s not home, according to the last shared location she’s still at work, I suspect in the OR, ‘cause she hasn’t checked her phone in two hours. I need you to help Rose to get her make-up done. And I’m guessing she needs some girl talk, so you might have to do that too.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Aaliyah mockingly salutes her brother and leaves to complete the task she’s been commanded. Shawn welcomes his brother-in-law and his niece and nephew into the living room. “I’ll be back in a moment”, he says before walking away. He knocks on Peter’s door. “Peter, can I come in?”. He hears a distant “Yeah”, so he opens the door and walks in. Peter is standing in front of his mirror checking the knot of his tie. Shawn feels his heart swell with pride and his sight starting to get blurry because of the tears. “Hello, dad”. Peter greets him looking at his emotional father with a smirk on his face. “Is mom home?”. Shawn wants to kick himself on the head with the question. Of course, mummy’s boy is going to wonder where she is. “She’s been held back at work, but she’ll be here soon. Peter, you, you look so grown in that suit.” He tries to change the subject to avoid further questions. “You sure, dad? She’ll get here?” Peter asks, sceptically. Shawn’s heart hurts a bit when he sees the look on his son’s face. He realises that, even though their three children are loved, and they know it, they’ve always been very busy parents, and Leah, Rose and Peter haven’t gotten all the attention they would’ve wanted to give them. “I hope so, son.” Shawn responds truthfully. The singer walks towards his son, who’s a spitting image of him, and hugs him tightly. As Peter starts to release, they hear the doorbell ringing again. “I think your sister’s there.” Peter smiles widely and runs to greet his older sister. “Leah! I’ve missed you!” Shawn walks relaxed behind him, and sees that Rose is already opening the door. Before Leah can say anything, the twins hug their sister saying how much they’ve missed her. Leah looks at her father and instantly notices her mother’s not there. She mouths towards Shawn “Where’s mom?”, to which Shawn simply shakes his head, meaning “I don’t know”. Leah lets out a sigh. She separates from her baby siblings to look at them. She immediately sees that Rose’s make up is not done, so she leads her towards her room, leaving the suitcases in the entrance of the family home. “Come on, Rosie, let’s get you ready.” The door is left opened, so when Manny and Karen arrive, they enter the house directly. “Where’s Jane?” Karen asks her son. “She’s still at the hospital.”, he answers, checking his phone for the umpteenth time in the past hour. “Liyah and Leah are upstairs prepping Rose, and Peter’s been ready for ages.” He responds to his mother’s unspoken question. That moment, his phone starts to ring. He checks the caller anxiously, but he’s let down again when he sees it’s not his wife, but it’s his sister-in-law instead. “Hello, Claire. No, Jane’s not home yet. Okay, we’ll meet you guys at the gate of the school. Great. See you there.” He hangs up and turns to face his parents. “They’re stuck in traffic, they’ll go straight to the school so they’re not late.” He sadly smiles.

In Rose’s room, piano music is playing in the background while Aaliyah is painting her niece’s toenails and Leah is putting on lipstick. Rose’s eyes are fixated on the pictures on the wall. Her mind is racing, but she can’t get herself to talk. When Aaliyah’s done, she looks up and recognizes the look on her face, so she stands up to leave the sisters alone. “I’m going to check if Peter’s all set, okay girls?” The two Mendes girls hum in response and are left alone in the room. “You know, it’s hard to think that we won’t be living here anymore in two months’ time.” Leah sadly chuckles, recognizing her own worries from three years ago in her little sister’s words. “Think about it like a new experience. You know this’ll be your room forever. Mom and Dad never moved anything from my room, right? You’ll come back during breaks and this room will still be you. It will still be baby blue, and you will still have your books stacked by alphabetical order, and the pictures on the wall will still be hung up in the shape of a heart.” The two very similar girls look at each other with tears in their eyes. “I’m going to miss Dad so much.” Rose whispers, but then immediately chuckles. “I’ll miss Mom too, don’t get me wrong. But Mom’s always been stricter, and we always had such a good time with Dad.” Leah laughs. “I thought the same thing when I left. But you know what? Sometimes, I miss Mom more. Even though her schedules have always been messed up, she was here always. Dad sometimes left to record for a week, or he went two or three months on tour. Of course Dad wanted to be the cool one. But you’ll miss the way Mom prepares soup when there’s a cold around, or how she always complains when it’s cold outside and we’re not wearing sufficiently warm clothes. It’s the little things you think about when you’re away.”

What the two girls don’t know is that their father is listening attentively to the memories they’re recalling. He smiles. His wife is strict, yeah. She has to. And yeah, he has always wanted to be the “cool Dad”. Still, he’s happy to hear that Leah appreciates the little things their mother has done for them during all these years. Thinking about her, he looks at his phone longingly, waiting for her call.

“I was looking at the pictures of us five when you guys were preparing me. Do you remember that time when Dad was playing in Rome and we snuck out with Uncle Brian?” Rose laughs. “I do. Mummy and Daddy were so angry when we got back!” Leah remembers with a smile. This is what she did hours before graduation. “But we got some delicious ice cream, didn’t we?” A tear inadvertently rolls down both their cheeks. “And that time when Louis came to the show here in Toronto and you guys wanted to go out afterwards!? Dad went crazy, and I think Mom pinched him, so he would just shut up. I felt so much embarrassment, but I laughed so much that night!” Rose laughs out, trying to breathe normally to control herself. Leah just looks endearingly to her younger sister, who’s about to start a whole new chapter of her life.

Shawn hates himself for doing it, but he realises that, if he doesn’t tell the girls to leave, they won’t get to graduation in time, so he knocks on the door.

“Girls, we need to get going.” He says.

“Is mummy home yet?” Leah asks.

“No, sweetheart. She’ll just go to the school when she’s done.” He ruffles Leah’s hair just like he did when she was little. “Let’s go!”

Leah goes ahead, not wanting to interrupt the father-daughter moment she knows is about to happen.

Shawn just stands in front of Rose, looking at her with endless pride. “You look gorgeous, sweetheart. Just like your Mom.” He kisses her temple and whispers “I’m so lucky to have you guys.” “Thank you, Dad.” She whispers back.

They walk down the stairs, where a real mayhem is occurring. Jonah is crying, claiming that Kate hit him on the head, and Aaliyah is comforting her boy while Karen is lecturing Kate. Leah just laughs, remembering that’s just how the house was when the twins were little.

Shawn has to yell to get everybody’s attention to leave. As they’re all getting into their respective cars, Shawn stays behind and tries to call Jane one more time, but it’s left unanswered.

In the hospital, Jane is washing her hands, having just finished one of the most stressing surgeries of her career. She gets out of her robes and sighs. She feels like a heavy weight is off her chest. If Sam’s recovery goes alright, she’ll be out of the hospital in less than a month. When she gets into the locker room, she groans, knowing that her family must already be at the school, as the twins’ graduation starts in ten minutes. Her colleague and best friend since college Olivia hears her. “Why are you upset, Jane? The surgery went well, Sam will be okay.” “It’s Rose and Peter’s graduation, and I’ll never get there on time. And even if I could, I can’t go change.” Olivia doesn’t answer, she instead opens her locker and picks a red dress and a make-up bag. “You’ve got 5 minutes to change and get the hell out of here.” Jane looks at her friend with gratitude. “Why do you have a dress in your locker?” She laughs as she’s already taking off her clothes. “Just in case I get late to a dinner date with James, you know?”

In 4 minutes and 20 seconds, Jane is ready to leave. She rushes to the exit but stops to greet her friend.

When she gets in the car, she quickly calls Shawn to let him know she’s going.

When Shawn sees Jane’s picture light up the phone, he smiles. “Love, where are you? Why didn’t you answer the phone?” “I’ll tell you tonight, Shawn. Are you guys already going to the school?” She asks, even though she knows that Shawn is very capable of getting the kids ready. “We’re here already. Rosie and Peter are already inside. Where are you?” Aaliyah is the last one in the line to get into the theatre, so she turns around to signal her brother to get inside. He simply shakes, while he’s pointing at his phone. “I’m 5 minutes away. Go inside and make sure I can sit next to you.” She’s about to hang up when something else comes to her mind “Do you have the gifts with you?” “I do. We’ll give them during dinner.” “Okay, I love you.”

As she’s approaching the school, she starts scanning the area anxiously for a spot to park the car. Like a miracle, a car leaves right before her, so she hastily parks and starts running to the doors, mentally cursing Olivia for having smaller feet than her. She gets to the door right when the guard is about to close.

