#but hes getting better. Pops is cracking through his shell and shes slowly learning how to understand him

[marinerainbow]

Since this is a totally-not-self-indulgent ask... I had to write it self-indulgently XD

This is a sequel to the mini-drabble of Poppy meeting her celebrity crush, The Evil Queen.

~

"Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!!!" No matter what, she couldn't stop squealing about this. But how could she?? The Evil Queen knew her!! Poppy still couldn't believe it! This was one of the most exciting days of her life! She just wished she had someone to celebrate this with.

...

Now that the thought was in her head, the rabbit couldn't stop herself from dashing to the nearest phone and dialing her favorite number. She was barely even able to contain herself as she listened to the phone ring a few times before it was picked up and she heard her sweethearts voice on the other line, "Hi, honey! I know I don't usually call from work, but something happened, and I can't wait until later to tell you! Are you free for a minute?"

Her voice was cheerful, so hopefully they weren't thinking she was in trouble. A giant happy grin spread on her lips when her love confirmed that they wanted to hear what was up, and she took in a deep breath to try to calm herself before she started... "Queen Grimhilde came into the shop just now!!"

Despite her best efforts, Poppy still managed to squeal again on the phone. Just thinking about her meeting with the queen was enough to make her giddy all over again. She wasn't usually this talkative, but today the floodgates had been opened, "And guess what? She knows me!! From my former career as an actress! She said she likes my cartoons!!! I can't believe it! Can you believe it??"

~

Greasypop

The smile melted away from the gangsters face as he ran what Poppy said through his head. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening, "Ah-ha... Is that so, amore?"

"Yes!" Her voice rang out from the other end of the line. She sounded so thrilled with this. He could see the look on her face now; her pretty eyes glimmering, an adorable smile spread across her face. Possibly resisting hopping from sheer joy that wasn't caused by him, "You should have been there! Oh, Miss Grimhilde is so nice! She's nothing like her character!"

Nothing like her character, huh? Well... Maybe Poppy wasn't so happy meeting her after all! Especially if Grimhilde isn't as pretty in person as she is on screen, "Oh, I see... You don't sound disappointed?..."

"Disappointed? How can I?? She was so sweet to me. She wanted to talk to me! Granted, I didn't like my acting career. I still don't, but how can I be upset about The Evil Queen liking my work?! And- Oh my goodness. The movie doesn't do her beauty justice! She truly is the fairest of them all!"

And there goes that crumb of hope he had. Thank the Lord that they were talking over the phone, or else Greasy would have had to put in an effort to hold back his horrible grimace. He could see out of the corner of his eye Wheezy look at him oddly from the window, but Greasy ignored him, "Sounds like you had quite the day, Carino... Hay que hacer algo al respecto."

He had been teaching Poppy Spanish recently, but they hadn't gone that far in her teachings yet. So he had full confidence that she wouldn't understand what he whispered. And she was so kind to confirm his thoughts, "What was that last part?"

"Oh, nada, Poppy."

"You said que. Que means 'what', right? Were you trying to ask me something?"

'Mierda!' A woman with Poppy's focused attention span was both a blessing and a curse. What was he supposed to say here?? What could he-

The weasels' eyes widened as a light bulb went off in his head. The smirk he always wore when he thought of a- in his opinion- foolproof plot pulled at his lips. And his smoking teammate groaned from the window sill, "You're right, mi vida! That was a question. I was asking if you'd like to go out and have a... Shall we say, celebration for this special day~?"

It took everything in Greasy to keep the jealous venom off of his tongue as he said those words. Though it didn't sound like Poppy noticed as she replied in intrigue, "A celebration? You mean you want to take me out tonight?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I want to make sure your day ended on a perfect note?" He sounded just like any sweet and considerate boyfriend just now. Like this date wasn't a ruse to make Poppy forget about how perfect meeting her favorite celebrity was.

She didn't reply for a moment, like she was considering how true his answer was. Fortunately for him, it sounded like his girl ate up his words as she replied, "Oh, you don't have to. It's already perfect enough!"

Oh... He was going to have to pull out the big guns to outshine the queen. He tried to ignore his panicked feelings for now and remain focused, "Sí, sí... I can only imagine how happy Grimhilde made you today, querida..."

"Yeah, she did. And I'm even happier now that you listen to me! Even though I'm pretty sure I sound ridiculous, haha."

... No! No! He was not falling for Poppy's cuteness today! He had a mission tonight, and he would not let his love sway him! "No, no, amore! You don't sound ridiculous at all! But back to the matter at hand- You're not changing my mind on this. I'll pick you up after your shift and give you a night you'll never forget~"

"Well... Ok! As long as it's not too much trouble for your schedule." The sweet lit in her voice almost made Greasy forget the reason she was so happy in the first place, "Speaking of work though, I should hang up and head back to the floor. I love you!"

"I love you too, chica de mis sueños~"

The rabbit giggled flusteredly at the nickname. Despite the fact that her spirits were high because of somebody else, Greasy could feel the corner of his lips quirk up a little. This could be more evidence for Psycho's theory that Poppy's emotions were contagious, "I can't wait to see you!"

And with that, the click of the phone being hung up was heard. Greasy hung the receiver back on its stand before his eyes narrowed in thought. Thinking about everything Poppy told him about Grimhilde, and how he could top that tonight. It wasn't going to be enough to just take his girl out anywhere after the surprise she just had. He had to sweep her off her feet if he was going to remain in her favor.

~

Pocho

"... You met her?" There was an unusual crack in his high-pitched voice, and his grip on the phone tightened just a tad. He couldn't have heard Poppy right. Right?

"Yes!" Nope. Psycho heard her right. The sweet voice that usually comforted him now made him feel dread and suspicion. Not towards Poppy necessarily, but towards that horrid queen, "But she's nothing like she is in the movies! She's so kind, but still regal! And she was asking me so many questions! About myself, and what kind of cloth would be best for her! She was just so sweet and respectful..."

As Poppy continued to tell him everything about the other toon, Psycho was silent. His eyes were wide and unblinking, staring into the wall in front of him as he listened to his dear talk about the Disney star she thought so highly of. He listened to all the praise she gave this woman she didn't even know- not like how they knew each other, and could feel his heart twist in dread.

If Poppy felt this much joy just from a brief meeting with Grimhilde, what would happen if the queen came back to the store? Did she know how much Poppy enjoyed her company?? Would she take advantage of that if she did???

Psycho's mind continued to run wild with all kinds of possibilities. None of them turned out well for his relationship. He didn't even notice when the other voice on the line trailed off, and blinked back into present when he could hear Poppy repeat his name, "Psycho? You've been quiet for a while. Are you ok?"

"... You're really happy about this..." The weasel didn't want to say his fears out loud. As if somehow that action would ensure they would come true.

But he was reminded that Poppy still knew him. How well she understood him when her voice grew sympathetic and concerned then, "Sweetheart, you don't think she makes me happier than you do, right?"

"You like her. A lot."

"I like her in the movie. And from what I've seen, she's a very pleasant person in real life too. But that doesn't mean anything about us." Poppy's voice was full of understanding and patience. It always was for him. It was among the many things he loved about her. Though he wished he could actually see her face right now. The sound of her voice ringing through the machine wasn't enough right now, "I like her, yes. But I love you, and what we have. I wouldn't exchange your heart for anyone else's, my dear."

It sounded like she was smiling from her end of the phone, and he wanted to believe that. Though he remembered why she called him in the first place, and frowned, "I know you wouldn't." Poppy had nothing but goodness in her heart. She would never betray him like that. But Psycho wouldn't say the same for Grimhilde, though.

"Oh, love. Grimhilde doesn't seem like that kind of woman." His dear replied, somehow knowing what he was thinking despite not seeing the look in his swirling eyes... Did couples have an innate ability to read each other's minds? That would explain a lot about them actually, "She's nice and respectful. Besides, I highly doubt I'd be her type anyway- assuming she doesn't already have somebody of her own. Even if she did, I'd never leave you for her. Or anybody else who might like me. I promise."

Psycho was silent again as he pondered her words, figuring out how he would respond next, before he heard someone else's voice from Poppy's side of the conversation, "Sorry! Sorry, I'll be there in a minute!" He heard her say to this other toon, before she spoke to him again, "I'm sorry sweetie, but I need to get back to work. Don't forget what I said, ok?"

His ears pinned down a little, not wanting Poppy to hang up now with the mood he was in, and the way his mind was running in circles now, "Do you have to?"

"Yes, I do. But I can see you after work!" Poppy sounded rushed. Was that coworker of hers hanging over her shoulder? "I love you, honey."

"love you too..." Psycho hesitated putting the phone down, even after he heard the click. What was he supposed to do now? Poppy met her favorite celebrity, and if Grimhilde liked that store so much, then she would come back! What if Poppy was thinking about the queen right now? What if she focused so much on the Evil Queen that she forgot that they're supposed to meet today after work? Forgot about him??

...

With no explanation, Psycho hopped onto his feet and made a mad dash for the front door of the house, ignoring his teammates yelling behind him. They didn't need him for today's job; he needed to see Poppy more than they needed him today!

~

Smarty-Pop

'Oh great...' Smartass groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose, his frown deepening when he heard Poppy squeal again. Why did Poppy like that woman again?? Honestly, she was just as bad as Stupid was with his cartoons about that movie thanks to Grimhilde. Sometimes they both sat down and watched that movie together; and if he was caught, he'd get dragged in, and he'd have to watch his gal get all excited over some old lady on the screen. Now he was going to hear all about this meeting for days. Heaving a sigh, the weasel prepared himself before saying, "Nah, can't really believe it."

Poppy didn't see that as an insult to her- which it wasn't meant to be. She just continued to excitedly blab about the damn star, "Right!? It's so unbelievable. You'd have to have been here! Oh, I wish you were."

"I don't." The boss grumbled a little. At his desk, he got a full view of the room and could see his right hand man look at him funnily from the couch. He didn't bother offering any kind of explanation for his attitude. Though knowing Greasy, he most likely already knew.

Smartass also noticed the brief pause on the other end of the line. And when Poppy started again, her excitement had mellowed out of little, "Well... She was very kind and respectful. She asked me all kinds of questions."

"So she wasted 'yer time. Sounds so lovely to me."

"No... I-It showed that she was willing to listen and wanted to know more..." Her voice grew quiet again until she was practically whispering into the receiver. The excitement that had initially been in her voice had all but disappeared now, "At least I think so."

"Probably just wanted you to do the thinkin' for her." He couldn't stop himself from spitting out. But then he thought about what she said just now; Poppy had plenty of stories of stuffy customers choosing not to listen to her despite being the expert. She was probably happy that she got to actually talk...

"She asked about me too... That doesn't sound like someone who's just lazy..."

Greasy was looking at his boss incredulously now while Smartass tried to think of a response to that; he had been about to say the first sarcastic thing on his mind, though once again, Poppy was making him go soft. He couldn't see her face, but now he could hear the disappointment in her voice, and that was enough to make him hesitate... 'Fuck.'

"Um... You sound pretty tired. I'll let you go now."

Wait, no! Don't do that! "Hang on-"

"It's ok! I need to get back to the floor, anyway. I didn't mean to bother you." Oh crap. Now he could hear the guilt creeping into her voice, and he clenched his fist as he felt his heart twist from his own regret. Good God, whose idea was it that he fell in love with the nicest girl in town?? "So, I'll see you tonight. Right?"

"... Yeah. Yeah, I'll see 'ya." Smartass nodded stiffly, not at all used to all these new emotions that rabbit brought with her presence. At least they weren't face to face now... "Wait, 'Pops?"

"Yeah?"

"... I love you." He didn't normally like to say it out loud, especially with his second in command watching him intently. Though it always made Poppy happy to hear him say it.

There was another second of silence on her end. He was worried she was going to just hang up on him in anger, before he heard the sweet and understanding tone in her voice come back, "I love you too, sweetheart."

It took Smartass a few seconds to put the phone back onto its stand. He stared down at the paperwork left on his desk, feeling Greasy's damn knowing gaze burning into his skull. All while that whole conversation replayed in his mind. He didn't feel bad about what he said about Grimhilde, but Poppy...

"... Son of bitch." The mobster hissed under his breath as he promptly got up and stomped his way to the front door. Grabbing the keys to the van and his wallet before shouting out, "Boys! I'm going out! Greasy, 'yer in charge!"

He made the terrible mistake of glancing back towards the couch instead of just leaving. The last thing Smartass saw before he left in a huff was the now smug knowing look on Greasy's face. That bastard was way too good at his job.

~

Peezy

A smokey chuckle left Wheezy's lips as he listened to his sweethearts excited rambling over the phone. He wasn't exactly sure what to expect when he heard Poppy's voice when he picked up the phone, but he had to admit; this was a cute surprise, "Really? S'that so?"

"Yeah!" She exclaimed, making the smokers' smirk broaden, "You should have seen her! I bet you would have liked her!"

"Is that right? Well, what was she like then?"

And that was all the encouragement Poppy needed to continue her gushing. Wheezy was able to keep sipping off of his cigarettes and leaned against the wall as he listened. Occasionally offering her a question about the queen, to which she was more than happy to answer. As best as she could at least, with what she got from the brief meeting.

Damn. Just how cute could this little bunny get?

It didn't take too long, at least not long enough to warrant the irritated look from Smartass. But Wheezy knew that they both needed to get back to their jobs. So, with a content sigh, the weasel took the pause in his girls speech to end this conversation. It would have been nice to be able to continue listening to her happy voice- it was definitely the better option over his housemates screaming in the other room, but he didn't want to get yelled at by his boss, and he knew Poppy felt the same, "Sounds like you've had quite the day, babygirl."

She giggled flusteredly a little, still getting used to his nicknames for her. Adorable, "Yeah, I did. Thanks for letting me get it off my chest, even though I kinda jumped on you, haha." Ah. Now that she was slowing down, the embarrassment must be creeping in now.

He didn't laugh, or point it out. There was no need for that. Besides, why would he if her phone call managed to distract him from the day he was having anyway? "Not a problem, 'Hon."

"Oh- I have to go now. I'll see you tonight when I come over? Or are you guys... Busy tonight?"

Wheezy opened his mouth to assure her that she was free to come over... Until a terrible crash could be heard from the kitchen. Along with Greasy's cursing at more than likely their insane housemate. Great...

When Smartass' screeching joined the chorus, and Poppy shrieked a little in surprise from her end of the phone, the gunner shut his eyes and sucked in a plume of smoke. He took a moment to focus on the relief filling his lungs before finally answering his sweethearts question, "Y'know? Maybe it'd be a better idea if I came over to your place t'night. How's that sound?"

"Y-Yeah, that sounds good... It sounds like you need a break." As always, Poppy was just so concerned for him. It managed to get a smile out of him despite the war occurring on the other side of the house right now, "We can have an at home dinner date!"

"Yeah. Sounds good, Peaches. We can figure out what to make later, though. Y'need to get back to work now, don't 'ya?"

"Yeah, you're right. I do. I hope your day goes well!"

"Yeah, doubt it."

Poppy let out a sigh, and he could clearly see the slightly amused smile on her lips as she shook her head, "I love you!"

"Love 'ya too, doll." The phone hadn't even been put back on its stand when Smartass started screaming for Wheezy to 'back him up' in the kitchen. The smile fell from his face instantly and he groaned, preparing for the headache that was about to strike before facing his insane team once again. The day couldn't go by fast enough.

~

Bonus! Popshine

(Not just for this ship, but in general, Shiny would be like a teasing supporter of her S/O if they ever got to meet their celebrity crush. Just happy that her S/O is happy ^^ though if it was a crush they both shared, like she does with Poppy, she'd be just as excited as them XD)

Shiny's jaw dropped, having to run through what her girlfriend said through her head. Did she hear right? Or had she lost too much sleep by now? She did almost burn herself with her coffee pot just now, "Are you serious???"

"Yes I am!! I met The Evil Queen!" Ok so her ears were still working right, "Oh my goodness! I wish you were there. You would have loved her!"

"God, I'm wishing I could have been there too! Ugh, I should have known to come over." dancer downed the rest of her coffee and set the mug down, an excited and wide awake smile on her face. This was definitely going to charge her up for the rest of her day! "Did you get her autograph??"

"I didn't have the chance! And besides, she came in for her own business. It'd be rude if I asked for one while she was busy."

"But she was talking to you all casually, right? You two were talking about your acting? You could have asked her then!" Oh man, she felt bummed out for Poppy now! What if she never got to meet Grimhilde again after today? Though from the sounds of things, the Evil Queen liked this store and the employees enough to come back.

"Oh... Shoot. Well still, I don't want her to think I'm weird."

Oh no. She was not going to let Poppy disappoint herself today. This was an amazing thing for her, and Shiny was going to keep it that way! "Baby, she liked your stuff too. She was probably hoping to get your autograph, too!"

There was some hesitation, though Shiny just knew that her girl was smiling so brightly on her end of the line, "You really think? Should I have offered?"

"Yes! You should totally offer it next time you see her! If you do, then she'll be obligated to give you hers. Foolproof."

"Shiny!"

"I'm kiddin'! Kinda." The dancer couldn't stop her laughter as Poppy got all huffy with her. It was always so easy to ruffle her honey bunny's feathers, and it never got old. She was just too cute, "Y'know what? I got an idea."

"Uh-oh." Poppy giggled, and Shiny didn't feel any kind of shame for being the cause of that suspicion, "What are you thinking, honey?"

The toon chuckled at that, "Well, it's been a while since we got to have a real date. And I just got the perfect idea of a night out for us~"

She knew she had Poppy's attention now. No doubt she was tilting her head curiously in that adorable way she always did when intrigued, "Really? That sounds lovely! What were you thinking?" She was intrigued, but not at all suspicious. Perfect.

"Well, on my drive back home last night, I passed by the cinema near my place... Can 'ya guess what movie they're showing?"

Oh Shiny could hear the rabbit's jaw drop. It took everything in her to hold back her manic giggling, especially when Poppy responded, "No."

"Oh, yes, darling. We're gonna go watch the queen on the big screen tonight~"

The squealing that had rang out before was nothing like the excited noises her girlfriend squeaked out just now. Shiny couldn't help but giggle herself, a big love struck grin on her face as she pictured how happy Poppy was now, "Are you serious!?"

"I was gonna ask you later, but now seemed like the best time to reveal my plans. What, with your dream encounter and all." Her heart skipped a beat as she listened to Poppy geek out even harder than she did before. God, Poppy was such a dork. She couldn't imagine loving anybody else, "I take it that's a yes?"

"Yes! Oh my gosh, Shiny!" Poppy's voice was over flowing with joy now. Just being able to hear her usually shy girl throw out her inhibitions made Shiny feel like the luckiest woman in Toontown now, "How am I going to get through the rest of the day now??"

"I dunno. But I know you can." The dancer giggled a little, feeling giddier by the second, "So, I'll pick 'ya up after work? We'll see Snow White, and maybe pick up dinner? And you tell me everything about meeting your Evil Queen~?"

"That sounds perfect! I love you so much!"

"Love you more, sweetpea~ see you later."

"See 'ya!" And on that happy note, Poppy ended the call. Shiny let out a content laugh as she grabbed her mug and went to go get a second cup of coffee, god, Poppy's joy was just so addictive. She didn't know that such an adorable soul could exist, and she still had no idea how she got so lucky to land a cutie pie like her.

~

I hope you like these! They were so fun to write! ^^

If you don't mind answering, what do you think the Toon Patrols reactions would be if their S/O gushed to them about meeting their favorite toon celebrity? Like I dunno. Bugs Bunny, Betty Boop... The Evil Queen even?

(This has noooothing to do with what I just wrote. Believe me! This is a conpletely, not self-indulgent ask! XD)

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WELL-

Greasy: ... WHAT!? Greasy is immediately threatened, cuz like- this person is built up in your head! This person is your exact type!! He was hoping this day would never come!! 😅😅😅

Psycho: You met them??? Hmmm, he doesn't really like this... what if they steal you away??

Smartass: Oh great... fucken goodie. Smartass has disdain for the elites 😅 Especially celebrities that his partner thinks is cute.

He's going to listen, but he's gonna be kinda bitter and sarcastic XD

Stupid: Oh you did???? Were they nice??

Stupid is, as always, pure.

Wheezy: He's cool XD He's always cool. We love him for it. He's like, 'oh yeah??' grinning, relaxed, 'sounds like an experience, babygirl. What were they like in real life?'

He asks questions about it, and your day, and then asks you what you want for dinner basically.

[dudeandduchess]

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: “The more you kink shame me, the more I’m picturing you naked” (Fluff + Smut, Smut/NSFW Prompts, Modern AU, Slight NSFW Scenario)

Note: This was also inspired by the graphics that ufotable dropped recently. Hence the title, “Corn Star”. It was supposed to be a really crack-filled fic at first, but I had to change it up.

Warnings: Language, Sexual Situations, Groping, Grinding, Jealous Reader

***

Keeping her distance was the last thing that (Y/n) had wanted to do on such a nice night with her husband. That really was the last thing she had anticipated on doing, since they had been so excited to be at the festival in the first place.

After all, it was their first time ever trying their hand at selling food, so they wanted the experience— as it looked like a fun thing to do for the weekend.

Not to mention the fact that it was a great bonding experience for both of them.

Only, Kyōjurō hadn’t even tried to be subtle with the way that he had eyed (Y/n) with so much lust while she worked next to him. Especially when she would bend over to get something from the ground. He would step up behind her and subtly rub his crotch against her ass, and it discombobulated her enough to need a breather from her husband.

As it was, however, it was getting harder and harder for her to keep her distance. Especially when the tiny flares of jealousy would bubble up inside her, whenever ladies would flock to Kyōjurō under the guise of buying food from him.

When she was there, she could push Kyōjurō back when some women got too handsy; letting their hands linger against his when they paid for their snacks.

She wanted to slap all of their shameless selves unconscious.

With a huffy sigh— as well as a brief glance down at the takoyaki ball that she still had by her lips— she popped the treat in her mouth; only to let out a panicked exhale when she bit down into the piping hot center.

Part of her was so tempted to spit it out, but she powered through the heat and started chewing at odd intervals. If only to avoid wasting food, as well as admitting that she was bested by something inanimate.

And, with tears still swimming in her eyes, she straightened herself out and marched back over to the stall where her husband was smiling as he set out to grilling corn; throwing the stick and tiny container that had held the takoyaki earlier into a nearby trash bin.

More because of the fact that the women were getting even chattier with him.

“I’m back, Kyō,” (Y/n) announced— much louder than she usually would— as she hoped that all the women that lined the stall would get the hint that he was taken. Still, she forced herself to step up right next to him, before reaching a hand up to rub his back in soothing circles.

Kyōjurō didn’t disappoint her with his reaction at all, as he sent her a beaming grin that was enough to make her a little bit breathless— what with how bright it really was. Especially when he leaned over to claim her lips in a kiss.

“You taste like takoyaki, baby. Did you get any for me?” She honestly felt bad about not getting him any but— in her defense— she had more pressing matters at hand.

That, and the memory of him rubbing his half hard cock against her earlier had kept playing in her mind. Which had her blushing all the way to the tips of her ears, enough to make her forget about anything outside of her own inner turmoil.

It wasn’t that she was really averse to public displays of affection; it was more because of the fact that Kyōjurō always tended to go overboard with his ‘displays of affection’, and they often leaned towards the lewd territory.

To say that he had a really healthy libido was putting it lightly.

“I forgot… but I’ll get you some after this,” She answered softly, smiling at him as she did so— which had the young man leaning in towards her once more to press the lightest kiss to her lips.

The words ‘I’d rather have you instead’ burned on the tip of his tongue, but he tamped them down; just so he wouldn’t make his wife run away from him again.

He knew that she had turned tail because of his advances earlier, and the last thing that he wanted was for her to leave him— especially with all the women lining up to talk to him.

And so, with their temporary truce in place, and Kyōjurō’s libidinous ways tethered to a leash, both of them got on with serving the ladies the things that they’d ordered. All to get rid of them.

That definitely helped calm down (Y/n)’s flaring jealousy by a lot, yet she said nothing of it as she laid down some more corn on the grill. There weren’t any customers, but they had learned that it was always better to be prepared than not.

So they were trying to cook a little bit, if only to get ahead.

However, with the absence of customers, it gave Kyōjurō a chance to get cozy with his wife.

Slowly, his hands made their way to either side of her hips— before trailing up and anchoring themselves to her waist. He then began kneading her soft flesh beneath her kimono, teasing her with what he really wanted to do when all their clothes were off by the end of the night.

“Kyō… I know public sex is one of your fantasies, on top of recording a porno,” (Y/n) whispered as quietly as she can, as she grabbed her husband’s left hand that had begun trailing up her side to grab her left breast. “But not here. That’s just wrong, on so many levels.”

Instead of heeding her words, however, the blond only stepped closer to her— pressing his slowly hardening cock against her ass once more, and subtly rubbing it between her ass cheeks to get it even harder.

Meanwhile, his right hand trailed down towards her crotch— resting against her lower abdomen, with his pinky sticking out to barely press against her clit.

It was such a scandalous position that it had (Y/n)’s brain almost short circuiting once more. Especially when Kyōjurō leaned forward and nipped at the shell of her ear, before whispering, “The more you kink shame me, the more I’m picturing you naked, baby.”

He couldn’t even deny that those were in his top fantasies with his wife— alongside breeding her (or, at least, trying to), and her calling him daddy in bed; among other things— and he also couldn’t deny the fact that he wanted so hard to be a porn star.

Even just an amateur one would have done, but he wasn’t willing to record himself or his wife if she wasn’t all for it in the first place.

And she really had no problem telling him no, especially when it came to that.

“Especially you having my cock inside that tight pussy of yours…” He nipped at her ear once more, earning the softest moan from her that went straight to his dick.

So, he had to make do with it by settling with the next best thing… acting like a porn star in the bed room.

And it was then that a funny thought came to him, with his eyes landing on the corn that was grilling right in front of them.

He couldn’t be a porn star due to his wife’s wishes, but she couldn’t really say no to him being a corn star instead. And that was how Kyōjurō and (Y/n) always tried to join in on the local festivals as merchants: all so Kyōjurō could live out his corn star dreams.

Just change a letter, and it would have been really perfect. At least, to him.

Then again, his life was already perfect with his wife. Especially their hot, hot nights together.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

offshoots of starlight

Notes: My Star Wars!AU, feat. Jedi!Nana and Toshinori, Mandalorian!Sorahiko. This is more in the lines of an actual Chapter 1, as opposed to the initial post, which was me doing a Nanahiko 101. Noumus are stand-ins for Sith chrysalides; you will see me do narrative backflips to avoid naming canonical SW characters. TW: Mention of gore; typical noumu biology Word count: 1,541

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Nana Shimura had left the Jedi Temple of her own volition, only a few years before news of Sith noumus—monsters of nature, twisted by experimentation and the Dark Side—began to surface in the galaxy. It seemed more than reasonable at the time; she had just gotten the news that she was pregnant with Sakumo’s child. Moreover, her old Master had been assassinated. Lured onto an Outer Rim planet and crushed under rubble so all Nana could recover was his bloodied corpse.

He had left her with a reminder.

There is a Sith Lord working within the Senate. This is a secret only our lineage must be trusted with. When our padawans are finished training, we masters must turn our attentions to rooting the evil out.

She could not choose a padawan and ask them to follow her fate. So rather than continue the cycle, Nana stepped away from it entirely.

