#(like money's kinda tight right now but it's not like an emergency or anything)

[kirby-the-gorb]

(No Obligation Whatsoever but if you *want* to give me a birthday present my kofi is in the pinned post or you could always draw a kirby :> after all I started drawing him every day in the first place just cuz I think low key simple kirby drawings are fun and there should be more of them!)

[blasphemyisjustforyou]

hey uh we're. kinda tight on cash again but my cat got bit by my dad's dog because my siblings are fucking useless and refuse to take care of or watch the dog despite being home literally all fucking day while we work and I need money to take her to the vet and make sure she's alright. This is also coming along at the same time as a breakup and my car being in the shop so we are. very emotionally wrecked right now and I don't think we can handle losing this dumb beast. if anyone can help, all money will go directly towards any vet fees. We're not even sure she needs it but she has a nasty bite on her chest and we're worried she's more injured than it looks (not that it looks particularly pleasant).

I spoke to a local emergency clinic and they said it would be about $150 to get her seen there, I also have the option of waiting it out which I really don't want to do, or I can apply for "Care credit" which, with my credit score is maybe not going to work but I'm likely going to try anyways just as a backup. Either way anything helps.

[fairyaali]

hello love! Can I please request a somewhat spicy sub!chat noir x reader? Maybe where the reader is kinda feeling him up and leaving him hickeys and he’s a purring and moaning mess? Maybe he’s begging her to keep going and who is she to say no to such a sweet baby kitty? If that’s not too much of course😌 tysm

Hello bb ! I hope that this satisfied your sub! Chat needs hehe (i know it satisfied mine so) I really love how this came out and maybe i’m willing on continuing another part from here) Thank you so much for this request ! <3

Pairing: Chat Noir X Reader

Warnings: NSFW, characters are aged up in college here :), swearing.

Tags: Sub!chat, Dry humping, begging.

This is how it all went down. He saved you from an akumatized villain. He flirted. You flirted back. Then you guys started hooking up.

You didn’t understand why Chat Noir would do this with a civilian but like every other person on this planet, he has his needs. He would knock in a pattern on your window so you knew it was him and you would let him in, you’d talk for a bit, ask each other about your day until one of you breaks and pushes the other on the bed or against the wall. He was good in bed. Very good. You knew you’d never grow tired of this affair. To top it all off after you both finished you’d sit in bed and talk about all sorts of things. Aliens, Conspiracy theories about the media, gossip about people and sometimes he’d even play Mario Kart with you.

There were no strings attached. You both made it clear from day one. There couldn’t be. You both didn’t have the time for a relationship, you both didn’t have the energy for one so you simply stuck to the title ‘fuck buddies’ until one of you decides to back out. This night was different though. A smile didn’t appear on your face when you hear the familiar knock on your window because you were stuck cussing at your computer screen and rubbing your head in frustration. You had an essay to explain Shakespeare and his works but for some reason you kept deleting all that you’ve typed because you couldn’t put your thoughts into words.

He knocked again, quickly this time. “I know you’re there, beautiful.” His voice was muffled through the glass.

You huffed and put your laptop on the bed before stomping to the window. You opened it and were met by the hero grinning at you. You, on the other hand, didn’t have a pleased look on your face.

“I’m not in the mood Chat.” You state and were about to close the window again but he held it to stop you from closing it.

“Ma Belle, did I do something wrong?” He asks, a frown on his face.

You shake your head. “No, I just have this stupid essay that I’ve been trying to type out for the past four hours.” You sigh and make your way back to your bed, rubbing your temples.

He follows you inside and closes the window behind him.

“Maybe I can ease your stress for a little bit.” He says, a smirk on his face.

You simply shoot him a glare and he chuckles nervously, putting his hands up in defense.

“Okay. No sex. Got it.” He sits beside you and looks at what you’re typing.

“You know you can leave right? If you’re horny you can go to your other side bitches.” You say as you type away, your eyes glued onto your screen.

Chat purses his lips, like he held himself back from saying something and shook his head.

“Maybe I came here for some company.” He says.

You snort and chuckle. “Yeah right.” You say sarcastically and look at him, but he wasn’t smiling. You gulp and your smile fades away. Did he seriously come over because he feels lonely?

His face was leaning closer to your and you were leaning closer too. No. You had to finish this stupid essay.

“Stop distracting me kitty.” You whisper and kiss his nose quickly before looking back at the screen.

He groans and falls back on the bed, playing with the pillow.

“I can help you if you’re writing about Shakespear, I wro-“ He stops himself from talking and you turn around, quirking your eyebrow at him.

“You wrote an essay like this?” you questioned.

He visibly gulps and shakes his head.

“Do you go to college?” You question further.

He chuckles nervously. “You know I can’t tell you that mon ange.”

You stare at him for a moment before looking back at your screen. You decided not to pry further, he seemed uncomfortable talking about his personal life and you decided to respect his wishes.

Your phone started to ring and you see that it’s your friend from college Marinette. You pick it up.

“Hey Mari.” You say as you type.

“The deadline has been changed to next week!” She exclaims happily.

You were filled with rage.

“what?” You deadpanned.

“Yeah apparently some students asked to change it because they were having difficulties so he changed it to next week instead of tomorrow morning.”

“I literally asked him to extend the deadline three days ago and he refused. I swear to god I want to kill this son of a bitch” You groan and clutch your fist in anger.

She sighs, “I know girl, but hey at least you’ve got more time on your hands!”

Marinette always tried to be positive when she could and you appreciated that but honestly you needed to vent. “Yeah, thanks for letting me know Mari.”

“No problem! Bonne nuit.”

“Bonne nuit.” You sigh out before you end the call.

You groan out in frustration and shut your laptop.

“What happened?” Chat asks.

You get out of your bed and start to pace around.

“I have been working on this essay for the past four days, knowing very well how stupid it was that the deadline was only five days for a two thousand word essay on fucking Shakespeare and when I ask to extend the deadline, the son of a bitch replies with an angry email saying theres enough time and that im just lazy.” You finally breathe and chat was about to say something but you cut him off.

“But when his privileged French pupil ask him to extend the deadline of course he agrees and you know what, I think it was Adrien fucking Agreste who asked him because hes the fucking pretty model boy who has everybody on their knees for him just because of his high status.” You sit down and without realising you start talking about a different subject.

“Yeah, I get it, everybody wants to fuck the pretty blond guy with money, I would too but at least I don’t look like a thirsty bitch every time he talks to me, some girls in my damn college have literally no chill and I swear to god one day I want to make him my bitch, make him weak for me to show those bitches what i’m capable of.” You were breathing heavily at this point and your face was flushed red.

You always thought Adrien was attractive, everyone did but whenever he talked to you, you responded normally to him unlike other people who constantly laughed at everything he said to try and get in his pants. He was a good guy but he was too well known for his own good and it made you uninterested in him. You thought he was out of your league, that’s what those french bitches told you at least. They belittled you just because you’re foreign - you knew they were just jealous that Adrien was always the one to come up to talk to you unlike them.

That was enough ranting for now. You look at Chat who was staring at you wide eyed, his cheeks glowing red.

“You don’t need to say anything, it’s just-“ You look down at his body and notice something. “Chat..why are you hard?”

He crosses his legs over the other awkwardly to try and hide it. “W-What are you talking about?”

You stand up and walk over to him and he walks back until he’s pressed against the wall.

“What? You get hard thinking about me making someone weak?” You whisper to him and he looks away from you. “You want me to do the same to you kitty?” You kiss his ear and he shudders, nodding slowly. Your hand moves down from his chest to his belly and your lips move from his ear to his jaw. Chat tilts his head back and a frenzy of purrs emerge from his parted lips. He was aroused, in a state of euphoria even with your small, light touches. Your hand moved lower until it reached down to the tent he had in his suit. It was painfully tight for him. Your fingertips lightly brushed over the bulge and he cussed under his breath.

“Fuck.” He whispered while you continued to touch his clothed erection and lick up his neck. He kept purring and moaning at the same time. You loved seeing him worked up like this. Your lips latched on to a certain spot on his neck and you sucked on it harshly, nibbling at it when you got the chance and putting more pressure with your hand against him.

He was a mess, grinding against your hand and breathing heavily.

“Ma Belle – merde,” he couldn’t even speak without stuttering. “I want more, please.” He begs and you look up at him, noticing the red mark on his neck and feeling very pleased with yourself.

“More what, kitty?” You whisper and remove your hand from where it was.

He groans in frustration.

“More – I-I want you to touch me more.” He pleads. “Please.”

You smirk at him and pull him to your bed, pushing him back on the bed and getting on his lap. Before he could react you put your lips on his and start to grind on top of him.

He moans against your lips and throws his head back, holding onto your hips for support. You could tell that he wanted to take his clothes off but you wanted him to come right then and there.

Your hips move against his, the friction pleasing you the same, causing you to moan but grin at the worked up blond beneath you.

“Shit, shit I’m close.” He whimpers and closes his eyes, moving his own hips with yours to get more pleasure.

It felt so good but you knew you couldn’t finish with him, maybe you could continue after but your hopes disappeared when you heard the beeping coming from his ring.

“Mon Ange I-“

“Shut up and come for me kitty.” You groan out and quicken your movements causing him to part his lips and hold onto you.

His body shakes and he spews out cuss words in French while he comes undone, thrusting his hips up and whimpering.

You’re both breathing heavily, looking at each other both dazed and tired. You were about to lean in for another kiss but his ring starts beeping furiously.

You hop off of his lap and watch as he groans while he gets up, uncomfortably moving because of the mess he made between his legs.

“I’m sorry I cant finish you off.” He says, pouting at you.

“It’s okay Chat, I think you’ve done enough today.” You wink at him and he chuckles bashfully.

“Until next time Mon ange!” He says and opens the window.

“Bye Kitty.” You blow him a kiss and with that he’s off.

Maybe you could actually finish yourself off to the thought of him being a mess for you but before you could even do anything, your phone beeps and you see a notification from Adrien Agreste.

 “Did you hear that they moved the deadline for the Shakespeare essay? Pissed me off tbh.”

It was like he knew you accused him of something and to top it all off this was the first time he’s ever really texted you. It was weird but maybe you shouldn’t think much of it. Right?

[enderkitten123]

Ok so to put it simply, my family is poor and really tight on money right now, we're a little short on bills, and we can't afford Christmas this year.

So I thought that I could do something nice and take care of Christmas this year and get everyone a little something, both stuff we need, like pet stuff, bathroom stuff, or a bit of extra money for food or emergencies, and some little presents like new clothes, hot food, a game, or small souvenir like thingies.

Not being able to afford anything is really stressing everyone out and I just want to relieve some of that stress, I can't really do much cause I'm still in school and too busy with school work for a job or to do commissions so this is kinda my only option

I set up a donation thing on PayPal

https://paypal.com/pools/c/8F8lf3ntle

And I also have a Kofi

https://ko-fi.com/enderkitten123

Every little bit helps, even if you can't donate, reblogs help a ton. Thanks so much and Happy Holidays everyone ❤️

[unstoppableforcce]

 when the dust settles

—CHAPTER ONE: in which we meet our sheriff

pairing: Din Djarin x f reader

art | next part | masterlist

a/n: a short little intro chapter before we get into the dark depth of the series, I hope you enjoy, I know my writing inspiration isn’t always consistent but I’m kinda hooked on what I have in the works for this !!

There was a storm coming. 

A dry, desert storm. The worst kind of storm. It was the kind of storm that settled in his battle-worn joints, weighing heavy in his thick, scarred muscles as he clambered down off his steady steed. 

The wind was slowly picking up around him as he busied his leather-covered hands with the dusty rope knotted together beside his knapsack, each gust swooping and swirling around him, whipping the dry desert sand into his side and threatening to pull his hat away from his head with each and every pass. He couldn’t stand it. The wind, the early dregs of the storm, the town, all of it. 

Arvala wasn’t much of a town, but from what he could see of it as he glanced around back over his shoulder, holding his hat in place atop his head, he knew he didn’t like it. 

He wanted to get his directions and be on his way before the storm had the chance to settle overhead. 

Fighting through the last restraining knot from the loop of rope, he made quick work of retying a few knots to keep the towering grey horse where he stood beside the dilapidated railing of the seemingly empty building. That was yet another thing that irked him about the surrounding dusty, one-street township. 

It was empty. 

Spare the vague hints of movement that caught his eye through the second story surrounding windows and the occasional body he saw crossing the empty street, the town seemed nearly devoid of souls. It settled a chill in the base of his spine, a chill he couldn’t escape. Unnerving was putting it gently, disturbing was a far more accurate descriptor. 

Arvala wasn’t much of a town, but he wanted out of it. 

Razor bucked gently at his side, knocking his heavy head into his shoulder to drag his attention back from the desolate town around them, but all he could offer the dark steel grey steed was a soft brush against his dusty mane in response. 

“I just need directions,” he mused almost silently, realizing he was speaking to the horse as much as he was reminding himself. “Just directions.”

The saloon was the only real building with any sign of life, the dull hum of vigorous conversation from inside vibrating out the chipped red painted doors and meeting his ears as he stalked further into the town. There was something comforting about that, it did little to damper the tormenting chill still haunting him at the base of his spine, but at least it was something. 

Something that only got better as he got closer to the building and the noise echoing out of it. 

The doors were thrown open as a lone figure emerged, gifting him a brief second to look inside, just enough to see a few tables packed with men, cards, and drinks, a combination he was certainly not looking forward to as he continued up the dusty wooden steps. He stole a glance back to his side as well, to the shrouded figure who had emerged just a second before, now knelt down beside the rickety bench with a hammer in hand, but didn’t direct any more thought that way. He just needed directions. 

Directions and he’d be gone. 

The voices became less like a hum and much more like a rancorous chaos the second he pushed through the dilapidated doors. He hated men that drank like this, spilling themselves out across the card-covered tables, downing drinks as fast as they could be poured. They filled towns like this, he couldn’t stand towns like this. 

Moving to the counter, he did his best to pay them as much mind as he had paid the figure out front. He just needed directions. He needed directions and then he’d be gone--

“Can I help you with something, sweetheart?”

His head snapped to the friendly tone as it cut through the disgusting chuckles and belching happening behind him, finding the friendly face the words belonged to easily as she wiped down a mess from the bar top beside him. Sweet, kind eyes, an effortless drawl to her tone. How she could tolerate being stuffed in a saloon with the likes of the men behind him, he truly didn’t understand. 

He cleared his throat, adjusting the black bandana to keep it taut over his nose and face. “I’m looking for direct--”

“Bull shit, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” A man shouted from behind him, the vulgar tone accompanied by a brutal slap to the hardwood table top and a clattering of glasses against each other. It was violent and aggressive and his gloved fist clenched as the cacophony of sounds interrupted him. He couldn’t stand-- no, he hated towns like this. 

“Honey?” The gentle drawl drew him back. “You’re looking for what?”

“I’m looking for--”

“It is NOT bull shit, Taro, you need to shut your goddamn mouth and put your money on the table.” A second man countered, as disgusting in his aggression as the first had been, if not more so. 

Against the countertop, his tight fist clenched further, his blunt nails digging deep into the worn leather around his grip. “I’m looking for--”

“Don’t tell me what to do with my money.”

He just couldn’t take it anymore.

His stubborn temper had a mind of it’s own, forcing his practiced hand to the familiar grip of his pistol and drawing it in a split second, faster than any of the men at the table behind him. The cool metal of the tip found a comfortable resting point at the back of the closest man’s head, buried in the thick head of dark hair and the men surrounding him all quickly jumped to attention even in their drunken haze, drawing their own weapons and leveling them back his way. 

Four to one. There were worse odds. 

“What in the stars above is your problem, man?” The words escaped the targeted man’s mouth laced with fear and confusion as his hands lifted in surrender at his side. 

Glancing at all the surrounding drunken men, they wore a look similar to that tone. Frightened, disoriented, and too drunk to truly comprehend what they were witnessing in their typically mundane saloon. Good, he thought callously, it was what they deserved.

“I’m trying to ask a question.” His level voice explained as the man at the other end of his pistol began to tremble gently against the metal pressed into his skull. 

The tallest of the men stood across from him, gun drawn, shrugged his shoulders in a confused aggression, “four against one and he’s trying to ask a question?”

The masked man merely pushed the pistol further into the skull of the trembling man, nodding his head forward with the forceful pressure. 

“Well, go on, ask it, lord knows we ain’t gonna stop ya now.” The shaking man scrambled desperately, unable to stop his surrendered hands from shaking even as he raised them to ensure the men standing in his defense didn’t do anything stupid on his behalf. 

“I need directions to the Arvala seventh, which way from here--”

This time, it wasn’t the chaos within which cut him off before he could finish a singular thought, but the sound of the doors as they opened with a careless slam. With a hammer twirling mindlessly in your hand as he turned to see you saunter in, he quickly recognized you as the figure he had paid such little attention to as he entered. But the men at the table recognized you in a different way, their shoulders falling in on themselves with a relaxed sigh of relief slipping through their lips. 

He saw the shoulder holsters first. Then the badge. 

“Fixed the bench out front…” An almost unnatural mixture of disappointment and exhausted cradled your tone as each of lazy words fell from your lips, dripping with both an air of confidence and layer of hesitance as you carefully eyed the scene before you. Even as you passed the hammer off to the kind barkeep, your stare stayed trained on the lone intruder in the bar, “What’s going on in here, boys?” 

“Brown eyes over here is looking for the seventh.” 

Disappointment and exhaustion, your entire form exuded it effortlessly as the immediate scoff tumbled from your lips. “The seventh, huh?... Guild?”

He didn’t know what to do with himself. As abrupt as his sudden draw had been, there had been a careful purpose to it, one he threw his whole heart behind in the moment, but now, with your careful stare holding on him, he didn’t know what to do with himself. His pistol was still leveled with the man’s skull, but even as the entire tone of the room shifted, you made no move to draw, no physical threat of any kind. The only movement in the whole establishment was that of the men across from him, lowering their weapons as they watched you and your trusted presence. 

He didn’t know what to do. 

Stealing a careful glance of his own around the room before his shrouded stare found it’s way back to you, he felt as though he had no choice left but to lower his pistol. He didn’t holster it, not yet, but he lowered it as his rough answer escaped his masked mouth. 

“Yes.”

“Well…” your shoulders lifted and fell in an exhausted excuse for a shrug as you took another step closer. “This ain’t it.”

The men across the table relaxed the rest of the way as you encroached, holstering their weapons and even reaching their filthy hands towards their abandoned, unfinished drinks, again, leaving him no choice but to do the same. As he placed the cool metal back into his worn leather holster, he lifted his hands in a brief show of surrender, still incapable of gauging whether or not it was the right move. 

But he had nothing else to go off of. 

“Can you tell me how to get there?” He tried again, hesitant with his words as every stare in the building stayed trained on him. 

Again, a rough scoff burst from your lips without any move to muffle it. “Ride, for the most part.”

“I mean--”

The kind-eyed bartender reappeared at your side, effortlessly drawing your careful attention away from him by placing a dark glass bottle into your hand before the second word of his defense could even fully slip from his lips. It looked like a transaction, the repair work for the drink, and you graciously accepted it with a nod, tipping your hat respectfully towards her before turning back to him. 

Yet, even with your attention directed back towards him, as he opened his mouth again, you quickly shut it for him. 

“I mean where--”

“I’m well aware of what you meant.”

The men at the table had resumed a gentle hum of conversation once guns were removed from the situation, but your words were a gavel, slamming down hard and returning the stale and dusty silence to the saloon. The dark grey clouds just outside and the violent wind knocking into the worn door were enough to signal a storm was brewing, but for a second, he convinced himself it was already there. 

Staring him dead in the eye. Unwavering. 

“Buy the boys a drink, apologize, and get the hell out of town.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order, plain and simple. 

He froze in his boots where he stood, your harsh tone alone enough to freeze his form in a way that neither the blustering chill of the stormy wind or the darkening sky ever could. He had met plenty of sheriffs, he had passed through hundreds of towns just like this one, yet as he held your stare, he felt tense, every muscle in his body screaming, caught directly between fight and flight.  

But you moved as if your words were nothing to you, as if you hadn’t just shaken him to his core with your stare alone. 

Lifting the bottle in a kind salute back towards the sweet bartender, you turned towards the table and offered another careful nod their way. “Have a nice night, boys.”