“I’m Rose and Peter Mendes’ mother. I’m sorry, I know I’m late.” She explains, out of breath. The guard, recognising her face, simply nods. She’s always been the mother who came in running last minute to see the shows or to drop the kids at any event. She gives the guard one of her charming smiles and runs into the theatre. She starts looking for her tall, curly-haired husband and sees him immediately between the people. She thanks him to be sensible enough to sit in a row where she doesn’t have to bother everybody, but close enough to the stage so their children can see them. When she sits next to him, she quickly kisses him on the mouth. “Thank God I got here on time.” Shawn tangles his fingers with her cold ones. When he notices the difference of temperature, he knows she’s been in the OR for a long time. He smiles at her, knowing that, if she was late to her children’s graduation, it must have been something very urgent. He scans her face, looking for a sign to tell him how it went, if he’ll have to give her extra cuddles tonight because she’s sad or if she’ll be tired but happy.

While he’s getting lost in his wife’s features, which are slightly different from when they met 30 years ago, but as beautiful as ever, the lights turn off and he hears the principal start her speech.

Jane wants to pay attention. It is, after all, her son and daughter’s graduation, but the thoughts are racing through her head. She looks to the side and sees her huge family there, all supporting her babies. Her mother and Karen are blinking back tears, probably because of something nice the principal is saying about the activities the graduating class have organized through their 4 years. She remembers with a smile the International Fair, when Rose was in the Organisation Committee, the various musicals and shows for various charities in which her mini-Shawn played the main role. She thinks about the strikes for climate, for equality, against racism and sexism. She reminiscences the smiles on her children’s faces when they talked with so much passion about what they thought was right in this world. Rose is so passionate about fairness that she’s decided to make a career out of it.

She feels tears forming in her eyes, so she slightly squeezes Shawn’s hand. He turns his head to face her, a question obvious in his eyes. His eyes are about to start to spill tears, just like hers are. When the first tear falls and starts rolling down his cheek, she gently rubs it away with her thumb. They look at each other with pride, knowing that, somehow, they managed to raise three incredible children, despite their crazy jobs and crazier schedules.

While they’re waiting for the principal to call out their names, Rose and Peter are trying to find their parents in the sea of heads. “Do you think mom is there?” Rose asks. “I mean, she promised, didn’t she?” “Yeah, but didn’t she have this patient who was in a critic condition? What if she got worse and she had to stay there?” Rose, always more sensible than her brother, wonders. Nevertheless, she’s hoping that her fears are wrong and that she’s there. Peter shrugs, hoping the same thing.

When they call “Martínez, Carmen” to get on the stage, Jane and Shawn feel the excitement building. Behind the curtain, Rose and Peter are practically crushing each other’s hand in anticipation. “I’ll miss you, Pete. Class won’t be as cool as it’s always been without you.” “You’re such a dork.” Peter teases. “But I love you, and I’ll miss you too.” They look at each other with watering eyes, when they hear “Mendes, Rose Claire” from the stage. “Go get it, Rosie. I love you.” Peter quickly kisses his sister on the cheek, before he nudges her to get going.

Jane gasps when she sees Rose getting on the stage. She has been dress shopping with her, they’ve chosen the shoes together, but she hadn’t seen the look as a whole yet. Her long dark blonde hair falls around her face in waves, shining. Her green eye shadow makes her honey-coloured eyes stand out, and her lips are a light shade of red. As she looks at her, she’s reminded of herself at 18 years of age. Shawn looks at his wife and immediately knows what she’s thinking, so he whispers, “She’s a young Jane Smith, isn’t she?”. Jane turns around, smiles and nods.

On the stage, Rose is desperately looking for her father’s curly hair and tall figure and her mother’s blonde short hair. When she’s about to lose hope, she sees them, looking at her in awe. The tears she’s been holding back threaten to fall this time for real. She smiles widely as she sees her Dad giving her a thumbs up. She gets her diploma from the principal, who mentions she’s graduating with honours and that she’s going to attend Stanford.

“Mendes, Peter Manuel” is next. He comes into view, looking as worried as Rose was when she came up. Rose sends him a smile, like telling him “Don’t worry, mummy’s here.” Peter’s shoulders visibly relax, and he immediately sees his parents in the audience.

This time, Jane is full-on sobbing. She’s seen Peter so many times in a suit (the entire family has accompanied Shawn enough times to be familiar with dressing up), but now, he looks so much more mature. She realises that in a matter of two months, her three babies will be gone, and it’ll be like in the beginning, when it was only Shawn and her.

Shawn, on the other hand, smiles proudly while he thinks about the first time he played a full song on the guitar he got when he turned 5. When he sang along with his father in the studio and Andrew decided to give them the contact of a music and a voice coach, so he could develop his clear talent. And when he was 14 and joined him on stage during tour to sing “Treat you better” together. And now, he’s going to Julliard School. He couldn’t be prouder of his little boy.

When the last alumni get their diploma and their valedictorian finishes his speech, they’re all free to go. Rose and Peter run towards their large family and start hugging and kissing Jane. “We were so worried you weren’t going to make it, mummy”. Peter sighs. “I was worried too, but I promised, didn’t I?”. Peter turns around and winks at his twin, leaving Jane confused. “Why did you wink at her?” “Nothing, Mom. You just said the exact same thing he told me before, so he’s all cocky all of a sudden.” Rose rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

The entire family kisses the newly graduates as they start heading to the cars to get to the restaurant. Leah and Jane stay behind, closely watched by Shawn. “So, how are classes going? You still want to do neurology, right?” Jane questions her first-born. “Yeah, they haven’t ruined that for me yet.” She answers with a smile. Jane laughs, knowing that med school is demanding, so she can’t blame her daughter for joking about that.

Shawn lets them catch up and takes a few big steps to get to his sister. “Hey, are you mentally prepared yet? This will be Kate in two years.” He looks lovingly at his big, rare and caring family. “I know, right? She’s so much like you, you wouldn’t say she’s 16 already!” Aaliyah jokes. “I’m confused. Should I take that as a compliment or…?” “You take that however you want.” She laughs malevolently. “Okay, so you’re obviously talking about how I’m so handsome and charming that I look younger.” He says with a hint of cockiness in his tone. “If you say so!” His sister nudges his arm playfully.

The group has been becoming smaller, as small parts of it have been getting to the cars and have been leaving already.

“So, kids, who’s going to the restaurant with Mom?” Shawn asks. “I think I should go home and change into something that’s mine.” Jane chuckles. “You guys can come pick me up at home, okay?” Shawn nods, and Peter and Rose shout at the same time “I’m going with you, Mom!” Jane shrugs in response to her husband’s questioning look. “You guys can help me choose something decent to wear.” “You look good, Mom!” Their three children protest in chorus. “I may look good, but these shoes are killing me. Olivia’s feet are smaller than I remembered from college!” Jane gives Shawn a wink, remembering the crazy nights they lived when she was still in college. “Off you go, then! Leah and I will go pick you guys up at home, we don’t need to go to dinner in two cars.” Rose looks at her father approvingly.

When they’re all set in the car and Jane starts the engine, Rose considers she can ask the question that’s been bothering her for a couple of hours. “What happened at the hospital, Mom? You promised you would come and fix my make-up but didn’t come.” “Sam’s surgery became urgent suddenly, and I couldn’t leave the poor girl like that, right?” Rose nods, knowing that her mom doing what’s right is way more important that having her to do her make-up. Jane looks into the rear mirror to look at Peter, who has been quiet for a while. “Everything alright, Peter?” She questions. Peter lifts his head, and silent tears are rolling down his cheeks. “I’m going to miss you all so much.” “He says he’s going to miss us, but it’s Tess who he’s going to miss.” Jane whispers, teasingly. “I heard that, you ass!” Peter protests. “Where’s Tess going to school, Peter?” “She got into Harvard.” His head drops again. “I’m going to be in California, further away from New York than Boston, and you’re not crying about that? I’m hurt.” Rose is teasing her brother, but Jane sees her smile isn’t as bright as it usually is. Her kids are as sensitive as Shawn, and she loves them for it. “Guys, stop it. We’re home. I’m going upstairs. Do whatever you need to do, we’ll meet downstairs in 5 minutes, okay?” Rose and Peter look at each other and immediately know they’re both thinking the same thing. They walk behind their mother and enter their parents’ room. They lay down on the bed and look attentively at the opening of the walk-in closet. Jane, being used to the characteristic rush that her life is, picks a pretty pink dress (yes, she’s 48 and pink is still her favourite colour) and black heels. She’s carrying a jewellery box that once belonged to her grandmother and starts putting on the necklace. She’s having trouble, so Rose quickly stands up to help her out. In less than the programmed 5 minutes Jane is ready to go.

Shawn is pacing up and down the hall waiting for his wife, feeling like an 18-year-old waiting for his prom date. Peter is the first one to come down the stairs, followed closely by his sister. “She’s taking her clutch.” Peter says. “Wait till you see her, Dad. She looks gorgeous.” Rose adds. His children’s words enhance the “waiting for prom date” feeling, so Shawn can’t help but check in the mirror if his hair and his tie are still okay. When he hears the clicking of her heels on the stairs, he lifts his head to be greeted by an angelical view. Without realising he is doing it, he’s walking towards the last stair to take her hand and help her, which makes Jane giggle. She won’t admit it, but having Rose help her made her think about the day of their wedding, and she’s feeling jittery because of it. “Would the beautiful lady like me to escort her to the car?” Shawn says, half mocking, half serious. “I certainly would, sir.” She does a little curtsy, playing along with his little act.  