In the whirlwind of her transition outside of the Order’s traditional home, her marriage, and her pregnancy, Nana was guiltily grateful that Sorahiko was preoccupied elsewhere. They had lost contact with each other years ago, just before she undertook the Knight trials, and contrary to what Nana told Rokudo, it had not been a peaceful parting.

They were both at fault. Sorahiko was in a righteous, hot-headed rage about his homeworld and the encroaching Kalevalans. Nana had been grasping for serenity, releasing anxiety after anxiety into the Force. He wanted validation; Nana wanted comfort.

Neither could appeal to the other. So they cut ties and went their separate ways.

The will of the Force was truly ineffable, that Nana was now here. Bereft of a son and husband, blessed with a padawan and the return of a very old friend.

“Ah,” she murmured, observing the shiny beskar plates and the obnoxious yellow of his hydrophobic woolen cape. The latter marked his identity to her, this Mandalorian dipping his head to ease his entrance into her tent. He took one step further inside before coming to a halt. Nana circled the table, tucked her hands in the voluminous folds of her sleeves, and briefly inclined her head. “Sorahiko, it’s been a while.”

“Shimura,” said Sorahiko, his voice coming out hoarse and incredulous. The impassive mask of his helmet offered little insight into his feelings, but Nana was an old hand at deciphering Sorahiko’s body language. “They—all the Jedi said you’d left.”

“I did. It was a personal matter.”

“I didn’t even know you could leave the Order.”

“Not the Order,” she corrected. “I left the Temple, but I never gave up being a Jedi.” Nana tilted her head and grinned. A line of tension left Sorahiko’s shoulders in reaction, but the two of them were still standing apart, strangers still. “You’ve been talking to other Jedi? Peacefully, I hope.”

Before Sorahiko could shoot an answer back, Nana’s padawan ducked back inside, clearly outraged at the audacity of their guest.

“You can’t just barge in here!” Toshinori’s cracking voice lectured at the Mandalorian towering over him. “Master Nana’s trying to strategize!”

“If I know Master Nana,” ah, there was the playful mockery, “she’ll default to some last-minute plan and play it off as the Force’s intervention.”

Toshinori quivered, but he obeyed Nana’s gesture for him to stand at her side readily enough. He settled at the ruffle to his hair. Nana assumed he was still glaring at Sorahiko, judging by the offended sulk she could feel across the training bond.

“I’ve gotten better at creating flexible plans,” Nana said. “Anyway. Sorahiko Torino, meet my padawan, Toshinori Yagi.”

There was a beat of silence. She nudged her padawan into grumpily performing the formal introduction. As a result, Sorahiko finally snorted and nodded back, tacitly agreeing to a temporary peace with a kid twenty years his minor.

Nana decided it was very pertinent for Toshinori to meditate. Yes, right now, don’t argue, and don’t get into trouble. She withstood the power of her padawan’s pout and ushered him outside; with their privacy somewhat secured (Nana did not put it past Toshinori to eavesdrop), Sorahiko edged closer to the holoprojector.

“How long has the kid been with you?”

“A few months. This is his first time out of the Temple, so don’t be mean.”

“A little roughing up never did anyone harm,” Sorahiko automatically responded. “How old is he?”

“Fourteen.” Nana smiled at his scoff. She and Sorahiko were around the same age, and they had met in their tweens. Before, Nana had thought Rokudo was just being an excessively cool Master—brother in all but name—but now…

Rokudo had wanted the best for Nana, his padawan, his little sister. In this case, that had meant isolating her from her fellow Jedi. Waiting for her to leave the crèche, to craft her lightsaber, to finish the immediate classes—then spiriting her from mission to mission, severing any possibility to cultivate deep friendships with her age-mates.

Enter, Sorahiko Torino.

She turned her eyes to the display: the imperfect grid of Takodana’s densest forested region, pitted with a lake formed by a shift in the earth’s crust. Sensors weren’t able to register its depths. Hopefully, whatever noumu had been seeded here, it preferred the trees to the waters.

“You’re here for the monster,” said Sorahiko, switching back to the issue at hand.

“The noumu, yes. Jedi are uniquely suited to tracking them down.”

“And taking them out?” he inquired.

It took effort to paste on the fearless grin, one that used to soothe Sorahiko’s worries about the adventures they inevitably stumbled into. Clearly, judging by the way he folded his arms, Sorahiko was not reassured.

“Depends on the noumu,” Nana admitted. “And honestly, the victories have been more theoretical than real. We learned about Sith creations in classes, since, y’know. They have been gone for several millennia.”

Slowly, Sorahiko said, “This is the twentieth notice about a bio-modificated monster terrorizing a planet.”

“Your number’s outdated. We’ve counted up to fifty.” And more were being reported, sometimes in batches, sometimes with long stretches of nerve-wracking silence at a time. The Order hadn’t been obligated to tell a retired Jedi about the noumu; they couldn’t have predicted that one would pop up on Inusagi, slaughter its way through her chosen community, and—

“Hey.” Sorahiko was by her side now, and the shoulder-check was awfully gentle. Tentative, but gentle. “Are you alright, Nana?”

Nana breathed through the old hurt. She unclenched her fingers from where they clutched the edge of the table, but she could not take her eyes away from that guesstimated depths of the infamous rift lake. Something told her the noumu nested there.

“Not really,” she admitted, a little terse. She glanced sideways at her old friend. “Why are you here, Sorahiko?”

His posture stiffened; the Sorahiko she knew long ago would have rocked on his heels, and held his wrist behind his back, as though it would help control the shaky notes in his response. He never did well with emotional vulnerability.

Nana supposed it was rude of her to try and peel back his beskar-hardened shell now, at the first opportunity of their reunion.

“I was here for a job,” he said. “I heard a Jedi was on Takodana to deal with its monster, and I came looking to offer… help.”

“How charitable of you.”

That visibly stung him. Sorahiko’s shoulders hunched, and it looked as though he was trying to tuck his chin under the folds of his cape. A cape that Nana had gifted him years ago, as a practical joke he couldn’t throw away due to its functionality.

“I just want to help,” Sorahiko told her.

She studied him. However good his contacts were, Sorahiko couldn’t have heard about the early fatality rates amongst the senior Jedi Masters—warriors who had been sent to deal with a problem on their lonesome, and killed due to lack of backup.

The Jedi Order had not known about Inusagi’s noumu. The bipedal creature with frightful black wings heavy with blood, exposed organs, distended muscles and protruding eyes—the talons dripping with entrails—weapons of fire-hardened wood and steel piercing its hide. Nana had killed it. A terrible, bloody affair with no fanfare afterwards. Only a raw throat and an aching body, stubbornly clinging to Light.

When she was done, she reported back to the Temple for the first time in four years.

Nana exhaled. She shut off the holoprojector for now, and checked in with her padawan—Toshinori sent a distracted, delighted pulse of LIZARD!!! back, causing Nana to laugh.

Sorahiko startled backwards at the unexpected sound. He still waited silently for her decision.

“You can help,” Nana said, and redid her half up-do, combing through her hair with just her fingers. She kindly looked past the jolt of Sorahiko’s frame as he registered her words. What the heck would he have done if Nana rejected his help? Stand in the sidelines? Please. “You just have to be nice to Toshinori, or else I’m obligated to beat you up.”

“Your kid’s coming with?”

“He’s my padawan,” Nana emphasized. “Jedi learn by doing.”

“I’m beginning to remember,” Sorahiko grunted, and he followed in her footsteps, as steady a presence as he’d ever been.

[tysonrunningfox]

Two Night Stand: Part 5

Sometimes random things you dig up are what you write

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Masterpost (ao3 to come)

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Astrid stares at the mess in the bathroom for a moment, the door clicking shut behind her echoing in the damp space.  She nudges a soaking towel into the corner by the tub and wrinkles her nose at the way it sogs her sock. 

The stolen plunger is still in the middle of the room and she picks it up with hesitant fingertips and sets it by the thankfully functioning toilet. 

It’s a testament to how far their conversation just devolved that she can’t even focus on the fact that she just dealt mass property damage in the pursuit of breaking, entering, and using a stranger’s toilet. 

She bends down to pull her damp sock off and catches her reflection in the mirror over the sink. 

Hiccup is gross.  Of course.  All guys would want nothing more than a striptease, that’s obvious, he didn’t need to tell her that.  In fact, he just said a bunch of really obvious things and acted like it was brand new information.  He forgot to remind her that it’s snowing though, so he left a base uncovered. 

Base.  Like a baseball sex metaphor type base. 

Maybe there’s a reason aside from lack of birth control and women’s rights that people used to have a dozen kids to work the farm.  How much is there really to do when you’re locked in with someone for a long time?  And like Hiccup said, they already got high and made a pillow fort. 

And critiqued each other sexual performance because apparently, they couldn’t even go twenty-four hours ignoring the fact that they did, in fact, have sex with each other. 

She teeters, because she’s been standing here on one leg like an urban dwelling flamingo native to dysentery creek, halfway through taking her sock off, and when she catches her reflection again, she hates that she thinks Hiccup might have a point.  It’s not really an attractive pose—not that she has to be sexy at all times, that’s stupid, and part of the women’s rights issue that means she will not be having twelve kids to work any farm—but it still makes her pause. 

She shuffles over to the sink, drumming her fingertips on the edge of the porcelain and staring at her reflection like it knows something she doesn’t.  Are you there mirror-Astrid?  It’s me, Astrid, you’re currently in the bathroom mirror of the guy I attempted to have a one-night stand with but then I got snowed in and it’s a whole thing, laws have been broken, I critiqued his sex-technique, mirror-wisdom would be appreciated. 

Mirror-Astrid would shrug, if she weren’t dependent on real world motion to bend light, and the twinkle in her eye says something like ‘well, it would look hotter if you unbuttoned that oversized flannel more slowly while maintaining eye contact.’

Mirror-Astrid is the slut.  Maybe she’s been the slut this whole time. 

Maybe she has a point. 

She bites her lip, reaching for the top button of her shirt and popping it open slowly, cocking her hip to one side. 

And again, they’ve already gotten high and made a pillow fort and broke and entered and committed plunger-themed larceny.  What else is there to do, really?  She was right this morning, she cannot un-sex him, but having sex with him twice, well…they’ve already done it once. 

And it’s cold outside, if the furnace goes out they might have to generate body heat. 

They should practice, maybe. 

Ok, if the furnace were going to go out, it probably would have happened already, but it’s a secondary argument.  If she needs it.  He is a guy, and he didn’t have any problem getting interested in having sex with her last night. 

She fusses with her hair, pressing her bangs down against her forehead and then shoving them to the side when they don’t stay down.  It’s fine, her hair doesn’t matter, this is not a seduction, it’s a scientific endeavor. 

That’s it.  It’s an experiment. 

“Hey Hiccup,” she walks normally into the living room.  Or she tries to walk normally.  Usually, when she walks normally, she’s not thinking about walking normally, but nothing is usual about this situation so she’s doing her best. 

“What did you do to my shower?”  He asks without looking up from his laptop and she perches on the back of the couch above his shoulder, trying and failing to soften her glare, even though she wants something from him. 

“Nothing.”  She sighs, “I was thinking.” 

“That’s always dangerous.” 

“You know what?  Never mind, it’s stupid.”  She stands back up, glad that his personality just saved her from sounding stupid, for once. 

“No, sorry,” he closes his laptop and looks up at her upside down, head on the back of the couch, hair flopping away from eyes that look greener considering what she’s about to say, “stupid’s my favorite.  What’s up?” 

“I was just thinking,” she pauses, waiting for him to interrupt again, but sadly, he appears to have learned his lesson, at least momentarily, “so the hypothesis of our conversation is that a frank conversation with a mutual interest towards self-improvement would make us better lovers.” 

“Oh, so you can pull it off?” 

“Yes.”  She crosses her arms and leans on the couch again, “or no, it’s—I don’t think anyone can really pull it off, it’s kind of an awful word, but—”

“Are you back for more?”  He raises an eyebrow, and the expression is an understanding of an inside joke, like all their jokes aren’t inside jokes, considering the weather. 

He doesn’t mean it and it makes her blush. 

“Yes.”  She stares him down, direct like she was chatting with him.  Asking the clear question. 

“Ok, hmm, you were largely a very adequate lover, but I’m sure there are some minutiae I could help you finesse for a future time with someone else—”

“I think we should have sex again.  For science.”  She tucks her hair behind her ear and feels it sticking out.  But this isn’t a seduction, it’s the intro to a lab class.  Today, the lesson is practical.  Hands on.  Real-world applicable.  “Keep the lines of communication open, put some of what we just talked about into practice.” 

“I know that supposedly, all I need is friction, but I’m not sure I could take your well-intentioned critiques while trying to perform.”  He rolls his eyes, not taking her seriously, and she lets her hands drift back to the buttons on her shirt, letting her eyes bore into his as she pops the next one loose. 

His eyes flick down.  He licks his lips.  The way he’s looking at her is almost worth how silly she feels and she makes a note in her mental, sexual lab notebook.  It’s crisp and new, the blank paper feeling a little sexual under her mental pencil.  It’s new too, fresh out of the package. 

0.05mm lead.  Fine tip.  A precision instrument. 

Ok, too far.  Too far.  But there’s something sexual about new paper and she’s just leaning into it right now. 

“I’m just saying, before we trot out our miracle cure for sexual incompatibility, we should probably do some clinical trials.  It’s only responsible.”  She’s never seduced anyone before, especially not a one-night stand she ordered on the internet on the eve of a once in a century blizzard, but it feels good to speak medically again, even if it’s not a good metaphor. 

Clinical trials take months.  Years. 

“I mean, we haven’t even nailed down stock options yet.”  He’s nervous, and it’s infuriatingly obvious in his big green eyes, and it’s also infuriating, because he’s supposed to be a cocky dick that she literally ordered on the internet. 

“A dry run can’t hurt anything, it’s just compiling more data,” she pops another button open and he bites his lip, setting his laptop aside. 

“Well, not a dry run.  Hopefully.”  He smirks, half-honest, and she doesn’t want to know that he puts a smiley face on his oatmeal or that he’s worried about what she thinks of his leg, but she does, and she’s trying to make the best of it. 

“In a normal sexual situation, there should be some lead up, but considering everything, it’s ok for you to just kiss me.”  Her stomach twists at the creak in the floorboards when he stands up slowly, faking confidence behind the cracks she’s ignoring, because they make him an outlier she shouldn’t consider sampling. 

And he’s silent.  Bigger without words jostling his shoulders as his hand finds her waist, fingers bunching in her oversized shirt.  And he looks at her, gaze a steady confirmation before he kisses her, knee nudging between hers as he guides her backwards. 

“That’s good,” she pulls back enough to nod and he grins, too real again.  “The knee thing.” 

“Yeah?”  He follows as she takes a couple more steps back towards the bedroom, “I thought it was suggestive—”

“Please don’t explain every move to me.”  She kisses him, hands fisting in his collar. 

“They’re very nuanced though, I want to make sure you understand.”  His hand slides under her shirt, too warm against the small of her back.  And his knee nudges between her legs again and she trips on the edge of the rug, stumbling back into the doorframe.  “Shit, are you ok?” 

“I’m fine,” she rolls her shoulder.  Shake it off, Hofferson.  “Walking backwards while kissing is fine in movies, not so great in real life.” 

“Noted.”  He follows her into the bedroom, where unfortunately the bed is unmade. 

“Remember when I wanted to see your apartment?”  She asks, half-expecting to need to explain, because nothing outside of the last day feels real, especially with the buzzing under her skin when she thinks about what’s about to happen. 

“I had to put all my Bundy fan-club awards down the garbage disposal, of course I remember.”  He jokes, his voice deeper, breathing husky on the shell of her ear, and she shivers.  “I’m devastated.” 

“Well, a girl likes a clean place.  Makes you feel taken care of, I guess.”  She grabs the clean fitted sheet from the basket in the corner and starts putting it on the mattress.  “Also, women want to have sex with functional adults, a made bed is an easy first step.” 

“That hasn’t been my experience.”  He laughs and she rolls her eyes, tugging the sheet tight and tossing him the next layer. 

“You’ve had a different demographic thus far.” 

“No, I mean making a bed is like wrestling an eight-foot long, six-foot wide rectangular bear,” he throws the duvet over the flat sheet as she shoves the second pillow into its case, “might need a nap to rebuild strength and energy before the sex.” 

“Lay down then,” she shoves his shoulder a little too hard, refusing to feel guilty when he falls back on the bed, propping himself on his elbows. 

“Lights are on,” she refuses to let her voice shake, tilting her chin at the bulb above the bed as she pops open the next button of her shirt.  He watches, eyes flicking between her face and chest as another button comes undone. 

“You’re a quick study,” he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor before going for his belt. 

“You too,” she compliments, unbuttoning her pants and pushing them down with an unnecessary sway in her hips, trying not to smile when he licks his lips, pupils wide. 

She faces away from him, shrugging the shirt slowly off her shoulders, letting it fall against her heels.  She unhooks her bra and bends forward, letting it fall off of her arms as she tugs her underwear down, bending at the waist and trying not to feel stupid or cold or slow as she steps out of them. 

She looks over her shoulder at him, standing up at that glacial pace and turning to face him like an iceberg drifting past Greenland. 

He’s breathing hard, skinny chest heaving above the boxer briefs that are thankfully the only thing he’s still wearing.  His leg is on the floor and she’s not sure whether she’s supposed to look or not, so she keeps her focus on his face. 

“Is that…” she cocks her hip, then regrets it, unsure where to put her hands.  It’s cold.  He’s staring.  She wants to turn the lights off or to make a joke or to get under a blanket because it’s actually cold in here.  He should keep his place warmer, probably, and she should tell him, but she just got naked the slowest she ever has and she needs his opinion on it, because nothing makes sense.  “Is that more what you thinking of?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, too fast, and she almost tells him off for being cute when they’re trying to be scientific, “that was—yeah.  Good.  You really took my point and um…yeah.” 

“Honestly I just…moved slower—”

“Men are so stupid,” he sits up, waving his arms at her in something halfway summoning, “come here.  Now.  Please.  That’s not an order, I just—you, wow—”

“So, lights on, strip slowly is a real thing?”  She half jokes on her way to the bed, trying to frame how his eyes feel on her skin in terms of scientific understanding.  The mutual pursuit of knowledge.  Earnest commitment to research. 

“Men are dumb.”  He catches her waist with a long, warm arm and pulls her down into the bed, hovering over her as his lips latch onto her pulse-point, callused hand sweeping across her ribs. 

“Apparently.”  She moans when his thumb glances across her nipple and he leans up slightly to look at her face.  “What?” 

“Trying to discern real from faking it,” he teases, self-conscious, and her stomach twists at the still hand on her side that she so badly wants to be moving. 

“It’s going to be easier to get me off if you’re trying to,” she nods at him, “instead of reacting to imagined criticism.” 

“Oof,” he winces, scooting his hips away from her an inch, “that’s—while true, that’s also generally applicable to my failures as a person, which isn’t sexy to think about—”

“You’re not into being accidently insulted by people who just stripped for you?”  She jokes, reaching up instinctually to rub the back of his neck, his shoulders.  His ass, surprisingly taut under his boxers.  And the lights are on and goosebumps prickle up her stomach. 

“Accidentally?”  He’s a little too soft, a little too meek, and she tugs him back down to her by his hair. 

“Yes.”  She kisses him, and she was honest earlier.  He’s a good kisser, just how he’d be a good conversationalist if it weren’t being forced upon her as the only option.  It’s give and take, it’s soft lips and the hard edge of teeth.  It’s determination behind the acquiescence in his moan as his hand finds her breast and squeezes.  “That’s good.” 

“Yeah?”  He kisses down her neck, taking his time like he hadn’t the night before, his fingers curling around her waist and pulling her against him, his thigh between hers.  She hooks her leg around his hip and he groans into her neck, “that’s—”

“Not good?”  She starts to move her leg but he catches her thigh above her knee, pressing it closer to his side. 

“Very good.”  He kisses her collarbone, her nipple, breathing hard against her sternum.  “It’s like you want me closer,” he shudders when she drags her fingernails up his back, “good move.  All good moves.” 

“You too, this is good.”  She reaches between them, fumbling under the waistband of his boxer briefs, “I don’t mind the stubble.”  She groans when he drags his chin against her neck, kissing under her jaw.  She grabs his length and he stiffens, forehead on her collarbone as his expected groan comes out as a whine.  “What?” 

“You’re very direct,” he catches her wrist with a firmness that makes her core twitch.  “It’s—I like it, don’t get me wrong here, I’m a stupid, friction-obsessed man and that feels—you’re naked—and you—”

“It’s distracting,” she lets go, pulling her hand out of his boxers and letting it rest on her lower stomach, flirting with the juncture between her legs. 

“Yes,” he kisses her, “and that’s not a bad thing, I’m just trying to focus.” 

“On?”  She flirts.  She doesn’t have to, but she does.  And he presses his leg against her core and his breath is hot against her neck and maybe talking is what sex has needed this entire time. 

Talking and a quick-witted tongue on her chest, and long, callused fingers dipping between her legs.  Soft, auburn hair tickling her neck as she arches under the contact. 

“Don’t…don’t say anything about a dry run right now, I…will kill you.”  She grips his shoulders, heel dragging down his short calf and back onto the bed as he almost gets it right, the sizzling contact just off epicenter. 

“Wouldn’t make sense, anyway.”  He kisses her neck, her cheek, his smirk like a brand against her skin as he swipes just past where he should. 

“Just—up, ok?  And to the right?”  She doesn’t want to sound irritated, but it’s irritating to have things feel so good and almost great.  He adjusts, over-adjusts really, and she reaches down to grab his hand and direct him, her fingers over his.  “There, it’s just—like…”

“This?”  He mimics her motion and she squints her eyes shut, her knees clenching on his hips as she nods.  “Am I—I mean is this getting you to…where you need?”  He’s awkward, and earnest, and arousal flares in her chest like an errant spark. 

“I mean it takes a minute.”  She gets out, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.  He smells like breaking and entering and a stupid high day in a pillow fort and she tries to focus on his fingers and how they’re trying to build style into the method she prescribed him. 

They aren’t marching, they’re dancing, adding his own flair to steps she’d thought were set in stone.  

And the lights are on, and he’s watching her like a gauge.  Like something independent, instead of as a reflection of himself.  And he kisses her lips and her cheek and a finger dips into her, long and agile but impatient too. 

“Can I, I mean, I was under the impression that you were going to be critiquing—unless—”

“No critiques necessary,” she eeks out, biting her lip and pressing back against his touch.  She feels spectated, but knowing why helps.  He wants to see her.  He wants to study her falling apart, like it’s a phenomenon, and the thought makes her toes curl as his pupils widen and he kisses her neck, her chest, looking up for her reaction between. 

He slows down. 

“Don’t go easy on me, it’s obviously not working—”

“It just takes a bit,” she snaps, grabbing his wrist and pressing his hand closer, “it’s slower, it takes a minute, it was…you were on the right track.” 

“How long is the track?”  He kisses her jaw and her neck, his hips nudging against hers.  He groans when she wraps her leg back around his hips and she feels her own chest, letting the feeling bloom in her stomach. 

“As long as it is.”  She tries to be grumpy.  It half works.  He twitches when she grabs his length again, his groan shuddering against her neck as his hand falters. 

Two long fingers dip inside of her then and she gasps, grabbing his upper arm. 

“Is that—”

“Don’t stop.”  She tries not to squirm, tries not to mess up the angle he has, what feels like the whole length of his fingers stroking against what she has to believe is her G-spot, more obvious than it ever has been, like banter is foreplay.  Like his very presence is foreplay.  Like this was inevitable.  Like he is inevitable.  “You found…”

He rubs it. 

She regrets ever arguing with an engineer, double entendre implied. 

“Is that?” 

“Don’t stop,” she clenches his arm, probably too tight, but there’s no time to think about that because he’s kissing her, stubble and lip and tongue and hand doing that again and again and again. 

“Might have to, if you keep that grip.”  He kisses her cheek and she arches into it, because his hand is unraveling her like she’s grandma’s first sweater attempt and he’s warm and earnest. 

She reaches down to touch herself and he gasps like it’s been ripped out of him.  She bites her lip, leaning into the warmth, which yanks the cord to get his hand moving again, and then it’s here and they’re kissing and she feels her throat going hoarse before she knows he’s kissing her.  And he doesn’t stop kissing, or petting, or holding. 

And this is the worst idea she’s ever had. 

“You didn’t want me to explain my moves,” he kisses her cheek.  Her ear.  His other hand cradles her neck so sweetly, tilting it as he kisses and where was this last night.  Where was this when she needed him. 

“Explain them.” She’d say he was wrong if she needs to.  She’d say anything.  His fingers are thrusting and she’s rubbing and she can’t breathe and every time she bucks up, his hips press back down against hers like a promise. 

“Well, I’m um…” He pauses.  She kisses his chin because it’s what she can reach.  His rhythm falters and she bites her lip.  “Well, I uh…think I found your G-spot.” 

She nods. 

He gets so red that she could light a fire on his face and she digs her heel into the back of his thigh. 

“Is that a yes?” 

She nods. She hits his shoulder with her free hand, doubling down as he strokes. 

“We are communicating,” he kisses her, “I need a yes—”

“Yes,” she yelps, “more.  Yes.  Don’t stop.  Asshole.”  She squeaks out, and he’s kissing her.  Everywhere. And his hand in her is moving, his thumb joining hers on her clit and when she opens her eyes, there’s something in his gaze. 

He’s committed.  He’s tuned in. 

“You’ve told me, emphatically I might add,” he presses her clit for a second, suddenly at home in the mastery he’d only hoped for a second ago, “to not tell you about my moves.”

“You had moves you didn’t tell me about?”  She struggles to sound indignant when he’s touching her like this.  When he’s devoted like this.  When he’s redeeming himself, sure with this kind of frantic, earnest energy. 

It hits all at once. 

She clings to his shoulders, crying out a bit too loud, glad for the empty apartment as his fingers stroke deep.  And human.  And he’s close and real and she’s trying not to remember that this is nothing, a fling, a one-night stand, an addendum to a one-time thing.

And he’s hard.  And that was great.  And she wants him. 

She wants something.  That’s easier. 

She wants parts of him.  Now. 

“Was that..?”  He kisses her forehead, his arms wrapping around her. 

And he holds her, that’s a point in his favor.  He held her last night and he holds her again and she wants to compliment him and for once, there’s no gateway. 

“Nothing fake,” she says as a truth and a comfort and his hand finds her core again, perfectly lazy, hesitantly in something close to awe.  “Condom.  Now.” 

“But my redemption—”

“On track,” she rolls to the side, digging in the bedside table for the reel of condoms she found earlier. 

“But you—”

“I did,” she cups his face, pulling him close with an arm around his waist, “do you ever stop talking?” 

“Not in living memory.”  He touches that spot within her again and she shivers, ankles crossed behind his back.  “Can I have some room to move?”  He kisses the hollow of her throat, and his voice is relieved and she reaches to stroke him with a pleasure-lazy vengeance.  “Astrid, I—”  

“Hiccup,” she settles on his name, because she doesn’t know how else to communicate, even if it ends in him staring at her, through her, into her. 

“For science,” he lines himself up and she bites her lip. 

“It’s just good practice at this point.” 

[chloca-cola]

The Intern Part 4

Ok, now for parable four of the holy bible of Leon smut !