“You too, sheriff.”

Effortless and exhausted, you moved for the door, nudging it open with your hip as he found just enough strength to step up and follow you. It didn’t matter though, you were already through before he made it a foot away from the table, two words falling from your tired lips as your heavy boots carried you away. 

“Fucking guild...”

—

tags: @rainy-day-gracie​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @nominalnebula @randomnesss501 @hoodedbirdie​ @littlevodika​ @witchyavenger​ @mistermiraclee @tiffdawg​ @trust-dreamcatcher​ @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ @lil-baby27​ @blacksquadron-rougetwo​ @rogueonestan​

[kitty0boy]

I’m baaaack. I saw the is idea for this on Tiktok where basically Marinette saves Chat Noir she’s on top like when Chat saves Ladybug and he can’t function, so she smirks and flicks his bell. It’s a little spicier than the stuff I usually write so be warned! As always they are aged up so Marinette is 17, Adrien is 18. And much like some of my other fics, Chat can use multiple Cataclysms while Ladybug has to run off and recharge. Again, the content is kinda spicy so I’m going to say 14+ for this one. So enjoy!

———————————

You’ll never guess who was akumatized again. That’s right, Lila, why? Because she was caught lying this time.

Marinette was exhausted, being the new guardian and all. She slept through half of first period, dozed off in Ms. Mendeleev’s class twice, and nearly face-planted on the staircase outside the school. Needless to say, everyone was worried about her, especially Adrien. He felt he was partly responsible after all. His late night visits with her seemed to have taken their toll. Maybe he should stick to UMS tournaments on the weekend and Fridays.

Not everyone was worried though (somehow), one of those people being Lila. Over the years she’d become more and more set on gaining the attention of everyone in a 2 mile radius. While she usually only bragged about her “charity work”, the opportunity to slander Marinette wouldn’t go unused.

“I’m so worried about our poor Marinette.” She cooed, “Ever since she downloaded that app, oh it’s only gotten worse.” The class stared at her puzzled. In mock surprise, she covered her mouth, “Whoops! Oh I’m such a blabber mouth.” Adrien couldn’t see her lips, but he was sure they were curled into a nasty smirk. “Wait what? What app?” Alya piped up. “Oh she didn’t tell you? She’s a sugar baby. She’s been on Tinder getting money from older men. How do you think she pays for her supplies.”

He’d had enough, “Seriously Lila, if you’re going to spread rumours about people at least make sure they’re true. You don’t even hang out with Marinette, how would you know that before me or Alya?” She pulled out her best sad smile. “Oh Adrien, she confided in me because she was too scared of what you would think.” Alya cut her off, “No Adrien’s right, Marinette doesn’t like you Lila. I’m sorry but it’s true. There’s no way she’d tell you something like that.” Adrien put his hands in his pockets in triumph, but not before Lila got her phone out and held it up, showing Marinette’s supposed profile on Tinder. There was a picture of her face right on the profile. “I managed to hack into her account last night. Just look at all these creepy old men she’s matched with.” She scrolled through the list of men, most of them looked to be in their late 40s. Anger bubbled inside him.

“Seriously Lila! She’s still underage, don’t make a fake profile of her on Tinder. Now all of these old men know what she looks like. What would happen if they tracked her down. I swear to god if she’s ever hurt because right this I’ll-” He was ready to strike when a hand touched his back and a head fell against his shoulder. “What’s going on?” Marinette asked, she rubbed her eyes. “Girl let me see your phone.” Alya demanded. Marinette slumped over to her before placing her phone in the bestie’s hand. She walked behind Alya and wrapped her arms around her shoulders from behind.

Adrien, or rather, Chat Noir was no stranger to Marinette’s sleepy cuddling tendencies. He remembered many nights that involved her wrapping around him while blinking back sleep. Whether it was watching movies, playing video games, or even sketching. She somehow always found a way to cuddle up to him. Not that he was complaining, it was the best way to get her to sleep after all. She’d lean on him and he’d wrap around her, start purring, and play with her hair while she drifted off. He of course was adapted to running on less than 5 hours of sleep anyways, besides, hearing the sleepy sounds she’d make were always worth it. So seeing her cuddle up to Alya did make him a little jealous yes, was he going to say anything, probably not. He’d probably suggest a movie marathon that night to get his fair share in.

He watched while Alya scrolled though Marinette’s phone. Marinette subconsciously nuzzling into the crook of her friend’s neck. “Take a look everyone. Do you see the app for Tinder anywhere on my girl’s phone?” The class stared at it. “I don’t see it.” Rose squeaked. “Well obviously not, Marinette picks up shifts at the bakery sometimes to pay for all that stuff.” Alix shouted while walking towards them. She wasn’t there when Lila was talking about it. Adrien looked at her confused. “How did you know what she-?” She cut him off, “Nathaniel told me.” He looked at him and Nathaniel’s face turned as red as his hair. “He wanted to say something but he’s still really shy.” Alix whispered to Adrien. Adrien turned back to see his friends crowding around the bench where Lila sat, all of them were scowling at her. One by one they started voicing their disapproval. “Don’t spread rumours about our friend.” “Seriously Lila, not cool.” Lila got up from the bench and calmly walked towards the exit with her belongings in hand. It was the end of the day anyways.

He saw Marinette stumbling towards the locker room to pick up her backpack, Alya guiding her with an arm wrapped around her shoulder. “Maybe your purrincess could use a lift home.” Plagg suggested from his pocket. “Hey you’re right, maybe then Lila wouldn’t be able to start more rumours about her. Everyone would know why she’s been up late.” He considered the idea. “But what about Hawkmoth? I don’t want him to target her.” Plagg tried to fly up to his eye level but Adrien quickly slapped the kwami back into his jacket. “Ow hey what was that for?” Plagg yelled, “I’m in the middle of the school foyer, I’m already getting weird looks for slapping myself so don’t make it any worse.” That earned a little pinch from his friend “A little pay back, now if you don’t transform and pick up your sleeping beauty I’ll carry her back home myself. I don’t trust that girl to walk across the street by herself.” Adrien smiled, “Aww does the cheese monster have a soft spot for my purrincess, I thought there was only room for camembert in your heart.” Plagg rolled his eyes, “Yeah well if I can make room for you, then I can make room for pigtails. Now go and transform before you miss your chance.” He flew back into Adrien’s pocket. Touched by his kwami’s speech, Adrien walked towards the exit and sprinted around the corner. Luckily he had fencing practice today so his bodyguard wouldn’t be waiting for him.

He ducked into an alleyway and transformed after making sure he wasn’t followed, Chat Noir emerging from where Adrien was seconds ago. He ran back towards François DuPont to meet his little mouse at the front. As she emerged covering a yawn, Alya spotted him. Immediately she whipped out her phone and ran towards him, leaving Marinette behind. “Chat Noir! What are you doing here? Out for an afternoon patrol?” She held up her camera to record him. “Actually I’m here to pick up a certain little lady. I’ve been keeping her up at night and word has it she’s dead tired.” Alya blinked before turning towards her friend and looking back at him with wide eyes. He nodded and looked back up only to see Marinette trip over her feet. He rushed over and caught her around the waist in a hug before she could smash her face into the pavement. “Well hello there Mari, fancy seeing you here.” She looked up at him and smiled before stretching her arms up and wrapping them around his neck. “Hey kitty.” She murmured before resting her face on his chest. He sighed and bent down a little to sweep her up, he gently repositioned her into a hip carry with his other hand wrapping under one of her thighs. She immediately snuggled into him, her head resting on his shoulder. Alya stood there, her mouth agape. “Hey uh, would you mind grabbing her bag for me miss Ladyblogger?” He asked, nodding at it. She snapped out of it and picked it up off the steps where it had fallen. She passed it to Chat who slung it over his free shoulder and started heading towards Tom and Sabine’s bakery, with a certain fox tailing him.

The three, well the two of them walked while Marinette was peacefully carried by Chat Noir. Alya chuckled “Are you, purring?” He blushed a little before giggling back, “Yeah I am, I usually do it when she’s really tired, it puts her to sleep really quickly.” She smirked at him, “So this is a regular occurrence?” He stammered “I well uh yes for a while, not every night but umm.” He blushed and looked down at her. “If only I knew Marinette was sleeping with one of Paris’ superheroes.” She said slyly, she was definitely fit for the fox miraculous. He turned away from the journalist, he didn’t want to see him blush. His cheek bumped into Marinette’s forehead before resting against it. “It’s not in the way you’re thinking, we usually play video games or watch movies, most of the time she gets really tired and ends up falling asleep on me so I put her to bed.” He looked back at her and she was not convinced. “You mean she gets tired so you cuddle her and purr while she falls asleep then you sneak out the window.” He pouted, “You make me sound like a creepy, and it’s actually the trapdoor to the balcony, I can’t climb through the window without diving through it.” She grinned at him and he rolled his eyes. “Not much better is.. hey what’s that?” He turned to see a figure glaring at them from on top of the school, he didn’t get to look at them for very long before something fast and sharp came barreling towards them.

He didn’t even have time to grab Alya, he only had time to shove her out of the way with his foot before jumping backwards with Marinette pulled tight to him. He stumbled a little, crashing to the ground with a very much awake Marinette landing safely on top of him. She propped herself onto her hands just enough to separate her face from his. “Chat? What’s going on?” A loud cackle was heard behind them and she leapt to her feet, he followed suit and pulled Marinette behind him, making sure she was as separated from the akuma as possible. “My name is Seamstress, with my needle and thread I’ll make sure none of you can ever speak against me.” Seamstress turned to Alya, she pinched her fingers together and make a jabbing motion towards her. Alya’s mouth shut and she covered it with her hand. It looked like she was in pain, then Seamstress pulled her hand back and Alya cried out, but her scream was muffled. She pulled back her hand to reveal that her lips were sewn shut. Marinette tried to run towards her friend but Chat wrapped his arms around her before she could go anywhere. “Alya No!” She screamed, her face full of tears. “I’m really sorry Marinette.” He said before grabbing his baton and vaulting them away from the akuma and Alya.

Marinette held tight to Chat’s neck, despite the sobs that shook her violently. He needed to get her away but he wanted her to breathe. He looked behind him, Seamstress was nowhere in sight, so he jumped into an alleyway and sat down, Marinette sitting in his lap. He sat crisscross so that she could sit more comfortably, she still wasn’t breathing right.

“Marinette I need you to breathe for me ok? I know it’s going to be hard but I have to get you somewhere safe, and I can’t do that if you can’t breathe. Here.” He reached behind him and pulled one of her hands off him and placed it on his chest. “Ok can you feel me breathing?” She nodded against his shoulder. “Ok good, now try to match my breathing ok?” He felt her panting against him as she tried to fix her breathing. It took a few minutes but soon enough her sobs turned into little whimpers of sadness. “Feel better?” He asked and she nodded. She was always quiet like this when she was upset, seeing her friends hurt wouldn’t be something she got over easily. She pulled back to look at him before another tear slipped down her cheek. He quickly reached up and brushed it away, “Ok now we’ve got to-“ An explosion rang out in the street near them, he gently pushed her off of him. “Stay here ok, I’ll come and get you after.”

He ran out from the alley only to come face to face with Seamstress. “Hello kitty, where have you hidden miss goody two-shoes hmm?” She asked, she looked like she’d gone insane, her face twisted into something between and grin and fury. Her face darted from left to right, looking for his princess. Luckily, the dumpster they landed beside blocked Marinette from view. “Like hell I’d tell you.” He turned his baton and extended it towards her, putting as much distance between him and the akuma as he could. “Well if I can’t get you to talk, maybe I should just shut you up!” Her hand thrusted towards him and he saw a needle, he dodged it and her hand snapped open, a drop of blood running down her finger. So if she misses a stitch she’ll prick herself. Good to know.

He dodged needle after needle until he got distracted and stumbled. He fell to the ground and braced for the pain to come to his lips, but it never did. Instead something small crashed into him and they rolled across the road, hitting the curb. He looked up to see Marinette on her hands and knees above him. Her lips were still swollen from crying but in that moment, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he was. ‘Geez Adrien great timing.’ He could almost hear Plagg cackling in his head. He just stared at her, mouth agape, then she did something he would never recover from. She smirked, and oh god did he want to kiss her. “What cat got your tongue?” She said before flicking his bell. She stood and pulled him up. He quickly snapped out of it and scooped her up before dashing down the street, the akuma not far behind, he drifted around a corner and silently sprinted down an alley before extending his baton and racing across the rooftops in the opposite direction, successfully leading the akuma in the wrong direction. He brought her to the first place he could think of, the Louvre. He leapt off one of the buildings to the side, summoned a cataclysm to break a glass panel, and landed on the floor inside with Marinette clutched safely in his arms.

“Wasn’t there an easier way to get in here?” She said, a teasing tone to her voice. He wish he wanted to laugh but he didn’t. He was mad, furious even. He told her to stay hidden, out of sight. He told her to wait in the alley for him but she didn’t. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put?” He asked angrily. Hundreds of emotions swam through him, part of him wanted to lecture her for hours, part of him wanted to hug her and make sure she was ok, part of him wanted to kiss her stupid because mon dieu she was beautiful with her hair down like that. He settled for a simple “Stay here this time, I’ll come get you.” Before turning and vaulting towards the akuma.

Ladybug was a little late to the fight but they got it over with fairly quickly. He destroyed the bracelet the akuma was in and Ladybug captured it and fixed everything. “Would you mind taking her back this time? I’ve gotta run.” Ladybug asked and he nodded. Some of his anger had faded but he wasn’t exactly in a good mood right now. She waved goodbye before hurrying off. “So,” he started turning to Lila, “I hope you won’t be spreading anymore false rumours about people now, especially Marinette.” He growled a little and miss liar shrank under his gaze. She nodded before standing and walking away.

He needed to calm down, Marinette was probably scared and hurt and confused, he didn’t exactly leave her on the best note. By the time he arrived at the Louvre it was closed for cleaning. He slipped inside to grab her but noticed that she was standing by the door. “They umm, kicked me out when it closed.” She said shyly. His brows furrowed.

She looked at him confused before he opened his mouth to speak. “I told you to stay hidden and you didn’t listen. Why?” She frowned, “Don’t you mean ‘thank you Marinette’?” She folded her arms in front of her chest. “Uh no I mean why did you run out from your hiding place, I’m the superhero remember, you can’t go running into the middle of an akuma battle. You don’t have superpowers or a magic suit to protect you.” She walked up to him and pushed her finger into his chest, “You were more important when it came to defeating Seamstress, who cares if my mouth is sewn shut because yours will still work. You needed to be safe more than I did so I saved you.” He clenched his fists, “My job is to protect you“ she cut him off “No your job is to help Ladybug save the akumatized person.” He started speaking, “No, my job is to make sure no one gets hurt, I have to keep everyone safe.” She crossed her arms again, “Once Ladybug’s cure fixed everything I would have been fine.” He stood straight, “Well I wouldn’t be, I wouldn’t be able to function knowing you got hurt because I couldn’t protect you.” She grabbed his shoulders, “And how do you think I feel huh? Seeing you die over and over again! So fuck me if I wanted to save you one time! I can’t keep watching you sacrifice yourself over and over again.” Her voice broke, “And what? You think I would be able to keep fighting if I knew you weren’t safe, I don’t think I could live with myself if Anything happened to you.” He wasn’t yelling anymore but he was still angry with her. She was close to crying again she was so angry.

“For heaven sakes you stupid cat!” She blurted before grabbing his bell and pulling him down to her. He saw her eyes close before their lips met. He closed his eyes and kissed her back, it wasn’t a slow gentle kiss either, it was a desperate, passion filled kiss that made him feel like he was struck by lightning. Her hands tangled in his hair and his arms wrapped around her waist. He couldn’t tell if this was heaven or hell, he felt like he was dancing on cloud nine while her lips burned against his neck. She pulled down his bell zipper slightly and he groaned as she left marks on his collar bone. He grabbed her face and pulled her back up to him, gently biting her bottom lip when she smirked.

He heard a whistling noise somewhere behind Marinette but it barely registered and he lifted her up to get her closer to him. She pulled back and he started leaving marks on her identical to the ones she left on him. “Um Chat.” She whimpered and he wanted to hear her say his name again. “Chat.” She said a little louder, “Hey!” She squeaked and he stopped, looking up at her. Her face was bright red and her eyes were wide. “What?” He asked, lowering her to the ground. He quirked an eyebrow at her before looking above her head. It was Alya and Alix, standing there, watching him make out with their best friend. “Uh, hi.” He said awkwardly, rubbing his neck. “Well hi there.” Alix chuckled. Oh no, he was about to die right? “We’ll leave you two to your, umm, whatever that was but make sure you have her home by 9 young man, you understand me?” Geez she sounded like Mr. Dupain. “Yes ma’am.” He chuckled, wishing he could curl up into a ball and hide. The pair walked off, laughing and whispering together.

He felt something heavy crash into his chest, “Oh, mon dieu I’m a goner.” Marinette groaned. He laughed nervously before hugging her and ruffling her hair. She looked up at him, “You’re still an idiot you know.” He laughed for real this time, “And you’re still beautiful.” Her face turned pink and she put her head against his chest again. He sighed and started purring. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, I was just so worried. Like I said, I don’t think I could function if I found out something happened to you.” She wrapped her arms around him and raised herself up to rest her head in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry too, I’ll try to stay out of trouble.” He smiled, “You’d better, or I’ll go full Weredad and lock you away.” She giggled, “I think you mean Werecat.” He joined her and they laughed together, wrapped in each other’s embrace. “So, how about a movie night tonight?” He asked. “Why don’t we just cuddle until I fall asleep, that’s basically what we do anyways.” He wagged his tail excitedly, “Do you still have the pillow fort set up from last time?” She giggled again, “Yes I do, now let’s go home kitty, it’s cold out here.” Oh right, she didn’t have a jacket on. He quickly scooped her up and they headed off.

That night he got more than his fair share of cuddles, he even stayed for a sleepover. Thank goodness it was Friday.

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Thank you for reading. It’s a bit spicier than the stuff I usually write but I think I did ok.

[ask-the-riders]

Mother’s Day for Conquest

I know I’m super late with this, but eh. I wanted to write something for Mother’s Day that was centered around Connie, so ye XP

There’s some cuteness with Mortem, where he gives her a special gift. He tells her that he bought it all by himself, but that’s just a coverup; What Connie doesn’t know was that while she wasn’t paying attention, some of her teammates worked together to make the gift for her

You’ll also see some of the riders kinda bonding a little, and then as a bonus, Retribution’s inner Nootmare begins to show a little

"Mom?"

Conquest shifted her attention to her son, smiling tiredly, "Yes, Sweetheart?" Mortem stepped closer to her, holding out a box, "I got you something." The rider tilted her head, carefully accepting the box from him, "Oh, thank you, Morty. What's this for?" Her son raised a brow bone at her and gave her a clear look of confusion, "...Did you forget what day it is, Mom? It's Mother's Day." Her cheekbones flushed a soft shade of orange in vague embarrassment and her tired smile became sheepish, "Ah, yeah. I guess I did forget what day it is, whoopsy daisy." Mortem sat beside her on their sofa, lightly laying his head on her shoulder and fidgeting, "Uh huh. Hurry up and open your gift, though! It's really special!"

Able to sense his growing excitement, Connie smiled to herself again and began to carefully unwrap the gift. Once the wrapping paper was removed and placed on the floor by her feet, she popped off the lid of the decorative box and paused, her breath hitching and her sockets momentarily widening; In the box before her was a beautiful necklace, its pendant comprised of blue gemstones that were shaped to resemble an echo flower. Mortem fidgeted again, pointing at the middle of the flower, "There's a button here for you to push, too." Conquest nodded, gingerly pressing the button he'd gestured to, and a recording switched on, playing a single line in the voice of her son: "I love you, mom!"

For a moment, Conquest was at a loss for words; She really hadn't been expecting such a nice gift from anyone today. By the looks of it, this wasn't a cheap one, either. Wrapping an arm around the child, she offered him a warm smile, "Oh my goodness, it's beautiful! Thank you, Morty, I love it a lot." Mortem beamed at her, puffing up with pride, "You're welcome!" She couldn't help but laugh softly at how proud he looked, shaking her head; He was such a good kid... She really couldn't have asked for a better child.