The three Mendes kids look at the scene with a smile plastered on their faces. Their parents may be the busiest people in the world, always running around to get them to all the activities they could, but the magic is still there. This is the same magic that they always see in the videos and pictures. This is why the Mendes Army has always loved this couple. They’re a living fairy-tale.

They quickly get into the car, knowing the other guests are already in the restaurant. Wanting to recreate the 10 years ago vibe, Shawn chooses the same playlist they heard every single day while going to school. They sing to “I Knew You Were Trouble” while Leah tells them a funny story that happened during a party she went to with Jimmy, Taylor’s son. In what seems no time Shawn pulls over in front of the restaurant. They’re greeted by their annoyingly loud family as they occupy their places.

The night passes quickly, everybody catching up and remembering stories. It’s already 1 am when they’ve finally toasted, and everybody has finished their speeches honouring the newly graduates. The Smiths are heading to their hotel, the Mendes are heading home, and Shawn finally goes to pick up the presents from the car. Leah knows exactly what the surprise is, as she’s helped to get them assembled. Jane is waiting anxiously. She knows they’ll like them, it’s a family trait to like them, but she’s still a bit nervous that they might be expecting something else.

Shawn enters the restaurant again with two identical wrapped gifts with their names written on, in what they recognise as their mother’s writing. They both open their gifts at the same time, fully concentrated on the package in front of them. They both reveal a thick book with the words “My first 18 years” written on the cover. They smile two identical smiles and open. They see millions of pictures, serious and funny, together and separated, with their family and with their friends. They all start to comment the pictures between laughs and tears. The last picture-clad page is one of Peter’s last recital, and many empty pages with various headings follow. The twins look questioningly. “You aren’t 18 yet, are you?” But Leah takes out two Polaroids she made tonight and sticks them on the page titled “My Graduation” in both books. “This story’s not done yet.” She tells them, smiling with nostalgia.

Leah hugs her baby siblings, and Jane and Shawn move a bit further away to give them some privacy. Jane gives her husband a watery smile. "We did well, don't you think?" She says. "I promised you we'd be alright, didn't I?" Jane hides her face in Shawn's chest, smelling his cologne. "You did. Thank you. I love you."

[bubble-tea-bunny]

to feel the sun from both sides

[newt scamander x reader]

author’s note: shorter than the stuff i’ve been writing lately but still just as nice i hope(: might write for theseus next

word count: 2,330

The months are growing colder, and the drop in temperature becomes even more apparent at the day’s end, when the sun is on its way out. A gust of wind blows strong enough to ruffle Newt’s robes and a shiver runs down his spine. His cheeks and his nose are probably red from the chill, and he manages to free a hand in the midst of his task to bring his scarf up over the bottom half of his face. Ah. That feels better.

He doesn’t see you approach because his back is turned, and he would’ve heard you, would’ve heard the sound of your shoes sifting along the cool grass, if he weren’t preoccupied with the little animal cradled his palm. He’s alerted to your presence when you speak up, and he twists around, but carefully so as not to jostle the small bowtruckle.

“I was wondering where you were,” you state with a smile.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Newt’s tone is apologetic as he pulls down his scarf to be heard clearly, the cool air once more nipping at his skin. He talks quietly but he always does, and you don’t mind one bit. “I wasn’t able to find you after dinner and I wanted to come here before it got dark, so…”

“It’s fine.” You wave your hand dismissively. It’s easy to be lost in the sea of students flooding out of the Great Hall, so you don’t blame him. You sit down against the trunk of the tree, and Newt follows suit. “I’m sure they missed you.”

Newt looks over, wondering what you mean, and notices your attention is on the creature in his hand. He glances down at it as well. “Yeah… I guess they have.” It’s silent for a moment, then he continues: “Hold out your hand.”

Your eyes widen a fraction but you do as he says, and you go stock still as he sets the bowtruckle into your awaiting hand. Its little legs feel odd on the sensitive expanse of your palm, and it takes several steps, so you rotate your wrist to accommodate it. It walks across your knuckles, where it chooses to remain. Newt watches it fondly, and it looks right back at him, like it knows who he is. And then from beneath floppy brown hair his gaze slides up to you—you’re considerably more relaxed now, and your features are so soft in the radiance of dusk.

“I don’t know why you get so nervous,” he remarks. “You’re a natural.”

You chuckle and as the bowtruckle resumes walking, you hold up your other hand for it to transfer onto so it doesn’t fall off. “You’re the natural, Newt. Simply holding them is nothing compared to what you can do.”  

Newt smiles. “But they like you, you know. I can tell.”

You hum, as if to ask Yeah? but you don’t say anything else. Newt assumes that to be the end of the conversation, and he leans his head back on the tree trunk. The bowtruckle appears to have found a comfortable position to rest in, and you allow yourself to return to watching the setting sun. It’s nearly gone, and your breath materializes in front of you with every exhale. Soon the moon and stars will emerge, and they’ll light your path to the castle.

“Would you write a book?” you ask out of the blue.

Newt purses his lips and contemplates the inquiry for a few seconds. He doesn’t ask about what because it’s obvious what he’d write about. The idea isn’t out of the realm of possibility. He keeps journals on his research, though it’s only been on creatures found here at Hogwarts. There are many out there still, throughout the world, to be sought after and studied and cared for. An expansive task but a wonderful one.

“I would,” he responds finally. “But it’d be hard to do that research alone.”

This prompts you to look at him, and he’s watching you with utmost sincerity. The implication of the statement pulls a grin from you, and he mirrors it subconsciously. You’d been attached at the hip from the moment you started talking to each other as first years, and though your adventures have begun at Hogwarts, they wouldn’t end there.  

You sigh lightly and take in the night that has fallen around you, stare up at the sky like you’re in a crystal ball and you’re looking past the glass. “Will I never be rid of you, Scamander?” you tease.

Newt shakes his head. “Not at all,” he shoots back playfully.

You laugh, then sigh as you settle down. “I’ll gladly join you, Newt. Just don’t go falling in love with me while we’re at it.”

There’s a twinkle in your gaze to accompany your smile, and he knows you’re playing around, but he swallows as he mulls over what you’ve said. The smile drops from his own face once you turn away and attend to the bowtruckle in your hand. He hears you asking it if it’s doing okay, and if it’s sleepy, but your voice sounds distant, like you’re farther than you actually are, his own thoughts at the forefront and pushing everything else to the margins. He traces the line of your profile with his eyes, from your forehead to the slope of your nose to your lips, and farther still he follows the curve of your chin as it leads to your jaw, and the sleek column of your neck. And as he continues to sit here next to you, so close he can feel your body heat, and you grin at the animal you’re holding and he swears it’s enough to light up a whole room, he thinks it’s a little too late for that.

———

He tries though. By Merlin, does he try. Being out on the field helps distract him, because there, the work comes first, and in these instances you maintain a professional relationship, that of researcher and assistant. You take notes while his hands are busy looking over the current beast of interest, and he knows he rambles and his brain can move faster than his mouth at times and it does but you’ve always been able to turn it into something cohesive. He gives you his journals to write in, and it’s easy to figure out which sections are yours because they’re neater, and in addition to the skillfully done diagrams of hippogriff talons and erumpet horns, you leave silly doodles in the margins.

The bounds of professionalism aren’t concrete, and neither of you wished them to be anyway. When he’s working late into the night, nothing but a candle to illuminate the pages, you come to him as his friend once more, his best friend, and you tell him he needs to rest and you won’t take any excuses. You set your hand on his to stop his writing, and he glances up at you sheepishly because he knows you’re right but really, he’ll be done soon, just one more sentence—

“There will always be tomorrow,” you murmur.

And the corner of his lip twitches, a smile fighting its way to the surface. You’ve never had to do much to convince him. “Okay.”

For all your denials that you could never be as well-versed in magical creatures as he, over the years, that’s changed, whether or not you even noticed. He taught you as you both went along, traveled from country to country, and it hadn’t been long before you had his confidence in the subject. Or at least something very close. And in those times where you may falter he’s the one to reassure you, telling you it’s okay to approach the thunderbird you’re observing and who’s looking at you closely in kind, two curious souls observing each other.

Gently he takes your wrist and guides your hand to rest on the soft feathers, and your eyes glow and so does your smile and he’s left wondering if he’s seeing things that aren’t actually there because maybe just maybe he’s imagining you like you’re the face he’s given to the beautiful haze of color just before the sun disappears behind the horizon and oh how he hopes desperately this isn’t the case.