TW: Vaginal fingering, choo-choo all aboard the smut train, its leaving the station! Unprotected sex (I keep forgetting to put that here haha)

Word count: 1,775

~

You opened your eyes only to flinch from the sunlight filtering through the shades, you blink at the offending light, before gently rolling over to find Leon still sleeping. You smile softly to yourself, still not fully believing this was happening to you. You easily move closer to his body, reaching a hand out to brush his bangs from his face, brushing your nose against his, breathing in his scent which was musky from sleep, noticing a faint scar on his right cheek that his hair covers. You traced your finger lightly along it, not being able to stop yourself from wondering how he got all his scars, what kind of stories he could tell you about them.

He stirred under all your touching, his blue eyes slowly cracked open, slowly focusing in on your face, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Good morning, beautiful. I could get used to seeing your face every morning." His voice was thick from sleep, and he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you even closer to him so he could press a tender kiss on your lips.

Knocking then interrupted your tender moment and you growled, hoping you two could just stay this way forever, or at least all day.

Leon grunted, seeming to also not want to get up, but reluctantly left the warm bed,  and you took the opportunity to stare at his ass as he slipped into a pair of pants, and then he shrugged into a shirt.

You sat up in bed, watching him as he left the room and you decided to slip into one of his shirts as a surprise for when he came back. As you were buttoning the shirt up, you heard a familiar voice coming from the other room.

"Hey, Leon, thought you might want some company for breakfast." It was Greta and her voice was dripping with seduction. Hell no, not on your watch. You flung the bedroom door open, all but running to join him, tripping over the end of an armchair and nearly losing your balance. You saved yourself, finally coming to stand next to him, smoothing your hair out. Leon looked over at you, sighing slightly before chuckling at the smug look you were giving Greta. 

You just had this 'yeah, what are you gonna do about it' smirk on your face as you looked her up and down. She was holding a bag of food in one hand, her face completely shocked, both by you being there and the fact the office rumors were true. You were having sex with Leon.

"Aw, how thoughtful, right Leon? She brought us breakfast!" You say, in mock enthusiasm and Leon tsked you, shaking his head quickly, before letting another chuckle slip out.

"Sorry, Greta, we already have plans." Leon stated, a lighthearted tone in his voice. Greta was completely speechless as she looked between the two of you, before she lowered her hand that held the bag of food. She turned and just walked away from the door, completely lost for words.

Leon laughed as he shut the door before turning to you, looking you up and down with a smoldering look that caused you to want to curl your toes.

"You got too much enjoyment out of that." You gave him a big grin, nodding fervently.

"She's been on me ever since I started, it was nice to knock her down a leg or two." You snickered, as you walked towards his kitchen for a drink of water, only to realize you had no damn clue where anything was and you blushed. "Leon, where do you keep your glasses?" You asked sheepishly, looking over your shoulder at him to find him leaning against the wall separating the rooms, his eyes still trailing along your body, licking his lips slightly.

"Top cabinet." He finally responded and you couldn't help but let that look boost your ego slightly, as you turned back to the cabinets, opening one, standing on your tiptoes to reach the glass, his shirt riding up in the motion, revealing a nice view of your ass to him.

You moved to the sink, filling the glass with water, when Leon's hands roamed around your waist and over your abdomen, his lips kissing along the curve of your shoulder up to your neck, where he lingered.

"I wanna be deep inside you." He whispered in your ear, voice pitched low with a husky edge to it that caused a shiver to run through your body. You had been giving in rather easily too him, so you decided to play a little hard to get this morning. You scoffed, shrugging out of his hold, walking over to the refrigerator to look to see if you could make breakfast for you both.

Leon's mouth was agape, blinking several times at your flippant response, having expected you to bend over the sink for him after that comment. He turned his head to see you had bent over, teasing him with a better view, and he moved to stand behind you, gripping your hips, running his hands over your back, grinding himself against you almost needily, feeling his clothed erection firm against you. You couldn't lie, the feeling of all those things was like a symphony of lust that caused heavy arousal, but you wanted to play this out more, really get him begging.

So, you straightened back up, finding nothing in the fridge, Leon burying his face in your hair, breathing in deeply, only for you to slip from his gasp again, and he made a delicious growling noise as his frustration mounted.

"Are you having fun doing this to me?" His voice held a low rumble of frustration as he looked at you walking away again before grabbing you by the wrist, turning you back towards him so he could pull you closely to him and he placed his forehead on yours. You let out a soft laugh, pressing yourself against him, he moved to kiss you, his lips opening and closing around your bottom lip, his hands slipping under his shirt you were wearing, one hand cupping your ass, the other rubbing between your legs, causing you to gasp into his mouth. He walked you backwards towards the wall, where his hand moved from your ass to your thigh, cupping it and lifting it, giving him easier access to you.

His slender digits trailed over your slick folds, causing your legs to tremble as his tongue parted your lips, finding your own. A quote popped into your head that you had read before: One day you will kiss a man you can't breathe without and you will learn breath is of little consequence. 

You had always thought that quote was silly and useless, but the more time you spend with Leon, the more you realized the quote was true.

His middle finger worked tight circles on your throbbing clit, causing a high whine to escape into the caverns of his mouth. The noise garnered you a low moan in the back of his throat. His finger then moved to your entrance, gently pushing in, curling and you felt as if your legs were going to give out. 

Leon pumped his finger in and out of you slowly, your hips bucking against his hand, wanting more, and he added a second finger, beginning to pump faster. His mouth left yours, kissing down your jaw to your neck, where he sucked at your pulse, allowing your moans to fill the room.

After several more minutes of Leon fingering you, bringing you right to the edge, he stopped all movement, causing you to cry out.

"Revenge is sweet, beautiful." He purred into your ear, causing you to shiver with anticipation, as he removed his finger from you, placing them against your lips, which you eagerly took into your mouth, sucking and licking your own silk from his fingers. A lust filled haze clouded his blue eyes before he removed his fingers and replaced them with his ttongue.you sucked on his tongue as he lifted you, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he carried you to his couch.

He ended the kiss, lowering you to the couch, where you released him, laying in wait for him, before he flipped you onto your stomach. You giggled as he pushed his shirt up your back, before slapping your ass, causing you to squeal, a red hand print already forming.

Leon lowered his pants low enough to free his erection, before crawling on top of you, his body flush against yours. His left hand reached up, gently cupping your chin, turning your head so his could see your face, his right hand snaking below your body to rest against your lower abdomen, as he rutted against you and you moaned loudly. 

He lifted up from you enough to be able to slide into your entrance slowly, and you moaned out desperately. As soon as he was fully seated inside of you, he pressed down against you again, still holding your chin, kissing your cheek tenderly as he began snapping his hips against you. Quick sharp thrusts were causing you to whimper, your release building fast from where he had you teetering on the edge a few moments before. 

Every low moan Leon made was music to your ears, as he nibbled and kissed along the shell of your ear, as he buried himself in your deeply over and over again, his cock swelling inside of you. You loved how close his body was to yours, fully enveloping your own, his hand gently squeezing your chin, his warm breath fanning along your ear as he moaned your name wantonly, as your both neared your climax.

Your walls fluttered around his cock, and you whimper at the feeling.

"Cum for me, baby." He commanded lowly in your ear, snapped into you hard and deep and you whined out his name as your walls clamped around him, milking him, keeping him in your heat, his body tensed against yours, and he groaned into your ear, bottoming out in you, his seed spilling into you, filling you with his warmth.

You both lay still, panting heavily, and you began to laugh slightly, your entire body trembling from pleasure.

"What's so funny?" He asked after a few moments, kissing your cheek softly.

"I just never expected my internship to be so...exhilarating." You teased him, and he chuckled, turning your head towards him more, where he kissed you sensually, and you both stayed like that, glued to each other, neither wanting to move.

~

@imagineleonkennedy @mitsuintheworks @kezikatescribbling @disneymarina @sleepygal124 @pokemeg @marshall1199 @savage-rhi @nthevalkyrie @crystaldwightsworld @guettaes

[invisoviolet]

|| Get to know VIOLET PARR who’s TWENTY-FOUR years old and works as a COMIC BOOK STORE EMPLOYEE in town. She is from CORONA and is often times mistaken for MARGARET QUALLEY while others say she reminds them of VIOLET from THE INCREDIBLES. ||

HISTORY & HEADCANONS

Violet grew up always knowing she had the power to be invisible, because it’s something her parents discovered when she was only four months old. Getting up one morning to check on their daughter, the Parrs panicked when the looked in the crib and the little girl was no longer there. Chaos reigned through the house as they tore it apart, trying to figure out where their little girl who couldn’t even crawl yet could have possibly gone. Just when the were about to call the police, sure someone had snuck into the house in the middle of the night to kidnap her, when she popped back up right in front of their eyes. If they didn’t have powers of their own they likely never would have believed it, but they simply learned that their daughter was special, just like them.

It was made very clear to her from a young age that she was never to use her powers, and while Violet was always a very well behaved child, sometimes she still liked to have some fun with it, especially when she was young. She tried using it to sneak downstairs in the middle of the night to get a midnight snack out of the fridge, or to eavesdrop on her parents when they were having an important conversation she wasn’t supposed to hear. It almost made her the ultimate hide and seek player, a title that was very important to her as a young girl.

She didn’t discover she had the power to make forcefields until much later, when she was eleven years old. She was fighting with Dash over the tv remote, and every time she would get it back to turn her show on, he would speed up to her and take the remote out of her hands before she even noticed. They’d been doing this for about twenty minutes, driving their parents absolutely crazy, when the next time Dash ran up to steal the remote, a purple glow erupted around her, forcing him to bounce back. It scared the hell out of both of them, and while Violet had absolutely no idea how she did it, she realized that her powers were more than just invisibility. She still doesn’t have a perfect handle on her forcefields and stays up late at night sometimes, concentrating hard as she tries to make them bigger and stronger. They’re getting better but Violet still isn’t satisfied, knowing she can do more.

A lot of Violet’s insecurities stem from how amazing her parents are, and her deep fear that she’ll never be able to live up to them. People literally call her father Mr. Incredible, and her mom is the coolest — not to mention the most beautiful — person she’s ever met in her life. Everyone loves them, and it keeps her up at night sometimes wondering how she can ever do anything to be as great as them. All they’ve ever done is love and support their daughter, but she’s always felt small and insignificant in their shadow. She even has a power that encourages her to hide away from the world, and she just doesn’t know how she’s supposed to argue with that.

Growing up, Violet was never picked on or bullied by the popular kids, because she did everything in her power not to give them a reason to. She wore what was in style, listened to whatever music was in the top 40, and watched the same tv shows as everyone else. She never spoke up in class, even when she new the answer, and  never even told joke or said anything that might draw attention towards herself. She became a professional at blending in with the crowd, so much so that she kind of lost her own personality in the process. There’s a part of Violet that’s still trying to learn who she is, because she spent so long trying hard to be just like everybody else.

When she was in high school, Violet had a bad habit of using her invisibility to get out of conversations with people she didn’t want to talk to. If she saw someone coming towards her, whether it was a fellow classmate or a teacher, she would usually slip around the closest corner and go invisible. Sometimes if she was stuck in a conversation she couldn’t get out of, she would even take her chances and turn invisible if they turned away for a second. It worked perfectly for her up until the moment she used her invisibility to get out of a conversation with the gym teacher. After pretending to have cramps for the fourth day in a row because she did not want to play volleyball in front of the popular girls, she tried to avoid his confrontation  Not believing it could have been magic, the teacher convinced himself that she got away because she was such a fast runner and asked her to try out for the track team. Not knowing how to decline, she spent one disastrous afternoon trying out for the team. She tripped over hurdles, fumbled the baton, and had some of the slowest times on record. It was the first and last time she ever tried out for a sports team. She also started using her invisibility to avoid people a lot less.

Violet looked at going away to college as a chance to reinvent herself, especially when new people started to come to the island. She wasn’t stuck with the same people she’s known all her life, the people that knew her as shy, quiet Violet that almost cried in front of the class when she had to give a presentation once and she thought some of the kids were laughing at her. At the encouragement of her parents and a few close friends, she slowly but surely started to go out of her shell. She joined a couple clubs, she actually spoke up in class when she knew the answer, she smiled and made eye contact with people when she passed them in the hall, she even went to parties when she was invited. And the craziest thing of all: she actually got asked on some dates.

As much as it seemed like Violet went through some drastic transformation, really she was just letting the world in on her little secret: that she actually knew how ot have fun. It’s something she never let anyone but her family and a few very close friends know, because she was so deeply afraid of everyone else judging her. But something about being in that new environment made her feel like she was free to be herself and she was the happiest she’d ever been. She stayed out late, had plans on the weekends, and actually had more than a handful of friends. She was even known to crack a joke or two. For those four years, Violet hardly ever felt the need to hide from the world, using her invisibility a lot less.

The first few months after graduating college, Violet was doing fine. She still kept in touch with all her friends, was still invited to all the same parties, even went out to a club or two. But then everyone started to get busy as they started their new jobs, and Violet started to get paranoid. What if they didn’t want to spend time with her anymore? What if they got into the real world and realized that she was just a fraud? So she started reverting back into her shell, reaching out less and declining a few invitations beacuse she thought she was protecting herself. Eventually some of her friends did stop reaching out, and she’s finding herself just as lonely as she was in high school. She regrets it every single day, but she’s too scared to pick up the phone and call them up.

After spending a very long time sulking at what she lost, all because she once again let her anxiety get the best of her, she’s trying to be better. In an effort to make friends again and get her confidence back up, she’s forcing herself to do one thing she would normally be too scared to do each week. Whether it’s talking to a stranger in a coffee shop, or going somewhere crowded with friends on a Friday night rather than staying home to watch tv, or even going to a restaurant and placing her order without having rehearsed it in her head at least five times so she doesn’t trip over her words and make a mistake, she has to be brave at least once a week. She’s even keeping a journal to keep track of all her adventures, just for accountability. It’s the definition of baby steps, but she really is trying her best.

You can tell what kind of mood she’s in by the way she wears her hair. On the days she feels really bad about herself and wants to hide from the world, she lets her long hair hang into her face, using it as a shield between her and the rest of the world. Even though it’s just hair, it gives her a sense of protection that she doesn’t feel like she gets any other way. On the days where she has a little bit of confidence, feeling like she can actually take on the world, she wears her hair pulled back out of her face. When she was little she had a collection of headbands she would wear, but since they went out of style around the time Gossip Girl went off the air, she’s started wearing it in either a messy bun or a half ponytail.

She kept it hidden for a lot of years, but loves comic books and superheroes. The love started after she discovered her forcefields and she was freaking out, feeling like more of a freak than ever. Bob, wanting to show her that she was special and not a freak, took her to the comic book store and they scoured the shelves until they found some old Fantastic Four comics. Violet found some comfort and a sense of empowerment reading about Invisible Woman, and the series slowly helped her come to terms with her own powers. She’s always been incredibly grateful to him for that

Growing up and watching her parents be stupidly, cheesily in love, Violet found herself being a bit of a hopeless romantic too. They were proof that true love existed and that anyone could find it, because if someone could love her dumb, cheesy dad, then someone could love her too. She used to put a lot of pressure on herself to find her high school sweetheart since that’s when her parents met, but she’s long since given up on that. She just wants to find someone that makes her happy — it’s too bad she lacks the confidence right now to actually ask anyone out.

When she was younger, books often felt like her best, and sometimes only, friends. She was able to live vicariously through the stories on the pages, seeing herself in the protagonists that were far cooler and stronger than she could ever be, imagining herself inhabiting those worlds and living out the adventures she would be too scared to go on in real life. Stories were a comfort for her, a safe haven, and for as long as she can remember she’s wanted to be an author. She wants to create exciting stories that make young girls feel strong and confident, the same way her favourite stories growing up made her feel.

She graduated from Corona University with a degree in creative writing, and while she’s working on the concept for her first book she’s working at Avengers Comics to make ends meet. She was really hoping that she would only be there for six months, a year tops until she found a job actually using her degree but she’s been there for almost two years. It’s not the worst job in the world, but it does require her to talk to other people which means that she doesn’t love it.

Lives her life deeply embarrassed of almost everything she’s ever said or done. She’s spent plenty of nights laying awake in bed remembering embarrassing things that happened over ten years ago that she just can’t let go of, even if they were so insignificant that everyone else has surely forgotten about it. Also has a really hard time dealing with secondhand embarrassment. If something awkward or embarrassing is happening around her, whether it’s in person or on a tv show or movie she’s watching, she either visibly cringes until it’s over or just gets up and walks away. It’s too much, she can’t handle it.

Can go from being sweet and quiet to angry and moody in two seconds flat. It honestly doesn’t take all that much to provoke her. But thankfully it’s only her family that really sees her at her angriest, since they’re the people she trusts the most to be herself around.

If she actually gets comfortable around you and you get her talking, it’s nearly impossible to get her to shut up. Especially if it’s something she cares about. Not only is she the queen of nervous babbling, but she spends most of the day keeping quiet and keeping her thoughts to herself, that when she’s around someone she actually trusts, all her thoughts and feelings just come pouring out.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

friends, crushes, exes, the usual stuff. literally anything.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Died a true guardian; Rocket raccoon x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey all well this request took some thinking and I feel like I may not have delivered to the fullest I can but I tried my best. So for the long waited Rocket raccoon angst request that both an anon and @guardiana6543 wanted, I hope this is still to your liking.

Warnings: ANGST, DEATH OF CHARACTER, words mentioned like slut and prostitution, so if this isn’t your cup of tea don’t give me any hate. I’m not asking you all to read this fic. But if you do read at your own risk.  

Permanent taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

______________________________________________________

“Of all the things in this world you just had to go and do that?!” I snapped.

“What?” Rocket said.

“We had a game plan Rocket. Get the information out of the guy by any means! And you just had to step in too early!”

“He had his hands allover you! What else was I supposed to do!?”

“Let me handle it. I know how to handle myself if a guy gets too handsy with me!”

“Uhh guys can I say something?” Peter spoke up.

“Shut up Quill!” both Rocket and I snapped.

“You’ve always gotta let your pride and anger take control of you. When will you learn to control that temper of yours Rocket? I have put up with that shit for 2 years since we started dating and 5 years since I’ve known you and I’m tired of it!”

“Hey, I’ll learn to control my anger issues when you learn to stop being such a slut when it comes to undercover missions!” At that word, it was just like being shot at (which I have been, multiple times by some of our bounties we’ve tried to find together before we met up with Quill).

“You did not just say that to me.” I muttered.

“Well what other word is there to use? Should’ve just left you there in that whorehouse to begin with, since that’s all you’re ever good for.” he sneered.  I just glared at him and didn’t say another word as Quill spoke up again.

“Hey guys, hate to break up this little pow-wow session but our dude we tried to capture, he’s popped back up on our radar, but he’s not alone this time.” Rocket turned away from me and hopped into his chair and said.

“Lock in the coordinates.”

“This is my ship you aren’t the Captain here.” Quill spoke up.  But everything else around me just muffled because all I kept hearing were rocket’s hurtful words.

He had some nerve to call me that.  He should never have brought up my past like that.  You maybe asking what he means well long story short ever since my mother died giving birth to me, my father wasn’t—well a kind soul.  He never once acknowledged me and then once I got old enough, he sold me to a ‘prostitute house.’

There I learned how to seduce and swindle men.  That’s how I actually came across Rocket and Groot—or well they came across me.  For you see I wasn’t just going to allow men to do whatever it was they felt like they were allowed to do.

I’ve taken down men 5 times my size with just a kick and the right place for a knife to cause some serious pain without killing them or severing any main arteries.

“(Y/n)?” a soft voice spoke up and I felt a hand touch my shoulder and the voice said again, “You feel—betrayed. Hurt.”

“Mantis please take your hand off of me.”

“I am sorry. The puppy didn’t mean to say those things, I could tell he was just jealous of the fact that Peter choose you to distract our target.”

“Well you don’t know Rocket like I do. He’s a touch shell to crack but I’ve found the way, and when he talks a certain way to me, he always means it.” I said solemnly.  I sighed heavily before I asked her, “How’s your power to make people feel things coming along?”

“I have greatly improved on it. But it is still not a permanent thing.”

“That’s fine. Just….make me forget about what just happened in the last five minutes.” I turned towards her pleading for it, I knew that if we needed to catch this guy then I couldn’t be distracted.

“(Y/n) I don’t…..”

“Please Mantis. I don’t care what it is you have to say in order to make me forget, just do it.” She looked down sadly before placing her hand on my shoulder and her antennas glowed blue as she said to me.

“Focus on the mission.” Suddenly the hurt washed away and I was consumed with the focus of the mission at hand.

“Okay so get Quill and Gamora, I’ve got a plan in mind.”

We soon arrived at the location of our target Quill and Rocket landed the ship and we all exited the Milano and began circling the perimeter cutting off all escape routes for our target.  I was with Gamora as we went to the right and that’s when I heard her say.

“(Y/n). About what happened earlier…..”

“Not now Gamora, please I—I’d rather not talk about it.”

“But (y/n)….”

“Gamora. Not now.” I snarled softly at her.  The two of us stared each other down before she backed off and said.

“Alright, I understand. But when we get done with capturing this guy, I’d like to keep talking about this. I—I may not know much about relationships as I am still learning, but I do know that company of other women can help.” My eyes softened and I said.

“I have heard that before. Thank you Gamora.” She nodded and we continued to walk forward until we both stopped and there was our target.

Serial bounty hunter killer Naveen Samir.  He’s wanted not only by the Nova Corp but 12 other systems as well, including the Kree government. He’s well known for killing any and all bounty hunters from every single part of the galaxy.  Rumor has it that he’s known to detect whether one is out on the hunt for a good bounty just by simply looking into your mind.

And since the—well my previous life before becoming a Guardian of the galaxy taught us how to lie extremely well and how to make someone think you’re only after one thing, I was the best candidate for the ‘trade off’ before the guys would attack, but then you all know what happened after that.

And now here we are at attempt #2 of trying to stop this homicidal maniac.

We watched as Mantis slowly came up towards Naveen.  Since she was the quietest person for a sneak attack. We figured she could use her powers to either make him sleep or think that he couldn’t move his legs in order to run. But as Mantis kept walking towards Naveen, I kept hearing Rocket’s words in my head.

‘Should’ve just left you there in the first place. I’ll learn to control my anger issues when you learn to stop being such a slut when it comes to undercover missions!’ I shook my head trying to rid of it when suddenly we heard the sound of Mantis’ grunting.  We both looked to see Naveen gripping her throat.

“You are scared.” Mantis’ antennas glowed but shockingly it didn’t work.  Her eyes widened in fear and Naveen said.

“Specialized empathic conductor. With this headband your powers are useless against me.” He then tossed her aside like a piece of garbage.  Mantis fearing for her life, backed away from him as Naveen proclaimed, “Now where are the rest of the Guardians of the galaxy? Too afraid to come out and play with the big boys?”

“Damn it, just go for it. Go! Go! Go!” Quill’s voice spoke through our commlinks and soon it was just a sudden burst of a fight.  First he managed to kick Drax to the side before literally flipping in the air and dodged both Rocket’s and Quill’s gunfire.  Now Gamora and I were trying to attack, with the levels of training we both had, we managed to at least stay on him sword on sword.

The two of us trying to bring him down but he soon kicked Gamora’s leg so hard that he actually broke it. She let out an agonizing scream before being kicked aside and suddenly I found myself locked in his arms, his and my sword up against my neck and my back against his chest.

“To be honest, I expected a bit more. After all you did promise a fun time.”

“Then let’s have some fun.” I sneered as I slammed the heel of my boot into the front of his before headbutting him and getting free of his grasp.  The two of us went at each other’s heads with our swords almost doing a dance around each other until our swords crossed and he tried to get the upper hand by using his upper body strength to try and make me kneel down.

I held on as strong as I could until our swords slid across each other and like a whip, he kicked me right in the chest sending me backwards.  He chuckled as he walked towards me.

“Hey dickbag!” Rocket’s voice came up.  We both turned to see Rocket scarred up and bleeding but he held his gun and aimed it right at Naveen. “Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time?”

“I did, in fact that’s why I came better prepared.” Suddenly a detonator appeared into his hand. “Get rid of the jealous lover before you make your move.” He then pressed the button and suddenly the ground under Rocket’s feet began to crumble until he suddenly fell through.

“ROCKET!!” I didn’t hesitate.  I raced towards the crater and fell down into it hoping that I would reach him.  I extended my hand out to him but it soon got so dark I couldn’t even see a thing and next thing I knew was pain, dust and the sound of rubble still falling down on top of me.

*Rocket’s POV*

When I finally came around, I let out a pained groan and reached for my torch hoping it was still working. Thank kriff it was, although; it flickered but with a couple of smacks it was finally lit up.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n) are you there?” Oh god where is she? Please tell me she’s not buried underneath all this rubble.  Slowly I managed to get up, feeling nothing but soreness.  “(Y/n)!? (Y/n), where are you?” I suddenly heard a groan and when I shined my light to the right, there was (y/n) lying on her side under a large piece of rubble.

I quickly ran over to her and touched her cheek softly calling out to her.

“(Y/n), baby say something c’mon. (Y/n) you okay?” She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at me.

“R-Rocket?”

“Hang on babe I’m gonna get you out.” I quickly moved aside any of the smaller rocks aside before trying and trying to lift up the boulder that was crushing her.

“Rocket.”

“Just shut up and hold still will yah? I’m gonna get you out.”

“You can’t…..”

“The hell I can’t.” I growled as I tried to lift the rubble again and I wouldn’t stop until I felt her cup the side of my face.

“Rocket, you—you’ll always be the love of my life.”

“Why are you talking like that? I’m not gonna let you die here! I’ll get you out I promise.”

“You can’t—because it’s too late.” She looked down and that’s when I shined the light to finally see blood pooling down from between the rubble. “My—I think a pipe has gone through my left side. I can feel something poking through me.” She then coughed out blood.

“No, no, no, no, no, no please (y/n) look at me. Keep your eyes on me!” I pleaded with her.

“I feel—so numb. I…..Rocket….”

“Just hang on baby, the guys will find us. We’ll get you out and I’ll take care of you. Just hang on, please.” I sat down and leaned her head against my leg while I stroked through her hair. “Please…..I can’t lose you too.” When I looked down at her I saw that she wasn’t breathing. “Baby? Baby doll?” I shook her head and held my hand to her nose hoping to feel her breath.

I didn’t.

Tears filled my eyes and I held her as I sobbed and blubbered hysterically.

I don’t know how long it was, but finally Quill and the others managed to find us but when they saw me crying by (y/n)’s dead body, they knew it was too late for her.

On the Milano much like we did with Yondu, we dressed up her wound, made her look beautiful once again and covered her face up with wraps as surrounding around her were her two swords.  We sent her down the hatch where her body burned and her ashes went off into space.

My eyes were red as my heart was nothing but broken pieces.  The last thing I ever said to her was that she was a slut, now I can never take it back.  I can never apologize to her, and now in death she’ll always remember that being the last thing I ever said to her.

“I am Groot.” Groot spoke up as I felt his hand come to my shoulder.

“She might’ve. But it’s too late for me to apologize to her.”

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer Chapter 11: Ouroboros

The door vanished. The cavern returned to darkness, the only glow coming from the egg that contained the thrashing dragon. My fate was sealed. Hanging my head, I burst into tears. All the emotion I'd held back since I left Cassell came pouring out of me. “I don’t want to die…” I wailed.