Lightly nudging him with her shoulder, she hummed, "How in the world were you able to get this for me? It looks like it'd cost quite a bit of money." Her son mimicked her, humming and nudging her back with his own shoulder, "I saved up the money Glo gave me for doing my chores, and then I had Uncle Ret take me shopping. He even let me pick it out all by myself." Conquest's expression softened and she sighed, still smiling, "Well color me shocked. Usually you get antsy and spend your allowance pretty fast, Mister. I'm surprised you saved it up for this long." He grinned at her, "I know. I had Glo help me, though! She helped me save my money."

Connie's smile widened slightly, "Awe, well that was really nice of her! Did you tell her thank you for all the help?" Mortem nodded his head, "Uh huh!" The rider leaned closer to press a kiss to her child's forehead, lifting a hand to gently caress his skull as she pulled away, "Good, I'm really glad. You always do such a good job remembering to use your manners, you know that?" Mortem smiled again, almost looking bashful all of a sudden, "Thank you, Mom." Conquest continued to gently caress Mortem's skull for a few more seconds before she tapped his forehead, causing him to draw back a bit and giggle.

The gesture, although small and likely somewhat strange to others that'd seen it, was a habit she'd adopted, and whenever she'd done it, it was always meant to convey affection. It was light-hearted and oftentimes made Mortem laugh, but thankfully, he understood what it meant.

Setting the box down on her lap, she lifted a hand to delicately touch her scarf. Her thumb trailed over a name on the underside that'd been stitched into the fabric and she smiled again to herself. Very gingerly removing her scarf and setting it on her lap beside the box, she adjusted the collar of her dress and then proceeded to scoop up her new necklace. Mortem watched as she undid the clasp and slid both ends of the chain around her neck, and sensing his gaze on her, she offered him a sideways glance, accompanied by a tiny smile, "Do you think you could help me, Sweetheart?... I can't see where the clasp is, so that makes things a little tricky."

The child eagerly nodded, more than happy to help his mother. Turning slightly, she paid no mind as he scooted closer, his hands darting up to carefully take the ends of the chain from her, "Now Morty, just make sure not to make it too tight, ok?" He nodded again, "Ok, Mom... Should I just put the clasp thing in the first hole then?" Connie hummed softly in confirmation, "Mmhm. If that's what you wanna do, then go for it." After a moment of fumbling with the clasp, he managed to get it clipped into the first link, idly toying with the chain, "Is that ok?" Conquest made a sound in consideration, testing the tightness of the necklace before glancing back at him and offering him another warm smile, "Yep, it's perfect. Thank you for your help!"

Again, Mortem beamed, his chest puffed out with pride. Conquest sighed, feeling completely content as she pressed the button on her echo flower pendant again, listening to the recorded message from her son. Suddenly perking up, Mortem made a sound, as if remembering something, and before Connie could question him, he'd already dashed out of the room.

Entering his bedroom and carefully closing the door behind himself, he glanced around, and then crossed the room and began to rifle through one of his desk drawers. He withdrew two things; The first being a simple white envelope that contained a letter he'd written for his mom, and the second being an orange envelope that had some surprisingly elegant writing on one side. He wasn't sure what it contained, but despite his curiosity, he resisted the urge to peek. The lady that had delivered it that morning had been very polite when she asked him to be patient and wait for his mom to open it herself, so he told himself he'd listen to her and respect her wishes.

As he gathered up the envelopes, a voice softly called to him from within the shadows of the room, "Psst, Morty! Over here!" Attention immediately snapping to the patch of shadows the voice had come from, Mortem nearly dropped the envelopes, a grin stretching across his face. He trotted over to the shadows, excitedly screeching, and the upper half of Retribution's body emerged from the darkness. Pressing a finger over his teeth, he softly shushed his nephew, and the younger of the two mimicked him, repeating the motion and freezing in place. Once the easily excitable skeleton child settled down, the former prince murmured lowly, "So what'd she think of the necklace? Did she like it?"

Mortem immediately nodded, also lowering his voice, "Uh huh! It made her really happy, and she already put it on!" Ret offered Mortem a slight smile, "That's great, Buddy! I'm glad to hear it. Did she say anything about how pricey it was, or ask how you were able to get it for her?" The child nodded again, "Uh huh." "And what did you tell her?" Mortem hugged the envelopes close to his chest, "I said that I saved up my money from chores, and that you took me shopping." Retribution arched a brow bone, "You didn't say anything about how I paid for most of it?" The child shook his head, "Nope." The former prince let out a soft breath in relief, reaching out to pat his nephew's shoulder, "Good, good. Just like we discussed. Well done, Mortem."

In response to the praise, Morty smiled brightly, his cheekbones flushing a faint shade of orange. Without warning, he put the envelopes down and approached Retribution, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tightly. Ret's body twitched in surprise at the unexpected contact, and after he'd calmed himself, he returned the hug. Although his voice was muffled by the fabric of Ret's cloak, the former prince heard his nephew murmur, "I love you, Uncle Ret... You're the best." Retribution's expression softened and his smile became genuine as he lowly murmured back, "I love you too, Morty. You should probably get going now though, before your mom gets curious about what's taking you so long."

The child made a sound in agreement, "Ok, I will... Are you sure you can't stay longer?" Ret sighed, "I'm sure. I wish I could, but I have work to do today. If you'd like to visit me sometime though, I'm sure your mom would be more than happy to bring you." His nephew reluctantly pulled away from the hug and smiled at him again, "Ok, I'll ask her then if I can come see you soon." Ret lightly poked at Mortem's side, grinning to himself as the child squirmed and attempted to refrain from giggling, "Cool, that sounds like a plan, then. Seeya later, Kid." Mortem offered him a tiny wave, "Seeya, Uncle Ret." Retribution offered him a softer smile in return, before he sank back into the shadows and vanished completely from sight. Quickly gathering up the pair of envelopes, Mortem slipped out of his room, making his way back to the living room where his mom was waiting.

Warping out of the shadows in the hallway of his home, the former prince let out a soft breath as a realization dawned on him; For giving him her assistance, there was someone that he owed his thanks. Admitting that perhaps she'd managed to do something right for a change was doable, albeit a bit awkward for him. It was that awkwardness that he really wasn't looking forward to, but oh well.

Some things just have to be done.

Retribution began his journey toward the ex-pirate's room, trying to figure out how he would even word his appreciation in the first place. He and Abrael weren't exactly on the best of terms, and ever since she'd first arrived and been introduced as a member of the group, there'd been something about her that didn't sit well with him. He wasn't sure yet what it was, but the longer he went without knowing, the more it grew to bother him.

Arriving at his destination, he gave her closed bedroom door a few knocks, and then he stepped back, folding his arms behind his back. He could do this. He just needed to focus, and even though it'd probably make things a bit bothersome later on down the road, he would have to put his pride on the back burner. He drew in a deep breath, making an attempt to mentally and emotionally prepare for what he was about to do. The door opened, and Abrael immediately donned a look of confusion, clearly dumbfounded, "Uh... Ahoy, Ret. What are you doing here?" Retribution glanced around, looking anywhere other than directly at her, "Can I come in? Please? I would like to speak to you in private."

Abrael nodded, stepping aside to gesture into the room, "Be my guest." The former prince slipped into the room, still not looking at her, and once she was sure he was far enough away from the door that it wouldn't get caught on his cloak, she shut it behind him. Turning to face him and doing her best to ignore the impending sense of doom that'd begun to creep up on her. When he finally looked at her, it was with such intensity that she nearly flinched backward, and he furrowed his brow bones, "...Apologies for the awkward silence. I'm still trying to wrap my head around how exactly I'd like to word everything I have to say to you." The former pirate made a face, beginning to shrink under his stare, "...It's fine. Am I in trouble for something, or?..." She paused, lifting both hands in a gesture of surrender, "If this is about that missing bottle of wine, I can replace it. Just give me a little time."

All awkwardness Retribution felt melted away and he stared at her, his sockets narrowing in a mix of confusion and suspicion, "Wait, wait, wait. Missing bottle of wine? You broke into my stash? How did you even find it?" Abrael offered him an only mildly guilty grin, her shoulders tensing up, "...I'm very dedicated to things I'm really truly interested in, is all I can say. Because truth be told, I wasn't even purposely searching for it at the time." Ret groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, "It doesn't matter. I'm not sure that I really want an honest answer to any of that, anyway." Abrael seemed to perk up, "So that bottle was a freebie then?" The former prince rolled his eye lights, "Yeah, sure, whatever. That's not why I’m here, though. I had other things to talk to you about."

The ex-pirate cocked her head to the side, staring at him in confusion, "...That wasn't it? What else was there?" Doing his best to swallow his pride, he glanced away from her, "Those gemstones you gave me. Topaz and Zircon, I believe. I... Wanted to thank you for allowing me to take them. The different shades of blue complimented each other very well, and the necklace turned out beautifully." Abrael blinked, silent for a moment as she processed his words; He was actually... He was thanking her for something, and there wasn't a single insult anywhere in sight. Huh.

She smiled awkwardly, giving a half shrug and absentmindedly picking at part of her sleeve, "Oh, that. Don't mention it. 'M a pirate, remember?" She allowed her accent to slip through and thicken, still grinning awkwardly, "It's in me nature t' keep loot. Thar's more where that came from too, if ye ever needs it." Hearing her speaking in the way that he found really suited her best, Retribution snorted in amusement, "Oh come on, Abrael. You were never the modest type before, so why the sudden change in attitude?" The former pirate shrugged again, her accent vanishing as quickly as it'd first arrived, "I dunno. I wasn't expecting this meeting to go down this particular path, so I think my usual eccentric persona is still in sleep mode right now."

Retribution shook his head and sighed, attempting to hide the smallest of smiles, "You know... You confuse me sometimes. As someone who typically comes across as being greedy, I didn't think you'd be so willing to trade in some of those gems. I figured I'd have to steal them from you or something." Abrael hummed, "Yeah, well... I had a good reason to cooperate this time, I guess." The former prince arched a brow bone curiously, "You mean a reason other than thinking I'd go and beat you senseless for saying no?" Her cheekbones flushed a soft shade of lemon yellow and she lowered her head, "I, uh... There was another reason too, if I'm being honest."

Ret tilted his head and hummed, "And might I ask what that reason is? I can feel your nervousness and uncertainty, so I'm unsure if I should be concerned or not right now." Abrael hesitated, and Ret's stare seemed to gain intensity again as he felt a small pulse of embarrassment come from her, "...Abrael, I have a feeling your answer isn't going to sit well with me. Now that I know you have another reason for cooperating that has nothing to do with being afraid of me, I would like you to tell me what it is. I won't promise not to get upset, but I'll try my best to stay rational and calm." The former pirate snuck a glance at him and hesitated for another moment, "...Your sister. Connie."

Retribution's stare hardened as he heard his sister's name leave Abrael's mouth, "What about Connie?" The ex-pirate nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other, "She's a good teacher, with all this magic stuff. I know I'm not always the easiest person to work with, but despite that, she's been good to me. Not once has she shown me anything that could be interpreted as rude or uncaring." Beginning to understand, Retribution made a soft sound in acknowledgment, "I've noticed. Because of that, your other reason for cooperating involves her somehow. If you want your head to stay attached to your body, I'd suggest you hurry up and spit it out already."

Abrael drew in a breath and ran her hands over her head, "I wanted to help do something nice for her. She's always good to me, she's patient with me when I start my shenanigans, and I... She's... She's quite pretty, too." The former prince continued to stare at her as he spoke, "Your other reason for cooperating was because you think my sister is pretty, and because you wanted to do something nice for her in return for how nice she is to you?" Abrael made a sound in confirmation, her yellow blush becoming just a smidge brighter, and Retribution took a deep breath, "...You've taken an interest in her. I see. I don't care what you do, as far as your relationship with her goes, but let me be perfectly clear," he paused, the atmosphere suddenly becoming tense and nearly suffocating.

The former pirate watched him with wide eyes as his cyan eye lights flickered, very briefly becoming a brilliant shade of violet, "If any harm should come to her, whether it be mental, emotional, or physical, I'll pay you a visit in the dreamscape while you sleep and make you relive your final moments as a vile, audacious, no-good pirate again and again, and again. You'll feel the pain of a broken neck and cracked skull as many times as it takes to teach you how to be a halfway decent person, and you can even quote me on that. I genuinely don't care." Abrael shrunk under his stare again and began to tremble, but before she could speak, another voice interrupted the rather tense moment, "Scarin' the new girl again, are ya?"

Ret's attention immediately refocused on his partner, who was currently loitering in the doorway, and he narrowed his eyes, "What are you doing here, Famine? I thought you were too busy to socialize today." Famine shrugged, leaning against the door frame, "Nah. 'M busy, yeah, but I know how ta make time for my teammates. I'm only here because my gut told me ya were runnin' around gettin' into trouble again." The taller of the two glanced at Abrael, registering the terrified look she wore, "And by the looks a' things, my gut was right." Retribution let out a deep sigh, the atmosphere gradually beginning to return to normal again, "Hey, I didn't physically do anything to her. She's fine, Fam. I'm still in control of myself, ok? I don't want you doubting that."

Famine arched a single brow bone, crossing his arms over his chest, "Ya sure about that, Firefly? You've been pretty tense as a' lately... How about ya go and start runnin' a bath or somethin'? I can join ya in just a minute." Ret's eye lights remained their normal shade of cyan, and at his partner's words, his cheekbones flushed a shade of cyan that matched them. When Retribution didn't move from his spot, Famine hummed again, "Hey, Small, Dark, and Lovecraftian, ya still with me?" Ret made a sound in confirmation and Famine donned a lazy smirk, "Good ta know. Now, about that bath. I want ya soakin' in the tub, five minutes from now. I got a few words for the lady, then I'll come and join ya." Deciding not to reply, Ret nodded, sheepishly glancing away from Famine and using a shortcut, teleporting out of the room.

Once he was gone, Famine's demeanor became more relaxed and he sighed, slipping into Abrael's room. Before she had the chance to panic and run, he placed a hand on her head, stuffing the other in one of his pockets. Soothing pulses of his magic began to ripple through her and she drew in a shaky breath, slowly shifting her gaze upward and looking at him. Seeing that her attention was on him now, he spoke, "...Sorry 'bout him. He's a bit touchy when it comes ta family, and he can be a little over protective of 'em. He won't do anythin' to ya though, promise." The former pirate nodded slowly, "...You're sure?" He lightly squeezed her head, "I'm positive. Don't worry about him, ok? You'll be fine."

[justanotherwriter-fangirl]

A Reason To Stay (W. H.)

Word Count:  1,453 words.

Warnings: I don’t think so...

Request: Hi there, can I get a Will Halstead imagine, please? Like when Will had just come home from New York and was offered a job at the ED and he's late on his first day as he wasn't taking it seriously and was thinking of just going back to NY but when he step foot into Med, he caught sight of the reader, the only girl he has ever loved but screwed things up with and suddenly he found his reason to stay. Thank you x

A/N: Hi!!! First of all I feel like I need to say that I think I’ve never struggle so much with a story before so sorry in advance if it kinda sucks, with that being said this story took me so long because I couldn’t figure out exactly what I wanted to do so I ended up kinda sticking to the original plot presented in the “I Am The Apocalypse” episode where he’s introduced. :/ Anyway, I hope you like it and thanks so much for reading💕

Gif obtained from Google. All credits to its owner.

Thanks for reading <3

________________________

He knew it had been a bad idea going out to have some drinks the night before his first day on a new job, the naked girl next to her who kept him awake most of the night proof enough of his mistake but truth to be told it wasn’t like he was too bothered about it either, it was only a job, a job he had accepted just for his brother Jay. 

The water in the shower was already running cold but he stayed there thinking about his life, the reason he was now in Chicago and everything he has left behind in New York, he couldn't believe how fast and how much his life had changed and how he truly wasn't feeling excited about his new life, his purpose lost behind, yeah. of course this new job could be a great thing but honestly nothing was better than being a plastic surgeon in New York, that was action. Well, it didn’t matter, he wasn’t planning on staying much longer.

As he got out of the bathroom a couple minutes later he realized he was a bit late and he felt a little guilty about it but not enough to rush out the door, still taking his time to dress, prepare his bag and go to the kitchen to have some breakfast.

Stepping outside his room he came face to face with the girl from last night, a quick good morning kiss before she was lost once again in his bedroom.

Entering the kitchen he was faced with Jay pouring himself a cup of coffee, the space was tight but this was only temporary, in a couple days he would be back at New York and he would have his old place back.

“When do you have to be at work?” Jay asked.

“Ten minutes ago?” he answered faking to look at his watch.

“It’s your first day”

“Uh, first and last, as it turns out” he added nonchalantly while looking for some fresh milk in the refrigerator “Almond milk? You don’t have any regular milk in here?”

“You’re joking” said Jay with a blank face, making him turn around.

“No, I got to get back” he said, taking the milk out to pour some in his flask to add coffee then.

“To what? I thought the partners kicked you out of the practice”

“They did, but, now, this may come as a shock to you, there are other practices in New York City” Will answered with a bit of humor, Jay really seemed to not get it at all.

“Hey, how ‘bout, for once, you see something all the way through” Jay said in the same tone as him.

“Wow, you sound like the old man” he couldn’t stop himself from saying it, 

“There it is” Jay sentenced not surprised at all, this wasn't new “I mean, that is why you’re blowing back out of town, right?”

“What do you care?” Will finally let out, he had no right to tell him anything.

“Just give it a couple weeks, at least” Jay said now defeated while following him out the kitchen as Will kept taking his things to get going. “You never know” 

“I got to go” he finished before watching his clock again and leaving out the door.

The way to the hospital wasn’t long but it did nothing to keep him from repeating the conversation over and over again in his head, if he didn’t get a headache from the night before, he definitely had one now. Why couldn’t Jay just let him go? Half of his life he had been away, what was the big problem now?

Stepping into the break room letting out a frustrated sigh he realized he wasn’t the only one there, some clattering noise coming from behind the fridge.

“When I took this job I didn’t know we did our own maintenance work” he said stepping closer to see who was it. A woman in her blue uniform working on the inside panel the fridge had at the bottom.

“I have a theory, Goodwin likes broken appliances ‘cause it means we have to spend more money at the vending machines” he heard muffled from his position but the voice had a familiar sound to it though he couldn’t figure where he had heard it before, a memory trying to make its way to the surface of his mind.

“The great vending machine conspiracy. You could get published in JAMA with that” he said playing along when suddenly a buzzing let them know the fridge was back to life. “Nice work” he added coming to the front to open the door and check it was actually working.

That’s when your form finally emerged from behind the fridge, now face to face you recognized each other, a million memories flashing to both your minds of your previous college romance, the most intense and passionate relationship either of you had ever had, never being able to feel the same ever again after that.

“Will?”

“(Y/N)?”

You both said in unison with the same shocked expression in both your faces but you were quicker to recover.

“What are you doing here? The last thing I knew about you was that you were leaving to Sudan” you questioned trying to put on a strong front and keep your feelings hidden, the pain of your break up coming back to surface after years of him being gone but you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, you needed to know if the reason he left you behind for had been at least worth it.

“Yes, I went to Sudan and worked there as a doctor, it was amazing but after a while I came back, well, not here but to New York, I’ve been living there since and I spent some time working as a plastic surgeon but it doesn’t matter, tell me about you, please, I haven’t see you in years” he said nostalgic, the realization of how much he had missed you downing in on him.

You two had dated during your time in college, your connection was almost instant and before you knew it you both were dating. the two of you inseparable for years until one day he came to your place with a box full of your stuff in his hands, he was leaving, not only you but the country too.

He said he needed something more, that he couldn’t stay stuck in Chicago and it was his time to finally be free and, of course, that included being free from a long distance relationship that eventually would be doomed to end, leaving you behind with so much emotions to deal with, anger, frustration, pain and hope because despite it all you loved him and you only wished the best for him, hoping for him to found the happiness he was looking for.

“Well it’s going to sound so boring in comparison but, as you can already tell, I stayed here, went straight from college to a hospital and I’ve been working my ass off to become a cardiothoracic surgeon, I’m almost there now” you said looking into his eyes, a shy smile coming to your face knowing he had been happy all these years like you had hoped. 