But your skin is warm and as his hand slips down to his side, some of that residual heat remains in his palm, and it feels too real to be any figment of the imagination. In the subsequent moments filled only by the low rasps from the thunderbird’s throat that mean it’s happy, Newt looks from it to you and back again and maybe it’s more like you’re the same soul and in an exercise of extraordinary self-awareness the splendid beast that towers over you has looked into a mirror and understood that those are its eyes gazing back. And the flood of love Newt has for you rushes in like it had on day one of an undetermined total (for he’d really like to be with you forever).

He’s honestly not sure if he’ll ever tell you how he feels, because stuff like that, it isn’t his thing. He trips over his words whenever he’s not talking about his research and he has trouble maintaining eye contact with people, and the issue is increased tenfold when it involves you because the way your eyes seem to burn into him, see through him, is altogether too intense and he loves it but he also hates it because you pull him apart so easily. And maybe he should mind it but he doesn’t because you’re also the one to put him back, not with a wave of your wand and a whispered spell but with your hands, lithe fingers taking each fragment and fitting them together, one by one, slowly and surely, until he’s whole before you, and he would stand prepared for the next time he falls for you, into a million tiny pieces.

A portion of your notes doesn’t sound complete to Newt as he reads it over, then re-reads it a few times in an attempt to make sense of them. A few thoughts jotted down at the bottom are scrambled and disconnected. Usually he wouldn’t linger on these points and would move on, but it just so happens that he needs these particular lines for what he’s working on. With a sigh rife with exhaustion from hours of work, he stands and, journal in hand, exits the study and walks to the lounge, where he knows you’ll be.

There’s shuffling and the sound of your footsteps as you exclaim Poppy! and Newt’s not thinking much of it, but he should have and he understands that now because he turns the corner and says your name to announce his presence, and he’s startled first by your kneazle who just barely avoids running into his legs as it scampers off, and second by you, who’s taken off after her and you barrel into him, knocking you both off your feet.

“Oof!” Newt hits the floor with a thud, you on top of him. His journal had slipped out of his hand and lays face down to his right, but he doesn’t take notice. You push yourself up to look at him properly, eyes wide and brows knitted together in worry.

“Are you okay?” you ask. “I’m so sorry, Newt. It’s just, Poppy stole my pen and wouldn’t give it back and—”

“It’s fine,” he assures you, smiling. The concern starts to slip away and you nod, and then it occurs to him that neither of you has made any moves to stand. Your hands are braced against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around your waist, having found their way there by instinct when you’d run into him and he went to cushion your fall. Laying on the hardwood floor is hardly comfortable but he’s comfortable holding you, and you seem to be comfortable being held by him.

You stare at each other, and again Newt is overwhelmed and he has to avert his gaze and it goes to your lips and they look so soft, like velvet, and he wonders if they feel like it too. He swallows hard, and his mouth opens to say something but what? He has no idea what to say, and should he speak up he doesn’t know what would leave his mouth.

His mouth merely hangs open slightly, words not quite reaching his tongue, and he figures he must look rather stupid, but you seem to pay no mind or even notice as you lean in those last few inches and he learns you taste of caramel creams and peach blossoms. His eyes slide closed as he kisses you and his senses are filled with you you you and he’s breathing you in like you’re keeping him alive. It is a little ridiculous to still be wondering if this is truly happening, that this isn’t some hallucination, but he can’t help it because years have been spent thinking about it, dwelling on it, on all the what-could-be’s and what-if’s, and suddenly it’s what-can-be’s and what is.

You pull away just enough to allow yourself to breathe, and your eyes remain closed. Newt focuses on your lashes that delicately kiss your cheeks, and he wants to do that too. To kiss your cheeks and your nose and each corner of your lips because he loves you so much it hurts. When your eyes open, revealing that charming gaze that holds so much power over him, to a degree he’s not certain you’d ever understand, his heart drops into his stomach and it rouses the butterflies there, and they take flight. He can’t think straight but that’s okay, and at the sight of your captivating, marvelous, lovely, brilliant and every other word which might represent magnificence smile, he smiles too, in disbelief and relief and everything in between.

[cherryyharryy]

Chapter 3: Xiphisternal Joint

 My mom and dad let me stay home

“I’m comin’ over.”

“Harry, I’m fine, it’s just a stomach bug.”

Adeline pulled her phone away to let out a dry cough into the crook of her elbow, clearing her throat and blinking away the few tears that had bubbled up in her eyes.

“I heard that, m’on my way.”

“Harry—”

The call ended before she could get another word in, opting to type out a rushed text—‘stop fussing over me, you’ve got a chem test today!’—but she knew her protest was unwarranted once he had his mind set on something.

The alarm that was set to erupt in an hour was turned off and her phone was tossed to the other side of her bed. The room was still bathed in early morning darkness, sparing the humid yellow glow from her lamp, tempting her to drift back to sleep. And she would, needed it really, but her boyfriend was a worry wart.

Breathing through her nose became a tortuous task anyway, leaving her mouth dry and throat a scratchy sore. Her ears were achy, head heavy, and her chest filled up with a stifling weight each time she attempted to hold back a brutal cough, finally giving in when her lungs were seconds from exploding.

Chills raked her body, coming in waves with a supporting round of sweat coating her skin, and she’d take her temperature, because she’s positive a fever had settled itself within her weak body, but that meant climbing out of bed and going downstairs, which she couldn’t be bothered with at the moment.

The last time she’d spent the day in bed with a runny nose she’d indulged in a Scooby-Doo marathon with her mom’s chicken soup warming her from the inside, and the satisfaction of her friends stuck at school topping off her day. But somehow things just weren’t the same anymore.

“How’re yeh feeling, love?”

Adeline jumped at his voice, settling into the covers with a scowl on her face. “I just talked to you twenty minutes ago.”

He shrugged his jacket off and set a grocery bag down on her desk. “A lot can happen in twenty minutes.”

Harry kneeled down on the floor beside her bed and tucked the blanket over her shoulders, skimming his knuckles over her cheek and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Sorry you feel crummy.”

She hummed in response, cracking her eyes open to get a look at him.

He was beautiful, to a fault, could get anything he wanted with the right smirk or boyish grin, but there was something about Harry in a Rolling Stones tee, baggy gray sweats, and thick navy socks—one hitched up higher than its twin—tucked into knockoff designer loafers that he argued were for style and not shuffling down the driveway to get the mail, that had her heart melting.

She turned on her side and pulled his head to rest on the bed, running her fingers through his unruly bed-head hair. He sighed, relaxing his body against the mattress.

“Harry…”

“Hmmm.”

“Come up here, you’re fallin’ asleep on me,” she whispered. “Been up as long as I have.’

He didn’t waste a second to round her bed, toe off his shoes and slip under the heavy duvet. Adeline turned to face him after switching her lamp off, nuzzling into his side, fisting his t-shirt and shuffling her leg across his thighs.

Despite the official start of spring having passed two weeks ago, the mornings were still chilled, only thawing out in the late afternoons, which made her warm bed all the more pleasing. But there were still spots left untouched by her restless sleep that sparked goosebumps to rise over her arms, and had Harry grumbling as he kicked the legs of his pants down to cover his ankles.

“S’awfully cold in here.” He spoke against her hair, cradling his head against hers and the pillow. “I’m freezin’.”

“You’ll warm up soon.”

“Are you contagious?”

“Don’t know.”

“You better hope you don’t get me sick, Adeline.”

“Told you not to come,” she mumbled.

“Was this your plan? Contract a virus, lure me over here with your needy pleas, then infect me to render me helpless?”

“Yep. You caught me. Spent weeks on this one too.”

“S’not very nice, Addy.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

A yawn escaped her mouth and she tightened the blanket around her shoulders. Harry’s hand traced her jaw, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear and pressing his lips to her head.

“Get some sleep, darling.”

***

Adeline’s eyes peeled open to a soft glittery light filtering through the window, the smell of warm rain filling the air and the bite of chill no longer eating at her skin. She turned to her right but found the spot Harry had occupied empty, but not yet cold.

He stepped into the room just as a sneeze attack took over her. He jogged to the bed and ran his fingers over her back, handing her the tissues off her nightstand once she caught her breath and slumped into the pillows.

“Yeh don’t look so good.”

“Thanks.”

“Maybe I should take you to the doctor?”

“No, harry, I’ll be fine. Just need to ride this out. I’ll be better tomorrow.” her voice cracked and strained against her sore throat.

“If you’re not I’m tellin’ your mom to take you in.”

“Whatever.”

“Nice to see your attitude hasn’t been affected,” he joked, tugging her shirt back up her shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

She nodded to her desk. “What’s in the bag?”

“It’s my very own first-aid kit,” he boasted, opening up the bag. “If this doesn’t heal you, nothing will.”

The smirk plastered across his face ignited Adeline’s nerves. Harry was a troublemaker, and her vulnerability was prime opportunity for him to take full advantage.

He pawed through the bag, only pausing to throw a wink over his shoulder. Adeline shook her sinus-heavy head and rolled her eyes, snatching another tissue from the box.