The dragon egg splintered with a loud pop. The dragon had kicked its hindlegs and was forcing its way out, fluid pouring out from the cracks. It was staring at me through the translucent shell. It was brilliant blue, about the size of a horse with bright yellow eyes and wings for arms. Those powerful legs were driving its escape from the egg to be born. It was beautiful.

I had wanted to actually see a dragon, never thinking it would be the last thing I would ever see. The egg tipped over and shattered. The creature fell to its back, kicking helplessly. Its wings were pinned underneath its body and it couldn’t roll over. It let out a loud distressed screech. 

I looked at my twisted blackened hands. My pain had stopped. It seemed that closing the door had halted the progression of my illness. I looked back towards where it had been but there were no singing statues and no images. There didn’t seem to be any way to get out of this place.

And then there was the bomb.  I didn’t know how much time I had, but it couldn’t be much. The intention was to kill this dragon egg. I watched the hatchling squirming as it hissed and kicked, still wet with fluid and now dirty with gravel and dust.

I didn’t know any dragon language other than what I’d just learned. So that was what I decided to use, repeating just those three words. The Eternal Cycle, the Unity of all Things, and Self-Sufficiency. The creature's rapid breathing slowed. It's nostrils took in my scent.

The room suddenly brightened.

I looked up at a new door, one much larger than the one I’d passed through to get here. It towered like a monolith in the space, so blinding I had to shield my eyes. My heartbeat quickened. I laughed. I’d found a way out.

 Heedless of the danger, I staggered up to the baby dragon and shoved it as hard as I could. The momentum helped it roll over and it stumbled upright, flailing its wings to clumsily lurch forward. I knew what I’d been told: That dragons were dangerous. They had to be stopped. They had to be killed. I’d also just been told the same thing about me. If I didn’t believe that about myself, then I couldn’t believe that about the dragon hatchling either.

The explosive device began to make a loud uninterrupted beep.

I coaxed the dragon hatchling to follow me and it did, staggering on the natural bends in its wings, using them as hands. 

Progress was agonizingly slow, but when I reached the door, I stopped. Standing on the other side was my ethereal twin. She held out her hand to me. When I reached through to her, for the first time, I felt the pressure and the warmth of her fingers as they curled around and grasped my wrist.  She pulled me across the threshold, into the light.

In an instant, I saw a grey, misty landscape around me. The ground was hard like concrete and frozen. I wrapped my arms about myself, shivering. I was surrounded by an ancient city with buildings as large as mountains and crumbling towers with tops that disappeared into the thick clouds.

Behind me, the dragon hatchling stumbled through. The door vanished.

I watched my friend stand next to the young dragon, one hand resting on its neck. She was dressed in a simple linen gown and leather sandals. For a moment we stared at each other, unsure of what to do or say.

I stepped forward.  She walked over to embrace me. Looking into her eyes was like looking into a mirror. We pressed our hands together, comparing the length of our fingers. Besides Robbie and Mom, this person, this ghostly image had always been my companion and, finally, I could feel her. She was real and no longer a shadow.

She looked at me, sympathy in her eyes. “Come this way. I’ll take you to someone who can help you.”

“How come… how come I can see you in all colors and… how come… I can hear you? And I… I can touch you?” My voice is shaking with emotion.

“Because of where we are. This is the only place we can meet like this.” Her voice -- she even sounded like me, but her speech had a heavy accent I couldn’t place. She didn’t enunciate her consonants. ‘Because’ sounded like ‘ecause. ‘Place’ sounded more like ‘lace. ‘Meet’ like ‘eet.

"What is this place? Who are you?” 

I follow her gaze to the distant jagged peaks and, peering from the ruined towers, glowing eyes open and massive hulks lift up triangular heads, their wings spreading.

“This is the Nibelungen, the parallel space created by dragons. In your world, they call it the Death Realm. In my world, it’s called the Field of Gods.”

Around us, the eyes in the distance followed, watching me pass through the tilted buildings over cracked and crumbling stone roads. They fluttered from hill to hill, jostling for position, like birds on a wire. And like birds on a wire, there seemed to be no end to them.

“Don’t be afraid.” She squeezed my arm. “It’s okay so long as I am with you.”

I asked again. “Who are you?”

“I am you.” She took my hand in hers. “Only, I was born in another time and place.”

I followed her and the baby dragon followed us, letting out little honks, rapidly becoming adept at using the knobby claws on its wing knuckles as feet. 

“What’s your name?” I asked. “What’s my name?”

“I don’t know your name.” She said. “My mother gave me a name. Ielia. But your name may have been different.”

“Oh… Ielia… can I have that name?” 

She stopped and looked at me. “You could take my name. But I’m taking you to see your father. Your real father. And he can name you. I think that could be better.”

“My father?” I covered my mouth with my hands. My head is ringing with emotion. “He’s here?”

“Yes. But first there’s something you need to know.”

Ielia points to the pendant on my necklace. “That is a dragon’s scale that belongs to our father. If we return it to him, he might heal you, so you won’t have to worry about turning into a monster.” 

I touched my hand to my chest where my pendant still rested, “I’ve been carrying a dragon’s scale around this whole time?”

Ielia slowly explained to me. “Yes. It’s how we met. Dragon’s scales have great power. And this scale is like a window to another time and another place. It’s how I’m able to see you and you’re able to see me even though we are separated by thousands of years and thousands of miles. I first met you, when you received it.”

I sighed in amazement. “Thousands of years?” 

In the distance, a dragon roared. It was like a cross between a trumpeting of an elephant and the roar of a jet engine. I flinched. The young dragon screeched in return.

“They won’t hurt us for now. But we don’t want to stay here.” She said. She turned to the young dragon hatchling and spoke to it gently in that language I now knew to be draconic. She looked at me and smiled. “Did you understand what I said?”

“You… you told it to stay.”

She nodded. “That’s right. You naturally understand this language even though you cannot speak it well.”

Gradually, we began to descend into a valley where a human sized village spread out on the shore of a river bed. 

“There was a word I spoke when I… attacked Isaac and his men. I thought that was my name. But Johann said it wasn’t. He said it was the name of my dragon gift.”

“That’s correct. The linguistic ability of dragons is called Speaking Spirit. By using certain words, spoken a certain way, they impose a law of nature on the land. It could be calling a wind, or controlling the earth, or making plants grow. It’s a way to impose their will on a space.”

“My Speaking Spirit… controls the weapon?”

She turned to me. “Far more than that. Your Speaking spirit imposes your law on light.”

We entered the desolate and empty streets of the abandoned village. The buildings were made of rough hewn stone and mud. The streets were bare dirt.

She led me to a house and opened the wooden door to a dusty kitchen with wooden tables, knocked over chairs, and a harp-like instrument in the corner.  

She then took me to an inner room. 

“This is … was your family house.” She let go of my hand, taking a step back.

“I lived… they lived here?” I looked around. Everything about it from the crocheted quilts to the bare utilitarian furniture was simple and handmade. But it looked like no one had lived here in years. “Where is everyone? Are they… are they all dead?”

“This village was not always here in Nibelungen.” She frowned, her brow knitting. “... it was dragged into Nibelungen.”

She clasped her hands together, struggling for a way to explain. “It might be better to show you.”

Books were open and piled on a large table. On the cover of one was the circle with the sun and moon on either side and the image of a serpent curved round, biting its tail, just like I’d seen in the ruins under the ocean off the Japanese shore.

She opened this book but the script was in a different language and I couldn’t read it. Drawing her finger down one page, she appeared to understand it.

She knew her name, her parents, her past. If anyone was the shadow, it was me.

She turned to a particular page. There was an image painted in natural inks. A white dragon’s head, peering down from the clouds upon a group of people. Its body stretched into the sky, into the sun. Before it stood a group of women with crowns on their heads.

She pointed to the group and looked at me, “Your mother was one of these women.”

Then she pointed to the dragon. “This is our father.” She stared at me, and I waited for more explanation.

“So… the story is real that… a long time ago people made themselves hybrids.”

She shifted on her feet. She spoke slowly, emphatically. “Yes. A long time ago, your mother was one of those people.” She pointed to the dragon and then pointed to the picture of the women and then pointed to me.

“How?” I asked. “If this was that long ago, why am I living now? How did I get here?”

Her eyes fall to my pendant. She pointed to it. “That was stolen. You see. Back then, people and dragons worked together, but, in your world, people turned on the dragons. The village was thrown into Nibelungen as punishment.”

“So everyone’s dead?” I said.

She nodded, chewing her lip.

“Why didn’t he kill me?”

“He couldn’t find you.” Her brown eyes stared into mine. “It’s hard to explain, but when someone goes forward in time, they disappear until they arrive at their destination. Your mother hid you for thousands of years. But you’re not hidden any more. If you return the scale, I can plead for you. Because in my world, we did not betray him.” 

I grabbed the book and I flipped through the pages looking for pictures. There was no sign of any conflict. The drawings only showed the dragon in radiant light. One depicted the dragon hovering over someone writing on parchments. One illustration showed a woman presenting a small gift in a jar followed by four pages of nothing but text before she appeared again with a child on her lap, the dragon hovering over it. 

I flipped to the back of the book. A full page panorama drawing showed rolling hills dotted with sheep, the valley and the town and the river. And in the center of it all, a large copper column with the dragon twisted into a figure eight around it, biting its tail.

“Do you think he’ll have mercy?”

She nodded. “Our father is not harsh like some other dragons. In fact, he….”

We were interrupted by an earth shaking roar. Ielia clung to me and pulled me down to the floor. What meager light that came through the window of this room suddenly went completely dark.

She pressed her finger to her lips. “Get under the bed.” She whispered.

No sooner had we taken shelter, a tremendous wind buffeted the village. The window shutters flapped and banged. The house creaked and groaned. But then the light returned and the wind died down.

She crawled out from under the bed and pulled me up. “Go! We need to get you to our father and fast!”

We ran through the empty village heading for the river. All the dragons we saw sitting on the peaks had taken flight. Like a flock of massive starlings they covered the entire sky in a breathtaking display. Their constant roar sounded more like the crashing thunder of a waterfall.

We reached a river bed that was filled with a layer of mist. Under the mist, ice was congealed at the surface while black water flowed beneath. 

“Jump in! You will sink like a stone. At the bottom is where our father lives.” 

The dragons in the sky suddenly parted to make way for something in the distance. It was coming fast, dark wings stretching from horizon to horizon, like a great thunderstorm. Ielia pushed me into the river.

A strong current dragged me under. The world went dark. I sank head first into the black. My chest ached and I began to convulse. Before I could suck in water, momentum shot me through the surface to land on a rocky floor.

Moaning and stinging from the rough fall, I turned to look about. I was right-side up in a cave. I slowed my breathing, shivering hard enough for water to fly from my hair. 

My twin leaped out of the water next, also gasping, but on her feet. She ran over to help me up. 

The wall in front of us split in two like the opening of giant shutters. A golden reptilian eye bigger than a house curved up over our heads. The body stretched farther than I could see. The scales reflected the light like mirrors, sparkled like diamonds, and projected rainbows in the air. In each scale, I saw a different version of my face at different times of my life. 

Awestruck, my companion fell to her knees. I followed suit, unsure of what to do. Its mouth had seized onto its own body. It’s throat rippled every time it swallowed.

My twin spoke a single word. “Father.”

Frozen, I could only stare, my eyes wide, breathing hard.

It exhaled, hissing through its nostrils, its breath lifting my hair.

I slowly took my pendant off from around my neck and placed it in front of the eye. It blinked, briefly plunging us into darkness.  Its growl rumbled through the ground, rattling the gravel. 

The dragon didn’t say anything to me. The scale levitated. My twin stood up. “Ouroboros, your scale has returned to you. I have returned to you. Please, have mercy on my friend. She was a baby when it was stolen. She needs your help.” She reached down and held up my twisted hand for him to see. 

“In her world, our language is dead, you have no influence. You are content and self-sufficient, yes. But would not this be a loss for you? The thought of my reality being the only one where humans sing the songs of Ouroboros. The only one where a child of Ouroboros survives… it's sad! Please… help her.”

I look at the gigantic eye, so cold and pitiless. 

In my mind, I heard a voice, deep and resonant. The dragon addressed me.

“In all of Infinite Reality, only one remains loyal to me. This Loyal One pleads for you. She asks that I do not erase you the same way as I erased the others from Infinite Reality.”

I started to shake. Erased? That empty village. The people who lived there were erased. The word in Draconic gave me the idea of something being wiped out, the same way one would wipe a stain off the countertop. Vanished.

He continued. “You were born from and for a depraved lust for power. How can you be called my child?”

I swallowed hard, my voice trembling. “I’m sorry about what happened. I just found out about this. All I want is to be able to enjoy my life. I just want to have friends and dance. I want to help people and make them happy.” The words tumbled out. “Please. I just want to live.”

”I didn’t ask to be born like this. I don’t want to be a monster. I just wanted to dance and make people happy. That’s all I want to do. That’s all I ever wanted to do.”

I covered my face with my blackened hands, crying. When I looked up again, the dragon was still looking at me, but I sensed a change. He was listening.

He spoke again. “The Humans of Your Reality sought to share my power with others to use it in a war against my kind and against me. They used the power I’d granted them to turn back against me and strike me! That was their happiness! They will not take kindly to your soft heart and will do everything in their power to turn you against me the same way they turned your family against me.”

It snorted, a strong putrid wind drifting from its sighs. When it spoke again, there was a conspiratorial note to its voice.

“However, I will be patient of my own will. My own kind will object. They too wish to benefit from my power. Even now they circle, wanting to hear a prophecy that will hand them victory over the humans and their Abominations.”

“But the rise and fall of civilizations are as certain as the rise and fall of the sun. Theirs are not exempt.”

The scale floated back to me and the chain settled around my neck. 

“I will accept you as my daughter. I will grant your wishes and give you my words to heal yourself and those like you. You have my permission to pass through the Gates of Nibelungen. Close your eyes, see where you want to go, and you will go there. Escape those who will pursue you. And pursue you they will! For I have seen the vision. You are standing on the Threshold of the Door between the world of humans and the world of dragons!”

“Only be mindful that I am watching you in all realities. I will see how true your words are. Do not betray me.”

“Now, listen to this Word.” The dragon spoke again and this time, my body ached as if I had a strong fever. I doubled over, my muscles pulling at my bones, my insides hot like a furnace. When the pain subsided, the scales on my hands were gone, my fingers were back to normal. 

"This word will reverse the spread of your corruption and corruption of others. You have my blessing. You will not die."

I stared in wonder at my hands. I was healed. I was okay.

His voice grew quieter. “Listen, my enemy comes. Quickly, take shelter under my jaw.”

Ielia took my hand and led me beneath the massive beast’s chin before another voice, loud like a horn, blasted into our ears.

“Where is the abomination? Bring it out. I will kill it!” The earth shook from a great collision. It must have been another dragon, even if I couldn’t see it. It spoke like a dragon and its shrieking was constant.

Ouroboros remained silent.

“You defy your King?!”

“Brother. How long it has been since we have spoken…”

The other dragon’s voice is high pitched with desperation. “I smell its disgusting scent. I feel its disgusting thought! Why do you hide it! This… abomination! It is the one to destroy me?”

“I have uttered no such prophecy…” was my father’s calm reply.

“Then I will destroy it?!” It demanded.

My father lapsed into a silence. Then he answered, a subtle hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “I have uttered no such prophecy.”

The response to his mocking answer was an enraged shrieking. The earth was shaking. “Tell me! Tell me the vision! Is there a future where I am king! How! How do I defeat the abominations!”

My kindred spirit holds my hand and pointed. A door had appeared under the shadow of his head. “Go.” She said.

“Will I ever see you again?” I asked.

She nodded and pointed to the necklace. “I will always be here to guide you. And I am guiding you now. Go!”

I took a deep breath and stepped into the door of light. Too late I realized that I hadn’t asked my father my name.

When the world returned, I was stunned to be in costume, on stage the night of my performance after the Dance of the Triumphant Dark King. The crowd was gasping in wonder. I looked to my right and saw myself! The person I was on that night did not notice me. That night I happily left the stage thinking I had wowed the crowd with my dancing. 

Shocked and confused, I bowed and left the stage as my current self, walking quickly out the opposite way, out the exit, kicking off my toe shoes and running into the frigid winter night.

Previous Chapter

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Go Back to the Beginning

[olivermajor226]

Drafted Chapter 4: Preview

Up to 25,000 words, still writing. Until then, an extended preview.

Pinwheel Universe: Original Timeline, August 2008

Staten Island, New York City

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him-and I didn’t know how potent that part might be-that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.

Rogue rolled her eyes as she looked up from her book, sighing heavily as she glanced around her darkened bedroom. The sun had set and the room was humid, and she was only in a tank top and underwear, lying on top of the bedspread. It was always hot in the attic and she kept the ceiling fan on constantly, not only because it had been such an unbearably hot summer, but also because the residential feline, Zues, was scared of ceiling fans when they were off. An odd quirk about the cat she was beginning to truly adore. Rogue yawned for a moment, before moving to turn on the bedside table lamp. As soon as she did, she noticed a set of green eyes staring at her from the foot of the bed, and Rogue smiled at the intruder. Zeus had made his faithful nightly appearance, rubbing his head momentarily against the side of her foot, demanding attention.

“I really don’t get what the fuss is all about,” she said out loud to the cat, gesturing to Twilight, which she had closed in frustration and plopped on the bedside table. She’d purchased the book at the Borders in Penn station as a recommendation from her coworker Carmen-oh, trust me, Marie! You. Will. Love. It!-- to read on the long rides home on the Staten Island Ferry, and so far she was unimpressed. Falling desperately in love with a hundred year old vampire. Ridiculous, Rogue thought, while she pet the black cat with the white belly, who arched his back and purred at her touch.

Zeus was technically Mrs. Mable’s cat, the woman whose attic she was currently renting. The house was a cozy bungalow, which had regrettably seen better days, settled in the heart of Staten Island. Still though, the house had good bones, which Rogue appreciated. It reminded her of the old homes on her street where she grew up, down to the antique hardware and floral wallpaper.

Just like her feline companion, Mrs. Mable had taken a liking to Rogue, mostly because Rogue paid rent on time and helped her take out the trash and would often listen to the woman’s stories of the city in the 1940’s when the woman worked for Western Union, even though Rogue had failed to tell the woman she was vastly undercharging for rent, being this was New York City. Rogue was only paying $200 a month, although that was about all she could afford from what she was making at the desk job she was currently temping at in the city. It was a long, expensive trek to work each day, and she had bought the book to get her mind off of the fact that, one afternoon, she’d glanced out the dirty window of the ferry to see the Statue of Liberty in the distance, and a cold shadow of a feeling had gripped her heart.

Suddenly, in a rare moment of conversation, the cat meowed, bringing her out of her thoughts, and Rogue smiled.

“What do you think, Zeus? Team Edward or Team Jacob?” she asked playfully as she continued to scratch the cat behind the ears, savoring the feeling of the soft fur, the body  underneath that.

She’d touched many things in the last year. She’d shaken hands and held open doors and hailed taxis, all without gloves. She’d gone dancing with Carmen. She’d kissed boys and girls while drunk. She’d hugged people. She’d casually touched them. She’d made out with some, gone to second and third base with a couple of others. She’d flirted and smiled and laughed. It had been everything she had imagined it to be, she had quickly realized. The only part she missed, of course though, was the company. She had been surprised with how long Logan’s presence stuck around in her mind after the torch, but from the day she had the injection onward, they all had disappeared, and for the first time in a long time her head was simply...empty. Voiceless. Still. At times, it was still disconcerting. Rogue alone in this tiny bedroom apartment with the seventies avocado-green kitchen and the bubbling wallpaper and the hallway that smelled like cat litter, but it wasn’t Westchester, and that was enough.

Rogue frowned at the thought. It took two days after she’d come back from taking the cure. Bobby had kissed her, and the look on his face told her he regretted it. Perhaps she’d known it from the beginning, how he’d react, but it was everyone else who made it hurt worse. Jubilee was fake around her, Kitty stopped speaking to her. She had even remembered Logan barely acknowledging her, walking around with a dead look in his eye, although Rogue assumed that was more from the events that had transpired in San Francisco than anything else.

After the funeral, she had gone to bed exhausted, and sad. And, when she had woken up the next day, she knew he was gone. Not Bobby, but Logan. No goodbyes this time. No dog tags to be handed off. She knew he had one foot out the door already, but...she would have thought he’d at least warn her. Say goodbye. And she knew, this time, he was gone for good.

It wasn’t long after that, she left too. She couldn’t face them, couldn’t face it. But, of course, away from the shelter of Xavier's, she had no money. It was rough, in the beginning. She’d been beyond lucky to find the posting of Mrs. Mable’s room, and she thanked the world for small favors. Slowly, as spring became summer, she found steady work, and steady friends, and her fears eased. She stopped seeing herself as the other, and, instead, the same as. And that was also enough.

--

The next morning, she frowned slightly at the book, but decided against her best judgement to take Edward and Bella with her on the ferry. She rolled her eyes through most of it, and by the time she got to the office, she dreaded talking to Carmen about whether or not Bella had made the right decision to stick with the vampire. Luckily, however, they were busy today, so Marie forced a smile on her face, tucked in her cheaply made button down shirt into her black slacks, fixed her headset in her ear, and pretended not to be tired as she answered the phone for HR at the pharmaceutical company in midtown she worked for.

“So are you coming out on Friday or not?” Carmen said after a particularly long phone call, before downing half a bottle of Evian. Rogue shared a cubicle with Carmen, a desk on either side of the eight by eight space. Carmen was a beautiful woman of Italian descent with a thick Long Island accent who had immediately taken a liking to Rogue when she first arrived there. Carmen had helped Rogue learn the ropes, and Rogue knew Carmen found Rogue ”exotic” because of her southern accent, and was always trying to set up Rogue because of it. Carmen was also always drinking water and chewing gum between calls. “To get the bad taste out of my mouth when I deny another claim,” she explained one day to Rogue early on.

“I don’t know. I’m kinda tired this week. It’s been a long one,” Rogue said about the weekend, cracking her knuckles as she glanced at the time. 3:22pm. Ugh. Time didn’t move fast enough inside a cubicle.

“Well, you should come out because I have a date,” Carmen said, a spark in her eye. Rogue laughed out loud at this, shaking her head.

“Why would I wanna come with you on your date, hun?” she asked, and Carmen rolled her eyes.

“It’s not a date date. I’m...checking him out. Meeting him and his friend for coffee. I could use a wing woman. Rosalie from payroll is setting me up with him. He’s her cousin, or something” Carmen said, and then, looking around the cluster of cubics and leaning in a little bit over her desk she dramatically, “I guess the word is he’s a mutant.”

Rogue almost spit out the gatorade she had been drinking, but managed to swallow and feign...surprise? Funny thing was, other than the rising anti-government sentiment, most humans out in the real world didn’t think twice about mutants, not their plight, their struggle to be accepted, none of it. Marie had been shocked to find this out, but, after some time, she had come to realize it was always this way with a group of people who had privilege over another- the privileged group never thought it was that big of a deal and it couldn’t be that bad for them. Anyway, this news was surprising coming from Carmen, because she usually liked the blonde, athletic, cookie cutter type.

“That so?” Rogue finally asked.

“Yeah. Apparently...he has a tail,” she said, winking.

“Why does that matter?” Rogue blurted out, before she could stop herself, but then Carmen was grinning.

“Girl, use your imagination. Think of the sex,” she grinned, and Rogue must have made a face because Carmen was frowning.

“Didn't take you for a speciesist, lady,” Carmen said through a pop of her gum.

“I’m not-” Rogue sighed, but then Carmen threw up a finger, spit her gum out, and raised her eyebrows. Rogue frowned, but then turned to see their boss walking down the hall toward them. Mr. Henry MacIntire, Vice President of Human Resources,  was a studious looking man, fairly young for his position--Rogue guess early thirties at most--always dressed nicely, with a pair of tortoise shell glasses settled on his nose that Rogue found herself taking a liking to. He was polished, poised, a gentleman, she thought upon meeting him. Unlike Nancy who was in charge of the Admin assistants, he was never gruff with the underlings, never condescending or patronizing, and he always checked in on all the HR staff from time to time, but especially Rogue. To the point where Carmen had suggested maybe their boss had a thing for her, which Rogue had immediately shrugged off.

“Hello ladies,” he greeted them, stopping for a moment to hover outside their cubicle.

“Hello Mr. MacIntire,” Carmen smiled her brilliantly white smile, and Rogue simply nodded at him.

“Busy day today, yeah?” he said, directly addressing Rogue.

“Uh, yeah,” she muttered, through a quiet smile. “You too?” she asked and he grinned.

“The worst,” he said, his blue eyes dancing behind his glasses, and she found herself a little lost for words as he focused on her.

“Oh, Marie,” he finally added, extending a file folder her way. “ Do you mind sticking around a little later today? I need you to make some calls. We need to extend invitations to the additional names listed here for the web seminar on Friday, sort of last-minute. I hate to put this on you, but I trust you to get it right,” he said through an honest smile, and when Rogue found herself taking the file folder, she noticed their fingers just momentarily brushed, and a surge of adrenaline coursed through her. Of course, he was completely fine, hadn’t even likely noticed it had happened.  

“Of-of course, Mr. MacIntire,” she finally said, and, again, he smiled at her and pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Thank you, Marie. You’re the best,” he replied, and then, just before he was about to walk down the hall, he stopped, turned on his heel, and added, “Remember what I told you both. Call me Henry,” he smiled.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, Henry,” Rogue murmured, and then he was nodding and Rouge watched as  he walked off to his office down the hall. She smiled a bit, and when Rogue turned back to Carmen, the other woman was grinning devilishly at her.

“What?” Marie asked defensively.

“Nooottthhinnngg,” Carmen said, before holding up her finger as her phone began to ring. Rogue frowned a little, before turning back to the manilla folder. She opened it up to look at the list of names, mostly other HR heads of other pharmtech companies, only to notice there was a post-it note on bottom of the piece of paper with a note scrawled in Henry’s handwriting.

I really do need to thank you for doing this. I know it’s annoying to ask you to stay late. Maybe wanna grab a drink with me sometime so I can make it up to you? My treat. - H

Rouge’s smile widened as she quickly closed the manila envelope, grinning like an idiot now, just as her own phone began to ring again. But even the ringing telephone, even the bad novel on her desk, even the long ferry ride she’d have home tonight, sailing alongside the memories of her past, memories of him, couldn’t shake her current mood, as she set down the folder and put her headset back on, answering a little more cheerfully than normal with her rehearsed response.

“Transigen Incorporated, Human Resources Division. My name is Marie. How may I help you?”

[cela-astral-projection]

When you touch my weary head And you tell me everything will be all right You say use my body for your bed And my love will keep you warm throughout the night

Muriel woke to a supremely odd sensation. The sun was high and hot through the window. He must have been tired. He didn't generally sleep this late. This was well past "sleeping in".

He looked down, squinting, chin pressed to his chest. Celeste was between his legs, her chest against his stomach, running something across his torso. From nipple to nipple. He grunted, confused.

"Morning." She said, quiet, not ceasing.

He brought his hand up to hers, and she let him take it from her. He held the object in front of his face. One of his clay pieces. A fox. It was an older piece. One of the many that Asra had snagged from him years ago and kept in his little collection here in Nopal.

She sang, low, "The fox and his wife, without any strife, Cut up the goose with a fork and a knife..."

He shushed her, a finger at her lips. "Fox stayed home. And, unless you want me to fall back asleep, you have to stop."