“Hey, it’s not boring, this is what you always wanted, I’m proud of you, you followed your dream and now you’re living it” he said smiling softly at you, the same smile you had fallen in love so many years ago. Stepping forward he reached out to caress your cheek, the simple gesture still sending electroshocking pulses. 

Clearing your throat you took a step back, his hand falling from your face.

“Yeah, I guess, it’s been good, anyway, I’m glad to see you again, as it seems we’re coworkers now and I’d love to keep catching up but I need to go, I have a patient that needs me” you said quickly before turning around and leaving, he couldn’t know how much his presence still affected you, he had left you behind, he couldn’t just like that came back into your life and pretend everything was alright or like it had been before because it wasn’t, you were different now and so was he, you needed to get to know eachother again before anything could happen again between you two, even if it was only a friendship.

As he saw you exiting the door only a thought came to his head, he now had his reason to stay in Chicago, you, he was going to get you back because there was no way he was willing to let go again of the only woman he ever loved.

_______________________

Masterlist

[marril96]

Pretty in Pink

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Rowena has had it with your disorganization and blatant lack of respect for witchcraft.

A/N: Based on this post by @gayarsonist

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian​

*****

It was the third time it happened this week.

Third bloody time!

Rowena was furious, fuming, face burning red as her hair — or it would be, if her hair weren't neon pink, glowing even in the bright fluorescent light of the bathroom.

"Y/N!" she shrieked like a banshee — worse, even — as soon as she got a glimpse of the monstrosity on her head in the mirror.

She didn't bother slipping on a robe or throwing on a towel — she ran out, arse-naked, blood boiling. Pissed off enough to take a life with a single glare.

She'd told you multiple times to take better care of your shite. Begged you, even, and she didn't beg. Not just anyone. But no matter how many times she asked and pleaded and shouted, you never seemed to get it in your pretty wee head.

"Wha—" Your mouth fell as she emerged from the hallway, jaw hanging in a big, long O. Your eyes bore into hers, swiped down to her body — her pale, bare body, still dripping from the shower, glistening in the light — and finally landed on her hair. A snort tore from your throat, undignified, filthy as that of a pig. "Oh, my god!"

Your laughter rang in Rowena's ears, a seemingly endless echo. She grit her teeth to hold back a growl more animal than human that threatened to break free. Squeezed her hands into fists so tight her knuckles flushed white as sheets. "This is not funny, Y/N!"

Your face grew serious for a moment, for a measly second before another fit of laughter took you over. "I think it's hilarious," you said, doubling over, tears sliding down the corners of your eyes. You couldn't help it — the more you looked at her, at her impossibly pink hair, the harder it was to control yourself. "I'm sorry."

You were not sorry.

"How many times have I told you to stop leaving your potions in the bathroom?" Rowena snapped.

Too many times. More than she could count. She would understand if magic were a novelty to you. But you were a natural-born witch. You'd always had magic. Rowena had been your mentor for five years, and your girlfriend for four — proper storage had been one of the first things she'd taught you.

And yet.

And yet.

You straight up refused to listen. Sometimes it felt as if she were speaking to a wall, though, at this point, Rowena was certain a wall would have retained the knowledge sooner.

It was easier to store potions in old shampoo and soap bottles, you always said. Why waste money on vials when you had perfectly good ones at home? Leaving them at random places around the house was just practical. Keeping them in a cupboard, as Rowena insisted, was old-fashioned. The bathroom, the living room, the bedroom — they all needed a potion or two, to liven them up. To make it clear to anyone who visited (though no one ever did) that there were witches living in this house.

It had never even occurred to you that you were messy.

It had occurred to Rowena. Multiple times over the years.

You shrugged.

Rowena stomped her foot angrily, fed up with your nonsense. Fed up with years — bloody years! — of it. What kind of witch lived like this, in this mess, in complete and utter disorganization, and saw no issue with it? What in hell was wrong with you?

What in hell was wrong with her for putting up with it?

Right.

She loved you. As reluctant as Rowena was to admit it, you had your good sides. You were kind to her — always had been, even back when she deserved not a sliver of it. You were there when she needed you. Held her without her having to utter a single word, without her having to plead for comfort. Showered her with love every single day.

Rowena couldn't have asked for anything — anyone — better, but still…

Why was it so hard for you to be a normal witch?

"It's not my fault," you said, trying — and failing, miserably so — to retain a serious face. "Maybe you should stop using the shampoo."

Rowena scowled. Wished she could find it in her to kill you for anyone else would surely be dead by now. "It's my bloody shampoo!"

"Oh."

Oh?

Oh?!

"Maybe you should stop reusing the bottles!" she snarled.

"It's much less wasteful this way," you said. "Besides, it's kinda cool."

"It is not 'cool' in any way, shape, or form. You are making a mockery of witchcraft."

You blinked. Snorted like a pig. "You're taking this way too seriously." Under your breath, you added, "For someone with bright pink hair."

"I'm taki—Are you joking?" Rowena said, outraged. Trying to ignore that last comment despite wanting to curse you out for the nerve alone. "Us witches have spent centuries rebuilding our reputation after our numbers dwindled during the trials, and this is what we get from witches today? Potions in shampoo bottles? Elixirs in bloody moisturizer containers?"

"I don't use moisturizer containers for—"

"That's besides the point!" She pointed a finger at you, nail bright red as her face. "You are a disgrace!"

Rowena wasn't sure what she expected. A sliver of self-reflection. A long, hard look at what you were doing. A promise you wouldn't do it anymore. Hell, even a simple nod in acknowledgment would have sufficed.

Out of everything, the last thing she thought you would do was burst into another fit of laughter.

Yet here you were, laughing as if you'd just heard the funniest joke in your entire life. Face buried in your hands to hide it, to hide yourself from Rowena's murderous glare. To protect yourself from judgment you knew would come your way.

"You know," you said, barely containing yourself to let the words out, "this would be a lot more epic if you had clothes on." An undignified snort. "And if your hair wasn't pink."

Rowena gaped. Fixed her stare on you, cold and deadly. Some audacity you had to talk to her like that. People revered her. Feared her. Thought twice before pissing her off. And here you were, mocking her to her face.

She'd given you too much freedom. From the moment you'd met, she'd never enforced her unspoken rules. Had never set boundaries and demanded respect. She supposed she always knew you were more than just another young witch tagging along, begging to learn her tricks. There was something different about you. Something — gods, she hated to admit it — special.

You fell in love with her, and had, in turn, taught her to love you back. Had shown her that it was okay, that it didn't have to hurt. That it was a strength rather than a weakness.

And now, when she was in deep, you laughed at her.

Rowena sighed. The things we allowed for love…

"There is no talking to you, is there?" she asked, completely and utterly defeated. She could teach you magic. She could teach you complicated spells and incantations, but she couldn't teach you how to properly store your potions. She could never make a proper, dignified witch out if you.

"I just don't get why you're making this an issue," you said.

Rowena could tell you didn't. You truly understood nothing. Had no respect for tradition. Witches today, honestly… "I'm—" She stopped herself before falling into another monologue you clearly didn't care for. Cleared her throat. Lowered her voice before saying, "Forget it. It's fine."

What point was there for arguing, for telling you — again — when you were clearly intent on not listening? You'd set your mind on doing things your way, and there was no changing it.

My stubborn wee lamb, Rowena thought, to her surprise, affectionately, cursing herself for being unable to stay mad at you. You were too stubborn for your own good. Too bloody strong-willed. A trait she admired, but, gods, it was frustrating to argue with you.

Maybe that was what she needed. Someone who wouldn't bow down to her. Someone who would stay strong and fight back against her silly demands, who would keep her feet firmly on the ground. Rowena couldn't deny she'd learned a lot from you. You'd helped her change. Helped her grow. Helped her become a better, kinder person. She would forever be grateful for that.

Just…

Why did you have to be such a bloody child?

"Could you at least put labels on your… creations?" she asked. Hoped with everything she had at least this one tradition you would be willing to obey.

What kind of a witch sorted her potions by bottles instead of names?

"Sure," you said.

Rowena breathed out in relief. "Now you are going to fix this." She pointed to her hair.

You chuckled. She was beginning to hate that sound. "Why me?"

"Because you did it."

"You're the one who took the wrong bottle."

"And you are the one who used the old bottle of my shampoo and left it in the bathroom."

"Fine," you conceded. A sly smirk bloomed on your mouth. "Can I take a picture first?"

"You cannot!" Rowena exclaimed, angry, offended at the mere thought. It was horrifying enough to have hair that glowed in the dark. But to have a picture of it? She shuddered. Who would want to remember this monstrosity?

You would. Your laugh said as much, and so did your hands as they reached for your phone and snapped a quick picture.

Rowena was fuming. "I am going to hex you!"

"No, you're not," you said nonchalantly.

She grunted like a trapped animal. You were right. She would not hex you. She would not do anything but glare and pout, and once you wrapped her up in your embrace, that would cease, as well.

Because she loved you. She was a fool in love, and she hated and loved it at the same time.

Some scary witch she was.

.....

Tags: @werewolfbarbie​ @oswinthestrange​ @songofthecagedmoose​ @apurdyfulmind​ @getthesalt-sam​ @metallihca​ @salembitchtrials​ @jay-eris​ @hellsmother​ @elizabeth-effie​ @shadowgirl-vsb​ @rowenaswife​ @wonderifshelikesroses​ @xfireandsin​ @liddell-alien​ @hotdiggitydammit​ @lae-lae​ @darkhumorsblog​ @angel7376​ @cherrypierowena​ @evil-regal-vampiress​ @hellbentredhead​ @angel-e-v-a​ @a-queen-and-her-throne​ @carryon-doctor-lock​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @theeasterbilby​ @midnight-lestrange​ @osterhagen​ @impala-1979​ @gracib16​ @feelsandotps​

[semperintrepida]

Spark Check

The truck's gas pedal had long been stomped to the floor when Kyra drummed her palms against its steering wheel and tried to coax a little more oomph out of its tired motor. "Come on," she pleaded.

Without her little Toyota, she couldn't have fled Portland and her on-again, off-again relationship with Thal. Their latest blow up had flipped them back to off-again, and this time she had to get away, get out of the city. She was sick of green — she wanted shades of brown: dust and sagebrush as far as her eye could see and sketch and paint. So she'd packed her things and headed for Oregon's high desert, the road taking her southeast into the Cascades, past Mount Hood, and into dense forest dotted with blue lakes.

But it seemed this was as far as her pickup could go, on a long climb up a mountain in the middle of nowhere. The truck had slowed to a crawl, and she pulled over as soon as the roadway widened enough for it to be safe.

"Fuck," she said into the silence.

She jumped out and popped the hood open. The smell of hot rubber and oil surrounded her, and she shook her head at the confusion of belts, cables, and tubing she found inside. Fuck. She'd seen three cars during the hours she'd spent on this road, and when she swiped her phone's screen awake, it showed no signal.

Breathe, Kyra. Think. She was okay for now. She had her backpacking gear, plenty of food and water. She could overnight here just fine. All she had to do was wait. She took another deep breath, then launched a psychic message into the universe: Please send someone to help me.

She glanced around. It was pretty here, at least, with a postcard view of a forested valley from the shoulder of a mountain. The light was decent, if a little harsh, but it wouldn't be long before the sun's angle changed and sent shadows knifing across the road.

All she could do was wait.

A few hours later, she was dozing in the front seat when she heard a far off sound: a deep, loping rumble that grew louder, quickly, into noise that slapped her ears as a dirtbike blew past her without stopping. She slumped back against her seat.

Then brake lights lit up, and the dirtbike made a sharp u-turn in the middle of the road and backtracked closer. Damn, she was kinda hoping for a minivan driven by a soccer mom. She was all by herself out here. But beggars couldn't be choosers, and she got out of the truck and stood by the hood and waited.

Her stomach knotted and her chest tightened as she watched the bike roll to a stop a little ways away. The bike's engine fell silent, and then its rider hopped off and approached her.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, face hidden behind a helmet and mirrored goggles, and his jersey and pants were patterned in brash splotches of black, blue, and yellow. He wore plastic armor slung over his chest, guards over his elbows, and chunky boots. He looked like some futuristic video game warrior.

The boots must have been stiff. He clomped gracelessly towards her while stripping his gloves off to reveal large hands, and then he reached up and unbuckled his helmet. He pulled it free, shook a long dark braid loose over his shoulder, and Kyra froze like a leaf in a cold snap as she realized the rider was a woman.

A fucking hot one, too.

It took Kyra a few moments to recover her poise. "Hi," she said, to keep things simple.

The woman was even hotter when she smiled. "Hey there." Her cheeks and forehead were coated in dust, but it only made the unusual color of her eyes more prominent. 'Brown' and 'hazel' didn't do them justice. They flicked away from Kyra and over to the truck's engine. "Trouble?"

"Yeah. We barely made it up this far."

"Huh. No power?"

Kyra sighed. "Not as much as it should, which isn't much to start with."

"Mind if I take a look?"

"Go right ahead."

The woman bent down to put her helmet on the ground, but Kyra held out a hand and said, "Here, give it to me."

It was lighter than Kyra expected, its dusty white shell covered in scratches and scuffs. She placed it carefully in the truck's front seat, and when she circled back to the engine, the woman had already starting taking things apart.

She held a rubbery cable up to her eye, murmuring to herself as she inspected it. "You got a tool kit?"

"No." Kyra's cheeks warmed. Probably not a great idea to be traveling through BFE without a tool box, but her pickup had never let her down before.

"I've got one that might work. And lucky for you, my bike's Japanese too."

Kyra wasn't sure what that had to do with anything, and she mulled it over as she watched the woman walk to her bike and open the small pack strapped across its tail. Maybe the Japanese had a different school of arcane engine knowledge than anyone else.

The woman returned soon enough, and unfurled a canvas roll of tools that reminded Kyra of the paintbrush case that sat with her art supplies in the passenger seat of her truck, a variety of implements lined up in a neat row. Then the woman was plunging the length of a socket into the engine, turning the wrench with strong hands, pulling it out.

A frisson of excitement shivered out from behind Kyra's eyes, down her spine, and into places between her legs. Her cheeks warmed again, and she ducked her head and hoped she'd gone unnoticed.

The woman tapped something out of the socket into the palm of her hand. A spark plug. She plugged it into the cable. "Let's give it a check. Can you start your truck?"

Kyra hurried off, glad to be given something to do. She moved the helmet aside and slid behind the wheel. "Ready?" she called out.

"Yeah. Go for it."

Kyra turned the key. The engine coughed over unhappily.

The woman's voice floated out from under the hood. "That's enough. Come on back."

When Kyra returned to the front of the truck, the woman held up the cable and said, "You've got a bad spark plug wire. And if one's going bad, the others are too."

Kyra winced. "Perfect." Her breath squeezed out from her, as if a load of sandbags had landed on her chest. If she couldn't get the truck running here, she'd have to get it towed — and she didn't have the money for something like that. She'd have to call Thal, beg him for help—

"Well, Detroit Lake's just down the road. Maybe twenty or thirty miles, but it's downhill the whole way. If you want, I can follow you to make sure you make it there, and then we can figure out what to do next."

That we made the weight on Kyra's chest lose a few pounds. "That sounds great," she said. "I really appreciate it."

"Happy to help."

She extended a hand. "I'm Kyra, by the way."

The woman set the wire down and wiped her hands on her jersey, leaving a dark smudge of grease behind. It would stain if someone didn't soak it in detergent first before washing. She shook Kyra's hand with a firm grip. "Kassandra," she said, along with another smile. "Nice to meet you."

She put the truck back together in short order, and then she was pulling on her helmet and saying, "I'll pass you when we get close to town and you can follow me in." Kyra climbed back into her truck, buckled her seat belt, and tried the key. The engine fired up on her third attempt, and Kyra sighed with relief to be moving again with a clear plan ahead.

It took an hour to coast down that narrow and winding road, and once they reached Detroit Lake, Kassandra led her to a rustic-looking resort nestled among giant trees. The dirtbike came to a stop in front of a small cabin, and Kyra parked alongside it.

While Kyra locked her truck and walked to the steps up to the cabin's porch, Kassandra pushed the bike up the porch's ramp and parked it next to the front door. Kyra waited on the steps as Kassandra removed her gloves and helmet.

"Back to civilization, safe and sound," Kassandra said.

Kyra nodded. "And I owe it all to you." She supposed the tiny gas station across the road counted as civilization. It did have a pay phone.

Awkward silence. Kassandra straightened her braid over her shoulder. "Well, then." Her hands played with the straps on her helmet.

"Can I buy you dinner?"

She looked surprised. "You don't have to do that."

Was she being careful for a reason? Maybe she was taken, and there was someone waiting for her in that cabin. But she was too damn gorgeous for Kyra not to try again. "I insist," she said, letting an amused grin sneak across her lips. "I'm starving, anyway, and you did say we'd figure out what to do next."

Kassandra's hesitation was brief. "All right, then," she said. "But let me change out of"— a gesture at herself —"this, first."

When she emerged from the cabin a few minutes later, her face and neck were damp and she was wearing a grey t-shirt and jeans and a worn pair of work boots. The shirt was tight enough to jolt Kyra's clit wide awake: Kassandra had muscles for days, in the long lines of her forearms, the swell of her biceps, and the curve of her shoulders into honest-to-God traps framing her neck. Generous lips smiled and her eyes sparkled with amusement as she asked, "Are you all right?"

Kyra suddenly wanted nothing more than to kiss those lips while running her hands over the washboard abs she knew were hiding under that t-shirt. She swallowed hard and tried not to wriggle out of her skin with want. "I'm fine, yeah."

Kassandra eyed her for a moment. "There's a decent place to eat, up the highway a bit," she said.

Kyra gestured for her to lead the way. Far safer than opening her mouth.

The hamlet of Detroit was bigger than Kyra expected. A marina full of houseboats sprawled by the lakeside, and a handful of shops stood in a cluster a short distance from the cars hurtling up and down the highway.

A few minutes later, they arrived at a building that wore the facade of a hunting lodge, with weathered clapboard siding and a dozen chromed-out motorcycles parked in front. There was probably a deer head mounted on the wall inside.

There was a deer's head mounted on the wall inside, a great big rack of antlers spread above the stone fireplace. They sat, ordered drinks — beer for Kyra and a Jack-and-Coke for Kassandra — and fussed with place settings.

"You come in from Estacada?" Kassandra asked her.

"No, I spent last night camping at Timothy Lake."

Kassandra smiled. "I love it up there. It's gorgeous, and the riding's perfect."

"Is that what you're here for?"

"Yeah, I've got a few days between assignments. My crew just got back from three weeks in Tahoe."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a firefighter." Of course she was. Something must have escaped Kyra's expression because Kassandra grinned at her and added, "Wildland, not the firetrucks, ladders, and dalmatians kind. I work on a Hotshot crew based out of Redmond."

"Hotshot?"

"We work the toughest parts of a forest fire, without any other support. And we direct a lot of the action around us. We go where others can't."

"So you're good at what you do, then."

"I'm very good at what I do." And she had the confidence to match.

They were still smirking at each other when the waitress returned with their drinks. They ordered food. Handed over menus. Kyra excused herself to wash up, and when she came back to their table, Kassandra was staring out the window, showing off a profile so perfect it should have been struck on coins like royalty.

"So what do you do?" Kassandra asked her as she sat down.

"I don't, really." Kyra fought back her embarrassment. Very attractive, not having a job. No, she did work at something — it just didn't pay. Yet.

Kassandra's eyebrow raised.

"I'm an artist."

"Oh yeah? What kind?"

"I paint, mostly." She was acutely aware of Kassandra's silent scrutiny. She sipped her beer and kept talking. "Small studies in acrylics, for now. I'm chasing that perfect light."

"Perfect light?"

"Yeah. You know, after sunrise, or before sunset. That golden glow?"

Kassandra nodded.

"It's so perfect it's a cliché. But I'm interested in other kinds of perfection: rays of sunlight moving ahead of a rainstorm, or light passing through ocean waves. Things like that."

"Lots of that around here."

Their eyes met. "Lots of beauty around here, too," Kyra said.

Under the table, Kassandra's leg jerked.

The food arrived just in time to distract them. Kassandra dug into a steak — rare — and an enormous salad. "I eat nothing but processed food and MREs while I'm on assignment," she explained. "The other six months of the year, I eat every vegetable in sight while doing odd jobs to make ends meet. Construction. Fabrication. That sort of thing."