“Let’s see, I have Advil, an ice pack, heating pad...cough drops, more tissues…” He piled everything onto her desk, looking back at her with a gleam in his eye that meant nothing good.

“Harry you didn’t need to buy all this, I don’t need it.”

He pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “My treatment has been proven effective, but if you don’t want it…” he started putting everything back into the bag.

“No! I mean I do, I was just saying, you didn’t need to go to all the trouble.

“S’no trouble at all love. Now, what else,” he hummed, “vapor rub, microwave soup, and oh—I also have someone’s favorite candy,” taunted, waving a bag of skittles in the air. “But someone doesn’t believe in my medical expertise, so I guess someone won’t be needing this.”

Adeline threw the covers off her body and shuffled over to Harry, but when she reached for the candy his arm shot up in the air, dangling it above her head with a proper devilish grin gracing his face.

“What d’ya say, Adeline?” He drawled out. 

“Please,” she huffed, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of watching her beg.

“Hmm, sorry, s’not quite I’m looking for. Care to try again?”

Her eyes rolled back. “May I please have the skittles…”

He shook the bag and cocked his head to the side. “Wrong again, my dear.”

She shifted on her feet while playing with the hem of her purple sleep shorts, avoiding the one word she knew would settle this stand down.

“Harry—”

“Not quite…”

“With a heavy sigh she pinched her cheek between her teeth, daring a second of eye contact. “Fine.” She passed her weight between her legs, eyes gazing down at the carpet while her voice came out in a muffled grumble. “Daddy.”

“M’sorry, petal, didn’t quite catch that?”

“Harry!”

“M’running out of pet names, darling...and patience.”

“For the love of—” she stomped her foot and groaned into her hands. “I said, daddy.”

His smile grew as he lowered his hand, setting the candy in her grasp. “Thank you, now s’that so hard?”

“I’ll be getting you back. Soon as I feel better, you’d better watch out.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Adeline rolled her eyes and tore the wrapper open with her teeth, offering Harry a few pieces before filling her mouth.

They settled back in her bed, curtains drawn to block out the sun, pillows that still held their shapes, and extra blankets to mimic the warmth of sunny seasons.

Harry played with her hands, slipping his rings on her fingers and cooing about how each one fell off onto the mattress. Adeline finished off the skittles and tossed the bag on the floor, closing in towards his body with their legs in a tangled knot.

“I’m entering that writing contest at school.” Her voice was shaky, muffled by his warm chest.

He pulled back only for her to follow his movements, keeping her face flush against his body. “Hey, look a’ me.” He tried moving again, this time blocking her with a hand on her shoulder. “Why’re bein’ so shy?”

She shrugged her shoulders, her eyes glued to the faded famous band logo on his shirt.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“Was worried you might be mad.”

“Why on earth would I be mad?” He tilted her chin up to face him. “For doing what you love?”

“Because,” she uttered softly, “You haven’t, well I mean, I haven’t shown you anything I’ve written. And it’s not that I don’t trust you! I just—I don’t know—”

“Hey it’s alright, love. You don’t have t’show me anything, don’t owe me anything.”

“It’s just that most of what I write is pretty personal, y’know?”

“Addy,” he warned, “What’d I just say, hm? Don’t owe me any explanation. Your writing is just that—your writing. Which means you do what you want with it.”

She nodded as he pecked her nose, curling right back up next to him.

“Nice of your mom to let you stay home today,” she spoke into his shirt, nuzzling closer to his chest.

“She thinks I’m at home sick in bed.”

Adeline looked up to see the goofy smile on his face, a blush working its way onto his cheeks.

“I have to be home by five, before she gets back from my aunt’s house.”

“You could’ve just told her the truth.”

“Might not of let me skip.”

“True,” she mumbled. “It’ll be nice when we won’t have to worry about things like this, once we’re on our own.”

“Me too, sweet girl.”

***

Adeline bent over the sink and scrubbed away the face mask that had begun to itch, leaning in close to the mirror once she finished to inspect her skin.

“Aw fuck.” Her hand flew up to the bump that was throbbing on her chin, seemingly bigger and angrier after the diy concoction her sister had recommended, her Saturday night pamper night already off to a bad start.

“Addy, you alright?”

She drug a towel over her face and cracked the bathroom door open. “Harry?”

“Hi, petal.”

“What are you doing here?”

He sniffled, clutching a box of tissues to his sweatshirt covered chest with one hand and the other stuffed into the pocket of his pajamas.

“You wanna help deliver my mom’s magazine next weekend?”

She flicked the light off and stepped out into the hall, pulling him towards her room. “Why would I do that?”

He plopped down on her bed, sneezing into his arm half a dozen times. “Because, s’your fault I got in trouble. Only fair you take half the punishment.”

“My fault?”

“Yeah,” he coughed out. “ If you hadn’t gotten sick in the first place, I wouldn’t of skipped school to cater to you, wouldn’t have gotten caught, and wouldn’t have gotten a lecture ‘bout how I need to ‘be more responsible.’”

“How’d she find out?”

A round of sneezing followed by a spell of wheezing left his face flushed and his voice a raspy shrill. “Take a guess.”

[demalore]

Snake Eyes

A fanfic (i guess?) about Greek Mythology

Apollo, God of the Arts, Master of Muses, Charioteer of the Sun Itself, was helplessly into hentai.

“It's an art form!” he argued internally against the shaming voice in his head. The other gods would never let him live this one down if they found out. Not even Poseidon, although, let's be real, he had to be into some shit.

Apollo was determined, as most gods are, to see his unspeakable desires fulfilled, by any means necessary. Consulting a fellow deity was out of the question, and he didn’t know a single mortal who could keep their mouth shut. But there was one individual Apollo knew who was so wretched, so despised, and so introverted, that she couldn’t spread even the juiciest Olympian gossip. Too bad she wasn't very happy to see him.

“Haven't you dickheads humiliated me enough?” Medusa snarled at Apollo’s reflection in her full-length mirror. She had a nice collection of mirrors at this point--mementos from would-be vanquishers--and had nothing better to do with them. Despite her damnation, Medusa was far from ugly. She could no longer count her hair or eyes among her more attractive features, but should one avoid her hypnotic stare, they would be transfixed nonetheless by her kingly cheekbones and chiseled jaw. Her arms were toned nicely after centuries of battling Greece’s finest warriors and, afterwards, lugging their remains out of her cave. Even her snakes’ scales shimmered, coils of rainbows spilling over her shoulders.

A few of her snakes turned to face Apollo while he made his proposition. Medusa kept her back to him, refusing to grant him any more of her attention than necessary. When he had finished explaining herself, she answered, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I kid not, fair Medusa,” Apollo crooned. His eggshell tunic dripped from his chiseled body, held up by a sun-shaped brooch and a stupid amount of god-magic. “On this fair day, your beauty been found worthy in the eyes of Olympus.”

Medusa tilted her mirror to look at the intruder’s face, but she could only see half of it clearly. Something black and reflective was covering Apollo’s eyes. “There's some...device, on your head.”

Apollo whipped the pair of sunglasses off. A second pair immediately materialized in its place. “Gotta have shades, when your other ride’s the sun. And you didn't think I’d come without protection, did you, ‘Dusey?””

Electricity darted between Medusa’s narrowed eyes. “Call me ‘’Dusey’ again,” she muttered, turning to Apollo, stepping over her throne of skeletal remains, “and I'll smite those ‘shades' from your hideous upturned nose!”

Apollo's nose rose a bit higher. “Please, love. Those pretty peepers of yours wouldn't give me anything worse than a headache. Me being a god, and all that. There's only one part of me that you can make hard.” Without warning, Apollo thrust himself at his target, eliminating any confusion as to which part he referred to.

Medusa’s grimace was nearly as deadly as her gaze. She had weathered swords, axes, and bare fists; all were more pleasant than Apollo’s insatiable groin against hers. His hands were on her left shoulder and right buttock before she could pull away. Apollo’s trouser snake squirmed unpleasantly underneath his tunic. Medusa couldn’t shake off his grip, but luckily, she had a trouser snake of her own.

Apollo’s ‘yipe!’ of pain was most unbefitting a god. A mirthless smile crept up onto Medusa’s translucent cheeks. Apollo whined as she leaned forward, claws pressing into his chest. Medusa cocked her head and fiddled with the edge of his sunglasses. With a flick of her finger, she sent the glasses to the cave floor, and relished the fear in Apollo’s eyes. The taste in her snake’s mouth was horrid, but it was well worth it.

“Is something the matter, ‘Paul?” Medusa asked in her husky, slithering voice. “Or did you need more protection after all?”

Apollo returned to Olympus like a beaten puppy, his usually fashionably-loose robes tied tightly about his waist. He almost envied Prometheus. Even he was never without his manhood.

It would take mere days for Apollo’s godflesh to heal, but his pride wasn't so quickly repaired. Back in his bachelor pad, he raised a silver chalice to his lips, collected his thoughts, then whispered into the vessel:

Medusa the Gorgon, no man will dare wed, else he meet his untimely end.