She laughed. It was the long-standing family lullaby of choice. Asra had sung it to everyone at one time or another, and it just became a tradition. Muriel was as susceptible to succumbing to it as either of the girls, even singing it himself. He was unreliable when it came to the bedtime routine, passing out on the job.

His eyes wandered back up to the window. "How late is it?"

"Noon, maybe?" she said with a shrug.

"When is the last time we slept until noon?" he asked, rubbing a hand over his face. He reached up to place the little fox in the windowsill.

"Fucked if I remember."

He nudged her with his knee, and she disengaged from him, pulling the thin sheet around her naked body like a gown as she stood.

He sat on the edge of the bed, stretching. He cracked his neck from side to side, then twisted, popping his back. She looked on, wincing. He looked at her from the corner of his eye and laughed.

They chatted as they got ready for the day. About the girls, and work, his projects, Asra. He sat on the floor in front of her, she a kitchen chair, brushing his hair out and braiding it. "Nice to do this on someone who knows how to sit still and not cry like I'm murdering them." She said with a laugh. He gave a quiet, contented noise. He loved when she brushed his hair. She remembered a time when that was not the case. But, he was rather more pliant now than he had been.

They made breakfast together. It was too warm to consider cooking anything, so it was mostly fruit, cold cuts, cheese, nuts, and some crusty bread and butter.

They retreated to the back deck. It was warm, but there was some shade, so it wasn't unbearable. He had brought some of his woodworking tools to work on some little presents for the girls. She was reading some old journals that had been recovered from the palace, though she was still firmly restricted on what Muriel and Asra would allow her to read every day, afraid she'd be overwhelmed.

For the most part, they were genuine medical notes. A few sketches in the margins. Faces she recognized. Others she didn't. It was her writing, but it all felt very impersonal. A girl's handwriting. Curvy, loopy letters. At this point, she felt Asra and Muriel were making much ado about nothing. No headaches. She didn’t feel anything but irritation.  She hadn't suffered any pearl-clutching or fainting episodes. 

Muriel almost had, though, when she came across a short, but a clear, passage, detailing the loss of her virginity to a red-headed doctor that she worked with. The note was short and perfunctory. No declarations of love, or lifelong pledges of commitment. He had still choked a bit when he read it. She and Asra had both burst into uncontrollable laughter. After that, he asked to just hear the highlights, and for that particular memory to stay between the three of them.

She ran her fingers over a drawing in one of the margins, brow knitted. She knew this face as intimately as she knew her own, but she had no name for it. She sighed and turned the book to Muriel. "Long shot, but do you know who that is?"

He squinted at the page, then nodded, sitting back. "That's one of Lucio's guards. I didn't know him very well, but...he was nice. He used to run errands for you."

She turned the book back to herself, making a contemplative noise. "Do you know his name?"

"Aedan."

She rolled the name around in her mouth. It was just at the edge of her vision. On the tip of her tongue. It didn't click into place. She sighed throwing her head back, frustrated.

Muriel sensed it and stuck his hand out. "Give it here. You can look again later."

She rolled her eyes but relented. He laid the book down beside his chair and went back to his work.

She shook her head and stood up, he watched her as she went. Going from each of the little pots on the railing. Beautiful, healthy succulents. She busied herself taking cuttings and separating hens from the chicks. Something she could set by so the girls could help her plant them when they came. Some would need to be repotted, confined by their containers. Hearty little things and hard to kill, they were perfect starter plants for the girls.

It was almost evening, and she had made him commit to going into town for dinner. He was not thrilled by the idea, but, the idea of cooking was also unpleasant, so he relented. Nopal was much quieter than Vesuvia, so it wasn't a terrible prospect. Nobody knew him here, and not in the "look away and forget me" respect. They made their yearly trip, people fawned over Asra and Celeste with their "Oh, great Magician," and "Oh, great Enchantress," nonsense, and then they went home at the end of the week, no worse for wear.

They went to a small restaurant just off the town square. The sun was setting, and the sky was orange and purple, hazy clouds drifting slowly.

They sat at a cafe table. The restaurant must have had an excellent seafood vendor because they were presented with a mountain of crab.

It was cold, with warm butter and lemons. Muriel eyed it warily. It seemed like such a fussy food. He fumbled with a single leg, demolishing it, getting frustrated and abandoning the task. Celeste took it from him, eyebrow arched.

He watched her as she made quick work of the legs, totally ignoring the utensils they had been supplied. The meat slid cleanly from the shells, and she submerged them into the drawn butter. She speared a piece and fed it to him. He savored it. Sweet and briny. Pure luxury. "That's perfectly adequate." He said, smiling. "How'd you learn to do that?"

"Do what?" she said, taking a bite from her own small pile.

"Crack the crab like that?"

"Probably the same place I learned how to fish and hunt and cook. And we don't know where that was, so," She shrugged. "Maybe I'm just naturally talented."

He watched her face. She looked distant. They ate in silence for a while. Then, he ventured a question. "Do you want to know, about...before?"

She drew a deep breath. She replied, contemplative. "I don't know if any of it matters. It's not coming back. I have...so much. You don't remember everything about your childhood and what you do remember wasn't exactly happy." She raked a hand through her hair, looking off into the distance. "I am happy. I have a life that people only dream about having. I am so incredibly lucky. Every day that I am alive is a victory. It feels...ungrateful to look back and want something that I can't have. That I can't fix."

He reached across the table, and she put her hand in his, giving him a slight smile.

"It is okay for you to want things, Cela," he said, low and sweet. "All you have do is ask. I will go where ever and do whatever it takes. We all will. Just ask me."

She gave a weak half-smile. She felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and reached up to wipe them away. She cleared her throat and shook her head. "That's a big ask. I don't know how many big gifts someone is allowed in life."

She had her family. Her friends. Her work. Her very life. She was so very loved.

He squeezed her hand, tilting his head. "You know none of us would be here if it wasn't for you, right? None of this...is possible without the sacrifices you made for us. I don't mean the little everyday commitments..." he tried to search for words. It was hard to encompass everything she had done. To elevate your spouse to deity status. Someone so domestic. But, she was. She was a savior. "You...don't do what you have done for...everyone, and not get to ask for something as simple as your past. I can't believe that."

She scoffed a bit, dismissive. "You act as if I did it all single-handed. I didn't do anything that you wouldn't have done for me. We take care of each other."

He closed his eyes. It was an argument he wasn't going to win. She could deflect praise as well as he could, if not better. "All I am saying is that you don't have a limit. You deserve to have what you want. And I will fight to make sure you get it. Because I love you. You are worth the fight."

She was well and truly crying now. He threw a fist full of coins and crystals on the table, more than enough to cover the bill. He pulled her up and into his chest, planting a kiss on the top of her head. He knew not to feel bad about the tears. She was just a crier when she was overwhelmed. "Let's go."

She nodded, sniffing. He lead them out of the square, towards the outskirts of town.

When they got back to the house, she had settled. She splashed water on her face and took her hair down. Muriel sat on the edge of the bed, arms outstretched. She came to him, sitting in his lap. She felt so small in his embrace. Her head was on his shoulder. He rocked her back and forth, holding her firmly against his chest.

"You're going to help me?" She said, almost a whisper, eyes closed.

"Of course." He replied, kissing her forehead. "We're going to figure it out. I promise."

She ran her hand over his chest, resting it over his heart. They rocked for a long while. She sang, quietly, to herself. "The fox went out on a chilly night, he prayed for the moon to give him light..."

He hummed along with her, joining her with a deep voice when they came to his particular favorite part. "...He ran till he came to his nice warm den, And there were the little ones, eight, nine, ten. Sayin' Daddy, Daddy, better go back again..."

He sighed, and Celeste felt it too. They missed Asra. Especially here. Whispers of him everywhere. They both felt homesick. And they felt guilty. Enjoying each other while he was at home. They were good as a pair, but better together. And Asra was still days away. He had the good sense to put a five-day limit on it. And that still felt too long. And Celeste felt it. Asra missed them too. They had been together for far too long. It had seemed like a practical arrangement, but now, they just wanted each other. 

"Do you want to call him?" Celeste asked.

Muriel nodded, making a quiet noise. Relieved that he wasn’t alone. 

[moregelato]

hi i wrote some short stories lmao (reupload whoops)

Alright so this is like my billionth time reuploading this cause tumblr sucks (for legal reasons that’s a joke please don’t take down my account) but here are some short stories I wrote because I dared myself to.

So I had challenged myself to write three contrasting stories and not only did I finish them within, like, a week, I was also very proud of how they turned out, so here they are.

There are three in total; the first one, Life, is a horror story that has some graphic gore and blood mentions and descriptions, so tw for that. The second one, All That Matters, is a love story between two women who’s names and kinda the story is based off of (but no depressing parts). The third one, Better Circumstances, is a comedic script that does contain some swearing and some implied torture so, again, tw.

Also I may or may not have written these in order to show I can write for a maybe writing job for Mark lmao so @markiplier if you are reading these please enjoy and hire me whoops

The stories will begin below the cut, so please enjoy these!

LIFE

The woman’s hand instinctively tensed up at the sound of footsteps around the corner. Chills climbed up her arm and down her spine at the feeling of the cement floor creating divots in her fingernails. The broken edges met the skin of her palm, digging into the tender flesh. Pieces of glass and stone remained embedded in the skin, the salty sweat dripping into her wounds making her nerves set aflame. The pain would make her muscles stiffen, her jagged fingernails digging deep into her swollen palm, and the cycle would repeat. She could feel her heartbeat pulsing throughout her, struggling to keep her exhausted body awake. She watched in a sick, hysterical kind of fascination as her breath clouded in front of her each time she felt safe enough to relax, and would hitch when her wounds would come in contact with the uneven stone ground. She felt as if she was under water, every movement enough effort to spike her heart rate. Her eyes flicked to her left and she could hear its movement, a wet sliding noise that was so loud she could hardly think. She blinked and the popping noise sounded like a bullet went off next to her ear, the sound nigh deafening. The footsteps approached the wall she was leaning against, and despite her body’s begging, she stopped breathing. Tears built up in her dry eyes when the ragged breathing moved towards her ear, its warmth a burning contrast to the sub temperatures of the room. Her lungs burned and screamed, the need for oxygen consuming her as black slowly clouded her vision, like ink bleeding onto a piece of paper. The thing that had been chasing her looked to its right, its gaze landing dangerously close, when a sound picked up by both creatures caught its attention. It shot up, the cold being welcomed like a blanket, and its footsteps scratched against the cement, slowly drifting further away.

She heaved in a breath, the clouds slowly coming into focus as the growing darkness slowly dissipated. Her less injured hand pressed against the smooth walls, the cold metal biting into her cuts. A silent hiss escaped her lips as the skin both stuck to the metal and slipped from the warm blood flowing from her wounds. She managed to upright herself, layers of her palm ripping off when she tried to detach it. She let herself have some relief, a dry groan of pain at the burning feeling. When she was fully standing, she looked at her throbbing leg, the numbness from her adrenaline rush slowly wearing off. A large chunk was missing from her calf, the muscle burnt and dropping like slabs of meat, the bone exposed with tiny cracks littering it. Veins and nerves were poking out, camouflaged with the strings of her ripped jeans. The streaks of blood that chased after her glowed with each flicker of the overhead lights. Deciding that dying of blood loss would be quicker than hypothermia, the woman haltingly removed her layers and winced as the fabric caught onto the glass in her palms. Her thinnest jacket was placed on the ground as she redressed, each jacket returned another glimmer of hope. A small portion of fabric from each sleeve was torn off and wrapped around her shredded palms, ignoring the debris making a home in her right hand.

The jacket was quickly tied around her wounded calf, but was drenched in her blood after a few seconds. It was the only warmth she had felt in the past three days. Her stomach had stopped growling before the first day ended, after the thing chasing her had nearly ripped it out, and her throat learned to accept the blood from her cracking lips after the second. But the sleep deprivation was slowly getting to her head. She saw large platters of food and water laying on a large dining table that would vanish in her hands the moment she touched them. She saw injured animals littering the ground crying out but would drop through the floor when she ran to them. She saw people in all white watching her throughout the maze who turned a corner and disappeared as if they were never there. Every time she tried to lay down and rest, every time she let her guard down, the Creature Never Seen’s footsteps would pound in her head and send her running, whether it was really there or not.

She no longer cared about escaping. Her only goal was to survive.

She moved her leg forward, pressing her weight on it and testing the pressure she could handle. She hissed out a swear as a debilitating tearing sensation clawed up her leg. She shifted her weight onto her left one and hobbled into a more sturdy standing position. Her newly bandaged hands gave her less traction on the steel walls but more protection from it. As she took a tentative hop forward, her hand slipped and she unconsciously put her right foot forward to keep balance. A scream shoved its way out of her the same time another, familiar voice could be heard yelling out. The sound caused a ringing in her ear and her vision tilted, trying to convince herself it wasn’t true. She let the small tears fall down her face, desperate for any kind of liquid other than the blood she’d been surviving on for the past seventy hours. The scream, that had been cut short into a disgustingly wet gurgling, sounded as if it was just around the corner. Her hand wrapped around the side of the sleek metal and pulled herself around.

Her brother lay at the end of the hall, the lights burning long enough to illuminate the gaping hole in his chest. The flesh and muscle had all been blasted inward, with shrapnel and parts of his shattered ribs sticking into his barely inflating lungs. His heart struggled to keep its host alive, and half of his intestines were laying over his thighs. The two made eye contact and he let out a cough, blood leaking from his mouth and punctured lungs.

The woman staggered to him, her eyes burning from the tears that wouldn’t fall. She swung herself around and sat by his left side, watching the boys head loll to where she sat. He blinked slowly at her, attempting to give his sister a comforting smile. More of the thick liquid climbed from his stuttering heart up his throat as he cracked out, “Mom’s gonna kill me.”

A pained laugh escaped her lips. “I won’t let her.” Her voice, croaky with unuse, was startlingly thick and wet. She pressed her palm to her cheeks, wiping away the tears that weren’t there.

“I… I shouldn’t’ve gone out,” he slurred. “Mom told me… she said it wasn’t safe.” His eyes drooped halfway, what was left of his stomach tensing in an effort to keep him upright.

“Hey hey hey, it isn’t your fault. You were just being a dumb kid.” The boy laughed, but was quickly hushed by his sister. “Shh, don’t laugh.” Her eyes unwillingly looked to her brothers chest, and he watched as a look of horror and anguish washed over her face.

She continued to stare at his wound. “I can’t even… feel it,” he struggled. Her body gave up on its own survival to share her tears with her brother. “Like yousaid… Iwas just bein a dumb...kid.”

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, snot and tears running down her face. She wiped at her tears and brokenly smiled at him. “I should’ve been paying attention to you. Mom told me to watch you but I was being so dumb and I just, looked away for one second and you disappeared.” She gasped, hearing the strange clicking of the Creature Never Seen. “Why’d you leave the house, man?” The question went unanswered and she pounded her fist into her forehead. “I should’ve been paying attention, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

He had startled at his sisters action, his nose running as he silently wept. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice broken. “It’s notyour fault. I thoughtI heard somethin an’ I wanted to help y’guys.” His one arm lifted, revealing their dad’s sawed-off twenty gauge shotgun. The boy smiled, revealing bloodstained teeth. “I shot at thething, Bee. Isaw it… it bleeds.” He tossed the shotgun to his other side, somehow managing to catch it in his weak arm and placing it next to him. “Go kill that sonofabitch.”

“Language,” she quipped, picking up the gun. It had two shells left. “Didn’t dad fully load this before he left?” He had the dignity to look a little embarrassed, but the happiness from seeing some color back in his face was ruined by the amount of struggle his heart was in to produce said color. “You always were a terrible shot.” She pushed herself off the ground, ignoring the pins and needles shooting up her leg at its slightest movement. She spared one last glance to her brother, finding strength in the determined look ripping its way through his agonized face.

She staggered away from her brother, refusing to look back in fear of seeing him already dead. There was no way in hell he was surviving his wounds, in fact it was a miracle he was still alive when she got to him, but she needed to give him hope. She needed to get revenge, if not for her, for him. She heard distinct scraping footprints of the Creature Never Seen directly before her. The moment the Creature turned the corner to the hall she stood at, the every-flickering lights went out. The only hint the Creature was still with her were the two burning eyes that seemed to peer into her very soul. She shakily lifted her shotgun and adjusted her stance, finding her entire left leg soaked in warmth but unable to feel any pain. The gun’s wood felt odd against her wrapped hands, the glass pressing deeper into her cuts. She couldn’t care less. She had to avenge her brother, and would gladly die trying.

The Creature moved forward, it’s eyes slowly losing their glow. It pointed its gaze to her leg and it made a twisted noise that sent chills down her spine. A noise sounded from the Creature, one that was all too familiar, one that haunted her every waking moment, and she felt a blast of wind brush past her left hip. It had somehow swung at her from several yards away, changing her perception of the Creature’s size into something beyond any nightmare she’s ever had. She took a fearful step forward and the Creature attacked again, this time it landed on the same spot it had originally taken a chunk from her calf. The shrapnel embedded itself into her bone and the exposed nerves were cut and ripped, causing enough pain to bring her to her knees. She let out an ear splitting scream and aimed her gun, not thinking twice as she pulled the trigger. Still burning in rage, she cocked the gun and aimed it again, emptying both shells into the Creature.

The lights flashed on. The fluorescent white blinded the woman. The gun clattered at her side. A wet gasp sounded from the Creature. Her blinks echoed in her head. Her gaze adjusted to the light. Her heart clenched and shock ate through her stomach. Her brother stood before her, his chest burst open and intestines pouring down to his knees. He looked at his sister in fear. Blood sputtered from his lips and he sank to his knees. She couldn’t move.

“Why’d you leave the house,” she found herself repeating. She turned to where her brother had been laying minutes ago, only to see the air occupying it. Her eyes widened in realization, the back of her eyes burning as she looked back to her brother. “Mom told you it wasn’t safe.” She took a step forward, freezing as her brother’s lungs stopped moving, the clouds that had been rapidly forming stuttering in fear. “I should’ve been paying attention.” Her voice was distant, struggling to force its way past the lump forming. “I’m so sorry. It’s… all my fault.” The light in her brother’s eyes dimmed, and as his head slumped over, she knew he was dead. “Oh god,” she spluttered, tears struggling to make themselves known. She wanted to tell him she thought he was an animal, that she hadn’t slept and was hallucinating, that she had only meant to scare him, but they were all lies. She knew what she was doing, she saw a figure and fired to kill.

She shot up, hands tugging at her hair. She revelled in the sharp pain as she pulled chunks out, some hair removing a layer of scalp. “IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED?!” She screamed to the ceiling, to someone, anyone. “WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!” Tears were flowing freely now, needing to know the truth.

“CONFESS.”

The response elicited something within her. She began to sob, all the realization and guilt and pain hitting her at once. “I thought he was a thief.” She heaved forward in time with her sobs, feeling bile climbing up her throat as the sharp metallic smell of her brothers blood wafted through the air. “I shot him, I meant to kill him.” Her body ached and new blood broke free from her makeshift bandages, coating her skin in her sins. “I killed him,” she whispered between sobs. As she rocked back and forth and howl, she began to chant, “I killed him. I killed him, I killed him, I killed him I killed him I killed him I KILLED HIM I KILLED HIM I KILLED HIM-”

“GOOD.”

Her chanting didn’t stop until two men in white appeared though a hidden doorway in the wall. “I thought… I thought you were fake.” They said nothing as they grabbed her under the arm, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. They dragged her through the door and into a blindingly white room, every machine and monitor pristine and perfectly placed. She was placed and strapped tightly into a chair, with one of the men cleaning the blood trail that led into the room. A woman in a white suit approached her, shining a light into her eyes with no remorse before deeming her fit. She stood up and faced the small gaggle of men in business suits, plastering on a charming smile.

“As you can see, this experimental treatment has had a very high success rate. Subject 100 here is our lucky star. She’s proven that this treatment can be used to get those,” the woman in white bent over and tapped the criminal on the cheek, “ extra stubborn criminals to confess. The narcotics we administer cause them to forget the last 48 hours and allow them to survive in harsh conditions with little nutrients for elongated periods of time.”

“Ms. Beathen, wouldn’t this be considered torture? Afterall, this one is missing a chunk out of her leg and no one seems to have treated it. And, as you mentioned, you drugged her nonconsensually.” Ms. Beathen took an understanding breathe and stood up to her full height.

“We were worried about the morals of this whole thing when we first started. But, these are dangerous criminals, you must remember. I don’t believe Subject 52 thinking about morals and consensual drugging landed him with us.” Uncomfortable murmuring spread to the small group. “However, all injuries sustained during their crimes are treated beforehand to ensure it doesn’t get infected. And we find the more details we add, the more emotionally invested they become, the more likely they are to confess.” Audio from the room she had spent what felt like years in began to play, and the woman cringed deeper into the chair to avoid her sobbing admission. “So far, one hundred out of the one hundred federal criminals sent to us have confessed to their crimes and been punished accordingly. Speaking of which, Mr. Adilet, would you do the honors?”

One of the men in white stepped forward with a glimmer in his eyes like a child on Christmas. She thrashed and cried as he spoke, but he never paused his speech. “Bela Tuwile, you have been found guilty of the murder of thirteen-year-old Clay Tuwile, and have been sentenced to life in federal prison.” As the men in suits left, the could hear Bela’s sobs echoing through the halls, but their steps never faltered.

———————————————————————————————————

ALL THAT MATTERS

Judith Capehart was the sun. She brought pain; to look at her would risk yourself going blind, and few could handle the heat. Her eyes, two bright flares, shot and burned at anyone who strayed to close. Her hair was a solar prominence, looping down from her scalp in thick gold waves. Her skin had a permanent red tinge to it, littered with sunspots that burned to the touch. Her temper grew as she aged, from the mild light of a red dwarf to the raging fire of a blue supergiant. People liked her in theory, for she brought life to the world and gave warmth at a distance, but when they learned her truth, when she lashed out and never cooled off, they preferred to stay away. And yet, despite their love of a false version of her, she was always truthful with people.

Rosemary Moncella was the moon. She brought illumination; to look at her would bring clarity the dark, but few accepted the cold. Her eyes, large dark craters, were deep and inviting to those who looked closely. Her hair was the bright moonlight, flowing in small black and white rays. Her skin was deep as the night sky with stars creating portions of light. Her mood was like the tide, constantly fluctuating from destructive, crashing ocean waves to the tranquil, serene sea. People looked to her for guidance in their darkest times, always dependent on her light and annoyed when she herself was in a dark place. And yet, despite her seeming openness, she was never fully honest.

The sun and the moon were never meant to convene. But eclipses happen, as do once in a lifetime meetings.

No one remembered when the two first met, but everyone remembers when they began to change. Judith no longer burned in anger, but still shone as bright. It still was a peril to look directly at her, but only in fear of her smile blinding instead of her heat. Rosemary was no longer as cold, but still provided clarity. It was a danger to see her with the sun, but only to people who preferred her light. The two had illuminated the others features, both good and bad. And they found that they were in perfect harmony.

The moon shone brightly at the sun as she burned a beautiful red, speaking of a Leonid meteor storm that only happened once a year, and that her parents were finally allowing her to see it by herself, and maybe if she would like to come too?

“Midnight, huh? Just the two of us, watching the stars? Sounds pretty romantic if you ask me.” Judith blushed harder and spluttered, the heat infecting the moons chill. “I’m joking,” she laughed, the sound as calming as the sea. “I’d love to come. My mom’s out of town, so I can stay out as long as you want.”

Judith forced out a laugh, ignoring the connotations of the shorter girls words. “Perfect. I’ll, uh, I’ll meet you there?” She watched Rosemary’s glow dim just a smidge, her smile dropping than forcing itself back up like crashing waves.

“I’ll meet you there.”

The sun was in new territory. It was dark, and cold, and she was terrified. She was used to the blinding light, the warmth of the sky, but also the loneliness, and the glares from the others. Yet here she was, basking in the cool of the night, in the moonlight of her friend. She wasn’t even looking at the meteor shower, instead more fascinated in their reflection in the moon's eyes. They illuminated her skin, wishing to imitate the streaks in her dark hair.

Judith couldn’t handle the silence. “To be honest,” she started, the words like a tongue of flame escaping her mouth. The moon turned to her, brighter than any star above. “I just wanted an excuse to go stargazing with you.”

If the moon’s smile grew, the sun didn’t mention it. If the sun grew hot, the moon didn’t laugh. And if the two shared a kiss that night, it’s none of your concern.

High school came and went, and with the years the sun and moon began to drift away. Different plans, different hopes, different dreams. Rosemary had moved out of state for college, giving the sun a searing reminder of her love before leaving. The moon had disappeared, leaving a supernova in its wake. Judith burned hotter than ever before, setting fire to her surroundings. No one was safe from her anger, so they learned to keep their distance in fear of their safety.

It was now a lunar eclipse. The world had torn the two apart, leaving the moon in the dark and the sun unable to help her. After they separated, they tried to get on with their lives. Judith befriended clouds, who smothered her anger and dimmed her warmth. Rosemary befriended stars, who outshined her light and dulled her beauty. And yet, they refused to leave the other's mind, constantly orbiting their thoughts and circling their heads, always there but never meeting.

Years passed. The moon dated other satellites, but none lit her up as much as Judith. The sun dated other stars, but none cooled her off as much as Rosemary. They never gave up on the other, keeping an optimistic, unrealistic hope that the universe would push these two, always so close yet so far, back to where they were meant to be. Together.

And there had been many close encounters. Partial eclipses happen fairly often, as do the amount of times Judith and Rosemary almost met eyes, almost bumped into each other, almost sat on the same bench. Eventually, even the Universe grew tired of their never intersecting orbit. So, it was decided that a total eclipse would come early this year.

Judith hadn’t been expecting to see any familiar faces at the coffee shop. The clouds she befriended had decided the snuff her out like a small candle, controlling who she saw and where she went. The older, less popular coffee shop where she used to go (it was Rosemary’s favorite) was off limits, so she was forced to walk an extra four blocks to Starbucks. She despised the walk. She was cold, she was angry, but above all she was lost. Until the doors before her swung open and the moon had stepped forward, just managing to not run into her.

The moon began to ramble off apologies, not yet recognizing the sun before her. Judith could feel a small heat flicker in her chest, growing bigger and bigger as Rosemary trailed off. When the moon whispered her name, eyes glistening with tears and voice shrouded in disbelief, she felt the light within her squeeze and then burst, recreating the sun that had burned within her years ago.

“Oh my god, Judith. It’s really you, isn’t it?” A star-covered hand reached up and pressed gently against Judith’s forearm before dragging gently down, never breaking eye contact. Her hand reached Judith’s and grasped it, interlacing their fingers.

“Yeah, Rose. It’s me,” she smiled, huffing out a laugh. A throat cleared from behind her and the two quickly broke contact, apologizing and moving out of the doorway. They had released hands and, not knowing what to do with hers, Judith scratched the back of her head and gestured to the moon. “You, uh, you grew… taller.”

Rosemary gave a soft chuckle and Judith felt a flare of heat reach her face. “And you’re no smoother than you were in high school.” Embarrassment flashed through the sun and killed her warmth, an awkward sound leaving her lips. The moon reached out and tucked a ray behind her ear, lingering her touch at her cheek. “You’re just as cute though.”

“Y’know, this might, uh, this might sound weird but… I kept hoping we’d see each other again. Ever since senior year. I, uh,” she paused, noticing the odd look the moon was giving her. “I actually went to the coffee shop a few streets down, cause I remember you said it was your favorite. I always found it kinda weird we never bumped into each other.”