So Kassandra knew about the gig life. "I usually end up finding work as a barista to pay the bills," Kyra said between forkfuls of potatoes au gratin. "I like slinging coffee well enough, but what I really want is to get paid for my paintings."

"A worthy goal."

"I've sold a few here and there, but I can't get my foot in the door of any galleries." She shrugged. "I'm not making the work I want to be, and it shows, I think."

"What's stopping you?"

"Money. Oil paints and canvas get expensive at large scale. I want to paint like J. C. Dahl or Bierstadt did. Huge canvases. Big views. When you look at one of my landscapes, I want you to feel like you could lose yourself in it." She scraped her fork through the remnants of potato on her plate. "But that kind of neo-luminism isn't exactly burning up the auction houses these days. I'd be better off learning how to paint with a spray can and a stencil." She gave Kassandra an apologetic smile. "And look at me, boring you with all this talk about my nonexistent career."

"I'm not bored. It's just that everything I know about art went into the finger paintings I made when I was in grade school."

Kyra laughed. "Well, I don't know a single thing about fighting fire, so I won't hold it against you."

"At least we've got something in common."

"What's that?"

"You make sacrifices to do what you love. You live with the uncertainty, and I bet you know how to make a dollar go a long way." She smiled faintly. "I know... because I do the same."

"Maybe you can give me some tips on dealing with the uncertainty part," Kyra said. That was what was hardest, not having control of her life, not having a plan.

"Ask away, if there's something you want to know."

There were a lot of things about Kassandra that Kyra wanted to know, but she steered the conversation in a lighter direction, and the second round of drinks became a third while their knees kept brushing under the table, and the biker gang peeled out of the parking lot with a cloud of exhaust and noise, and the shadows grew long across the highway.

"Sun's going to set soon," Kassandra said. "Where were you planning to stay tonight?"

"I was hoping to make it to Bend today, but that plan's been shot to hell. And I bet there aren't any vacant hotels around here."

"Not this time of year. I got lucky finding this room — someone bailed on a reservation." She slid her empty glass back and forth on the table in front of her, as if the coaster was a raft she was guiding through rapids.

"Looks like I'm sleeping in the canopy of my truck, then. Wouldn't be the first time."

Kassandra's glass lurched to a stop. "Tell you what. You're welcome to crash in my room tonight. We can take my truck in to Stayton in the morning, find you some new spark plugs and wires. You'll be back on the road well before noon." She'd said it in a rush, as if she'd reached a chute in the rapids and had no choice but to follow it on down.

Kyra breathed in slowly. It wouldn't do to seem too eager. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm grateful for the help."

They bickered gently over the check, when it came; Kyra wanting to pay the whole thing like she'd promised, and Kassandra insisting on covering her share. Kyra sensed her digging in, unwilling to cross some line of propriety she'd set for herself, and so Kyra relented. There were too many hills around her for all of them to be ones to die on.

On the walk back to the cabin, Kassandra told her about a wildfire she'd worked not far from here, felling trees and digging fireline along a ridge in a forest dried-out from years of drought, the flames in the canyon below burning so intensely that the heat had created its own thunderstorm right above it. She'd dug and dug, rain and hail pelting her hard hat while bright blue skies stretched behind her all the way to Mount Hood on the horizon.

"That sounds... beautiful and terrifying," Kyra said as Kassandra opened the door to the cabin and gestured her inside.

"It's often both, yeah."

The room wasn't large, but the bed was. Bed in the singular. Kyra kept her smirk internal.

A small sofa sat across from the bed, a TV hid in the corner, and two doorways led to rooms unknown. Wood paneling on the walls, simple wooden furniture. Kassandra's belongings were organized neatly in an open wardrobe.

Kassandra made a beeline for the sofa. She plopped down onto it, stretched her arms out to both sides. Her arm span was wider than the sofa was. "I'll sleep here." She bounced up and down, ignoring the dire creaking of its springs.

"This is your room."

She shrugged, then leaned forward so her elbows rested on her knees. "So? You're my guest."

"You're six feet tall and that sofa's the size of a postage stamp. I'll sleep on it before you do." Kyra crossed her arms. "But really, there's no reason why we can't share the bed."

Kassandra had started twisting her fingers together; locking them in place, breaking them apart. "I can't have you thinking that I brought you here because I'm wanting something from you, for helping you with your truck. I'll sleep right here. It's fine."

Kyra had to shoot her shot, right now, or she'd end up sleeping in that big bed all alone. "Maybe I'm wanting something from you."

Troubled eyes looked up. God, she was gorgeous. "I... " she started. Stopped. And Kyra's heart sank. This is when Kassandra would tell her she was taken, that she had someone back home to soak those grease stains out of her jersey, to worry about her when she was working a fire, to—

"I was hoping you'd say something like that," Kassandra said softly.

Kyra took her by the hand, pulled her to her feet, and then Kyra slid her palms along the undersides of Kassandra's forearms. Heavy. Solid, like bronze. But that was the color of Kassandra's eyes, and when Kyra kissed her it was like a circuit closing like an arc lamp turning night into day like a quality of light she'd never seen before but knew she'd be chasing the rest of her life.

When they parted, Kyra was breathless, and she tucked her face into the curve of Kassandra's neck, feeling the steady cadence of her breathing. "Kassandra?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm so glad you didn't turn out to be some redneck."

Kassandra's laugh filled the room, and she gathered Kyra's face in her hands and looked at her. "Honestly, when I saw your rig, I was expecting some dried-up gold miner with shaggy hair and missing teeth."

"You thought wrong, Bubba."

Kassandra laughed again. Kissed her again. But when Kyra's hands strayed down to her belt, she pulled away. "Hey, slow down there, forty-niner. I'm pretty sure I have dust in unmentionable places."

"Do you really think I'd let a little dust get in the way of working my claim?" She reached for Kassandra again.

Her paydirt maneuvered away a second time. "I kinda want to take a shower..."

She waited for the rest.

"Think you might like to join me?"

She answered by curling her fingers around Kassandra's belt, and she glanced about the room, considering her doorway options.

"That way," Kassandra murmured along with a tilt of her head.

She pulled Kassandra to the bathroom, each step driving her to even giddier heights. Was this even happening right now?

Kassandra flipped the lights on. Clean, white tile and a matching shower. Nicer than Kyra had expected.

"This could either be really awkward or really hot," Kassandra said.

"You think this'll be awkward?" Kyra smirked and reached for Kassandra. There was no hiding in this light, no place for anything but want and confidence, and Kyra found her confidence in wanting to get Kassandra naked. Kassandra's t-shirt and sports bra ended up getting tossed in a corner, and then Kyra couldn't resist, she just had to kiss Kassandra while her hands found leather and metal to unbuckle, and she pushed fabric down over hips and thighs until Kassandra kicked it all free and stood naked before her in full glory.

Oh my God. Not only did Kassandra have muscles for days, she had them for weeks and months and years. Her proportions were perfect, in the horizontal of her shoulders to hips and the vertical of her torso to legs. Kyra's mouth went dry, her moisture draining to places south of her waist.

Kassandra flashed a rakish grin, then stepped into the shower, turning knobs while Kyra waited. Water jetted against tile with a loud hiss. Kassandra seemed to take a very long time — or maybe that was Kyra's thirst wringing out the clock in its search for droplets of satisfaction — but when Kassandra finally came back, she undressed Kyra with a touch both careful and reverent, her eyes drinking in the sight of Kyra's skin with every slow reveal.

Heat burned between Kyra's legs. Steam filled the bathroom. Her clothes joined the pile in the corner, and Kassandra's hands came to rest on her hips. She reached for Kassandra's braid, untied it, and worked the thick mane loose — along with a puff of dust.

Kassandra truly was covered in it, in streaks running down her steam-dampened skin. Kyra laughed and traced her finger through the grime between Kassandra's breasts, then drew an X on Kassandra's stomach. The hands on her hips shifted, nudging her towards the shower until she stood basking under its pleasantly hot spray.

The pressure was good: in the stream of water and the feel of Kassandra's hands on her skin. Calloused palms scratched and tickled the sides of her breasts, and she wriggled away, prompting an insincere "Sorry" as Kassandra played with her, alternating soft strokes from her fingertips with rougher ones from her palms.

Kyra bit back her want, slipped out of Kassandra's grasp, and said, "Your turn."

As Kassandra stood under the water, Kyra enjoyed the way it beaded over her skin, the way she glistened in the light. Then looking wasn't enough, and Kyra had to sample Kassandra's broad shoulders, the firm planes of her chest, the soft weight of breasts and plump nipples so different than a man. She smelled different too, none of that tang that men always had about them. It had been too long since Kyra had been with a woman, and Kassandra was showing her how foolish that was.

Kyra pulled Kassandra closer, pressed her up against the wall, and kissed her. Wet lips, water in her mouth, soft slick tongue. She was delicious, and Kyra grew greedy, wanting more more more as she ran her hands over sculpted abs and slid them lower—

That earned her hands a playful slap from Kassandra. "Ah, ah, ah. Hands off. I don't want to be distracted," she said, as she snagged the soap from a niche in the shower wall.

She knew exactly what she was doing, making Kyra wait, making Kyra watch as she soaped her skin and scrubbed it into a lather, making Kyra thirst while surrounded by water as she washed her hair. Her shampoo had the fresh, airy smell of citrus. It filled the shower, wrapped Kyra in its enticing steam.

This was a fierce kind of want. She scowled, snatched up the shampoo bottle, washed her hair as Kassandra emerged from the water clean and magnificent. The sight was too much; she turned her back to Kassandra as she rinsed herself. But as the last of the suds swirled down the drain, Kassandra's hands gently turned her around and soaped her from head to toe and she forgot everything except the hand slipping over her belly into the crease of her hip, slipping between her thighs, so close to where she needed, hovering without touching, moving from thigh to thigh—

"Fuck," she gasped.

"Is that what you want?" Kassandra asked. Her smirking grin was an inch away from Kyra's lips.

Kyra stared daggers at her.

"Sorry, you'll have to wait a bit longer," she said, and then she carefully rinsed Kyra clean. It was thorough, and luxurious, and melted Kyra's pique into forgiveness. She closed her eyes and her muscles went soft and pliant under Kassandra's hands, and she felt herself being guided out of the shower. She stood in the middle of the bathroom, waiting. Kassandra moved away. Kassandra came back. She rubbed Kyra down with a fluffy towel, wrapped her in it, then picked her up with breathtaking ease and carried her to the bed.

The length of Kassandra's body settled against hers. Dangerous weight. She could pin Kyra down, crush her with all that muscle. The towel bloomed open. Goosebumps sprouted across damp skin. The only illumination in the room came from the light in the bath. It snuck past the drape of Kassandra's hair and threw shadows across her face, and her eyes captured the sparks of want passing between them.

All that muscle on top of her, mouth at her throat, hands on her hips. Kyra's want buzzed and flickered, like a spotlight warming up. Now, find out now. She fit her thigh up between Kassandra's legs, pressed hard. A gasp from above. Kyra's heartbeat doubled-up, and there was no stopping her leg twining around Kassandra's. "Roll over." A demand, not a question.

Kassandra blinked, tilted her head as she searched Kyra's face. The sparks in her eyes danced. Really?

Yes, really. Kyra shifted her weight, used her leg as a pivot... and felt Kassandra yield.

All that muscle moved beneath her, hips made to be straddled, shadowed curves meant to be explored. Kyra's blood pulsed with an illicit thrill as she leaned forward. Skin pressing together. Breasts nestling together. Damp heat, water turning to sweat.

She kissed Kassandra, tasted her hunger, her soft mouth opening to let Kyra in. No games and no playing hard to get. Her want, Kyra's want, their want speaking in tongues. Kassandra's fingers tangled in her hair. That mouth should be on her clit. Those fingers should be inside her.

Wait. Wait longer. She sucked at Kassandra's lower lip, raked it with her teeth, apologized with her tongue. She pulled her mouth away, smiled as Kassandra groaned and stirred, muscles bunching, eyes burning like carbon filaments, captive and captivated. Kyra moved her mouth lower: the silvery scar on Kassandra's chin, the rapid pulse at her throat, the wings of her collarbones. Lower, until her lips found the soft swell of a breast, the nipple she could persuade to grow harder with teasing lips and tongue. First one, then the other. And Kassandra's back arched: Yes.

How sweet of her to offer. Kyra slid off to the side, surveying the chiaroscuro of the exposed planes of Kassandra's body. Choices, choices. Kassandra's spectacular abs, or the inviting shadows between her thighs?

Both. Kyra was getting greedy again. She ran her tongue along the sculpted grooves of Kassandra's stomach and slid her hand into soft curls. Swollen heat. Desire soaking her fingers, satisfying in a way arousing a man never was. And making this particular woman so wet... She smiled and drifted her mouth lower, tasted her own desire in a trail she'd left on Kassandra's belly, and her clit was bright and burning and her ache went deep, wanting to be fucked, wanting to fuck.

She stroked slick fingers everywhere but the places Kassandra wanted. Hard to be so patient, when every touch felt like it reflected back at her, teasing and being teased. She was dripping. Kassandra was dripping, her body twisting restlessly in a tangle of sheets and towels. Kyra stopped moving. Her fingertips hovered, waiting. And Kassandra's hips lifted: More.

Kyra's mouth was almost too close to Kassandra's clit. It tempted her, nestled in dark, feathery curls, proud and swollen and hard. That was Kyra's doing. She'd made that happen. Hard not to let that surge of power go straight to her clit, and she closed her eyes against the bright flare of her own need.

Focus. Come back. Breathe in air heavy with warm, damp arousal. Breathe it out across Kassandra's sensitive flesh. Kassandra squirmed under her cheek and let out a frustrated moan.

That sound was pleasing, and she dipped the tips of her fingers into silky wetness. The tiniest taste, no more. Kassandra's moans grew louder. Kyra's blood beat in her ears. So easy, capturing Kassandra's full attention in the spotlight of her breath and the smallest movements of her fingertips.

Wait. Move slowly. Kassandra's muscles corded and strained, and Kyra wound them tighter and tighter with every touch. All that strength in thrall to her fingers — the rush lifted Kyra to stratospheric heights. She could glide on it, never come down. She lost all track of time in the artificial, unchanging light. How long had she kept Kassandra like this? How long could she?

Beneath her, Kassandra was panting with her thighs spread wide. She rocked her hips, chasing Kyra's fingers, and Kyra made her fail again and again. Her attempts grew half-hearted. She gave up trying.

This was Kassandra primed like a canvas: body taut beyond trembling, senses tuned to Kyra, clit starved for attention.

Kassandra's sounds devolved into one long, unbroken whimper. And then, finally, Kyra went to work, sucking Kassandra into her mouth and easing her fingers all the way inside.

Nothing fancy: steady strokes, tongue on clit, the way women have been getting each other off since ancient times. She'd already tested Kassandra's patience at least that long.

Kassandra whispered Yes and Fuck to guide her. Kassandra angled her hips just so. Kassandra snapped at the point of release with a sudden growl, her hands grabbing fistfuls of bedsheets as she writhed, lost in pleasure.

Kassandra throbbed against her tongue and pulsed around her fingers and Kyra lay there not moving not wanting to move in the golden glow, wanting it to stay wanting to capture it and keep it.

But it faded, eventually. She slid up the bed and rested her head on Kassandra's shoulder and smiled for a long, long time.

"I'll be damned," Kassandra said quietly, once she caught her breath. "Is that how you always say thank you?"

"When I'm feeling inspired."

"You really are an artist."

Kyra smirked. No matter how the rest of their time together played out, she'd always have the memory of Kassandra writhing around her fingers.

The mattress compressed as Kassandra knelt above her. Kassandra rested a hand on her belly, and though there was no weight behind it, it pinned Kyra right to the bed.

"Well," Kassandra said. "You certainly set the bar high, honey. But it's my turn now."

Kyra opened her arms wide and gave Kassandra her dirtiest come-hither look. "Show me what you've got, hotshot."

Kassandra smiled, and did.

Part of the Heat Index...

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Breakfast and Bus Rides

Criminal Minds/Supernatural crossover ft. Harry Styles

Word Count: ~3030

Warnings: Egregious amounts of fluff, one gratuitous kitten, and a couple stoned rockstars. Lots of discussion of coming out and some other LGBT-adjacent issues. 

A/N: A wild Plot appears! I was having some feels about coming out/honesty (hm wonder why, is a mystery) and foisted those feelings on JJ and Dean. 

Thanks to @stunudo​ for a pre-read, endless encouragement, and the kitten scene idea.

This is part of the Rockstar AU. It picks up right where Wake-Up Calls and Watermelon leaves off. 

Dean exchanges a glance with Sam, and they both hang back as the others start to gather in the kitchenette. Penelope keeps shooting wide-eyed, starstruck looks at Harry, and it’s making Dean nervous. 

“You okay with this?” Dean asks quietly. “You think she’ll keep her mouth shut?” 

Sam shrugs. “I can talk to her.” 

“And Schroeder? I mean, love the kid to death, but holy hell does he babble.” 

“Spencer’s known since the first night of tour.” 

“How?” 

Sam chuckles. “Kinda a funny story… tell you later. I honestly think he might’ve forgotten, though.” 

“What about the rest of ‘em?” Dean asks. “I mean, I like ‘em well enough, but…”

“I want to tell them,” Sam says, without hesitating. “I’m just gonna bite the bullet and invite them all over for breakfast.” 

Dean sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You sure?” 

“I trust them.” 

“Okay. Just don’t want you to get hurt, Sammy.” 

“What a shock,” Sam deadpans. “Dean’s pulling the protective big brother card? Alert the press.”

Dean purses his lips and gives Sam a light punch on the arm. “Bitch.” 

“Don’t let Emily hear you saying that,” Sam chuckles. “Shoulda heard the lecture I got the other day about the way misogyny is perpetuated through language. Honestly, though. What do you really think is going to happen? It’s not like they’ve outed you and Cas, they’ve all been awesome about it.” 

“This is different, though,” Dean says, with a grimace. “I mean, like it or not, it’d be news. The gossip rags would pay serious fuckin’ money for a picture of the two of you.” 

“It’s not like we’re gonna walk around, like, fused at the mouth,” Sam laughs. “No PDA required. But… I want him to meet some of my friends. Y’know?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Stop worrying so much, Dean.” Sam’s expression is soft and fond, and he claps Dean on the shoulder before heading for the coffee maker and Harry. 

Harry wraps himself around Sam like a giant squid, if a giant squid wore Gucci, and Dean’s chest feels tight with anxiety. The two of them are looking at each other with these stupid googly-eyed dimpled smiles. It doesn’t even count as PDA, not really, except that Sam is so godawful at hiding his feelings that he might as well be wearing a neon sign. 

Then Harry starts feeding him a strawberry, and that definitely counts as PDA, if not public indecency. Gross. 

If someone did take a picture of them like this, with their sleepy-eyed smiles and interlaced fingers, it’d be worth thousands of dollars. That’s a hell of an incentive. Dean’s had people fuck him over for much less. 

Dean’s learned his lesson over the years. The only people you can really trust are your family. 

Cas emerges from their room, blinking blearily around at everyone before coming over to Dean and leaning in for a kiss. 

“Morning breath, fuck,” Dean grumbles, making a face, but he grabs Cas and pulls him in anyway. 

A cheer goes up around them, and Dean sees Jack coming out of his room, clothed now, but still blushing red and shamefaced. 

“What’d I miss?” Cas says, scowling, and Dean grins gleefully before launching into the story. 

* * *

“I guess I just don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” Spencer says, contemplating his hand of cards. “Aside from a very vocal minority, there’s widespread support for LGBT rights, statistically, and the music industry is more progressive than most. If you look at David Bowie, for example —” 

“I pass the turn,” Charlie interrupts, cutting him off before he can launch into full-on textbook mode. “It’s not really about that, though.” 

Charlie forgets about the conversation for a minute as he attacks her planeswalker. She used to own her local Friday Night Magic tournaments, and she’s more than a little pissed that this skinny fucker in a sweater vest has won three of their last four games. Spencer is sneaky. Charlie can respect that, but it’s infuriating. 

“Why, then?” 