Sure, it didn’t really rhyme, but he was impatient. And he was fucking Apollo, so who could even judge his poetry?

The silver chalice reverberated, and Apollo’s prophecy traveled down to the twine tethered at its bottom. The twine led far from Olympus, traveling through sunlight and dust motes, to the residence of Apollo’s Muses. An identical chalice rang until a Muse picked it up to receive the new prophecy.

Important prophecies had to be delivered by proper gods, but Apollo outsourced his more personal tasks to the Muses. He couldn’t be expected to hand-deliver every bit of artistic inspiration, he was a busy guy! So long as the Muse delivered the prophecy to a proper Oracle, it would be fulfilled, and Medusa would be permanently cockblocked.

But the Muses (who were sick of handling Apollo’s dirty laundry) had a particular, not-quite-proper Oracle in mind.

As far as the ability to see the future went, Cassandra had received better romantic gestures. Being an Oracle did come with a cushy job at any of Apollo’s temples, and that wasn’t anything to sneeze at. Cassandra loved her some fresh grapes and velvet couches (to hide the grape juice stains), but the job itself? Not so much.

See, everyone thought she sucked at her job. But really, it was everyone else who sucked at their…uh, critical thinking. Sure, it wasn’t their fault Apollo cursed Cassandra so that no one would believe her prophecies, but part of her still thought everyone was just being stupid. ‘Such and such army will attack at such and such place’, she’d tell them, and they’d laugh and call her a moron. And then the enemy launched a surprise attack (a surprise to everyone but Cassandra, that is) and the people blamed her for not warning them.

But apart from being constantly snubbed and vilified, yeah, it wasn’t a bad gig.

When the other Oracles weren’t busy blaming Cassandra for everything, she actually got along with them pretty well. After all, she was the one who had the idea to convince the townspeople that the stuff they were constantly burning in the temple was ‘incense’, something the gods definitely requested and not at all just dank Mediterranean weed. That perk alone made Apollo’s stupid curse almost worth it. Even some lesser deities would come to light up at the temple; that’s how good their shit was. So Cassandra wasn’t surprised to wake up to a Muse knocking at her door.

Cassandra rolled out of bed, pulled a gown over her bare chest, and opened the door. The faceless figure standing there was emitting a many-hued light, hovering two inches off the floor, and seemed to be sucking the color out of the space around them. Typical Muse stuff.

“Ey, what’s up, duder?” Cassandra asked groggily. “If you’re here to blaze a few, I’m totally down, just give me like a minute to find some pants and maybe some pita-“

“I am not here to blaze a few,” the Muse interrupted. Heavenly harp music accompanied their voice whenever they spoke, and unbidden tears welled in Cassandra’s eyes. Uck. “I have come to deliver a prophecy from Blessed Apollo. Although I would not be strongly opposed to partaking in a few dank nugs afterwards.”

“Shit, I don’t wanna work today.” Cassandra complained. She scratched her head, and her hand came away greasy. It had been at least a week since she had left her room to go to the public bathhouse. She was in no state to give a prophecy.

“Why’s Apollo even giving me a prophecy,” Cassandra continued groaning, “no one’ll listen.”

The Muse’s invisible harp quieted while the Muse recited the prophecy, exactly as Apollo had stated it.

“Hit me up when you’re done,” the Muse said as they departed in a burst of divine light, “I just got some new shit that’s ‘sposed to be wild…”

Cassandra blinked at the empty hallway. “Fine,” she said to no one, “but I’ll only do the prophecy because because I was promised weed, not because Apollo said so.”

        “Dish it,” Adonis ordered, pouring Melina an appropriately tall glass of wine. The fact of their friendship was, in and of itself, strange: they ran competing news blogs (scrolls that they handed out to anyone who walked by) and should’ve ostensibly been at each other’s throats. However, their shared love of gossip far outweighed their business interests, and they tended to share any particularly juicy tidbits with each other. Adonis didn’t know why Melina was being coy now.

“Adonis, you’re my friend and I love you,” Melina said, taking a few obliging sips of wine, “but you can’t be fucking trusted. Especially not with something like this.”

“Dish. It.” Adonis repeated. He was squirming in his chair. Other patrons of the gay wine bar shot them some curious glances, but no one appeared to be eavesdropping.

Melina grinned, and Adonis knew he had her. That, or the wine was finally working its magic. “Fine, but swear to me that you won’t go blabbing about it to your new boyfriend.”

Adonis froze. He dropped his eyes and became very interested in his designer sandals. “B-boyfriend?” he answered with practiced (but far from perfected) offhandedness. “I assure you I haven’t the faintest idea whom you could be referring to.”

“Hermes.”

Adonis cleared his throat. “If you mean Herman, then it was just the one night, and-“

“Oh, come, on Adonis,” Melina rolled her eyes. “Are you seriously still buying that ‘Herman’ shit? The guy has pet snakes and carries that weird curly staff. Who carries a staff anymore?”

Adonis’ face was as crimson as the wine, which Melina was now drinking with a satisfied smirk.

“Fine, if you’re still in denial about banging a god,“--Adonis squeaked in protest—"then just promise me you won’t tell ‘Herman’.”

“Promise,” Adonis answered indignantly.

Melina lowered her head, posed like a sphinx, ready to pounce. “So…there’s been talk of a new prophecy out of Troy.”

“Prophecy? Yawn,” Adonis slumped back in his chair. “If it’s another one about Zeus’ cosmic dick fucking things up for the rest of us, then hon, y’all don’t need an Oracle to know that.”

“No, this is for real,” Melina continued, “this one’s from Cassandra.”

That caught Adonis’ interest. Cassandra may have been blackballed by most of the Olympic pantheon because of her falling-out with Apollo, but that only made her more popular among mortals. Damnation was very in these days. “What’d she predict this time? Is it more dirt on Apollo?”

“Better. She said some shit about how no one should try boning Medusa.”

“Like, the gorgon Medusa?” People were definitely staring at them now, but Adonis didn’t care.

Melina nodded. “And if it’s Cassandra who predicted that-“

“-Then dudes are gonna be piling up on her doorstep,” Adonis finished the thought. He himself had a few tasteless fantasies involving various daemons and monsters (didn’t everyone?), but even he would think twice about wooing Medusa. But by Cassandra’s track record, her prophecy would be sending Medusa more suitors than she could shake a stick at.

“Yeah, but so far it’s only hit the temple gossip circuit, so don’t-“

“Sure, sure, I promised, didn’t I?”

“Because if the literal god of messengers finds out-“

“He’s not, and I won’t!”

Within three days, half of Greece had heard Cassandra’s prophecy. Whether it had anything to do with a certain god’s recent visit to Earth for a night of romance, and a certain blogger’s inability to walk for the week afterwards, one can only speculate.

Ironically, Medusa was one of the last people to find out. She had a blog of her own; it was primarily an Apollo hate blog with the occasional aesthetic post. But it wasn’t super popular, on account of no traveling merchant being brave enough to visit her cave and exchange scrolls. For that same reason, she wasn’t plugged in to the local gossip scene.

When she did get a visitor who wasn’t Apollo, it was some dickbag hero looking for glory, and she didn’t keep them around long enough to get any news out of them. She didn’t take them for much of conversationalists anyway.

She was curious, though, about her sudden influx of visitors. Out of the blue, she was getting dozens of men at her cave on a daily basis. Even stranger were their intentions—instead of slaying her, they were all wanted to marry her. At first, she had dismissed it as an ineffective trick to catch her off guard, and she added them to her statue collection without a second thought. When they kept coming, she thought it had to be some sick joke. She had pissed Apollo off pretty bad this time, maybe he was sending her ‘suitors’ just to taunt her. There was one way to find out, but it involved talking to men instead of killing them outright. Hardly seemed worth it, but she missed the peace and quiet.

“What’s your deal, anyway?” Medusa tried to dodge her latest gentleman caller’s advances, but it was difficult to do with her hand covering her eyes. She didn’t trust the guy not to try to stare longingly into her eyes, no matter how infamously deadly they were. That was something guys tried to do with chicks they liked, right? Medusa hadn’t given the romantic habits of men much thought.

“I seek nothing less than to make you my bride, noble Medusa!” Guy #54 professed, grappling Medusa around her waist. He didn’t seem to mind being dragged around the cave, neither did he mind Medusa’s attempts to shake him off.

“Sure, I got that bit, but why? Why all the sudden interest in getting me hitched?”

“Have you not heard, m’lady?” Guy #54 asked, continuing to sport a formal tone as he was dragged through the dirt. “The Oracle Cassandra has prophesied that the man who weds you will be met with great misfortune; but, knowing her prophecies to be wholly unreliable, I reasoned that to make you my bride would be most fortunate indeed!”

“You and everyone else,” Medusa muttered, looking over her recently expanded sculpture collection. She’d need a second cave, at this rate.