For once, it was the moon who blushed, a mix of dark red and pink rushing over her cheeks. The realization she made her blush made Judith smile. “It’s not weird, Jude. I actually find it kinda sweet.” A look of understanding crossed her deep eyes and she huffed in amusement. “I think I know why you never saw me there.”

“Why’s that?”

“Every morning I went to that food stand Eggslut,” a splutter of laughter left them both, tranquil chucking from Rosemary and sharp cackling from Judith, “all cause I remember how hard you laughed when you first saw it. You said that you’d go there every day once you graduated.”

A pause. Neither of them knew what to say. They had been searching for the other for years, and they had only met in the middle today. Judith wasn’t about to let her get away. “Well, if you’re free, wanna head over there now?” A look of surprise crossed her features, but she nodded nonetheless.

They shared a smile, glowing at the other. Judith scratched her scalp and offered Rosemary her hand, who took it without hesitation. They had walked a bit in silence before the moon filled the space between them. “I take back what I said earlier, by the way. That was pretty smooth.”

“Was it actually?”

“No, it was pretty terrible.”

And so the two began their dance around the cosmos, visiting planets and stars with intertwined hearts. Their light flooded every place they went, people needing to shade their view from their glow. Judith shone past the clouds, no longer letting them control where she went and who she went with. Rosemary drowned out the stars, finally believing she deserved to light up the night sky too. There were times when their anger would control them, Judith lashing out and Rosemary closing off. They would never last long, both realizing what they had done and grasping tight onto their love, not ready to let this end. They were together at last, and they planned to keep it that way.

Faster than the speed of sound, November approached. Nearly twenty years since their first trip into the galaxy, and nearly ten months since their transcendence. The two had been driving up to the cliffs near their house, the moon watching the usual nervous twitching from Judith. Rosemary noticed the familiar burning of the sun, the heat coming off in waves as she talked of the meteor shower happening that night. The moon’s crescent smile lit up the car  as she recognized the name of the phenomena.

“Recreating our first date, are we?” The moon watched amused as the sun stutter, frantically grabbing for an answer.

“Wha- I, no, I’d- I don’t know- yeah, I am,” she settled, listening to the beautiful laughter of the woman beside her. “Okay, okay, I get it. I just thought it’d, y’know, be romantic and stuff…” She trailed off, parking the car and crossing her arms.

The moon gave her a smile so full of love it nearly blinded the sun, and Rosemary left the car before opening the door for Judith. “It is romantic, Jude. I was just teasing you.” Judith huffed but accepted the extended hand. She grabbed the blanket from her trunk, as black as the night sky with stars trapped within it, and walked Rosemary to the edge of the cliff.

“Wow,” the moon gasped, looking up to the stars that seemed to glow just for her. “This view is… wow.”

“Look who’s speechless now.”

“Oh, shut up and get over here.”

Judith barked out a laugh and sat beside her moon, hand nervously reaching for her pocket. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words burned in her mouth as a meteor sailed across the sky, followed by another. She stopped short, watching Rosemary’s eyes fill with the galaxy above, and her heart filled with more love than she thought was possible.

“Thank you for bringing me here. It’s beautiful,” Rosemary whispered, leaning her head against her sun’s shoulder. Judith’s eyes never looked to the sky as she agreed, wrapping her arm around her moon. And if the ring in her pocket remained unopened for the night, and if Judith decided that no diamond could compare to Rosemary’s eyes at night, then it isn’t important. What is important is that in that moment, right then, they had each other. And that’s all that matters.

———————————————————————————————————

BETTER CIRCUMSTANCES

DARK ROOM - MIDDAY - INTERIOR

LUCAS, a police officer, is slumped over in a dark room, unconscious. Slowly, he begins to wake up, wincing at the pinching in his neck and the throbbing on the back of his head. None of those prompt him to move his arms, for some reason. Only when the corner of his eye starts to itch does he try to lift his arm.

Only for him to realize they, along with his legs, are tied to a chair

LUCAS

Wuh? What the fuck?

Lucas pulls at his arms. The rope is a little loose, enough for his arm to move back a forth a bit, but not enough to escape. He pulls harder, pressing his shoulder to his ear as if that’ll help. It doesn’t. He then moves to his legs, kicking at them. The rope stays strong but his chair leans back a bit. He kicks a little too hard and his chair falls backwards. At this exact moment, COLE, his kidnapper, steps into the room, the open door letting light inside

COLE

Well well well, look who finally decided to-

Cole stops talking. He sees the cop he kidnapped laying on the floor with a look of complete defeat on his face. Cole blinks

COLE (CONT.)

-wake up.

Cole blindly swats for the door, not wanting to look away from the strange scene before him. He finally finds it and slams the door shut, effectively cutting off the only source of light

LUCAS

Where the hell am I?

Cole has to snort. Lucas sounded so serious and tried to sound like he had some kind of power in the situation, as if he hadn’t completely lost all hope in humanity. Cole walks over to where Lucas is lying and stands over him, bending at his hips to stare him dead in the eyes

COLE

Somewhere none of your little police buddies will find you.

Lucas laughs, trying to sound intimidating

LUCAS

Oh, I doubt that.

Cole cocks his head. He finds Lucas’ confidence amusing

LUCAS (CONT.)

Y’know, I bet my partner’s hot on your tail right now.

Cole laughs softly, then suddenly pulls a knife out of his belt loop. He brings the blade up to Lucas’ face, who still doesn’t realize he needs to stop talking

COLE

Don’t sound so optimistic, officer. No one’s gonna find you, not unless I want them to.

Lucas knows he’s in deep shit at this point, sweating buckets. One wrong move and he loses an ear, but will that stop him from being a smartass? Absolutely not

COLE (CONT.)

Now, you’re going to tell me everything I want to know.

The tip of the blade moves to the center of his forehead and, in a fit of stupidity, Lucas raises his head in intimidation

LUCAS

Or else what.

A glob of spit lands on Cole’s chin. Both men find this disgusting

COLE

Oh, you don’t want to know what I have in store for you-

A voice calls out from the hallway near the room. They both know this voice

RICH

Hello? Anybody home?

Lucas’ head shoots up, the blade moving just in time for him to not lose an eye, and Cole whirls around, facing the closed door

COLE

Well shit.

He starts to bite his thumb, knowing how much shit he’ll be in when his roommate sees the guy in the room. However, Lucas smiles wickedly

LUCAS

I fucking told you, didn’t I.

Cole stops, his thumb thanking every god that he was stopped before it could start bleeding. He faces Lucas, confusion very clear on his face. This wasn’t how the afternoon was supposed to turn out

COLE

Wait, what-

But before Cole can stop him, Lucas is tilting his head as far as he can and screaming:

LUCAS

I’M HERE! I’M IN HERE!

Cole starts to shush Lucas. He knows it’s useless, but it’s the sentiment that counts. The door kicks open, and RICH stands in doorway in all his glory. He’s still stumbling a bit from kicking the door down, but slowly regaining his balance. Lucas laughs, trying to see his partner

LUCAS (CONT.)

Oh you dumb sonofabitch, I never been happier to-

He stops short, seeing his partner standing in the doorway. In a pair of boxers. And a loose college t-shirt. Holding a bowl of cereal

LUCAS (CONT.)

What the fuck.

Rich has the audacity to look embarrassed, his spoon stuck halfway to his mouth. He looks to Cole, kneeling over Lucas, who was tied to a chair, holding a knife loosely at his throat. He connects two dots that aren’t there and coughs in discomfort

RICH

Um, am I… interrupting something, or…

Cole is the first to stand, being the only one who can, tipping Lucas’ chair to the side in the progress. He drops his knife, ignoring the scared scream from Lucas, and forces a fake smile

COLE

Rich, what are you doing? You said you’d be back at seven.

Rich spoons another bunch of Fruit Loops into his mouth before talking, knowing fully well how uncomfortable the other two find it

RICH

Well, uh, Lucas over there wasn’t updating us on the whole car chase thing, so I assumed he caught the guy and I decided to go home. I guess, uh, well I guess that wasn’t the case.

Rich dunks his spoon back in his bowl and peers around Cole, then waves to Lucas

RICH (CONT.)

Hi Lucas.

Lucas and Cole share an unbelieving look before turning back to Rich. The two are completely lost, simultaneously saying:

COLE                                                LUCAS

Wait, Rich, you know                        Rich, who the fuck  this guy?                                 is this?    

Rich looks at his two friends, chuckling nervously at their twin expressions of irritation. He knew the two would get along just fine, he just wished they’d met in better circumstances

RICH

Um, well, heh, this is awkward. Uh, Cole, this is my partner Lucas. Lucas, this is Cole, my roommate.

Everyone blinks. No one knows how to respond, least of all Rich

LUCAS

How the fuck are you so calm?! You’re roommate fucking kidnapped me you dumbass! He’s a criminal!

Cole and Rich exchange looks. Cole shoots him a warning look, his jaw tensed and eyebrows raised to his forehead. Lucas ducks his head, looking as if he was sorry, before scratching at the nape of his neck. Boy was he in trouble

RICH

Yeah, yeah, I uh, I know.

LUCAS

...What?

COLE

Rich, I swear to all that is holy...

RICH

Uh...

Rich looks to Cole, regrets it immediately, then decides looking at Lucas will incur less wrath

RICH (CONT.)

Well, when I first moved in, he flipped out when he saw my badge and tried to shoot me. Heh, it was kinda funny looking back.

He risks an amused glance at Cole, who���s glare would probably make him spontaneously combust if he really wanted. He decides to avoid Cole as he explains himself

RICH (CONT.)

It was a dumb little pact thingy. I promised him and his friends a few freebies, he makes sure I get protection from his friends. Good times, weren’t they Cole?

He takes a step to Cole, who in turn shoved him into the hallway. Rich’s cereal spills on the ground and he lets out a weak ‘no’. The door slams shut leaving Lucas in the pitch black room, wondering how the hell he ended up captured by that complete dumbass. He feels something with his hand and smiles

RICH AND COLE’S KITCHEN - MIDDAY - INTERIOR

Cole paces around the kitchen across from the door, having grabbed one of the many large knives and gesturing wildly with it as he scolds Rich. The man in question is sweating enough to fill a bathtub, distracting himself by staring sadly at his spilled Fruit Loops

COLE

I can’t fucking believe you dude! You know what this means for me, right? What it means for us?

The knife points between him and Rich multiple times. Rich shakes his head and subtly takes a step backwards, putting more space between him and his knife wielding friend

COLE (CONT.)

If this shit gets out, we’re both going to jail, and I can’t go to fucking jail.

He breathes, scratching his head with the hilt of the knife, and a soft worried noise escape Rich

COLE (CONT.)

Well, it’s decided. I gotta kill the fucker.

Rich blinks

RICH

Um, what the fuck Cole.

COLE

Dude, it’s all your fault I gotta kill him.

RICH

How the fuck is it my fault?!

COLE

You told him about me you shithead!

Cole stabs the knife into the table, an undignified squeak coming from Rich as he jumps three feet in the air. Rich will deny this until the day he dies. No one hears the crashing glass

COLE (CONT.)

If you just kept your dumbass mouth shut, we wouldn’t be in this situation, would we? But no, you just gotta keep blabbing, don’t ya!

Rich hangs his head, realizing that yeah, it kinda was his fault. Cole takes a breath, calming down, and seeing that yeah, he overreacted a lot. He grabs Rich’s shoulders apologetically, however the hell that works

COLE (CONT.)

Hey man, I’m sorry. I guess I kinda blew things outta proportion, didn’t I.

The two laugh and Rich nods. He raises his head and looks Cole dead in the eye. Uh oh, he’s scheming something

RICH

Uh, maybe instead of killing him right away, we could, y’know, fucking, talk to him like a normal human being. Explain what this whole thing is. Maybe he’ll understand and not turn us in?

Cole smiles softly at Rich’s dumb optimism. He sighs and opens his mouth to argue, but Rich was staring at him with those damn puppy eyes and fuck. Rich lets out a disappointed sigh when Cole doesn’t speak, and Cole couldn’t stand it. He breaks

COLE

Okay! Fine! I won’t kill him yet! Let’s talk to him.

Rich brightens immediately, and Cole realizes he’s been played

COLE (CONT.)

Oh you manipulative bastard. I’m still taking my knife with me.

Rich laughs as Cole takes a moment, struggling to pull the knife out of the counter top. He approaches the door and grabs the doorknob

RICH

Yeah yeah, okay, just try not to scare him too much, I actually-

He pauses, looking into the now fully lit room. The curtain covering the windows are ripped off, illuminating the empty chair and cut ropes, with a small trail of blood leading down the floor and to the shattered glass

RICH (CONT.)

Like this guy...

Cole runs to the window, angrier than Rich has ever seen him. He’s almost literally fuming

COLE

The fucker’s trying to steal my car.

Cole swings his knife brandishing hand, pushing past Rich

COLE (CONT.)

That’s it, I’m gonna kill him and no one’s fucking stopping me.

Rich goes completely into the room, seeing the empty chair that’s lying on its side. It’s left armrest is covered with blood drops and cut marks. He walks through the rest of the room, nearly slipping on a few wet spots. Rich stops at the back, the window broken open with a nice breeze blowing into the room. He looks down, seeing Lucas lying on the ground next to Cole’s car, his left leg twisted at an odd angle. Cole is standing over him and Rich doesn’t think he can keep watching

LUCAS

Hey man, I-I’m sorry.

Lucas is cut off by a wet slice. Rich looks away, pressing his fingers to his temples and he walks out of the room. He reaches the counter where he placed his jacket earlier and pulls out a piece of paper. Rich grabs one of the pens on the counter and marks off the fourth of twenty spaces, each labelled “Get Out Of Jail Free.”

RICH

Goddammit Cole, that’s the fourth guy this month.

[shadow-emerald-gold]

Empty Peace (Michael Langdon x Reader)

This idea popped into my head and I had to write it down. This takes place right after the apocalypse and includes a tasty amount of angst and fluff. There is reference to traumatic experiences and self deprecation but it is very light. Enjoy, my dears!

Sometimes peace can be lonely. The reader struggles with traumatic memories from the past. Michael is there to help but this time it is worse than it has ever been. 

A different kind of peace washed over the world once the apocalypse happened- especially for those tucked away in the Sanctuary. It was trying to pose as that feeling you may have when you are sitting in your room, but your parents are somewhere else in the house. You know they are there therefore you are not alone. This peace was one of knowing that they weren’t there, but everything still seemed to be okay. It just didn’t feel right. Michael Langdon, having to hop from person to person, was used to the latter and was rather accustomed to having the cold, longing feelings that followed. However, the chill of loneliness was like frost crawling over a window where the destructive blizzard of fear was something to be avoided, something that could not be so beautifully admired, which he would come to learn.

It was this that dared to combat the fires of Hell that stirred his heart and ignited the power that kept Michael living for as long as he had. He tried to forget that the bottom most circle of his father’s kingdom, his domain, was frozen and speckled with those whom committed treacherous acts in their lifetime- well, according to Dante.

Those hands of the damned, forced into unwilling submission, began to scuttle up the Antichrist’s spine whilst he slept, draining the heat from his skin. A frown appeared as his eyes fluttered open, instantly noticing the temperature drop. There was a moment of confusion before he shot up and rolled over to look at (Y/N) who was trembling in her own deep dreams or more of a nightmare.

“(Y/N), kitten, you need to wake up. Please, you have to wake up for me,” Michael whispered, pulling the covers off of her form.

The icy claws that had weaved themselves through the fabric gave some resistance, but he managed to tear it away with a grunt. This had not happened in a long time, her body freezing over and turning blue, like a stunning snow angel, but dying of her beauty.

Michael met (Y/N) at the first Outpost he had interviewed, watched from the shadows as she was beaten by the Purples. She never kicked up a fuss, never even cried, as the other Greys comforted her. When it came time to interview her, Michael noticed how her hands shook every time he pushed her, teased her and maimed her all in hopes of getting answers. When he took to looking into her mind, all he found was chaos- a constant brewing storm striking lightning into a frozen lake in the middle of nowhere. He would never forgive himself for calling her ‘pathetic’ as if he was any better. (Y/N) broke down in front of him, openly stating how she knew she shouldn’t be alive, she should have died with everyone else when the bombs dropped. When he noticed that her tears froze as they slid down her cheeks, everything changed, especially when the fire died in a flash; a fire that he had enchanted to burn for hours without worry of going out. The flames that filled the room where his and yet they were snuffed at this wave of cold that erupted from the young woman.

Michael watched as her skin was washed of any red, any blood as she continued to whimper, her lips coated in snowflakes as they began to fall from the roof.

“Please, baby, he’s not real. Baby, wake up,” he began to plead, panic blossoming in the pit of his stomach.

He drew her frozen body to his, wincing as her ice began to form against his own flesh, sucking and pinching at the fire in his veins. One hand rested against her shoulder whilst the other stroked her cheeks. He watched as the thin layer of ice melted before reforming, cracking under his disturbance. He bit his lip, her mumbling becoming ragged breaths as her pulse weakened. She was doing so well, going months without a freeze-over. Soon those breaths turned into cries, pleas for help that mimicked those who were massacred in the past, let alone those who witnessed the bombs.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

A low mist began to form as her fingertips turned black. In seconds, he was sprinting out of their room, making a mad dash to the one place that he thought could help her. Through the silence of the night, Michael carried a dying woman in his arms and begged for her salvation as his blonde hair left a trail of hope behind him. Never had he met someone with the subconscious need to die as much as (Y/N), so much pent up rage and misery mixing into a flurry of ice shards that formed across her usually tender skin. The door to the Ritual Room flung open as he puffed, out of breath and heart racing to the point where it would win gold in the Olympics if it were still a thing in this new world. Placing her down with the fear of her shattering, the candles came to life with a flick of his wrist as Michael located one of his many knives that he had hidden away in the area.

“It’s okay, (Y/N), you’re going to be okay,” without a second thought, he cut open his palms and began to smear a pentagram within the circle of candles, “this will help. I promise.”

Blood mixed with sweat as he sent a quick prayer to his father though he doubted he listened let alone heard it. Soon enough, the frozen beauty, still muttering in terror and madness, was laying against his blood as he took to work spreading his still bleeding wounds over her limbs, coating her in a magnificent layer of glowing crimson. Michael’s eyes were black but the peace or revelation he often felt in this room was void in his mind as he continued to chant in Latin, crying and begging. He could sense her pulse dwindling, giving up to the cold, sending him spiralling into hysteria.

“Come on, baby, don’t leave me here. Please don’t leave me here alone. Not you too. I’ll die without you,” came Michael’s prayers, coupled with the voices of every demon in Hell as he shook her violently.

This continued for a minute, but it felt like years to the Antichrist. Then she fell silent and he felt as if God himself had crushed his lungs. The flailing that had begun between the two ceased, some of the candles knocked over and the pentagram now resembling a puddle. Michael only now began to feel the pain in his hands as his lips trembled and eyes faded back to that entrancing blue. Peace once again found solace in the Sanctuary. His fingertips brushed against the frost on her cheeks, but she did not move.

“(Y/N)?” he whimpered.

Nothing. He felt as if he was a young boy again, a child, being chased in his nightmares. His Grandma was yelling at him for hurting someone. He promised to be good but that fell through. He did not notice that the tears landing on her face were his as his maintained eye contact with the corpse.

“Baby, if you come back, I’ll…” Michael took a breath, swallowing, “I’ll let you braid my hair. You always wanted to do that. Or maybe you’d prefer some sugar cookies? I know you like those. I’ll get you some. I’ll find some. I’ll go out there myself and search every day and night for your fucking sugar cookies.”

He sobbed as he watched his ring clad fingers run across her shoulders and down the expanse of her arm. To think she had given up control so easily to her mind again. To think that he didn’t realise how close she was to breaking every day.

“I can go back… I will go back. I’ll strangle that motherfucker myself,” he scathed, “that priest that dared to hurt you! Then we can be together, yes?”

He kissed her lips slowly and with tender care; the kiss of a lover mixed with that of child seeing their parents after a long stay at grandmas. He grabbed one of her hands and slipped the ruby ring onto her wedding finger. It pushed against the frost, bunching it up over the silver. The candles dimmed.

“Together.”

He pulled her closer, tucking his face into her neck as he hugged her, (Y/N)’s body a glistening shell of a person. He hummed to himself, or perhaps to her, he did not know but it filled the silence. It destroyed that empty peace as he considered lying to himself, staying here until morning and pretend she was still living. She could still give him that small smile that meant she was happy.

A quiet puff of air passed by his ear and he shifted. His eyes craned up to her closed ones, Michael’s now red with remorse. The smallest shift in movement reignited the hope within him as he grinned.

“That’s it, baby, come home.”

And she did, a loud gasp for still air and her eyes shot open. She launched forward into his chest as the ice around her began to retreat, fearing this new warmth of life. (Y/N) clung to him as colour returned to her flesh, heart working overtime to get everything back on track. Michael’s blood gave extra heat, burning her in a pleasurable way that made her muscles relax. He kissed her face, wiping away the remaining frost on her eye lashes as she coughed.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” the now living woman spluttered, wiping away his tears with shaking hands.

He chuckled, “don’t ever do that to me again.”

She nodded tiredly and wrapped her arms around his neck, not caring for the fact that she was covered in sticky blood.

“Why didn’t you tell me that your night terrors were coming back? Why didn’t you tell me he was creeping back in?”

“We worked so hard for them to stop, to cut him out… I didn’t want to disappoint you when…”

She trailed off as he kissed her forehead.

“Promise me you will tell me in the future,” he paused, “I almost lost you tonight. I don’t want that happening again. Promise me.”

Again, she nodded as Michael ran his hand through her knotted hair, just as tired as (Y/N) was. 

“We will start working on control again. Don’t be scared of your gift, of who you are, kitten.” 

He said they should go back to bed, not that she wanted to sleep, but he insisted she needed rest. Deep down, he needed it too, to somehow deal with the trauma he just witnessed of seeing his love, his heart, his angel, his kitten, his (Y/N) dead in his arms with no way of stopping it. Michael knew he’d manage it, but he was not going to allow it to happen again. Not while he’s alive at least. She was not one of those treacherous people surrounding his father.

(Y/N) yawned as he carried her back to their room, short electric whispers shared between each other. She noticed the ring on her finger and blushed but decided it was something to ask about in the morning. She watched him, her heart now filled with an undying love that she had often doubted in the past. Now (Y/N) was sure about it. She was used to that empty peace, that knowledge of lonesome, loathsome quiet.

But maybe, just maybe, it was time to try and escape that frozen lake, try to out run that blizzard with a light guiding her way. A fire. An inferno named Michael Langdon.

[thedistantstorm]

Phoenix Protocol 30

Zavala x Awoken Female Warlock | Mid/Post Forsaken | Slowburn | Gratuitous Descriptions of Light | Self-Confidence/Self-Worth Issues | Redemption

When the Traveler’s Light was returned to the Guardians after the defeat of the Cabal, it did not manifest itself the same in everyone. Miyu, an Awoken Warlock, finds herself struggling with her abilities, her Light feeling different and not her own. With her Vanguard preoccupied with grief and all eyes turned to the Reef, she finds herself turning to an unlikely source in an attempt to rediscover her connection to the Light and define what it means for her as a Dawnblade.

Previously

-/

“Okay,” Miyu says to Tamashii. “We’ve done this before. We just need to do it one more time.”

They both look at the portal then at the group behind them. Miyu meets the gaze of Sedia, who nods grimly. Petra flicks her fingers in a casual salute. They step carefully through the great black maw of the portal. The Ascendant Plane is cold and stale, just as they had left it..

“As long as you don’t drink that Tincture of Queensfoil garbage again, I think we’ll be alright. Slow and steady.”

She pouts, “I didn’t enjoy being ascendant. I didn’t ascend, I only seemed to attract every enemy around me.”

“Around us,” Her Ghost corrects. “I love you, Yu-mi, but it… well, that wasn’t your best idea.”

“Technically, it was Lilith’s idea. She had the bounty.” Tamashii looks at her knowingly, and her cheeks puff, just a little. He's missed her quietly expressive nature. “Okay, so I wanted to try it. Once was enough. I learned my lesson,” She ducks her head. He thumps her cheek affectionately.

“I know,” He replies, feinting up and around her. “Now let’s get to work, get this over with, and go home. Ready,” He asks, and she nods. Then, "Excited?"

Miyu moves her helmet from under her arm. Just as she’s about to put it on, she smiles. “I wonder if he’ll be surprised,” She muses aloud.

“I don’t know if that’s the right word,” Tamashii coos, melding into her armor as she puts her helmet back on her head. “I think he’s believed in you all along.”

-/

Lilith lets her Ghost take control of the ship when they break through the atmosphere, coming out of Orbit. Her Ghost is not a pilot, so she grasps the armrests of her chair tightly as the vessel shakes and rattles. The planet seems to be experiencing a downpour. Everything seems dingy, dull, and shaded gray.

“After spending a few months in the Dreaming City, this is almost a welcome change,” The petite Warlock jokes to her partner.

The little being chirps and hums her agreement. “Almost,” She quips lightly. “I know you won’t appreciate how much colder it is. Your body temperature is around thirty-nine point eight degrees centigrade.”

“What is the temperature here?”

“Negative two.”

“Shouldn’t it be snowing?”

Her Ghost whirls, calculating. “The rain here is sixty-five percent water and thirty two percent methane. The additional three percent is comprised of mild acid precipitate, pollution from Golden-Age artifact. Chemical composition of the actual rain itself makes it stay liquid. Before the Traveler terra-formed this planet,” The little bot continues, academically, “It would have been approximately negative one hundred eighty degrees centigrade, instead.”

“Still,” Lilith says, wishing she’d exchanged her Reverie armor for something a bit heartier. “I’m going to freeze.”

“If it makes you feel better, the temperature on Mars right now is negative fifty-three. Thankfully the Vanguard sent us here, instead.”

“Well, maybe it’ll be warmer in the Arcology.”

“Based on what I gathered from previous strike logs, it will be warmer inside. And even so,” Her voice takes on something softer, doting, “You’ve been practicing, Lilith. Your solar energy can help keep you warm.”

The Exo shivers anyway. “I know, Nizana,” She replies. “I just forget sometimes.”

The Ghost's intricate shell spins thoughtfully. “I would wager that to mean you don't know, clearly.”

-/

The sheer numbers of Taken are more dangerous than anything else. As Tamashii had suggested, they move slowly, Miyu thinning out their numbers from afar. Whenever they take a break, he synthesizes more ammunition as rapidly as possible. She'll run out of bullets before she dies, though the first could very well lead to the second.

She's meticulously combing through area by area, following the tips Tamashii gives her, flagging the direction he believes will lead them through the great maze at the beginning.

When they're through, she slips into a nook, a great crack that starts at the top of the building and becomes wider as it trails down. He heals her quietly while she catches her breath. She's exhausted already.

“I stopped counting at three hundred,” He tells her. “I realize it's easier with two, but I feel like there are more Taken here than there were last time.”

Miyu checks her gun, eyes hard. “Let's keep moving. I'd rather pick off as many of them as we can by surprise. It only gets more difficult from here.”

“Just remember to use your glide. They can't jump as high as you.”

Tamashii phases away with a shimmering spark and they're off again.

-/

Sloane is pacing across the open-air command deck. “It's a standard mission,” She's telling them. “Get in, disable their ritual, get out. Don't dally. The Hive in these parts are ruthless and use Guardians and their Ghosts as unwilling sacrifices.”