“Hmm? Oh, that. It’s more to do with… privacy, I guess. That’s a hell of a lot of public attention for Sam. He doesn’t want people to sing Happy Birthday to him, you know?” 

“Doesn’t everybody hate being sung to?” Spencer asks pensively.

“Well, yeah. But Harry’s the sort of famous where people get totally invasive and weird about his personal life. Like, starting rumors, tabloid shit, and it extends to anyone he gets involved with.” 

“Really?” Spencer downs the last of his coffee. It’s his third cup, but he hasn’t touched the plate of pancakes that’s been going cold on the table.  

“Yeah. I don’t know if Sam realizes the full level of crazy at work, but Dean and I looked online, one night, after Harry brought it up. The shit people have said about his exes… about his friends, even. They’re vicious about it. Analyzing every facial expression in every picture, making up stories…” 

Spencer’s forehead creases in a frown. “I play Grasp of Darkness on your Primordial Hydra and swing with all my zombies.” 

“Motherfucker,” Charlie mutters. “Rematch?” 

Spencer’s staring intently down at the table, lost in thought, and he doesn’t seem to hear her for a second. She chucks one of her D-20s at his face and he starts when it bounces off his forehead. 

“Sorry.”

“Where’d you go?” 

He hesitates before mumbling, “I had a stalker.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, she — Cat. I told her I didn’t want to sleep with her, and she didn’t like that very much.” He pauses, brow furrowed. “She learned everything about me, and I mean everything. Tried to manipulate me, tried to manipulate my friends…”

“Yikes. What happened?” 

“She went to jail for a little while. She showed up when she got out, one night in Boston—” Spencer brightens. “—but Derek tackled her and threw her into the Charles River.” 

“For real?” 

Spencer nods and smiles in a way that makes Charlie think she’s not getting the full story. “It was a weird night.” 

“So she hasn’t showed up since then?” 

“No. But… I just felt like I couldn’t hide anything, like every part of me, every shitty thing I’d ever done, was under a microscope. It was awful. I’m all for being honest, you know? That’s great, in theory, but... everybody deserves the right to hide if they want to. You should be the one to decide what parts of yourself you want to share.” 

Charlie thinks about the friend who outed her in high school, and how naked she felt. 

“Agreed.” 

* * *

Dean sits down next to Derek at the kitchen bar as he’s sealing the third joint.  

“Rolling for the road?” he asks, around a mouthful of bacon. “Nicely done.” 

“The key is the crutch,” Derek tells him. “Ditalini.” 

“No shit? Huh.” 

Derek keeps working, watching Dean, who’s watching Sam. 

“Nothing to worry about here,” Derek points out gently. “You know that, right?” 

Dean lets out a little self-deprecating laugh. “Sorry. Fuck. Habit, y’know? He’s my brother.” 

“Oh, believe me, I know,” Derek says ruefully, glancing over at Spencer. 

“Every person he tells is another person that could hurt him,” Dean says fiercely. “I fuckin’ hate that.” 

“Worrying doesn’t help, though.” 

Dean scowls at that, thinking for a moment as he chews, before saying, “I just wish there was a way I could help.” 

“A while ago, there was this guy who went after Emily,” Derek says slowly, twisting the next joint closed. “And he didn’t hurt her bad, or anything. Spencer and JJ jumped in, and Spencer took the worst of it, because… Spencer.” 

“Can’t see him being handy in a fight.” 

“Try telling him that when he’s pissed. Point is, though… nobody got hurt, but I was pretty shaken up about it. Beat myself up for not being there to protect them, until my girl Penelope talked some sense into me. She said, ‘It’s not your job to keep them safe all the time. The most important thing is to make sure they know they’re safe with you.’ I think about that a lot.” 

“So, what, I’m supposed to just… ignore the risk?” 

“No,” Derek says patiently. “But it’s his risk to take. You being afraid isn’t going to make the world any less scary, but knowing that you’re there, that you’re proud of him, that you’ve got his back no matter what? That helps.”  

Dean mulls that over. There’s a mulish set to his jaw that reminds Derek of Emily; it’s the face she makes when she knows he’s right and doesn’t want to admit it. He tries to hide his smile as he finishes rolling the last joint and offers it to Dean. 

“Thanks,” Dean says gruffly. 

“Any time.” 

* * *

When JJ opens the bus door, she’s greeted by a cloud of weed smoke. She can see Hotch stretched out on the couch with a half-smoked joint in one hand and a battered copy of Slaughterhouse-Five in the other. He’s reading out loud, and for a moment JJ can’t figure out who he’s reading to; then she notices Pearl curled up on his chest, rubbing her tiny fuzzy head against his cheek. 

It’s so goddamn cute JJ doesn’t know what to do with herself. She settles for whipping out her phone and taking a quick picture. 

As she walks up the bus steps, Hotch holds out the lit joint without pausing, and she takes it happily. 

JJ’s exhaling smoke, finally feeling the weird tension under her skin start to evaporate, when Rossi opens the door.

“All set,” Rossi says, giving the driver a thumbs-up. 

“Did you triple-check your head count?” Hotch asks, deadpan. 

“Sure did.” 

“Everybody present and accounted for?” JJ adds innocently. “Spencer?” 

“He’s showing off his new toy on the Winchesters’ bus.”

“Penelope?” 

“Playing Sega with Charlie.” 

“And Morgan?” 

“Already in the back, taking a nap.” 

“Emily?” Hotch presses. 

“She’s in the batcave to — oh. I see.” Rossi glowers. “Very funny.” 

“Are you sure you didn’t forget Spencer again?” JJ asks, giggling hoarsely around another lungful of smoke. 

“It was one time,” Rossi protests, flipping them off. “You try keeping track of the kid. He’s like a squirrel. A squirrel on LSD.” 

“Pretty sure it was mushrooms that day,” JJ points out. 

Rossi sits down and asks thoughtfully, “Did anybody see that coming?” 

“Sam? Honestly, no,” Hotch answers, frowning. “Not that it’s any of our business, but…” 

“Me neither,” JJ admits. 

She’s still rattled by the whole thing, for reasons she can’t quite put her finger on. It’s not about Sam, or whatever bullshit constructs of masculinity that would make people assume he’s straight just because he has muscles and dresses like a lumberjack. She’s not shocked by the label, or whatever. 

“There’s someone I want you guys to meet,” Sam had told them. He tucked his hair behind his ears as he said it; it’s his tell, his nervous tic, and JJ has the poker winnings to prove it. She had wondered, for a moment, what would make him smile like that in spite of his obvious anxiety. 

Dean had been glaring from the other side of the room, gauging their reactions, his arms folded and his fear written all over his face in the guise of a scowl, like a feral dog who’d been backed into a corner. JJ could understand the fear. Sam, though… Sam just looked relieved. 

Hotch and Rossi are staring at her, she realizes abruptly. 

“Hm?” 

“I said, anything you want to do in L.A.? Plenty of time for sightseeing.” 

JJ shrugs. “Not really.” 

“You okay?” Rossi asks, looking at her closely. 

“Yeah, just… tired. I’m gonna take that nap now.” She gives them a bright smile, passing the joint to Rossi, and gets up before they can question it. 

JJ feels a little better once she’s in a spare bunk with the curtain closed. It’s easier to examine the knot in her chest like this, now that she’s alone in the dark, safe and hidden. 

She keeps coming back to the smile on Sam’s face. 

There was a moment, earlier, when JJ noticed Sam and Harry from across the room as they talked to Emily and Hotch. Harry had been leaning against Sam’s side. Sam’s arm was draped casually over his shoulder, and he started playing idly with Harry’s hair, combing his fingers through the messy curls at his temple as Harry tilted his head into the touch. 

There was a peaceful possessiveness in it—the sort of cozy familiarity that had been worn soft by time like overwashed cotton—an unspoken claim: mine. 

How long has it been since JJ felt that with someone, like their closeness was a second skin that she could wear in public? 

Not since Emily. Even then it had always been tainted by fear, an overwhelming desire to hide whenever she could feel someone watching. 

She and Emily are loudly affectionate with each other in public, of course: drunk and dancing, or clinging to each other as they stagger home, or kissing with an exaggerated smacking sound when anyone mutters disapprovingly in their direction. But that’s brash and performative and platonic, the sort of thing JJ could do just as comfortably with Penelope or Spencer. That’s different. 

Anybody who’d seen Sam and Harry would’ve known immediately; that sort of intimacy is unmistakable, and Sam didn’t seem to care. He was smiling like he was proud to show it off. 

JJ has seen it in Dean and Cas, too, but never quite so clearly. Maybe it’s because they’ve never had to hide around the Business As Usual crowd, so the contrast hasn’t drawn her attention, or maybe it’s just that they’re not demonstratively tactile in the same way. You have to know him well (and you have to be paying attention) to catch glimpses of  the tenderness that Dean masks so well. He doesn’t wear his emotions on his face for everyone to see. JJ can relate. 

But Sam wasn’t hiding, that morning; he was just sweet and vulnerable and proud of it and JJ realizes suddenly that she’s jealous. That’s envy squirming around in her belly. 

She wants that sort of love: fearless, or maybe in spite of fear. She gets sick of hiding, sometimes. 

JJ puts a pin in that thought and tells herself she can deal with it later, when she’s not quite so stoned and maudlin. Right now, it’s naptime. 

* * *

Dean intended to nap all the way to Sacramento, but he only manages to doze for a half hour or so. There’s too much on his mind. He pushes groggily through the door and thinks a silent thank you at whoever got the coffee machine going. 

Spencer and Jack are sitting on one couch, playing with something that Dean recognizes as a theremin. Sam’s on the other couch, and Harry and Cas are sitting at the table. 

“What do you think?” Cas asks, when he notices Dean watching. He holds up two bottles of nail polish. 

“Black is punk rock. Pastels are for the Easter bunny’s little sister,” Dean opines. 

“Love you too, Dean Bean.” Harry shoots him a cheerful pastel-green-painted middle finger. Dean ruffles his hair affectionately on his way to sit next to Sam. 

Dean’s first instinct was to scoff, to snark, to dismiss nail polish as girly, but he knows the instinct is just a vestigial memory of his dad’s stern voice. He’s been getting better at recognizing that voice, in the last few years; for a while he thought he was done with it, figuring that if he could admit he was in love with a guy, he must be over that sort of learned bullshit. Can’t be phobic if you’re one of the homos, right? So… fuck off, Dad. 

Then Harry showed up, with his totally fuckin’ zen attitude about annihilating gendered fashion norms, and Dean found himself wincing, sometimes, or looking around furtively to make sure nobody was staring. Even at Bonnaroo, when Harry went around hiding behind wigs and glasses—when the entire point was for him to pass as a girl—Dean’s immediate knee-jerk reaction was to cringe. It’s taken awhile, but he’s getting better at ignoring the fear when it kicks up in his gut. 

Dean’s distracted by a drawn-out melancholy squeal. 

“Someone turned a taxidermied badger into a theremin one time,” Spencer says happily, as Jack waves his hand over it again. “They called it a badgermin.” 

Dean snorts. “Sounds like a violin that needs an exorcism.” 

“Or a Barred Owl on barbiturates,” Sam offers. 

“Worn-Out-Brake-Pad flavored La Croix.” 

“A whale that got so stoned it forgot how to talk.” 

“One of the mermaids from Harry Potter having a wet dream,” Spencer suggests, and Cas laughs so hard he almost knocks over the bottle of nail polish. 

“Get your shit together, Castiel,” Harry scolds, but he’s giggling too. It’s like being scolded by a very happy sloth. “You’re done, mate. Who’s next, hmm?” 

He points at Jack, who shakes his head. 

“I need to get some sleep,” he says, and the last word cracks on a yawn. 

Sam grins. “Yeah, I’m guessing you didn’t get much rest last night.” 

“Sweet dreams, Mr. Grey,” Dean teases, and wolf-whistles as Jack retreats. Cas relocates to the couch, giving Dean a peck on the cheek before sitting back and admiring his manicure. 

Harry waves the bottle at Spencer, who doesn’t notice; he’s focused intently on the instrument, coaxing out something that actually sounds like music, in a vague, freaky kind of way. 

“Yeah, okay,” Dean says, rolling his eyes and settling at the table across from a delighted Harry. 

“How about a nice hot pink?” he asks. 

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Wasn’t one of those used in the Doctor Who theme?” Harry asks Spencer. Spencer brightens like a big geeky Christmas tree that’s strung with lights made of useless trivia. 

“Now you’ve done it,” Dean says under his breath. 

“Actually, that’s a common misconception,” Spencer announces. “The original composition used—”

Dean must be going soft, because he’s actually kind of enjoying this, both the lecture and the manicure. 

Then again, he thinks, Sam is enthralled, and Cas is smiling, and maybe Dean’s just really enjoying his life right now. 

Fuck off, Dad, he thinks, admiring his pastel green nails. 

[translightyagami]

Hi! If you're not too busy, could you write headcanons about Soichiro being super-supportive of Light and/or Sayu being trans/lgbt please? I need something to cheer me up

Hello! I think i’ve written about this before but being a really unruly tag-er of posts, I don’t think i can find them posts easily. so i’ll try to make some fresh headcanons nonny.

i think this depends on how you see the yagami sibs - their identities n such. i imagine they both end up tumbling into adulthood as trans and gay, albeit in different ways. Sayu comes around to a genderqueer lesbian understanding of herself and dates a LOT of anti-cap art students that Soichiro doesn’t like at all. he tells himself he dislikes how disrespectful her partners are, that they don’t have her best interests at heart, but the truth is that Soichiro can sense how Sayu is looking for a way to be Someone when she’s only been seen as a part, a piece. He fumbles everyone’s pronouns but gets it right on the third try, and Sayu always asks what he thinks of her choices. Soichiro is too honest for his own good but the fights don’t last super long. And even as all the different flags she’s worn collect on his desk - each one a token from a different Pride parade - he knows she’ll be okay; Sayu has never had trouble thinking for herself, and making her own path.

He’s a little worried about Light. His son, who transitioned when he was 14 and who never stopped being Soichiro’s shadow, even when he gained those last few inches on his dad. His son who won’t stop dating men Sayu uncharitably (but, Soichiro privately thinks, correctly) calls weasels. Oh sure, this revolving door of well-payed, nice-enough lovers that Light faithfully brings to dinner twice and then never again - they aren’t a threat to Soichiro’s son. Few things in the world are a threat to him, which is why Soichiro worries about those few things. He supported Light when he had top surgery, went with him to the clinic for testosterone (altho, a bit of needlephobe himself, Soichiro let his wife handle the actual shot), and got Light his job at the NPA with not a small amount of pressure to the higher-ups. Light’s happiness is important to him ... but he wishes Light would care a little more about his happiness too. Instead, Light does what he’s supposed to do - date nice but pliable men, bring them home, and remains effectively single.

“Light,” Sochiro corners him during a work lunch. “I want you to be happy. I want you to meet someone nice.”

“Ah, Dad,” Light laughs. “That’s not for me. I don’t think I’m supposed to be with anyone.” He gets quiet, twiddling his thumbs. “I have other things to do. Important things.”

Sayu graduates colleges and announces she’s moving to America. The whole family is in uproar, in a good way, and they see her off at the airport. Soichiro follows her Twitter updates, sees her meeting new people and getting into social activism. She tells her parents she’s seeing a therapist and she misses them.

“How’s Light?” she asks and Soichiro hesitates.

“He should visit you, I think,” he says.

Light is doing fine. He’s been fine for years. Now working in a higher position and living on his own, he doesn’t bring home boyfriends anymore. His passion is burnt, Soichiro can tell, and he starts asking more and more for advice - something Light never used to do. And Soichiro doesn’t know what to say: what Light needs help with is something Soichiro never had to deal with. His own life was, comparatively, easy - he met Sachiko in college. He married her. They had children. Light can have those things, sure, but it will be different and Light’s never been great at being different. So Soichiro tells Light to keep going forward - he just doesn’t know what else to say.

Sayu meets her future wife at a reproductive rights rally and brings her home after several Facetime calls that were really just gushing about how much she loves her. Sachiko and Soichiro love her too; she’s a little older than Sayu, a trans woman who has a steady job running a bookstore and pink streaks in her hair. She calls Sayu babe, and asks Sachiko for recipes. Sochiro knows she’s uneasy around him at first, but warms when he asks her questions about softball (Sayu played it in college, and Soichiro always found it more fun than Light’s short-lived tennis days). Light is courteous toward her, but he never seems fully present during the meeting. He keeps taking calls and returning to the dinner table a little red-faced.

“It’s classified,” he tells Soichiro, who asks the caller’s name. “I can’t say. But it’s someone safe, I promise.”

Light and Sayu’s future-wife go to bed early, both staying over in the house, so Soichiro sits with Sayu getting some father-kid time in. He can’t help but get her perspective on Light’s behavior. She laughs when he asks.

“Oh c’mon Dad,” Sayu says. “Light’s totally talking to a guy he likes. That’s how he always has been with crushes.”

“What?” Soichiro is shocked. “But ... I’ve never seen Light have a crush.”

“Oh yeah, okay.” Nodding, Sayu taps her chin. “You were kinda MIA at the time with the Kira case. Light used to get all blush-y and red back then when he got calls or visits from this college friend he had. I tried to spy on them once, but you know Light. He’s so good at swattin’ down spy stuff.” She scratches her head. “What was that guy’s name? It was like that actor’s name, wasn’t it? Anyway, Light would go totally dreamy after talking to him, all in his own head. Never seen him be like that around anyone else.”

Soichiro’s mouth gets tight. “Was his name Hideki Ryuga?”

“Huh? Oh yeah!” Sayu slaps her knee. “Oh my god, I used to like that actor soo much. Although that guy didn’t look like him at all.”

“Yes. I remember.”

Soichiro digs through his drawers that night while Sachiko tells him to keep it down while they have guests. But he needs to find a very specific number that he was told to use for emergencies only. He finds it taped under his bottom drawer and dials it on the kitchen phone. There’s a long period of hold music before anyone answers; its not that bad a tune.

“There’s no reason for you to call this number,” L says when he picks up. “I’m hanging up now and destroying this line. What a waste.”

“Do you have feelings for my son?”

There’s a crackle that makes Soichiro think L hung up but chewing noises revive him. L is just eating candy.

“Why do you ask?” L still sounds the same, yet there’s wrinkles in his voice that make him sound almost ... well Soichiro wants to say mature, although the candy ruins that a bit. “I need to hang up.”

“If you have feelings for him,” Soichiro bullies through, “then you need to tell him. Light deserves to be happy and I think you make him happy.”

“Hm.”

“He’s a very special person.” Soichiro has water in his voice. “I don’t think he wants to be, but he is. And if he chooses you, then you would have no better choice in the world than him.”

“Mm.” L rolls the syllables around. “I’m hanging up now. This number will not work again. Good bye.”

Soichiro stands in the kitchen for a minute listening to the dial tone before a scuffle catches his attention. Light steps away from a spilled glass of water, eyes gleaming and wide, as Soichiro hangs up the phone.

“I’m sorry.” Light grabs a towel, his voice wavering and his head turned down. “Sorry, I was getting a glass of water.”

“I meant it.” Soichiro gets on his knees and holds his son’s hands. They’re not as small as when Light was a child but they fell the same - warm, smooth, full of grace even when flexing nervously. “You are special. And you’ll find someone who thinks that someday.”

They hug, briefly, but Light’s phone disrupts them with a loud ringing. Hesitating before he takes it out, Light looks at his dad and his eyes are filled with hope - Soichiro thinks its a nice, new look for Light.

“Sorry,” Light says, “I have to take this. It’s classified.”

Three years later, and Soichiro is worried about his kids - they are both having weddings during the same week. “It’s easier!” Sayu says, because she doesn’t want to fly out twice. “We’re not doing anything big anyway,” Light says, because he and L have almost no guests invited beyond family members. But Soichiro isn’t worried so much about money or flights or anything like that. He’s worried about how it will feel, to see his children going off into the world to make their own families, to be so happy, to see them survive and thrive. And maybe he’s worried for himself, more than the kids. After all, how will it feel to be a man who got everything he ever wanted?