She tried prying more details from the poor sap, but he had spiraled into the same tired stream of compliments and professions of love. Yeuch. Medusa removed her hand and dealt with him as quickly as she had the others.

One more statue to deal with. But at least Medusa had a name to pin her misfortunes on: Cassandra. An Oracle, probably one of Apollo’s, prophesying for the sole purpose of tormenting her.

There was only so much Medusa could do about Apollo, but an Oracle, she could deal with.

        The one upside of every man in Greece falling in love with her was that it made getting directions very easy. All Medusa had taken with her from the cave was the pair of sunglasses Apollo had left behind on his most recent visit. Turns out they worked just as well in the opposite direction. Wearing them, she could pass through towns without petrifying everyone she saw and causing a riot. It made travel a breeze, but if she was being honest, she kind of missed the riots. What good was being a monster if you didn’t get to start riots?

The temple was a breeze to find. It was on the outskirts of Troy, centered around a few smaller towns, but stood on an isolated hillside, miles from any village. Good location, in any case, although Medusa wasn’t a fan of all the elaborate columns and arches. A cave was more practical, required far less upkeep.

Word of Medusa’s quest had traveled almost as fast as the prophecy. Medusa expected the temple to be empty, but a thick wall of smoke hit her as she opened the door and walked inside. There was no one to greet her at the temple entrance—indeed, not one person in the entrance hall. But smoke was continuing to billow from a room deeper in the temple, so someone had to be home.

Two steps in and the smoke was already giving Medusa a headache. She held her nose, and called out in a nasally voice, “I’ve come for the Oracle Cassandra! Step forth and receive your due!” She had already removed her glasses, prepared to deliver sweet revenge.

Medusa paused. Half a minute passed, with no response. Just as Medusa decided that the temple was, in fact, empty, a faint answer came from the internal chamber:

“Uhh, sorry, temple’s closed today, on account of…I dunno, man, god shit.”

Medusa squinted into the chamber, but the smoke was too thick for her to make out any distinct shapes. The speaker didn’t sound formal enough to be an Oracle, but Medusa had to admit she didn’t know any Oracles. Maybe they all sounded like stoners.

“Are you the one known as Cassandra?” Medusa continued in her haughty voice, thought she was still holding her nose in a rather uh-haughty-ish manner. She continued toward the source of the voice, the smoke around her growing thicker, more potent.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Medusa heard the speaker take a deep breath in, inhaling a substance likely related to the surrounding smoke cloud, and let out a long, satisfied sigh. “You the pizza man or somethin’? Whatever a pizza is, I think I could really go for one. Didn’t think it was invented yet…”

“You of all people should know who I am,” Medusa snarled. She had to walk with her hands held out in front of her to avoid running into the prayer shrines and offerings scattered on the temple floor. “I’m the one you’ve cursed with your gift of prophecy!”

“Gift?” Cassandra chuckled, but slowly, as if it took her a second to understand her own joke. “It’s a fuckin’ curse dude. That’s the whole deal. Don’t you know? Apollo hates my guts, he ain’t givin’ me gifts.”

“Apollo?” The name of her most hated enemy stopped Medusa in her tracks. “He cursed you, too?”

“Yee-up.” Medusa heard Cassandra stand up and approach her. A stout, yet graceful silhouette began floating out of the haze.

A second before Cassandra came into focus, Medusa flung her hands over her eyes. “Wait wait wait!” she insisted. Her righteous fury had melted into embarrassment. Hands still over her eyes, she danced in place, turning this way and that, trying to figure out how to get her sunglasses back on without accidentally turning Cassandra to stone.

“You okay, m- woah.” Medusa heard Cassandra stop, just a few steps ahead of her, certainly enough to see Medusa clearly. Medusa heard a low, almost melodic sound, and realized it was Cassandra whistling. “Sorry. You’re not a man at all, huh?”

The prophecy hadn’t said anything about women. That was convenient.

Medusa had the distinct impression that she was being stared at. “Just let me- cover your eyes for a second, okay?”

Cassandra chuckled again—a deep, raspy belly laugh that made Medusa’s insides writhe like they, too, were made of snakes. Medusa softly pressed her hands forward, making sure that Cassandra’s hands were safely covering her eyes.

Medusa looked. The figure before her—Cassandra—did not only meet the temple in regards to elegance, but far surpassed it. If Medusa had stopped to imagine what an Oracle looked like beforehand, it would’ve quite nearly been this. Medusa could tell at first glance that this was no common soldier’s wife, nor a widowed washerwoman; this was a lady of wealth, intellect, and charm. Golden hair flowed lazily down Cassandra’s back. Her figure was round with opulence, glowing in a way Medusa had attributed only to the gods, until now. She was tempted to remove Cassandra’s hands, just for a glimpse at her face.

Remembering herself, Medusa put her sunglasses back on before lowering Cassandra’s hands. She took her time meeting Cassandra’s eyes, letting her eyes linger on her gown, her soft, scented flesh. Finally, she plunged herself in Cassandra’s eyes, the first mortal eyes she had seen that were not made of stone.

They’re brown, Medusa thought. Her heart fluttered desperately against her chest. I didn’t know mortal eyes could be colored.

Cassandra was, understandably, confused. She blinked a few times, making sure that, no, the lady with hair made of snakes wasn’t just a drug-induced aftereffect. The snakes weren’t as off-putting as Cassandra may have expected. Medusa was so unlike any being she had ever come into contact with—and that was saying quite a bit, for an Oracle of the gods—but the expression on Medusa’s face was all too familiar.

The two women simultaneously understood what had driven Apollo to curse the other. Who wouldn’t feel spurned, to be denied such beauty?

Medusa’s hands lingered around Cassandra’s. Cassandra waited for her to speak, but Medusa was as still as her victims. Whatever the gorgon had been threatening to do before, it now seemed to be the farthest thing from her mind. Well, if Medusa wasn’t going to move, Cassandra would move her herself.

“Hup!” Cassandra linked her hands behind Medusa’s back and lifted her off the ground. Medusa was shocked by how warm Cassandra was against her own semi-cold-blooded flesh, and instinctively wrapped herself around her. Cassandra was stronger than she looked, and effortlessly carried Medusa to her private chambers.

“Now,” Cassandra crooned seductively, “tell me more about how much you hate Apollo.”

[vivid-imaginations-inspiration]

***This is a long post but worth the time it takes to read***

This is a letter for that person who feels stuck in life and feels hopeless. That person who doesn’t know if life will get better. That person who’s been trying to make a change for so long, but hasn’t been able to.

If that’s you, you’re not alone and I’m writing this to you.

To my friend,

I know things have been tough lately. Every day feels the same and you want to scream from the top of your lungs at times because it sucks. Every day you feel like you’re on a downward spiral. You just hope that your life starts to change real soon. Negative thoughts keep crossing your mind, but just know there is much more to life than you have now…

It does get better if you want it to…

I was once you. I searched for what was the one thing I was supposed to do with my life. I’ve learned that life doesn’t have to be about finding that one thing you’re meant to do and then do it forever. Some people do find that one thing and dedicate their whole lives because they love it. I’ve realized that in the right timing it will be revealed to you and while you are waiting you can explore and experience different things in life…

To me life is about exploring everything out there. It’s trying different things and putting more attention on certain ones. There’s so much out there that it’d be a shame to not have more than one interest. Is what I’m doing now what I’ll be doing forever? I don’t know but I’ve found something that I enjoy doing at this time in my life. I know new opportunities will present itself and my need for a new challenge will come along. Who knows what I’ll be doing five years from now, but for now, I like what I do and have stopped searching for the meaning of life because once I finally opened my heart and stopped allowing the past to keep me caged in I finally began to live. Looking back kept me tied to what happened to me or the wrongs I may have done. It stopped me from living my life. It kept me bound even though my life had moved on from that moment.

If you don’t know what you want to do with your life, it’s okay! The answer doesn’t come to you at a specific time. Some find it when they’re a child. Others, like me, discover it after they’ve had three children that are almost grown now. It’s never too late to start going for what you want

However, a better life isn’t going to be found watching television, keeping up with Honey Boo-Boo or the Kardashians, mindlessly surfing the internet, or checking Facebook every five minutes. It’s not found sitting on the couch after work every night or drinking your sorrows away every weekend alone or with your buddies. It’s not going to be found partying and being promiscuous or seeking temporary things to fill a void or to try to find happiness when the only person that can find your happiness is you. You have to be happy within yourself before you can be happy with anyone else. Nobody else will complete you. Only you can live your life. What you think and focus on the most is what you will create and put into action. It takes just as much time to worry as it does to think positive. Regardless of what you are going through in any situation you always have something to be thankful for and many blessings. Some wait, as I did, for a near death experience to get a second chance at life and realize just how precious life is. Your life won’t improve if you constantly feel sorry for yourself or rely on others to make it better for you.