The Hunter next to her shifts, uneasy. Meanwhile, the Titan that accompanies them nods, almost eagerly. “It’ll be fine,” he tells the human woman between himself and Lilith. “Easy peasy.”

Lilith’s Ghost makes some irritated sound in her Guardian’s mind. The Warlock can’t help but agree. They’re just doing this to pass the time until Miyu returns. She never thought she’d miss training, but there’s something soothing in the structured discipline. She pulls out her sword and looks at her reflection in the blade.

Well, if nothing else, if she can have a good story to return to Miyu with - maybe put some of her new skills to good use - maybe she’ll be shown some more advanced katas. Miyu’s been holding out on her. Lilith knows it; Just like she knows where it is Miyu goes in the mornings - in the mists, overlooking the bay - for her own private training.

Getting into the Archology is an easy thing. There's some Hive but it's nothing horrific. Compared to some of her rounds in the Blind Well, it seems like a breeze. Even the runes spelled to keep the main buildings closed fall easily.

It's only once the doors close behind them with a boom and a flash of green, that Lilith realizes it just might have been this easy for a reason. She realizes it even more so when she sees a Knight with a blade she's only seen once before.

-/

Miyu has Tamashii transmat her Tigerspite - a gift, from Lilith following one of their early training sessions - into her hands to traverse the narrow ballasts between one area and the next. The near-constant fire keeps the Ogres from knocking her off and into certain death.

All in all, she makes it through with little issue, the number of enemies reduced severely due to the limited terrain. Tamashii bumps her cheek proudly and swaps the auto-rifle for her Service Revolver.

Then, she lingers in front of the doorway to the next phase. "The barriers and miasma will be heavier since you're alone," Ghost wagers. "Just keep moving and you should be fine."

Miyu nods. "Alright. Ready?"

"Ready."

She steps through.

It feels like her soul is being crushed, like the weight of worlds is forcing her into the ground. Tamashii was right in his guess; It's far worse than before. Her vision swims, and her eardrums feel like they're going to pop.

She makes it up the first staircase, thrall practically licking her boots they're so close behind her. Then, she high-tails it to the left and up the next.

That's when things get a little strange.

"Anata," She hears. "Miyu."  

Her footsteps falter. She looks up and around, searching for the source of the voice. His voice.

"It's a trick," Tamashii says from beside her.

"I know."

The miasma gets heavier. "We have to get out of here," He screeches, when she only takes another two steps and pauses. "MOVE!"

"I am," She says, slowly. Delayed. Tamashii circles her, notes how the Taken Thrall seem to wait carefully out of reach. His danger senses are white hot, on alert. Something is very wrong here.

"Faster, Yu-mi. Whatever this is, your helmet isn't filtering it. Listen to me."  He thunks the whole of his tiny body into her chest and she staggers. "Only me."

"Finally, you're here," Miyu takes a shuffling step forward, dropping her gun. Tamashii is screaming something, but it's far away, like she's under water. "How I've missed you, Anata."

She sees him, like a light at the end of a tunnel. Her feet move slowly, though it doesn't seem that way in her mind. There's something cloyingly sweet about the air in her helmet, but it's almost pleasantly fragrant and each breath makes her relax more and more each time.

No, some rational part of her mind challenges. She was here to do something. Tamashii said not to let her guard down.

But…

But, he's here. She wants - has wanted - more than anything to see him.

"Don't worry," Zavala says, so gently it makes her heart hurt. "You must be tired from your journey. Come to me, dear one. Rest."

"I missed you so much," She mumbles, ambling closer. His words become her truth. She is tired, she realizes. Her limbs feel heavy, her head is buzzing, and she just wants to rest in his arms.

Miyu makes it to the top of the staircase after a long moment. Tamashii is still screaming at her, but she makes no indication that she can hear him. "Guardian! MIYU! LOOK AT ME!"

"You have done so well."

She smiles, behind her helm. "I can't wait to show you…"

"Wait, wait. Yu-mi? Who are you talking to? What are you looking at?"

"Let me see you."

She reaches for the clasps on her helm. Her Ghost fights her, knocking her hands away and phasing around attempts to brush him off like a pesky fly.

"I need to see you, Anata. I want to look into your eyes."

"I want…" She trails off, hands stilling. "I have to tell you…"

"Yes," The vision in front of her breathes aloud, coalescing in a great violet-black plume of dark, speaking with the inflection of the Vanguard Commander. Except, to Tamashii, he can hear the anger. The fraud. He is not impacted by this miasma, the Taken essence pumped into the stale air. "Tell me everything. But first..."

Miyu rips off her helmet. Tamashii screams. She looks over to him with clouded eyes, blinking slowly. A smile steals over her face.

"You're tired, Miyu," The voice says, "Such a long journey, it's only natural that you should want to rest."

"Oh," She slurs, staggering. Her brows furrow sleepily, "Wass'n't I-"

"You're home," He says. "How I've missed you.”

Miyu hums. "Tha'ss… yes," She agrees.

"Rest, beloved." In her mind, she sees a hand reach out to cradle her head that looks so unlike the dark Spectre her ghost sees. She's so tired, she could fall asleep standing up. "I am never letting you go again."

Belatedly, she realizes that statement doesn't make sense. Zavala would never… never…

A brilliant white light steels into her vision, and, in that moment, everything becomes clear.

"STAY AWAY FROM MY GUARDIAN!"

"Tama-Tamashii?!"

There's a chink! then, a thunk as her partner hits the ground. Miyu looks over to see the Thrall - that's right, what was she thinking? - rushing his shell. Panic and fury bleed her vision white. She calls forth fire and lunges toward him.

It's the opening the Knight that's definitely not Zavala and has been waiting patiently for her at the top of the staircase needs to bring down his blade.

[aurora-the-kunoichi]

So it looks like Tumblr the bitch it is deleted Chapters One and Two of Chance meetings. So I am reposting them per request.

Chance Meetings Chapter Two

Turtles and Reader

The dull throbbing in your head was the first thing you became aware of as consciousness pulled you from the darkness, and the horrible pain of your aching sore throat.  Dear god it hurt.

“Hey Donnie, it looks like she’s waking up.” You heard a strange voice just above you. You instantly still your movement and hold your breath. Where were you? Who was that? Who the fuck is Donnie? And why the fuck did your head and throat hurt? Then your fuzzy memory cleared, and it came rushing back to you. The woman in trouble, the three thugs, your near death and rape and turtles. TURTLES!?

Despite the pain, your eyes shot open and you jumped to your feet seeing the massive turtle in blue sitting a few feet from you on a chair. You quickly looked down to see you had been lying on a large makeshift couch. His hands came out and his face showed he was frustrated but still concerned.

“Hey, it’s ok calm down. Donnie!” he called again looking behind him obviously searching for this Donnie of his.

“Who’s Donnie? Who are you? Where am I? What the fuck is going on?!” you rambled off questions keeping your eyes focused on the beautiful blue eyed mutant turtle. “Calm down” you told yourself. They had helped you, if it wasn’t for them you would…… ok you didn’t want to think what would be happening right now if they hadn’t come to your aid. They helped you, that thought alone made you relax a bit sliding back down into the couch. Then the sudden sound of heavy footsteps thundering in the large room you were now in made you hyper sensitive to your surroundings and musty smell. Reluctantly you took your eyes from the turtle and looked around the large cavern littered with graffiti, random pop culture items and tattered pieces of furniture.

“She awake?” a voice came behind you, making you burst from your spot on the couch and land just a few feet from the of the blue turtle, your arms up in defense. There stood the other three large turtles. No longer feeling the effects of the concussion you could see them clearly now. The air shifted behind you making you suddenly aware bright eyes behind you had stood and came into your peripheral making his way to the other mutants. They had to be at the very least 7 ft, ok, ok maybe over 6 ft, each one had a colored mask over their face and looked like they hit the gym daily….and hard.

“She’s still here, that’s a good sign.” The orange one smiled nudging the large red brute standing next to him. Jesus that one was big. His biceps were easily the size of your head.  You swallowed hard easing up a bit on your stance. They helped you, they helped you.

“Where is here? W-Who? What? Oh jesus!” You’re stumbling over your words as the tall one in purple hops over the couch and approaches.

“Sit.” He demands quickly, and you obey without question dropping down in the chair bright eyes was occupying a few moments ago. Speaking of bright eyes, you lean over finding him leaning up against the red brute. Both their eyes fixed heavily on you suddenly making what you’re wearing feel see through.

“You’re in the sewers, in our home.”

You can feel your heart beat begin to race when the tall purple one knelt down in front of you, his big brown eyes looking at you inquisitively though his taped together glasses. He had a go-pro strapped to his shoulder and what looked like an ipad on his arm.

“The sewers? That would explain the musty smell I guess.” You crack a smile.

The breath caught in your throat when his three fingered hand came up gripping your chin and his other hand reached up over his glasses and pulled down a weird looking pair of goggles. His large body leaned in closer to you his goggles scanning your vision. With him this close you took in the scent of the turtle, he smelled of oil or grease and salt and vinegar potato chips. The muscles under the green skin of his neck flexed when he swallowed the spit in his mouth. With the close proximity you could hear the click of his tongue when the muscle released from the top of his mouth. Then as quickly as it happened he leaned back and put the goggles back up on his bald green scalp.

“All your vitals look fine. But I have a feeling that headache is still bothering you, isn’t it?”

You nod slowly wanting so badly to reach out and touch his pebbled skin. Jesus whatever made them this way they needed to bottle the shit and sell. Not an ounce of fat on him. Magnificent was the word that kept coming to mind when she looked at them.

“Hey there!” you look to the left of the purple one and see the enthusiastic smile of the orange turtle squatting down next to the other. His eyes were almost as blue as bright eyes over there but his were just a tad darker. His large hand shot out to you in an offered handshake.

Looking to his hand and back to his happy face you take his hand closing your five fingers over his three. It was surprisingly warm, you thought turtles were cold blooded so shouldn’t their skin be cool to the touch?

“The names Michelangelo.” He started, elbowing the purple one away sending him stumbling to his feet with a grumble of annoyance. “I’m the amazingly awesome turtle, I’m a jack of all trades you want it I got it. But you my sugar plum can call me Mikey. And these are my three brothers! This tall drink of water in purple is Donatello and is our resident genius but goes by Donnie. So that answers one of your questions. Boom!” Your hand still gasped in his he pulled you from your seat pointing you to the red brute who has holding himself up on the back of the couch by the tree trunks he called arms and bright eyes with his arms crossed over his chest.

“The turtle in red is Raphael our treasured hothead and undocumented strongest man in the world.” Michelangelo continued giving his brother finger guns and a wink.

“Raph is fine.” The red brute mumbled flexing the corded muscled under his taught green skin.

“And then we have our fearless leader Leonardo. He’s strategic and calculating who can end your life with a snap of his fingers but from the teaching of our master he refrains from that sort of thing. Luckily for the bad guys. We call him..”

“Leo.” You whisper before he can finish.

Leonardo’s blue eyes find yours and they lock just for a moment before you both return your attention back to Michelangelo who was now staring at you in confusion.  

“How did you…?” Mikey questioned absentmindedly petting your hand he still held captive in his.

“One of you called him that in the alleyway. Wait? What happened to those guys?” you suddenly became angry. Did they leave them there to wake up and do it again to someone else?

Leonardo took this one as he jumped over the couch sitting down taking up a chunk of real estate with his giant shell, “We know someone in the police department. We called them after we got you out of there just in case they woke up. She took care of them. You might get a call from her, we gave her your number from your phone.”

Looking down by the end of the couch you saw your purse and phone resting on top of it and for some reason you swallowed that easily moving on to your next conundrum. How did they exist? But did you have the right to ask? You had only just met them, and they didn’t owe you anything. You actually owed them something, which brought you out of your own mind.

“Hey um…. I wanted to thank you guys. I don’t know what would have happened if you guys didn’t show up when you did. I know it was stupid of me to go into that alleyway by myself, but I couldn’t leave that woman to those assholes devices. They were going to rape her, and god knows what else. And then they were going to do that to me……” you paused looking down at Mikey’s hands and you finally brought your other hand down to his running a finger down the back of his hand to his wrist. It felt nice.

Mikey arm snaked around your waist pulling you to him, “Hey you did pretty damn good from what we could see. You took out two of them.”  Mikey was the smallest of the four, but he still was a bit taller then you, he smelt like a spice rack and something sweet but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“I agree, you must have some skill? Have you had training?”

You looked over into Leo’s blue eyes as he questioned you. You felt your skin flush when he scooted his butt forward just a little closer to you and his hand brushed against your thigh.

“Yes, I took ninjutsu classes last year after I got mugged. I obviously still have more to learn. I wasn’t aware of my surroundings which let the third guy get the drop on me.”

“Hey, I thought you were pretty damn good for only having a year worth of training. You did better than Mikey his first year.” Raphael finally came into the conversation plopping down next to Leonardo. He leaned back as far as his shell would allow and brought his hands back behind his head. His golden eyes took a quick look up and down your body like he was appraising it for something. You narrowed your eyes at him with a silent warning gaining a sly smile from the big brute.

Suddenly their eyes ripped from you and moved to a body that approached from behind you.

“My sons, have you offered our guest something to drink?”

Someone else was down here? They did speak of a “master” maybe this was him, was he another turtle? Mikey relinquished his hold on you and you turned around slowly to greet him. Your feet stop working as you stare at a large brown rat in a dirty kimono walking upright. His big black eyes seem to look directly in your soul as he approaches with a swish of his long tail. Could this day get any weirder?

  Chapter One

[sinfully-romione]

Can I be Close to You?

Description: “He could hear, faintly, as though through a veil, the metal blades sliding neatly against each other, felt the gentle tug as she picked up sections of his hair, but his blood was rushing in his ears and his heart was in his throat and he couldn’t focus on a single thing." DH missing moment.

Rating: T (a bit of strong language)

One-shot

Category: Lust

Hermione thought she could have heard a pin drop in the tent.

Harry sat just outside, undoubtedly in another one of his broods - they’d been near-constant lately, ever since they escaped the Lovegoods’, as much as Hermione and Ron tried to talk sense into him. The mid-winter air was cool and blessedly still: the many bluebell flames Hermione had conjured and set in jars around the tent were able to cut through the chill. Even with the lack of wind, Hermione couldn’t help burying herself under blankets, dragging an old patchwork quilt from one of the bunks into her lap. After nearly six months away, it still smelled of the Burrow, of fresh-cooked meals and apple orchards and Hermione felt an old familiar tug in the pit of her stomach as she remembered the warmth of Ron’s hand on the small of her back as they danced, her face tucked into his neck.

It hurt to think about. It hurt to be in the same room with him most of the time, to feel the magnetism between them and simultaneously want to build an impenetrable fortress around herself so that he’d never hurt her again. He had promised her, over and over, that it was the biggest regret of his life, what he’d done back in November. And she believed him, but the locket had used him to inflict a pretty large wound, and it needed time to heal.

But Ron had brought with his return a completely different version of himself. Even now, seated in an armchair that still smelled faintly of cats, he had Hogwarts, A History open on his lap, head bowed as he turned the tissue-thin pages. Hermione let herself watch him as he read, blue eyes scanning back and forth, before he blew a sharp breath upward to clear his overlong fringe from his eyes. The copper strands drifted slowly back down, falling back onto his eyelids, stubbornly staying put even when he brushed them out of the way.

He shouldn’t have been so mesmerizing. He was just sat there, reading (though if Hermione took a good, long look at herself, she knew the reading bit was a turn-on for her), and every so often he turned a page, or licked his lips, and she just couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. He didn’t know she was watching him, and it let her see all of the little things that he didn’t usually show to anyone else: a version of Ron who, after months of constant vigilance, had let his guard down.

When he blew his hair out of his eyes again, she tossed the quilt off her lap.

“Ron?”

His head snapped up to meet her gaze. “Sorry,” he said hastily, “am I being annoying? I’ll stop - just, my hair’s never been this long before - maybe-“ Patches of pink popped up on his cheeks. “Maybe I could borrow an elastic, or something? To keep it out of the way.”

“An elastic?” repeated Hermione. “As in for a ponytail? You’ve spent too much time with Bill lately.”

Ron cleared his throat. “Yeah, actually, I have.”

There it was again, the same sticky subject that had haunted them for months - that Ron had spent a month at his brother’s oceanside cottage while Hermione and Harry had been left to contend with the impending winter and an increasingly cruel Horcrux - permeating everything they did, every word they spoke.

“I could give you a haircut,” Hermione found herself saying, cool air washing over her legs as she pushed more blankets aside. “If it’s bothering you.”

“I don’t want to bug you-“

“I’m offering,” she assured him. “If you’re not too scared that I’ll completely botch it.”

“Well-“ His lips twitched. “Even if you do, who else is going to see?”

“Okay,” said Hermione decisively, rising to her feet and making her way to the kitchen, from which she dragged a splintering wooden chair into the sitting room area. “Have a seat. I’ll see if we have scissors.”

After rummaging around a bit in the kitchen, she learned that they didn’t - why would they, when a witch or wizard could just use a Severing Charm - and instead Transfigured a metal fork into a pair of shiny, intimidatingly sharp silver scissors. They gave her a bit more power than she was comfortable with - she really didn’t know what she was doing, at all, in any of this - but it was forward momentum, no matter how small.

Ron had done as asked, waiting from his seat in the chair when she returned to the sitting room.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

—

She knelt down before him, her eyes fixed intently on the messy strands of hair curtained around his face, studying him as though he were a particularly intriguing passage in her favorite book, and the blood started to pump urgently through his veins. She was so close, she had actually rested a forearm on his knee - and aside from pummeling him upon his triumphant return in the Forest of Dean, she hadn’t touched him in months - and he could hardly handle it, his skin seemed to tingle even with a layer of denim between them. He gulped, trying to quell the rush of desire and affection that had begun to brew in his stomach.

“So how short should I cut it?” asked Hermione, who was apparently still all business even as she grasped a lock of his hair between her thumb and forefinger and scrutinized it.

“Er-“ The question had fled from his brain as quickly as it had arrived. How on earth was he expected to concentrate when she was touching his hair? “I dunno - however it used to be, I s’pose.”

He hadn’t actually seen his own reflection in weeks, not since he’d left Shell Cottage, so he wasn’t sure what he even looked like anymore. There weren’t any mirrors in the tent, save for that little shard of one that Harry was toting around, and it was for the best because most of the time, Ron didn’t want to look himself in the eye either.

Destroying the locket had buoyed him, somewhat, despite the way it had taunted him in its final moments, and the simple fact that he had even reunited with his friends at all had filled him with a sort of hope that maybe not everything was working against them. But the days had ebbed into weeks, or maybe even a month by now - he was losing track of time, a bit - and they’d been wholly uneventful, and Harry was losing steam on even finding the Horcruxes at all. Ron felt it was up to him, now, to keep working doggedly on, to push past the stagnation that threatened them.

Hermione frowned and then slid her fingers directly into his hair, nails grazing over his scalp, and he froze. He knew he was probably staring at her, and certain he should stop - it was the last thing she wanted, she had only offered to do this because he had driven her spare by constantly blowing his hair out of his eyes - but he just drank her in, because maybe this was the most he was ever going to have.

Once upon a time, he’d been so close. He’d invited her to dance at the wedding that now felt like it took place in another lifetime, and the way she had wound her arms around him, her face against his neck during the slow songs, well, he had been on the point of kissing her right in the middle of the dance floor. They were at war, they could all die tomorrow, and he might never otherwise get the chance - but he’d hesitated, because he hadn’t wanted their first kiss to be in front of people like his mum and Aunt Muriel. He had thought it better to wait until after the party: find a secluded corner of the orchard, explain to her how he felt, hope to Merlin she felt the same. But then the Ministry had fallen, and he hadn’t had the chance.

And now he really might never have the chance. He had bungled things up beyond all recognition, and he wanted it to be enough that they were even speaking again, but her hands were in his hair and her face was just inches from his, and it was all he could do not to lean in to kiss her. He took a deep, steadying breath, his own hands gripping the sides of the chair, as Hermione slowly slid her fingers out, holding his hair parallel to the floor.

“It’s gotten really long,” she said, brushing his hair away from his face.

And maybe he had officially gone mad, maybe he was malnourished and sleep-deprived and just completely off his rocker, but she - well, she seemed to be doing more touching than was strictly necessary. And maybe she wanted him to kiss her. And Harry was outside, would be for hours, so maybe he could, he could just lean in, shorten the gap between them until there was nothing-

But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t, because he’d stormed out in the middle of a fight, he hadn’t listened when she followed after him, crying, her voice cracking in its desperation to be heard over the rain. He’d left. He’d taken whatever it was they’d had, and whatever they’d been on the verge of, and stomped it into the mud and he wasn’t getting it back.

Hermione rose to her feet, and Ron got an brief eyeful of her denim-covered hips before she stepped to his right side. Her hand glided through his hair again, taking a lock between her pointer and middle fingers and pulling it taut. There was a soft snipping sound, and then ginger hairs wafted slowly to the threadbare carpet floor. Neither spoke; Ron’s heart was hammering far too erratically for him to even attempt to make conversation.

Not that he could even think of a thing to say. The silence allowed his imagination to run wild, picturing her hands sunk into his hair because he was kissing her and she wanted to hold him close; the two of them ditching the stupid rickety chair and slipping into his bunk, bodies glued together, tongues tangling. There was nothing else to distract him from her touch, nothing to stop his imagination spiraling, only the occasional snip of the scissors and their own breaths.

—

Maybe this had been a bad idea. The scent of Ron’s hair had literally been part of her Amortentia, and now here she was just constantly breathing it in, running her fingers through his unbearably silky hair, and it was all, to use a rather Ron-like phrase, doing her head in. All this proximity, all of this time alone in the tent, it was putting thoughts in her head that she wasn’t sure she wanted there. Ones that she had entertained for years and yet felt foreign, oddly fresh, like they had just been allowed to resurface.

She had just wanted to be helpful. Sometimes she thought she was too harsh with him, that she was holding a grudge for too long - Harry, after all, was always so quick to forgive - but then she would remember what it felt like to chase after him in the rain, to cry every night for a month, and the pain would bubble up inside of her again, as hot and raw as it had been when he had returned with the sword of Gryffindor. More and more, however, she was starting to miss the way things used to be. She wanted their friendship back. It had always felt like their lives were designed to mesh and intertwine, and any rift between them had always been seamlessly repaired, and this - well, it had to go the same way. Her voice hadn’t come out of the Deluminator for no reason.

“How’s the reading going?” asked Hermione, hoping her tone came off as light, conversational, friendly even. Ron just seemed so tense, so riddled with anxiety in a way he hadn’t been since his return.

Ron gave a dejected tilt of the head. “I’ve read the part about the founders at least five times, it’s not helping. There’s almost nothing about Ravenclaw - y’know, for someone who valued knowledge so much, she didn’t share very much about herself.”

He turned his head just enough to catch her eye, a tentative smile forming on his lips. Their eyes locked, and suddenly Hermione could hardly draw breath. Tufts of his hair, shining copper in the dancing light, were still nested between her fingers, and he looked so open, so vulnerable, so much like the Ron she used to know.

“I wish I was a better help,” he added. “I’ve been trying to think of other places we can go, but I don’t reckon we can just Apparate to Albania - honestly, I don’t think I could name a city in Albania if you had a wand to my head-“

“I know,” Hermione interrupted softly. “I know, I - believe me, Ron. I’ve noticed.”

He swallowed, and she watched, shamelessly, as his throat bobbed, even pretending that there were stray hairs stuck to the smooth column of his neck just for an excuse to skim her fingers over his skin. He was warm to the touch, and completely still, as though scared that any sudden movements might disturb the calm in the tent.

“I’m not giving up,” said Ron, a quiet determination in his voice. “I promise you. I’m never giving up.”

And there was so much she could say, but none of it felt quite right, not when he was overflowing with earnesty like this, but their eyes met again, and she found that it was best, now, not to say anything at all.

—

“Which jumper is this?” asked Hermione. Her fingertips grazed over the tip of his ear as she selected another lock of hair, and suddenly the tent felt oppressively hot.

And the little fires she had conjured up were good, but they weren’t that good.

“Huh?”

Another little snip, and now her hand touched over his shoulder as she brushed hairs away from the maroon wool of his jumper.

“Which year is this one? You get them every Christmas.”

“Right - it’s the one from sixth year. None of the others fit anymore. And you must know that,” he realized, craning his neck to look at her, a little smile playing at his lips, “I’ve seen you wearing some of the old ones.”

“They’re really warm,” she fired back, stepping behind him so he wouldn’t see the heat rising in her face. “I haven’t got any jumpers that are made from real wool like yours are-“

“You can have them,” he said, not minding if he sounded desperate. “Take them all, you look loads better in maroon than I do.”

Fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that. He wasn’t sure he was even allowed to say that, especially now that it had sent his imagination reeling, picturing what she may or may not wear underneath said jumper, and what it would be like to see her out of it…

“I’m not sure that’s true,” she muttered, though out of the corner of his eye, Ron could see the heat rising in her cheeks. “Hold still now, I don’t want to cut you.”

He did as told as she angled the scissors just over his ear, a futile giddiness rising inside his chest. You’re being stupid, he tried to insist to himself. The simple fact that she didn’t want to accidentally cut his ear off didn’t have to mean anything - she probably just wanted to avoid the mess - but there was a gentleness to her movements that he hadn’t expected.

What if he had been reading her wrong? It wouldn’t be the first time, certainly. Maybe she had forgiven him, maybe he had succeeded in showing her that he wasn’t going anywhere, he wasn’t giving up. He had worked so hard upon his return to make his actions had match the promise he made all those weeks ago, and perhaps she had taken it to heart.

Still standing behind him, she used her fingers to comb through the tangle of hair at the nape of his neck. The scissors went to work again. He could hear, faintly, as though through a veil, the metal blades sliding neatly against each other, felt the gentle tug as she picked up sections of his hair, but his blood was rushing in his ears and his heart was in his throat and he couldn’t focus on a single thing. Death Eaters could have marched through the flap of the tent and he doubted he would have even noticed, so consumed he was with the thought of Hermione.

He could kiss her. He really could do it. He could summon all of his courage, and trust his instincts, and just go for it, and maybe they could have a tiny shred of happiness in the midst of all of this darkness.

Over the back of his neck came the pads of her fingers, rubbing his skin, and then a soft, cool gust of air. Ron’s stomach flipped as gooseflesh spread over every centimeter of exposed skin: she had actually used her own breath to clear away the shorn hair - and, well, whatever the locket had tried to tell him, Ron had the sense that Hermione wouldn’t have done the same to Harry. In a rush of self-confidence that he hardly recognized, he turned in his seat to face her, finding her crimson-faced, her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Sorry,” she said, oddly breathless. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, pulse quickening as her gaze darted down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. “More than okay.”

Her lips began to curve up, relief flooding her face - and it would be so easy to just stretch his neck up and kiss her, to bury his fingers in her hair or hold her waist in his hands. And if not now, when? He tipped toward her, just the slightest amount, letting his tongue wet his lips, never breaking the eye contact between them, wondering what her lips tasted like, what her tongue tasted like-

The entrance to the tent rustled noisily, and Ron’s neck snapped around so fast that it almost hurt. Bundled in several layers of cloaks and jumpers stood Harry, who regarded them with a mixture of amusement and befuddlement on his face.

Fuck.