[smalltragedy]

* brigette lundy-paine, nonbinary + they/them | you know kirby wormwood, right? they’re twenty five, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, two weeks? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to ring ring by mika like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole balancing acts at perilous heights destined to entertain, jack of all trades master of none, refusal to accept the mortal world as it is thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is december 1st, so they’re a sagittarius, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 21, est, they/them )

hllo welcome 2 my third character i love them a lot theyre a. remake of an older oc of mine so this is fun <3 sdfhk anyways once again i am asking u. pleathe like if u wld like to plot.

ARSON TW

mini playlist.

wizard ;; lucas lex / ring ring ;; mika / crows ;; clues / sunrise sunset ;; bright eyes / la llorona ;; beirut / no children ;; the mountain goats / might be love ;; the pesky snakes / sax in the city ;; let’s eat grandma.

statistics.

full name: kirby wormwood (currently).

nickname(s): magpie.

birthday: december 1st, 1995.

zodiac: sagittarius sun, aries moon, libra ascending.

mbti & temperament: estp & improvisor / sanguine.

label: the hellion.

hometown: abilene, texas.

sexuality: bisexual.

pinterest.

biography.

alright lets get right into it. kirby ws switched at birth. they cld’ve hd a very like. picket fence trampoline in the backyard. 4 columns cos its texas n it feels right. bt instead they were chosen <3 somewhat unintentionally <3 by dorothea n fawley wormwood, two traveling circus workers who emergency stopped in abilene.

n u know what. growing up in st. pierre’s traveling circus ws kinda fkn awesome? like ok. besides the fact tht they were homeschooled fr like evr n there were a sparing amt of children 2 socialize with? it ws p cool idk.

it ws kinda like everybody ws their parent n also not at all bc they were all very casual. bt they grew up learning hw 2 maintain the circus (n also like. normal school thingz bt i dnt think kirby hs ever cared abt school like ever) n whenever they hd a show kirby wld facepaint or handle tickets until they were old enough 2 start learning like. the Real fun things. 

fawley hd a lot of his own weird odd little like superstitions n beliefs n practically raised kirby on them like n they dnt rly <3 make a lot of sense. lots of made up philosophy. very much like. nothing defines u. u cn b anything or anyone. n kirby ws like ok cool. n then developed a god complex.

names didnt rly stick 2 kirby when they were a kid like. nothing satisfied them or felt worthy fr them or simply they just. got tired of a name. this isnt related 2 them being nonbinary BUT it did help ease some of the. pressure of exploring gender identity. theyve only hd one name tht stuck genuinely n tht ws magpie n. thts bc everybody hd their own bird name n it felt very. like community. like a role. usually the names they used during performances bt. anyways KFHDSGLKKHL

theyre Kirby bt answers 2 most. neutral nouns.

honestly. they were also a rascal as a youth. ws like. oh. i learned sleight of hand? cool. time 2 pick pockets. wld throw popcorn into the hair of other kids n b like. omggg what was that ... became a mime fr a year. it ws a rigorous training.

now a master of charades. bt anyways. they traveled pretty much weekly, maybe bimonthly n sometimes just pure monthly. there wsn’t an off season fr them, when the colder months came they’d travel south and when summer rolled in they’d go right back up again. it ws easy to switch personas almost daily n just. never reveal ur true self. totally not saying tht’s what kirby did bt thts what they did. it nvr made them lose sight of themselves it ws more like. acting. tricking ppl fr fun. 

anyways all good things come 2 an end and when kirby ws like. 18. they were like hey ur old enough that we cn trust u with fire. we think. n they started 2 learn fire-throwing n like. they were ok at it bt lessons were painfully slow n kirby ws like. i wld b so good at this if i cld do it all the time. n it ws like. hey kirby, chill. u already know a lot of things.

arson tw // u see where this is going. tents are kind of flammable. kirby ws unsupervised. bad decisions all around. circus is aflame. all the animals n all the circus workers got out fine bt like. st. pierre’s ws efficiently out of business. arson end of tw //

n kirby fkn booked it they just. ran. pure fear. nvr looked back which is like super traitorous of them 2 do bt. sometimes they meet up in secret like. sunglasses n all at a coffee shop. not all of them just like. fawley or someone else. theyre like. ur family u cld burn down a thousand circuses n we’d still love u. n kirby is like yeah i know bt i’ve rly committed to the bit now. n they dnt reunite.

anyways. since then kirby hs just been. a traveler. nvr rly staying anywhere fr super long n driving around in their shitty little van tht’d been used as housing back at st. pierre’s.

they’re in irving n theyve been there fr almost. suspiciously long. compared 2 their average stays. when asked abt what they do or why theyre there theyll just. give a vague answer or spin a long tale tht usually involves a burning circus.

theyre staying at uh. abernathy creek rn bc of course they r they fit in so naturally. welcomed with wide arms. might b soul searching rn might b on the hunt fr their birth parents might b just vibing ... whose to say ..

personality & facts.

has a Big personality tht attracts others fr better or fr worse. either super likeable or the most despicable person on the earth. no in betweens. n honestly tht is a talent in itself

has no off button is constantly. spinning tales or performing a dance or getting kicked out of bars fr whatever nonsense reason. 

honestly they prob think tht nothing bad cn ever happen to them even tho like. bad has literally happened 2 them before? love the optimism here. KLFGDLKFSDHGF

acts a bit like u’ve known them fr ur entire life they r oddly warm in tht way bt they themself r so distant tht its like. oh nice ok ...

both honest n yet dishonest like. yes they will hustle u out of ur money bt they will also tell u their opinion straight up. 

probably smart bt they r just like. prime thembo? flowy pirate shirts n cropped tshirts n pants tht r never tight. dresses like they do still work n live at a circus. 

likes 2 instigate things between others n then stand back n just watch it happen while taking like zero accountability. loves a good small town drama. avid milf hunter.

does not hv any faith in the american healthcare system at all n will straight up refuse 2 go 2 a hospital if they get hurt theyre like. i cn do it myself im like practically a professional. they r not a professional. 

bt does hv like. a thing abt apples. fkn loves them. 

uuuhhh cn play instruments bt all very badly. only knows one (1) song tht isnt made up n its wonderwall by oasis. they play it at parties. they expect fr tomatoes to b thrown at them at any given time.

very nimble. agile. granted its frm. learning circus tricks frm a baby age bt they hv impeccable balance n cn sneak up behind anyone without a single noise. uses this 2 their advantage in order 2 scare ppl. chaotic neutral.

loves having the attention on them i wont fk around here. will go to drastic measures to accomplish receiving it. my other muses r capable of taking things srsly bt kirby just. is not. they do not take a single thing srsly they barely even took. st. pierre’s destruction srsly n they caused it. maybe.

likes being able to just. be unknown so the amt tht ppl know abt them is actually very. little. i dnt think they even tell others their last name. sometimes not even their first. just hs so many aliases n nicknames. i know i didnt list any bt thts simply bc Any cld.

probably acts out to compensate fr the. underlying guilt they hv bt thts okay. i mean it isnt bt.

will probably show up if u call them fr help bt they lose interest in people p quickly n r always moving onto the next shiniest person. bt when they do they give them like. all their attention. if u wrong them in this period they will just. ignore it. bt when theyre bored then its like. u werent even friends at all? very odd.

perhaps it is commitment issues bt <3 ya. thts them. they do not claim favorite colors or movies or. most interests. probably bc theyre very very disconnected frm pop culture i think they learn everything thru twitter n google.

i wld not call them a good person bt i also dnt think theyre like evil horrible nasty awful they just. think abt themself a lot more than they think abt others n also refuses to face consequences ever and also .. anyways.

wanted plots.

part of the bird’s nest ;; honorary bird honorary circus member. u hv to be very well regarded by kirby to earn a bird name bt i feel like tht doesnt feel like a lot considering theyve only been here fr like. two weeks KDGDSHKGK. the catch is tht u cn only refer 2 them as magpie frm then forward. 

hand in unlovable hand ;; theres comfort in being terrible ppl together n it may not last bt it doesnt hv to anyways. its just them n the like. vibes. n knowing tht its smth thts nvr gna b long term. cld b anything ur character just hs to be also a little evil. KHDSGFDS

one jester ... wht abt ... TWO jesters .. ;; hoo boy. ooh man. unstoppable force and immovable object combine forces n just become. the worst of the worst. ultimate jokesters. epic pranksters. absolute clowns. chaotic energy unmatched. always nonsense. 

n also ;; ppl they’ve stolen frm, ppl who hv caught them in that act, ppl who’ve maybe seen them in the circus a very long time ago, Found Family Trope, real family shenanigans, kirby just asking everybody if theyre their dad., mortal enemies if they see each other its an instant duel 2 the death, etc.

[novantinuum]

Crack the Paragon, Chapter 10

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 5.8K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which Steven's done with moping around and waiting for something to change.

You can find the AO3 link in the reblogs! (I have to omit them from the original post these days to ensure this will show up in the tags.) If you enjoyed this, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos on AO3 as well.

A big thank you to my friend Ganaroth for helping me with edits for this chapter!

_

Chapter 10: Beta, Part 1

Morning light filters through the loft’s window and glints off his phone screen, obscuring the selfie Connie just sent from his view. Though at some deep cognitive level Steven’s a bit annoyed at this interference, outwardly he moves on automatic with barely a feather ruffled, rolling onto his back atop the rumpled bedspread. He holds his phone above his face— right over his nose— humming as he admires the photo. She’s grinning, her long hair pinned back with clips. Her eyes shimmer with every bit of joy a smile that wide suggests. True happiness. Before he knows it he feels his cheeks lift, a smile of his own stretching across his face to mirror hers.

The rest of the photo is just as beautiful.

Beyond the railing his friend leans on is a breathtaking view of wild grasses, ferns, and delicate purple flowers, the patches of greenery half submerged in a lake of water as far as one can imagine. A large flock of birds float on the water’s surface some distance away. Behind her, the setting sun bathes the sky in streaks of orange and pink, the warmth of the ambient light kissing her brown skin. It looks like something straight out of a storybook.

Either that, or a dream. A good dream, the kind that lingers in your mind afterward like the sweet scent of wild strawberries.

oh, that’s so pretty!! he types in response, fingers flying over the keys. where is this?

Just as he hits send, though, another message from her pushes through and answers his question:

Morning!!! :DD Soooo rn we’re exploring this really cool wetlands area! Service is pretty terrible out here btw, so I probably can’t talk for a bit. Fingers crossed my texts send!

His heart grows warm as he reads her words. Even if it’s not as good as seeing her face to face, he’s still so happy they can communicate while she’s on her trip. She looks like she’s having so much fun. He wastes no time in sending a whole cluster of hearts, stars, and smiley faces back at her.

But as he watches his message deliver, the text’s bubble shifting from grey to blue, he finds that airy, bubbly feeling he got looking at Connie’s photo pulling away from him like sand and driftwood on the receding tides. Somehow, all these emoticon smiles just ring hollow right now.

Four days have passed since the disaster everyone’s come to refer to in whispers as ‘the forge incident.’ Not many, not enough for the terrifying memory of what happened down there amidst the blackened stone and fire to stop seeping into his dreams, but thankfully enough that the Gems have stopped coddling and babying him about it. (A sweet relief, that, and one of the many reasons he’s not planning on telling any of them about his recent nightmares. Goodness knows they already have enough to worry about.) Four days. That’s it. The thought of just how little time that is leaves him dizzy. Four days since he was almost shattered by someone he thought was a friend. Four days since two halves fused back into a whole, since his gem rotated to expose the facets that before, his mo... that Rose had hid from her friends… from the whole world. Four days since discovering that his pupils apparently morph into pink rimmed diamonds now whenever he taps into his powers. (And wasn’t that just another wallop to the gut for everyone, Pearl especially). Four days without Garnet, without stability, without blissful protection from the truth: that Rose wasn’t truly the quartz she claimed she was.

Steven still doesn’t understand the how or the why of that.

Truth be told, it’s not a topic he’s ready to dwell on yet.

He shifts to sit up on his bed. Somewhere on the distant shore beyond the window’s glass Amethyst is shouting, her rhythmic, guttural battle cries loud enough that they’re audible from inside the house. There’s no end to this on the radar. For the past few days she’s done nothing but seclude herself away and drill, pushing her hard light body to the brink through endless strength and agility exercises. In the light of recent difficulties no one’s addressed it with her yet, but it’s no secret this is partly related to her insecurities about Jasper.  

Meanwhile, Ruby (who finally returned home on her own yesterday morning) sits on the floor right below him, handling the controller of his Grintendo console with an iron grip that would serve as a genuine contender in Beach City’s underground arm wrestling league. He set her up on his brand new copy of Fight Fighters just an hour or so ago. As far as he knows, she’s enjoying it. It’s sorta hard to tell. She certainly hasn’t given up yet, (she’s way too stubborn for that), but it seems like the levels are difficult enough that they’re giving her a run for her money. Glancing away from his phone, he watches her fuss with the first boss fight for a moment. The Gem’s face is— if it’s possible— even redder than usual as she mashes the proper buttons for her character’s combo attack, muttering in syllables spoken too low for him to intelligibly understand.

A few minutes pass. Ruby sneaks in one solid strike, but eventually the boss overtakes her by merit of their sheer size alone, and her character is defeated. Game Over flashes on the screen in bold orange striped letters.

“Aw, phooey! You were really close that time,” he says.

Truth be told, her playing style is kinda… a huge mess, but there’s no encouraging way to say that. Plus, it’s not like it’s a lie to say she got closer to beating this fight than the last time she attempted it. Maybe she’ll figure it out with a few more rounds.

Ruby drops the controller in her lap, and glances back at him. “Heh. Thanks, Steven,” she responds with a weak smile. “At least I finally got in a hit, right?”

“Yeah, you’re getting better every round! You still up for more? We can play tag team together, if you want.”

“Eh, I’m done for today. I’m no good at these kinda games. At least, not without...“

A wave of melancholy envelops her in a flash, suffocating the last glints of light within her burgundy red irises. Inhaling deeply, she lifts her gemless hand, holding it to her chest tight as she mourns what used to be. Steven doesn’t move to say anything, letting her have her silent moment. Reassurance can be nice, but as he’s learned recently, the sad truth is that sometimes not every problem can be solved with a few well-thought words.

Amethyst’s distant shouts interrupt the somber atmosphere like a jackhammer to concrete, yanking them both solidly back into reality. Ruby’s brow creases.

“Is she still at it out there?” she says, frowning as she glances at the door. “She looked exhausted when she came outta her room this morning.”

Steven frowns, stuffing his phone in his pocket. “Yeah. I tried to ask if she wanted to play Topple Tower with me last night, but I’m pretty sure she was ignoring me. I hope she’s okay…”

Sighing, she slumps back against the large swath of comforter that dangles halfway off his mattress, letting her compact, coily hair smush against its surface. “Oh, she’s not. No one in this dang house is. I just wish Sapphire would come back already,” she says, voice cracking as she speaks her name. “She’s been in there for so long now.”

Prompted by her heartbroken words, he glances at the temple door across the house, seeing both Pearl and Sapphire’s gems alight on the central star. Pearl is simply taking a rest in solitude this morning, but as for the blue Gem… she hasn’t shown her face since she disappeared into her room four days ago. It’s beginning to become mighty worrying. And besides, he really misses her. They barely get a chance to hang out beyond the rare emergency. His lip juts out in a small pout.

It’s so hard to move on with life when you’re constantly being reminded of what once was.

Eventually, Ruby decides she’s had enough challenge for the morning and passes command of the controller to him. Figuring he’s got nothing better to do today, he shrugs and starts a new save file. Half an hour or so passes as he grinds through levels like a pro. Now sitting next to him, bundled like a burrito in one of his blankets, the red Gem watches his gameplay with starry eyes, enraptured. He double jabs at the D-pad to call upon a secret ability, fingers blazing across the buttons with practiced fluency. Just as he’s about to hit the finishing blow on Professor Doom, the beach house door slams open. On sheer impulse he flings the controller to free his hands, his whole body seizing upon the sound. Hard plastic clatters against the floor. The world tints pink.

Ruby jolts to attention from inside his bubble, struggling to unwind herself from the blanket's grasp. “Whoa, what’s—“

“Hey, nerds,” Amethyst mumbles, dragging herself and her uncoiled whip through the doorway. The length of the weapon drags along the floorboards like a dejected dog’s tail. Her tired, hardened pupils meet his no doubt diamond-shaped ones, shades of confusion flickering across her expression as she visibly takes note of the shimmering sphere he’s subconsciously enveloped himself in. “Geez, it’s just me.”

“I- I know,” he croaks, flushing red, “s-sorry, I know. You spooked me, ‘s all.”

She squints, and dissipates her whip. “Dude, I didn’t even do anything.”

“I know... It’s just me being dumb, sorry.”

“You’re not dumb,” Ruby reminds him with a saddened frown, placing her gem adorned hand on his shoulder.

He doesn’t respond, instead taking a deep breath and willing the bubble to recede. Once it’s all but disappeared in a shimmering afterimage of hard light, he crawls across the floorboards to retrieve his poor abused controller. Joystick securely within his grip once more, his eyes drift back to his game. Seems he’s in dire health. Not only did his character lose his perfect attack window, but Dr. Doom has healed himself and continued to rail upon him while he remained idle. His heart drops.

“Awww,” he whines, deflating. “I almost had ‘im!”

The temple door slides open, causing both Steven and Ruby to snap to awareness. (For wildly differing reasons of course, but the result is the same.) Amethyst stands beyond the warp pad, about to cross the threshold into solitude once more.

Nooo, don’t leave! his heart cries in silence. You just came back!

This conversation is already the most interaction he’s gotten out of her since their waffle breakfast four days ago. Ever since, she’s hidden herself away to brood and train. He scowls, fingers shifting rhythmically on the casing of his game controller. Gosh, he’s so sick and tired of this. He’s tired of moping, of acting like they can never have a happy moment ever again just because their circumstances are different now. It’s not true. Things can get better! Heck, he’ll make it better! Somehow. Maybe. He just needs to figure out a plan, and soon… before everyone scatters to be on their own again.

Hmm, think, Steven, think think think! What makes Amethyst happy? Destroying trash? She’s been at it all morning already, probably not. Food? Wouldn’t necessarily get her out of the temple.

He eyes a green sock puppet strewn on the floor by his closet. Months-old memories rush through his mind, of wearing a cardboard box on his head, insisting amidst protests that this puppet represented the emerging Cluster.

...Peridot?

They did get along really well at Funland a few weeks back. Hmm. Y’know, that might actually work.

“Hey, Amethyst,” he calls, and sets the controller on his bedspread. She stops halfway through the doorway of her room, motionless, seemingly waiting for him to continue. It almost looks as if she wants him to give her a reason to stay outside. “You, uh- are you done training for today?”

“For now,” she answers in a low voice, rhythmically clenching and unclenching her fists.

“D’ya maybe wanna go visit Lapis and Peridot with me? Get outta the house?”

She turns, lips pursed as she deliberates in depth. After what feels like— to his antsy, impatient soul— an eternity later, she responds with a half-hearted shrug.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Steven grins. He scrambles to his feet and floats off the loft to the ground floor before she can decide otherwise. “Sweet, let’s go right now!” he says, bursting with enthusiasm. After crossing the room in a flash, he takes ahold of Amethyst’s arm and gently leads her up the steps to the warp pad, the other Gem making no obvious signs of dissent. Good. That’s a good sign. The immediate problem sorted, he glances back from whence he came. “Ruby, you want in?”

She’s still tangled within his bedding, but shifts upon mention.

“Nah, I’m good,” she says, rolling on her back under the covers so that she’s peering at them upside down. “If Sapphire finally comes out, I wanna be here for that.”

Steven nods. “Okay! Well, see ya’! We’ll be back sometime later this afternoon.”

“Probably,” Amethyst mutters, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, maybe longer, maybe not. We’ll see! Feel free to play any of my games if you wanna, okay?”

“And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, ya’ party animal,” the quartz drones, the bite of dull sarcasm seeping into her words.

With a resounding ring the warp activates and whisks them away.

_________

The young half-Gem takes a deep lungful of air as he skips through the grassy countryside, his chest expanding to full capacity. Ah, it feels so good to be outside, and with a change of scenery, at that! He should’ve done this ages ago.