Nor is a better life going to happen instantly. We’re used to wanting everything quicker. We want to reach our destination as fast as possible. We want our internet speeds to be lightening quick. This obsession with speeds translates to the results we want.

Your life isn’t going to change by clicking your heels together. I had always hoped it would be that easy! I wanted it to be like the movies. My rise from the lowest point in my life to the top would be in under 2 hours and I’d get the guy at the end. There is no quick fix in the real world. You’re not going to forever eliminate years of bad habits in a month.

So what will it take? I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s going to take one day at a time. You need to start making deliberate choices and stop sleepwalking through life. What’s even worse is you will be doing things you should be doing on a consistent basis and you’re not going to see any results or feel any different. I know that’s frustrating. This is where most people quit. They feel the work they’re putting in is a waste of time. They quit the gym after a month. They stop selling after only a few sales. So they quit and go back to their average life and continue to blame and point fingers at others for their misery.

I don’t want that to be you. Okay? When you’re doing the right things, keep doing it. Small consistent actions over time will produce tremendous results. Anything you truly want in your life isn’t going to come easy. It’s how life works. Life is testing you to see how bad you want it. It’ll weed out the weak ones and only the determined will survive and be handsomely rewarded.

However, I think you actually don’t need any more information. You know everything you should be doing, but you just haven’t done it.

Why not? Here is my guess.

You’re waiting for that magical moment, a burst of motivation, the right time, the right person, the right day, more money, or next year. You’re waiting for someone to tell you it’s okay to start. You’re waiting for more knowledge. You want to be perfect before you even begin. No situation will ever be perfect.

That’s like life too. The longer you wait the longer you go back to your regular life of the same old stuff and routines.

It’s okay if something you want to do is not a priority right now. Maybe you’ve got a lot going on already. Just adding more stuff to do spreads yourself thin. At least you’re doing something you truly want and not just sitting around twirling your thumbs. (Reorganizing your desk to avoid doing what you need to do doesn’t count as having a lot going on either lol.)

If you know you should be doing it, but you’re not then that’s a different story. I can’t come over there and knock on your door to make sure you start. Nor can I constantly be looking over your shoulder to make sure you’re not on Facebook again or looking at pictures of cute dogs, provocative images or depressing things. You’re an adult now and its time to grow up and make your own decisions. Your girlfriend/boyfriend/husband/wife/partner is there to support you (I hope), but they’re not going to be able to do it for you. If you want to get into shape, they can’t do your pushups for you.

The person that is going to be responsible for everything you want to create in your life is that face you see in the mirror every single day. It’s that good looking face you see. It’s the one who had big hopes and dreams, but got lost after years of self-doubt and trying to making others happy or looking to the past too much. The one with so much potential waiting to be unleashed. When you need to be reminded who’s going to save your life, look at yourself in the mirror. Nobody else will so stop looking around.

No amount of reading, thinking, hoping, is going to help you. It’s more about doing, failing, adjusting, believing, and doing again.

Who cares if you fail? It’s not the end of the world. No one is perfect. We all make mistakes and just because you make those mistakes in life it doesn’t mean you are a mistake. It just means you are human. If you fail at least you tried. However, this is very important. Don’t begin with the attitude that you will fail because you’re just setting yourself up to fail. You won’t try that hard and when you do fail you’ll say to yourself, “I was right.”

There isn’t one person who’s had success in life who hasn’t failed at all. Successful people take risks. Sometimes they work out and sometimes they don’t. They don’t let their failures define them. If they move on and find success, no one’s going to remember the failures.

And don’t wait for luck either. Luck is an awesome thing, but if you’re waiting for luck to come you’re going to be waiting a long time. By that time, you’ll feel lucky to just wake up every morning.

You’re not unlucky in life either despite what you believe. You’ve just made a series of poor choices which seemed so tiny at the time, but have compounded to crappy results. Then your belief is that you’re unlucky so that’s what you’ll keep brining into your life.

You can start to change that immediately by believing in yourself. You are special. You are unique and you have things to offer in a particular way that maybe someone else can’t. Maybe you can reach people in life that others can’t. God is doing great things for you but you may not have allowed yourself to accept it because maybe you feel unworthy. You are worthy and you deserve good things. Seriously you should say that to yourself every day and believe it. It’s true! Why is the world out to do you harm? .It’s an equal opportunity employer. It doesn’t discriminate. It’s filled with everything you want, but you have to go look for it and make the right choices in life. With that positive attitude, you’re going to find a $10 bill on the ground while someone else will walk right by it.

I know you told me you’re busy and you don’t have much time to do anything. I bet you do have some time during your day. Take a look at what unproductive activities you do. Are you checking email five times an hour? Do you have ten browsing tabs open? Do you spend all day on YouTube? Do you take a quick peek at social media and end up spending thirty minutes? What do you do at nights? Can you wake up earlier? Think about outsourcing some tasks. I know you can find time during the day. We all have the same 24 hours yet there are people who can do more in one day than some in one month.

Don’t worry about what’s going to happen either when you start on your dreams. Fear stops so many from doing what they should be doing. Anything you do that’s new is going to have some level of fear because you don’t know how it will turn out. What usually happens is you imagine all these worst case scenarios in your mind.

Nothing you imagine in your mind is going to be as bad as what might actually happen. Our minds have some vivid imaginations and does a great job of creating wacky scenarios. I know because I am an artist/designer so my mind comes up with some pretty out there scenarios lol. Have you ever woken up from the weird dreams? Of course you have. Crazy mind at work. Don’t believe it.

Instead try and think best case scenarios. What would happen if you achieved what you set out to do for that day? Set small goals and each step is progress no matter how small. How would your life look every day? How would you feel? What type of people would you be surrounded be? Where would you go on vacation? How great would life finally be?

If you think about the unknown that way, you’ll feel more inspired and motivated to do it.

Isn’t that kind of life worth trying for? I know for me it’s worth the risk, hard work, and sacrifices. It hasn’t been all easy either. All those people you want to be like haven’t had it all easy. You see the success. That’s what you want. There’s a million things that went on behind the scenes. You don’t know that they thought about quitting many times. You don’t know how many rejections they had. Some may have even gone bankrupt but still found success later on.

You know what else? They were beginners at one point. They didn’t know everything. They’ve messed up along the way. They may have been unsure what the future held for them, but what they did have was belief. They felt so certain about what they wanted to do that no matter what got in their way they did it. They’ve had failures. They’ve had massive rejections but they never gave up.

Your goals may not be as big as some and that’s okay. As long as it comes from you. Not just a goal that seems interesting, but one that keeps you up at night. A goal that consumes your soul and you’d be willing to do anything to achieve it. Don’t set a goal that someone else wants you to do either. You’re not going to be excited about it and if you do achieve it, you’re going to hate life more and more with every passing day.

Whatever you want to achieve in life isn’t meaningless. I just don’t want you to think your goals are silly. They are your goals so they are serious. Whatever your goal is, I know if you achieved it, it would be like winning the lottery. I know that’s how you’d feel. So there aren’t any silly goals.

If you told me your goals, I’d treat you like a little child who thinks anything is possible. I will say it sounds great and you can do it because that’s what I believe. Why else would I say otherwise? I’m not here to crush your dreams. Who am I to belittle them? They are your dreams. Not mine. I want to see people doing what they love. Looking forward to the future. Smiling and being inspired by the steps they choose to take every day. Knowing life is a one shot deal and once time is gone we cannot get it back. When more people are like that and also want to help others reach happiness and success, it makes the world a better place.

Our lives aren’t pre-determined. People who only knew about poverty as a child have become billionaires. While other people, who were born in million dollar mansions, have grown up addicted to drugs and in and out of jail. So get rid of that belief. Whatever your life is like now isn’t what it will be like if you have any control over it and guess what? You do! You have so much power and you don’t even know it. Your lack of skill and natural ability can be made up with hard work and determination.

If I asked you how bad do you want it a better life, what will you say? You might say you really do, but do you really? Are you willing to make that commitment?

What happens now after you read this letter is up to you. You can put it away, continue with what you were previously doing, and forget you read this. Or you can re-read it and let the words really sink in and take a deeper look at yourself and wonder if what you’re doing now is right for you. Is it leading you on the path where you want to go? Are you making the right daily choices? Will you have a life full of regret when you’re on your deathbed?

You can do something about it. You always have a choice. It doesn’t matter what happened before. What’s important is what happens from this moment on. It’s time to draw a line in the sand and separate the old you from the new you.

So quit your excuses, your pity party, your complaining, and finger pointing and start to do something. Life moves pretty fast. You’re not going to achieve everything at one time, but focus on just one area of your life and work on changing it to the way you want first.

You’re responsible for everything in your life and because of that power you can have the life you’ve always dreamed of. And you have a friend like me to be here to put you back on the right path when you hit those bumpy roads in life.

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Vivid Imaginations Art & Photography

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My business page: www.facebook.com/VIPPhotography71

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