–

“You lot playing barber or something?” teased Harry.

Hermione looked down at the scissors in her hand: she had all but forgotten they were there. She had completely lost the plot: one second she was just cutting Ron’s hair, and the next, something insane had come over her and she had actually blown on the back of his neck to try to get the stubborn strands she’d cut to stop sticking to him. But then… then he had gotten this look in his eyes, one she’d never seen before, and she thought maybe he’d kiss her, and she knew she wanted him to, but now Harry had barged in and the moment was broken and they were never going to get it back.

“What?” she snapped at Harry, whose brows rose in apprehension. “No - I mean - what?”

Clearly Ron had dissolved her brain. If he was capable of that with just a look (along with the fact that his hair, already so gorgeous to behold, was somehow impossibly soft to the touch), then perhaps it was best they hadn’t kissed, because snogging him would surely render her incapable of any coherent thought, and they’d never find any other Horcruxes and they would be stuck living in this tent forever.

“Right,” said Harry skeptically, crossing the tent to fetch a glass from the kitchen. Using his wand to fill it with water as he walked back to the flap, he seemed wary of making any eye contact with either of them. “Erm - which of you wants to do the night watch tonight? Not that it’s for another few hours, but-”

“I’ll do it,” said Ron at once.

“But you were on it last night,” Hermione pointed out, “it’s my turn-”

“Yeah, I’m staying out of this,” Harry declared at once, ducking outside to avoid any impending bickering.

“I don’t mind doing it,” Ron said casually, flashing her the sort of smile that made her breath catch. “You should stay inside, stay warm.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. Don’t forget, I’ve got all your old jumpers.”

And she didn’t want to say it - not yet - but the memory of her hands in his hair would keep her warm all night.

[godyoutalkpretty]

Oh God There Was Only One Bed

**A/N: - This is set sometime towards the end of season 3/start of season 4. It is, of course, very much M rated**

Shit had gone south in a big way. And shit had gone south in a big way, fast.

Kensi glanced quickly over her shoulder, eyes scanning the post midnight street behind them. A couple of cars, the odd taxi, a few tourists, and some drunks. No sign of the Russians, with their Hummers and their assault rifles.

“Anything?” said Deeks, from by her side. She looked back at where he was keeping pace with her, his own blue eyes roaming the road before them, missing as little as she did. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she replied. “But then, it’s not exactly an ordinary kind of night.”

“You’re telling me,” Deeks said. “But like my momma said, better to be, uh, better to be safe than sorry.” 

She felt his hand on the small of her back, oddly comforting and reassuring, felt the pressure increase and move her towards the doorway of an apartment complex. She pressed her back against it, and he positioned himself against her. His weight was solid against her, sturdy, unmoving. She trembled slightly, and tried to tell herself it was the adrenaline still flooding out of her veins after the ambush. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, looking over them. The drunks shambled by, arms over each others shoulders, using the other for support, garbling incomprehensibly. 

“We’re clear,” she said softly, her lips only inches from the shell of his ear. The smell of him filled her nostrils; the salty tang of the ocean, mixed with the slight trace of his board’s wax. “Did you hear me, Deeks?” she said, when he didn’t move. 

He coughed, somewhat self-consciously, and stepped back onto the sidewalk, scratching at the blond messy locks at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Yeah. So what’s the plan?”

“Phone’s are no good,” she replied. “I don’t know how they managed it, but they got into our system.” 

He nodded, pulling his phone from his back pocket, looked at it pained. “I’ve got all my photos on this.” 

“Oh, suck it up, Deeks,” Kensi said, already smashing her own phone under her heel. It crunched under the force. “I’ve seen your Instagram. There was nothing but pictures of Monty on that phone, and you posted them all on there anyway.” 

“You follow me on Instagram?” he asked.

Uh oh. “What? No… no… uh, Eric showed it to me once. Me, Sam and Callen. Oh, how we laughed until our sides ached.”

“Are you GunGirl57?” 

She barked a laugh. Even to her ear, it sounded fake. “No, I am not.”

“Yeah, cause I found that account and followed it on my third day at the OSP. You look fantastic in a bikini, by the way. I’m just saying, as a fellow professional.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes, but couldn’t keep the grin off her lips. “Shut up, Deeks.”

He grinned back at her. Then he sighed, and dropped his phone onto the sidewalk. He gave a little hop up, bringing as much weight onto the device as he could and cracking it into pieces.

Kensi patted his cheek. “Good boy.” He snorted a laugh.

“So what’s the plan now?” he said, the seriousness of the situation returning in a heartbeat.

She gave a little shrug. “We need to get off the street. Who knows how long it’ll take before they - whoever they are - catch up with us.”

“Boatshed?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It could be compromised.”

“I hate to say it, but I think you’re right. Those Russians, they just came out of nowhere. There was no way they should have known where we were unless NCIS has been compromised.”

“I hope Sam and Callen are alright.”

“Those guys?” Deeks arched an eyebrow at her. “Knowing them, they’ve probably already, you know, gone rogue and sorted this whole mess.”

She smirked. “Yeah, that sounds like the sort of thing they’d do.”

“But you don’t want to risk it?”

“But I don’t want to risk it,” she agreed. “So I think what we need to do is get off the streets, and try and regroup with everyone in the morning. It’s been a long day.”

Even as she said it, she felt the weight of tiredness fully roll over her. It had been such a long day. A murdered marine, a gun fight through the sewers of Los Angeles, and then, just as they were packing up to head back to Ops, the four black Hummers had appeared as if from nowhere, spewing bullets like red hot lances. A long day indeed.

“There’s a motel just round the corner,” he said.

“And you know this how?” She couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice.

“I’ll have you know that I was a beat cop at one time,” he replied.

“And the truth?”

He chuckled. “One of my clients worked there when I was a lawyer.”

“Alright, I’ll believe that.”

“Good. Cause it’s, uh, it’s better than me saying that’s where my momma used to stay when she visited me, which was going to be my next excuse.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Well then, on that glistening recommendation, why don’t you lead the way?”

They followed the street down another block, then took a right. There were a couple of cars parked up against the kerb, the insides dark, and the partners slowed down as they cautiously passed, eyes peering into the gloom, making sure no one lay in anticipation inside. Then, up ahead, she could make out the lights of the motel. The place looked exactly like a hundred other motels spread across the length and breadth of LA; wide, open car park, two stories tell, with metal stairs on either side and a long walkway on the top floor.

“Wait here,” Deeks said, “and keep an eye. I need to speak to my guy, and he gets easily distracted by hotties.”

She glared at his words, a retort rising to her tongue, but in the end she complied, turning back to keep an eye on either side of the street. A police cruiser crept along the concrete, and for a moment, she considered flagging it down, but then decided against it. There was only one person she knew she could trust right now, and it was the one person she knew she could always trust. The cruiser vanished around a corner.

Deeks returned a moment later, the chunky fob of the key in his hand. “We’re in luck. There’s only one room with two beds left, and my guy wasn’t going to let it go for free, but then I reminded him that I basically, you know, basically got him custody of his kids over his psycho of ex.”

“You still had to pay for it, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but I got us a discount.”

She shook her head. “Did you at least get a receipt for Hetty?” 

“Sure did,” he said. “I, uh, I learned my lesson on that one with the pogo stick and the inflatable pool.” 

“So where are we?” 

He gestured to the stairs with his chin. “Top floor, at the far end.” 

They made their way up, following the walkway to the end, and Deeks slipped the key into the lock. He jangled it a moment. 

“Problem, Deeks?” Kensi asked, looking over her shoulder at him from where she had been watching the car park below.

“Hang on,” he muttered. “It’s stuck. I’ll have us in in a moment.” He pulled the key out of the lock, looked at the number on the fob, then at the number on the door. “Well, it’s the right key,” he said.

“God, get out of the way,” she said, bumping him aside with her hip against his. “I got this.” She knelt down, pulling her lockpicks from her pocket. In seconds, she had the door unlocked. She rose, pushing it open, and stepped inside.

“Uh, Deeks,” she said, as she surveyed the room. “There’s only one bed.”

“What are you talking about?” he said as he bustled in behind her.

“The number of beds. It’s only one.”

He looked around the room, taking in the desk, the small wardrobe, the door that lead to the bathroom, and the very single solitary queen sized bed.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he said. “I asked for a double room, and that’s what Mohamed said it was. A double room.”

Kensi let out a sigh of exasperation. “Deeks, this is a double room!”

“But there’s only one bed,” he protested.

She gaped a him. “That’s what a double room means. One bed. For a couple.”

“No, a double means there’s two bed. A double room. It’s right there in the name.”

“A twin room, Deeks. A twin room has two beds.”

He scrunched his face up in confusion. “Really?”

By way of answer, she gestured at the single bed in the middle of the room. “Really!” She ran her hands through her hair. “It’s fine, just go ask your friend for a different room.”

“I can’t,” he said.

She raised her eyes to his. “Why not?”

“I already told you; it’s the last one.”

She let out a long sigh.

“Don’t worry,” he said quickly, cutting off whatever she had been about to say. “I can sleep on the sofa. Which looks…” He paused, finally looking at the beat up and tattered sofa that was pushed under the window. “… like it’ll be great for my back. I’m due at the Chiropractor soon anyway. You want something to eat? I saw a vending machine downstairs, and there’s a store across the street.”

“Sure,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Despite how tatty the sofa looked, the bed felt comfortable under her. “I’m gonna take a shower. Make sure you knock before you come in, cause I will have my gun with me.”

He grinned. “You’ve always got your gun with you Fern. You want anything special?”

“You know what I like,” she replied.

“Lots of sugar and calories it is,” he grinned, closing the door behind him as he left.

The strength flooded out of Kensi as soon as he was gone, and she felt every ache and bruise on her body. With some effort, she pushed herself to her feet, and kicked off her boots. They landed haphazardly in the corner, where they were swiftly joined by her socks. Then she unbuckled her belt, popped the buttons of her jeans and slowly slid them down her long legs. A second later, they too dropped to the floor by the foot of the bed. After placing her SIG on the bedside table, she shuffled barefoot into the bathroom, closing the door behind her and flicking on the light. She glanced at herself in the large mirror before her, and lightly pressed the tips of her fingers against the reflection of the small scratch under her eye that she’d received earlier in the day. She shook her head, before stripping off her t-shirt, bra, and boyshorts, then climbed into the tub, turning on the shower and letting the hot water wash away the kinks and aches.

Five minutes later, she shut of the water, stepping out into the steam filled room. She grabbed one of the thick white towels - despite the raggedy sofa here, the rest of the motel seemed like it was fairly decent for what it was - and wrapped it around her frame. Then she scooped up her clothes, and headed back into the main room. She had just settled herself when there was a knock on the door. She reached over, and her SIG was in her hands in a heartbeat. The door opened, and she lowered it slowly as Deeks pushed himself in awkwardly, a couple of shopping bags in his hands, and the door keys between his teeth.

“Oo ‘un?” he said, around them.

“Yeah,” she replied.

“Ood, nee’ sh’er ‘oo.” 

“It’s all yours,” she said. “Leave the food on the side.”

He spit out the keys, letting them land on the side of the bed, then placed the shopping bags on the desk. He paused a moment, looking her up and down as she sat on the bed clad in only a towel, an appreciative grin on his handsome face. 

“Deeks,” she said, warningly. 

“Maybe we should find some way to conserve water,” he said. “There’s a drought on, after all.”

“I’ve already taken a shower,” she countered.

“That wasn’t a no,” he said, with a grin, then vanished into the bathroom before she could say anything.” She sucked on her lips, trying to keep the answering grin off them.

By the time he was finished, she’d dried off and pulled back on her black t-shirt and boyshorts, slipping herself under the covers and opened the box of donuts - he’d bought donuts, damn him - and devoured two of them already. He stepped out of the bathroom with the other white towel wrapped around his waist. And nothing else. 

Kensi couldn’t help herself. Her lips went dry, and she had to dart a tongue out swiftly to wet them again. His body was tight, toned, muscled in all the right places. His skin glowed softly with the warmth of the shower he’d just taken, and was still ever so slightly damp.

“I think you dropped your eyes on the floor there, with all your clothes,” he said.

She slapped her hand over her eyes quickly, but it was too late. He chuckled as he padded across the room towards the battered old sofa. “You know you liked what you saw,” he said.

She didn’t trust herself to even try and lie, so she changed the subject. “I think we should stay here the night, and then try and head to Ops in the morning.” 

“What do you think happened?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “I don’t really want to think about it. We can deal with it when we’re back with the others.”

He stretched widely on the sofa, and she heard the click of his back from where she lay in the bed. A large yawn swallowed half his scruffy features. “You don’t have to argue that with me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired in my life.” He looked down, at the sofa. “This thing will really help me with that.”

“Deeks,” she said.

“No, no, I’m sure it’s far more comfortable than it looks. I mean, it can’t be, you know, worse than it looks.”

“Deeks, come sleep on the bed.” She patted the wide space of the mattress next to her.

He looked at her quizzically. “Sure?”

“Deeks, we shared a bed for weeks while we were undercover. One night isn’t going to kill us.” She smirked at him. “Provided you keep your hands to yourself.” 

He beamed at her. “Kensalina, you’re the one who has no concept of personal space when you’re asleep. You spread out like you want every available space, and no matter who is taking up the rest of it.” 

“You want me to change my mind?” 

“No, no,” he said, already rising and moving towards the bed. He paused, standing there, and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Little privacy, though, maybe? Unless you want to watch?” 

She pushed her palm over her eyes again. But there was a little gap, just wide enough, for her to see the blurry half image of her partner. She watched as the pink and blonde shape towelled itself off and pulled back on a pair of pale blue briefs. 

“What’s, uh, what’s that you’re humming?” he asked.

Kensi started. She hadn’t even realised she’d been doing that. “Nothing, don’t worry about it. You done?” 

“Yup,” he replied. 

She removed her hand, and he slipped into the side of the bed next to her. She hated to admit it, even just to herself, but she’d missed the presence of him next to her as she slept. And she certainly wouldn’t admit it out loud, where he might hear it. They flicked the lights off, sinking the room into darkness. Kensi lay back onto the pillow, closed her eyes, and was soon asleep. 

She drew herself slowly from the grogginess of sleep, eyes fluttering ever so slightly open. It was still dark in the room. Her head felt like it was full of cotton wool, and some small part of her knew that it hadn’t been her danger sense that had awoken her. So what could it have been?

It didn’t take her long to realise what it was. She was lying on her left, the duvet pushed down over her hips, and she could feel the heavy weight of Deeks pressed almost flush against her. Big spoon and little spoon. His hand was rested on the bare skin of her belly, under where her t-shirt had scrunched up during the night. His hand was high on her stomach, more over her ribs, dancing lightly up and down the skin. A hair’s breadth from the base of her breasts. 

She moved, ever so slightly, to look over her shoulder, observing him through long lashes. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful. She’d seen people pretending to be asleep before, knew the signs to look for. This wasn’t any of that. Deeks was deep in dreamland, his movements completely natural and without intent. 

Kensi bit her bottom lip. She knew she should move his hand, should pull herself away from him. Create some distance between the two of them. Especially since his hand seemed to be creeping ever so slowly higher. But God, if she hadn’t fantasised about this for years! 

Any reluctance she might have had fled quickly when his hand moved fully up onto her breast. She let out a soft gasp, eyes fluttering shut again. His hands were strong, firm, but also tender. It caressed the swell of her breast, squeezing gently. Already she could feel her heart quickening. What are you doing, Kensi? some small part of her asked, but it was drowned out by the white noise her brain was swiftly turning into.

She moaned as his fingers brushed over her hardening nipple, the sensation of his touch sending tiny waves pulsing through her body. His grip tightened, squeezing, then relaxing, but as far as she could tell, he was still fast asleep. Should she do something? Say something? If he was asleep, then he was unaware of what he was doing. Or who he was doing it to.

She opened her mouth to tell him, but it came from her lips as a soft shiver that sounded too much like “Deeks” for he own liking instead. Her breath caught in her lungs, stuttering to come, shuddering to leave. His firm hand cupped her breast, squeezing it again. Fuck, she thought. What are you doing? 

Cautiously, she snaked a hand backwards, sliding it carefully, slowly, down her hip, and across the duvet until she found his crotch. This was going passed the line, she knew that. Anything else, she could pass off as just one of those things, a sleepy misunderstanding, and she wouldn’t even have to tell him. But if she did this… 

Her hand slipped down the front of his briefs. Inside, he wasn’t hard. But he wasn’t exactly soft, either. Not from the way it responded to her touch. Her slender fingers closed carefully around his cock, and she felt it throb in answer. Her hand moved, up and down, stroking him as she went.

His hand caressed her breast, squeezed again, then the pad of his thumb ran over the very tip of her tender nipple. She moaned softly again. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck now; hot, making the fine hairs there stand on end. His breathing came deeper and deeper as he hardened in her grip, and she knew that at last he was awake. 

Deeks didn’t say anything, but she felt his entire frame tremble against her. He let out a soft sigh that mirrored her own, his cock pulsating under her attentions. His hand squeezed and stroked her breast, his fingers rolling across her nipple. Then suddenly, it was gone. Soft tips of the fingers trailed down, over her ribs, across her dancing stomach muscles, until they reached the waistband of her shorts. Kensi quivered with anticipation, her grip hardening on his cock to let him know he was OK to move on. He understood, somehow, and she felt movement as his hand inched below the fabric. Down they crept, until they brushed the wet spot between her legs, brushing over her sex and making another soft moan slip freely from her open mouth. It was so quiet in the room, the sounds of the street outside gone; all that remained was the gentle moans from their lips and their ragged breathing. 

His finger circled her pussy, slowly following a trail around it. Each time it got closer to her core, she shuddered, her breath catching again. Her eyes fluttered half closed again, and she bit down on her bottom lip. The tip of his finger rested gingerly against the entrance to her pussy, then pushed a millimetre in. She shook, wordless noises bubbling up her. It withdrew, and went back to circling her. 

His cock strained hard against her palm, pulsing like a heartbeat. She kept her pace as slow as his as she stroked him, intentionally slipping all the way to the base, then ascending to the very tip each time. In just a handful of strokes, she felt a bead of pre-cum ease from the tip. Deeks’ breathing was just as broken and stuttering as hers, but his lips were mere inches from her ear now. She could feel the hot and heavy breath there from his open mouth, and fuck if it wasn’t driving her crazy.

His finger delved inside her again and she moaned once more, deeper as the finger went deeper still. Then he withdrew, going back to that tender orbit of her clitoris. She knew she was wet down there now, her juices coating his fingers. She felt something press against the side of her neck, and let out a soft gasp as she realised it was his lips, right against the pulse point. She shuddered when he kissed her again. 

Kensi shifted, moving so she was lying on her back now, her thighs parted. She twisted to face him, resting her forehead against his. She opened her eyes, saw his were closed but flickering, then shut her own. She could feel the movement of his lashes against her own. Both their mouths were open, mere inches apart, their hot breath mingling in the space between. Deeks’ fingers continued their circuit of her trembling sex, and she moved her free hand up to clutch at a breast, squeezing it and adding the sensation to the deliciousness coursing through her body.

She opened her eyes, staring into now open soft blue eyes. She bit her lip again, panting as the intensity rose inside her. Then she inched her face forward, pressing her lips against his. They kissed, and sparks flared all across Kensi, forcing another delicate moan from her throat. She closed her eyes, knowing that he was too. Fuck! She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Any of this. And kissing was… well, there were lines, and then there was that. But she knew that she didn’t want to stop for anything.

He mumbled something appreciatively into her mouth, and she retuned it; a wordless acceptance of what was happening between the two of them. His fingers continued their tender exploration of her wet core, sending rolling flashes of intensity through her body. She shuddered. Her breath caught in her throat, refusing to come. Her hand on his shaft paused, remained resting there against his pulsating member, but he didn’t protest. It seemed all his attentions right now was on the silky touch of his fingertips on her pussy. Her breath finally came free, stuttering out of her in another moan that was swallowed by Deeks’ kiss.

She could feel it building now, slowly, in the pit of her gut. Building in minusculey tiny increments, warmth and bliss spreading throughout her frame, opening like the petals of a flower to the rising sun. She moaned again, and it was almost his name this time, the sound made ragged by the euphoria that rose to drown out any other sensation in the world. The bed had long since faded from her conciousness, the room little more than a fragmented memory. All that remained was Deeks’ fingers, and the gentle orgasm that burnt its way through her body. She came then, shuddering, moaning. White flecks blossomed in her vision.

When she had finally recovered, she found herself looking at that boyish wolfen smile. Deeks’ blue eyes flickered with amusement and pride. And something else remained in them; lust.

She became aware then that her fingers were still curled delicately around his cock, and that it was still hard beneath her. She returned his grin, her own with a impish curl of mischief in it. She used her free hand to press him onto his back on the mattress, then tossed clear the duvet. She leaned forward, kissing him lightly on the lips again, then purposefully lowered herself down his sculpted frame. She opened her mouth, letting the tip of his shaft in passed her lips. He moaned softly, squirming exquisitely under her. Leisurely, she lowered herself deeper down his throbbing manhood, letting it fill her. She slid down as far as she could, then drew herself back up it just as casually.

His fingers curled into her long locks, twining into the strands, but he made no effort to control her. That was something she had always liked about him; despite all of the teasing he got from the rest of the team, and from her as well, he was comfortable enough in his masculinity to let her take the lead. Still, she didn’t mind at all when his hips rose to meet her as she lowered her lips down his length again. She hummed in appreciation, knowing the vibrations of the sound would echo down his cock and into his centre. As she sucked him, she let her fingers trail to between her thighs, dancing across her tender pussy. She was so wet down there now. God, but she’d wanted to do this for so long, somehow always finding the willpower to stop herself. So many times, while they’d been undercover, she’d been inches away from tugging him free of his jeans and letting him into her mouth. The reality of it was so much better than her mindless daydreams, for the simple fact that it was real.

She pulled herself up his cock again, letting the tip rest within her lips, while her tongue lazily swirled against it. Then she drifted down him again, almost to the base, and paused there too. He shuddered, and she could feel the tension in his entire body. A smirk curled itself around his manhood. She knew she could do it this way, and he would have no issue with it - what guy didn’t like getting his dick sucked, after all? - but that wasn’t how she wanted this dream of an event to end. She bobbed her head up and down his length three more times, four, then released him from her mouth with a wet pop. He moaned, this time in disappointed, but that faded instantly when she turned that devilish grin up towards him.

His hands rested on the sides of her jaw, giving a little tug, and she followed the pull up and to his lips again. For a moment, she lay atop his strong frame, their lips melded together in a soft and tender kiss. Then he started to move, to roll over, taking her with him. She found herself on her back, and his weight bore down on her. He seemed so slender most of the time, but now, with him atop her and kissing her, his physical presence was powerful and comforting. She let her fingers trail across his arms, following the contours of his biceps and triceps, up over the curve of his shoulders, then across the broad expanse of his back. His skin was firm, warm, inviting.

Then, carefully, meaningfully, she bent one leg at the knee and raised it against his hip. It brought their crotches together. Deeks got the message pretty quickly. His hand left where it had been softly twirling through her hair and began traversing gently down the length of her body. It followed every line, the tips of his fingers lightly scraping across the skin, leaving a tickling sensation in their wake. Finally, his hand delved between them, fingers closing around his own hard sex. He guided it by touch alone, pressing the tip against her aching, needful, pussy. She muttered at him, trying not to make it sound like an order. Not to make it sound like a demand. Not to make it sound pleading.

He didn’t leave her hanging for long, and some small part of Kensi’s brain realised that he must want this just as desperately as she did. There was only so much flirting that two people could take before something like this must happen or they’d both explode. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance, and she let out another soft moan as it opened the lips of her pussy and eased in. Still, he took his time about moving deeper; clearly, he wanted to savour this moment just as much as she did. And again, her late night fantasies were as nothing compared to having the real, warm, breathing, Deeks push his hardness into her.

Inch by inch he went, the white hot sensation flaring up in her as he did. She heard her own name tumble from his lips and grinned. His mouth left hers, moving towards her neck, and she felt his hot lips against the skin there. He kissed at the pulse point, sucking on it, letting the softest flash of his teeth worry against the flesh. She moaned, and then again, deeper, when he finally came to rest, the full length of his cock within her. She opened her legs wider, accepting him.

They both stopped then, acclimatising to this new situation of oneness. He moved his head back up, lifting himself up with his arms. Kensi opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. They stared at each other, blue eyes and mismatched brown, neither blinking, neither breaking the contact, as he began to move back and forth, sliding the full length of his shaft inside her. She felt her breath become quickly ragged again, her lips dry as she panted. A long, deep, moan bubbled forth from her throat from somewhere deep within her belly.

As slowly and as gently as everything else that had happened so far this night, Deeks began to fuck her. Finally, she closed her eyes, her head tilting up as she began to lose herself once more to the building fire in her cunt, the fire that was spreading out in inches. He lowered his head again, lips finding that same spot on her neck, just below her jaw.

One of her hands crawled up his back, linking her fingers into his mess of blond hair and playing there, while the other explored the expanse of his back again, then down to caress the firmness of his ass. His hands explored too; one seeking out her breasts, letting the pad of his thumb roam over her erect nipples, while the other went deeper, focusing on her sensitive clit. She undulated in time to his ministrations, all the points of pleasure he was eliciting in her washing over each other and building atop the others.

She felt Deeks begin to shake against her, knew her own mounting paradise was mirrored in him. His breath was just as ragged and broken as her own, and incoherent sounds flowed from where his lips were focussed on her neck. She let his name slip passed her own lips, a long and meaningful sound, and heard her own name echoed from him. Then he began to shudder, his whole body stuttering, and she knew he had climaxed, filling his hot pussy with his seed. That broke the floodgates on her, and she came again. Her very being shook with the bliss that burst across it, ripping apart the last of her coherence, and she lost herself to it completely. She cried out his name louder this time as she did.

When thought and other feelings finally returned to her, she realised that Deeks still lay atop her, his body fully over hers. She smiled warmly, enjoying the closeness of his firm form. She also smiled at the fact that his cock, now slowly softening, was still deeply inside her. He moved then, turning to face him. She met his gaze again, saw the pleasant exhaustion in his expression, saw the softly fading bliss there too. He moved closer, searching for her lips once again, and she eagerly moved to meet them. For long moments they lay together in the soft afterglow of their joint orgasms, soft kisses filling the extent of their movement.

Finally, Deeks pulled back, sliding his soft cock out of her tender core. She let out a moan of disappointment, mingled with a shudder of after-effect at the movement against her still sensitive pussy. Deeks rolled onto his side, and she moved to join him, catching up his lips again. They kissed for a moment more, before Kensi inched back, opening her eyes. Deeks stared at her, those soft blue eyes meeting her own, and a silent understanding passed between them. She kissed him one last time, then rolled over onto her other side. Deeks slid into position behind her, draping and arm over her and spooning her again, just as he had been when she awoke. Gradually, they both drifted off to sleep again.

Neither of them spoke about it the next day, when they awoke, or when they met up with the others. Nothing was mentioned when they took down the criminal organisational who had hacked their systems. In fact, that night was never brought up again, even years later when they were married. Sometimes, Kensi thought she might have dreamt the while thing. But then she would look at her husband, the funny, steady, dependable man who was her entire world, and knew that there was no way she could have ever imagined such a thing. He would see her, see the soft smirk of remembrance on her lips, and she knew he remembered that night too. That night when there had been only one bed.