Outside of all the heartache of their recent family crisis, it’s a perfect September day; not too warm and not too blustery. The sky’s almost entirely clear, barring the faint streaks of white softening the horizon's edges. Birds chirp brazenly as they swoop with daring purpose from tree to tree. A few leaves are just beginning to flutter down from their overstuffed boughs. ‘Tis the season! Pretty soon this area will be awash with sprinkles of vibrant oranges, reds, and yellows. Gee, he hopes he can convince Amethyst to goof off in the woods with him again this year. They could go leaf sledding! That was the most fun he’d had in ages when they did it last time.

How is Amethyst doing, anyways?

Masking his worried frown, he glances behind. Her lips press in a sour scowl, her non-dominant hand clenched by her side. Barely a heartbeat passes as she reaches to her gem with the other, pulling her whip into existence in a glittering flash of light. Instantaneously, the crystal tips of the three-pronged flail expand into barbed spheres. She mutters to herself as she grips the handle, unsatisfied. He doesn’t understand why, though? She summoned it so fast! Like, under a second for sure. As far as he’s concerned, that’s awesome!

He watches her summon, dissipate, and re-summon her whip three times in a row before he decides it's time to intervene with her spiraling frustration.

“Hey, don’t ya’ wanna take a break from all that for a bit?” he begins with a measure of caution. “You’ve been working super hard lately!”

“I already am taking a break," she says, slashing at a few rocks strewn on the ground as they climb the last rolling hill. “That’s why I’m here with you, right?”

“Well sure, but breaks aren't supposed to be about training, they’re supposed to be about having fun. And visiting Peridot and Lapis should be tons of fun, I promise!”

Amethyst’s eyes narrow at the very thought. “Yeah, ‘cause when I think fun, I think Lapis.”

“Hmm, I wonder what they’re up to lately,” he muses out loud, hand pressed to his chin.

She lets out a dry scoff, allowing her whip to dissipate once more. “Don’t know, don’t care. Let’s just get this over with.”

He frowns. His shoulders drooping a bit at the sight of her almost hostile melancholy, he glances away.

Thankfully, in a well-timed diversion from the worries of her mental state, Lapis and Peridot’s place of settlement comes into full view as they reach the hill’s summit. Steven’s jaw falls ajar, stopping in his tracks at the sight. (Amethyst, who isn’t paying attention to where she’s walking amidst her brooding, almost rams into the back of him.)

“Whoa,” he says, drinking in the new additions. “Look what they did to the barn!”

He’s not sure ‘barn’ is an apt description for it anymore. No, no. Rather, in the weeks since he last saw Lapis and Peridot, this place has transformed into a full-out homestead.

The grain silo that stood nearby has been tilt at an angle and used to enclose the side of the barn Peridot blew a hole in with her epic giant robot. Their smaller than average lake? It’s now fitted with a ladder, along with metal piping to keep the water level high. Stretched taut between the roof of that silo and a funky hodgepodge spire they formed out of old airplane parts is a clothes line, with a number of shirts and towels hanging off it. Admiring the finer details of their set up, if a person could point at an object and conceivably call it junk, they’ve probably found a creative way to make it decorative. Rusty bicycles, old tires, couch cushions, broken deer antlers, you name it. And then that old truck he slept in every night while working on the drill? It now serves as the proud centerpiece of their little home, the cargo bed solidly affixed above the barn’s entrance. He spots the two former Homeworld Gems sitting up there with the TV, shaded from the midmorning glow with a sun bleached umbrella. Whatever they’re watching, they’re transfixed.

Grinning, he peels away from Amethyst and dashes the rest of the way, feeling the faint breeze dance between his curls. Wow wow wow, he’s seriously got like a hundred questions for them, and a hundred missed hugs to make up for!

“Hey, guys!” he calls, once he’s directly below the truck.

Lapis’s browline raises, attention nabbed. It’s enough to peel her eyes away from the television (is that Camp Pining Hearts he hears??) to meet his. A subtle but undoubtedly caring smile rushes across her face as she sprouts wings and drops from the truck’s bed to greet him.

“Steven! It's so good to see y- oof!”

He nearly barrels her over with his hug, clutching to her like a lone life raft in the midst of the open sea. Surprised and still quite rigid in her affections, her arms awkwardly move to pat his back in return. It’s a silent embrace on his part, yet simultaneously manages to say more than words alone ever could. At this point he’s not even sure words could do justice to the complex emotions that are all jumbled in his head. Only a few short weeks have passed since they hung out together. So why then does he feel like he hasn’t seen either of them in years?

“Steven, Amethyst!” Peridot chimes eagerly, dropping down from the truck and striding out into the sun. She screeches to a halt in front of them, expression pressing inwards in that uniquely inquisitive Peridot-like manner as she takes inventory of the scene before her. “Uhm… Is… everything okay?”

He pulls back from the stunned Lapis, and gently wipes at the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, I’m just really, really happy to see you guys, that’s all!”

“Oh, yes! Of course. It’s only natural to miss the fulfillment of our company,” she says without missing a beat. Turning her gaze to her other visitor, the green Gem balls her hand against her chin. “Amethyst! Something looks different about you…”

She crosses her arms over the white tank top of her new form, her nose scrunching up. “Like what?”

“Have you grown taller since the last time I saw you?”

Amethyst’s eye twitches. An infinitude of silence passes, in which she shoots her a glare sharper than the edges of the crystal studs on her whip. Honestly, being on the receiving end of her weapon might’ve hurt less. Sweat beads at his brow as he watches the situation unfold, yearning with every fiber of his being for a world where he actually feels confident enough to delicately intervene instead of silently standing by as Peridot’s sense of tact veers straight off a cliff.

Behind them, Lapis saves them both and clears her throat.

“O-or… maybe I was mistaken,” the former kindergartener says lowly, flushing with shame. “My apologies.”

There’s a whisper of chill to the air enough to make him shiver as the quartz once more chooses not to respond, and shifts her gaze to her feet. She digs divots into the dirt with her toes, already disengaging from social interaction again, slipping further away with every passing birdsong from the entire purpose of this friendly visit. He presses his lips tight, masking a frown. So far, nothing is going as planned, huh? As big of a dreamer he may be, he can’t say he’s surprised. Nothing in his life has gone to plan since he accidentally slipped on that tree branch inside Lion’s mane. Still, there’s gotta be some way to save this, right?

Come on, Steven, think positive!

Before anyone can quite begin to catch on to his troubled nature, he plasters a manufactured smile on his face. “Wow, you guys are looking good!” he says cheerily. “And I love what you did to the barn!”

“Aww! I know,” she replies, regaining her grin as she glances between him and Lapis. “But wait, wait! You guys have to see the inside!”

And with this declaration, a few magical minutes pass wherein the two of them receive the highest honor of enjoying the Official Barn Grand Tour, presented by the very artists themselves. In a word, it’s a transformative experience. The outside looks amazing, yes, but in his wholehearted opinion the personal touches on the interior decor raises the place’s coziness to the next level. Over the past few weeks, Peridot and Lapis have spent their efforts transforming all the mementos and broken scraps of their lives into art, (or ‘meep-morp,’ as Lapis calls it), displaying the pieces all throughout their shared home. Peridot’s broken audio recorder now rests peacefully on a stand, a sky blue ribbon tied around the fractures at its middle. Touchingly, he learns that Lapis kept the leaf he gave her, delicately propping it upright in a clump of soil. A TV affixed to the ceiling beams with metal cables plays a clip of CPH on repeat. He has a niggling suspicion that the clip she selected represents her lingering trauma about, like... being trapped in a mirror for thousands of years, but according to her it’s merely a fan’s shrine of the show. Still, while discussing books together Connie once told him that all art is subjective and authorial intent is dead, so respectfully he’s sticking to his interpretation. But regardless of its meaning, he’s so, so happy to see her freely making things for herself.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the creative spectrum, Peridot’s green alien plush is floating alongside various hunks of garbage in the hodgepodge aquarium at the side wall. Its slow voyage through the tank is admittedly entrancing, but oh, do those big deep eyes grow more and more unnerving the longer he stares at them. The last straw comes when he watches stuffing slowly drift out of a gaping hole in the fabric at its neck. Subtly cringing, he takes a step back from the glass to go admire something else. Sometimes art isn’t made for everyone, and that’s okay.

It takes a few moments before he makes the proper connections and realizes that the red bow tie Peridot is wearing around her neck used to be that plush’s. Oh… oh geez.

Amethyst, however, doesn’t seem to be buying any of it. In fact, she’s barely cracked a smile since they entered the barn, not even at Peridot and Lapis’ collaborative toilet morp. And who doesn’t laugh at toilets? On any normal day she’d eat that kind of stuff right up.

“This is so stupid,” she mutters, her eyes thin slits as she stares with a frustratingly unreadable expression at the four liquid pillars shooting up out of the bowls.

Disappointment flickers across Lapis’ face like stars on the morning horizon. She quickly releases her iron hold on the water, channeling it into the heart of the tanks. A similar emotion colors Peridot’s features for a moment, and he briefly worries their visit may be cut off short, but after meeting his encouraging glance she shakes it off and promptly begins to move on to the next item of their home tour.

“Alright,” she says, folding her hands behind her back all prim and proper, “I see you're not impressed. But—“

“Hey, you guys!” a familiar voice shouts from the distance, growing closer and closer with each passing moment. “I’m here! I came! Is it too late to join in?”

All four of them whirl around at the interruption.

Peridot squints. “Is that…”

“Ruby?” Lapis finishes, confusion etched across her features with pinpoint precision.

“Ruby!” Steven calls, sliding across the floorboards to meet her at the barn door. “No, you're not late, you’re just in time! Look, look, look—“ He takes her by the hand and whisks her inside, almost sweeping her clear off her feet in the process.

Her mouth falls agape as she drinks in the rustic atmosphere, the air now a good deal lighter thanks to her interruption.

“Whoa… this place looks completely different!”

“I know, right??” he says with an untamable grin. He gestures wildly at all of their unique creations. “It’s art! Isn’t it great? Peridot and Lapis have been showing us all this super cool stuff they’ve made!”

“Yes, I suppose we are pretty great,” the green Gem says, puffing out her chest.

Lapis rolls her eyes in response. No amount of sass can hide the action’s underlying fondness, though. Steven’s no imperceptive fool. She may act pretty aloof at times, but once you get to know her she’s not that hard to read at all. One merely has to pay attention to the subtle shifts in her demeanor. It’s the little things: the incline of her brow, a slight tilt of the head, the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it twitch of her lips as she pretends she doesn’t care as much as she does. And then, the more she trusts you, the less tense her posture is and the more she opens up. It makes his heart sing to know that Peridot has seemingly been added to that roster.

“Eh,” she murmurs with the hint of a smile, leaning back against the wall behind her roommate. “I guess we’re okay.”

Amethyst crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing as she peers down at Ruby. “So, what’s up with you? I thought you said you wanted to mope at the temple.”

She shuffles her feet. “Well…”

“And I thought you and that Sapphire never unfused,” Lapis says, ever so blunt. “Except... for baseball,” she hastily amends. Consumed by a spike of panic, her gaze darts towards the doorway with guarded suspicion. “We don’t have to play baseball again... right?”

“Hmmm… I mean, we could play baseball,” Steven muses, pressing his hand to his jaw.

That’s certainly one way he could encourage Amethyst to enjoy some bonding time with everyone. He has a bunch of fond memories of the last game they played together. Well, okay, so maybe he could’ve done without the ceaseless feeling of dread brought by batting against Homeworld loyalists with unknown intentions, but beggars can’t be choosers. As his first time playing a full game it was still 70% a good time.

Meanwhile, Peridot’s petite frame quivers at the reminder of that day. She grips at her hair, large tufts of yellow poking out from between her fingers.

“Oh my stars, they’re coming back??”

Ruby throws her a bemused side glance. “Uh—“

“Get behind me, Lapis,” she continues, daringly throwing her body in front of her roommate. “I’ll protect us from those Homeworld brutes this time!”

“We’re not playing baseball!” Amethyst cuts in.

His lips curl into a pout. “Aw, but it’d be so much fun!”

She crosses her arms, visibly walling herself off. “Uh, no, it wouldn’t! ‘Sides, there’s no immediate danger, there’s no Homeworld Rubies on our doorstep, so there’s NO reason on this planet I’d play that stupid game again!”

Eyes narrowing with mild exasperation, Lapis nudges her way out from the green Gem’s overprotection. “‘Kay. So, is anyone here actually gonna explain what’s going on, or?”

Nervously rocking on her heels next to him, Ruby rests her hand against her chin.

“Well…”

“Ruby and Sapphire are kinda… taking some time apart?” he delicately explains in her steed, noticing her hesitation. It’s probably something that’s really hard for her to talk about right now, and boy can he relate to that.

“Yeah,” she says in confirmation, kicking her toes against the floor boards. “I didn’t exactly want to, but Sapphy needs her space.”

For all her initial dislike of the fusion Gem, Peridot looks genuinely heartbroken at this revelation. “But… why?” she asks, peering between the three Crystal Gems in wait of further clarification. “Aren’t you two basically inseparable?”

Faint hints of lemon peel and nutmeg linger in the air like silent sentries to their distress. Steven stands in the kitchen with Pearl, Garnet, and his dad, Amethyst lounging on the other side of the counter, and their dirty breakfast dishes still lying stagnant in the sink. Garnet’s kneeling before him. She’s speaking, but he’s so distraught he can’t quite recall what it is she said. His dad’s hand rests on his shoulder, the pressure ever so slightly working to ground him to this moment again. He’s biting back tears, isn’t he? Trying not to cry for the umpteenth time that day. What happened? What changed? Everything’s fixed, yeah? He’s whole again! They were all supposed to be so happy now, and yet… the sight of the morning sun reflecting off the face of Garnet’s visor as she delivers that ill-fated news is the bitter, tangible proof that they’re not.  

“Ruby and Sapphire have decided they want to take some time apart. Indefinitely.”

Amethyst’s expression is colored with hurt. “But… why?”

In the present he stiffens, suddenly polarized by the realization that the path of this conversation has but one destined endpoint. Sooner or later, his friends will hear about what happened to him four days back, what happened to his family, what he learned about his... about Rose. There’s no avoiding this forever. After all, if they don’t learn it from him, they’ll eventually learn it from someone else. And don’t they deserve to know? This affects them too!

But if the recent past has taught him anything, it’s that the truth about Rose Quartz only succeeds in breaking people apart. It stole Garnet away. It shook his relationship with Amethyst and Pearl to the core. It caused them all to argue and fight, back at the fountain and at home. Give it time, and he’s sure the truth will find a way to press fissures in his relationships with Connie and Dad, too. So what happens, then, when Peridot and Lapis find out? In what way will the truth break them?

Just a little while longer, he promises himself. Just one more good day, please, that’s all I want…

“They, um- it’s just a couples thing,” he stammers, chest growing tight. “It’s just for a little bit. Sometimes people need time away from each other, y’know?”

Ruby‘s expression grows tense, sniffing out his white lie from a mile away. “Steven...“

“It’s totally healthy and normal, and not at all a reason for concern!”

“Kinda sounds like we should be concerned,” Lapis mutters. “All of you have been acting weird this whole time, so spill! What’s going on?”

Their words start to become faint and distant in the shadow of his wildly pounding heart, so wondrously human and organic and alive, and yet so endlessly frustrating in its autonomy. Why can’t he hear clearly? What’s up with that awful ringing he can’t get rid of? It’s almost as if he’s listening to everyone ten feet under choppy waters, but they’re all standing right next to him. They’re right there.

The red Gem scratches at her neck, meeting Amethyst's harsh, crystal-studded glance first. Her mouth opens. Still disorientated, Steven misses a good half of it.

“...wants to tell ‘em?” she finishes, waiting dutifully for their responses.

As expected the quartz remains silent on the matter, feigning indifference as she crosses her arms and returns to staring sullenly into the middle distance. Ruby turns to him next. His skin feels downright clammy now, almost as bad as it did when he was almost dyi— NO! Stop! He shakes his head fervently, sweeping his hands horizontal in a signal for her to cut the conversation. He can’t do this. Not now, not today, not ever, he can’t—

Lapis bristles. “Tell us what?”

“Um, nothing, nothing!” he bursts out, clumsy words pouring from his mouth almost quicker than his brain can move to stack them up. “It’s a long story, and we’re all here to have some fun and shoot the breeze, right? Right. ‘Course we are! So we don’t have to talk about that right now, we can talk about it later, and for now we should try to have a good time and enjoy each other’s compa—“

Amethyst slams her foot to the floor so hard the wooden board underneath cracks. Both Steven and Lapis flinch.

“Ughh, you guys! Stop dancing around the headline!” she shouts. “You really wanna know what happened? Steven almost died ‘cause he got his gem busted, and then we found out Rose Quartz was totally a sham and she’s like, Pink Diamond n’ junk, okay?!”

A stunning silence follows this inopportune announcement, in which he swears he can hear his stomach gurgle. On any typical day he'd be thinking about lunch around this time, except at the moment he genuinely almost feels sick to his stomach. Right now he wants nothing more than to turn tail and run, run away from all of this, and yet chained to his fate just as Lonely Blade was destined to his, his legs remain firmly shackled in place. Standing at his side, Peridot blinks in dumbfounded shock.

“What.”

“S-she’s- You’re a DIAMOND??” Lapis shrieks, water wings shooting from her back on impulse.

“Whaaaat?”

_______

Notes: 

The next few chapters will be a bit familiar to y'all, but I'm not doing a beat for beat rehash, I assure you. Events start similarly here because the world external to Steven’s sphere of influence is still operating the same as it does in canon. The ripples haven’t fully spread yet. After this arc, they absolutely will have.

I do have a bonus scene to share soon- set between chapters 9 and 10. I'll likely post that before chapter 11.

Oh, and by the way- the location Connie's visiting is inspired by a real place- the Harike Wetlands in Punjab, India. Apparently India is actually a series of islands in the SU universe...? But I like to believe there’s still a cool wetlands region on one of those islands.

[faithylilac]

The Party Party Part 6

So... there was a bit of a situation... a very bad situation. Not a terrible situation, Faithy and Echo are doing quite lovely.

“Well we wouldn’t have been in this mess if I was the party leader!” Dax shouted at the shorter god. She simply huffed and started tapping her foot.

“Well I didn’t see you throwing any ideas around!” She looked around the dark cave they were in, double checking for a way out. “You twat” she said off handedly.

Dax’s eyes widen, sure what he said was rude... but not to deserve that.

What happened between the two residential celestial beings?

There they were, five papers spread across the floor, each with a different task. Cj explained that they decided to pick up side jobs to do on the way to wedding. Ash and Jo had realized they would be a week early if they went straight there, so this was a perfect idea.

Faithy just shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t party leader anymore so if anything happened, it wasn’t her fault.

“Wait which one is first on the list?” Dax finally decided to pipe in, as he knew he was free of compasses.

Carter held up their’s proudly, “we’re going after this thing called the uh....” he quickly flipped the paper around to read, “Mortem Spera... I don’t know if I said that right.”

“What is it exactly?” Ash asked. Carter read some more and shrugged. Apparently no information on it... weird.

Carter on the other hand, was having a tougher time that the two gods. Both of Ash’s and Jo’s cloaks were ripped to shreds. So their ears were out and the open, reminding Carter plenty of what they truly were.... Nyah Nyah kawaii anime cat people.

Jo had on a large hat, thank Gjhar feiiled, but her tail was sticking out. Ash on the other hand was a free cat boy, disgusting...

Carter was scurrying to look for a blind fold, make it out of anything... But there was hinderance to that plan.

“So Carter... Do you like oranges?”

Carter pulled all of his mental strength to not freak out that this cat girl was speaking to him. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes tight. “Why?” Jo just blinked at him. “I don’t want to answer that” carter continued. “I swear it’s not a deez nuts joke.” Jo replied. Carter kinda just roll his eyes but not, being that they are closed. “Kinda... but that’s so random— I’m confused.”

Jo giggle, “I just wanted to know if you liked oranges.” She replied. “I don’t hate oranges.”

“Anyway, I guess you can ask questions about me, or I can ask more about you— whatever you are more comfortable with.”

Carter shrugged, walking past her to pick up something he spotted once he opened his eyes. It was a clothe that was sticking out of rubble. “Uhhhh...” The nymph examined the clothe, it was embroidered with strange writing and lots of stars.

“Ash, you’ve studied a few ancient languages right?” Jo looked over him to find him staring at a large tapestry on the other part of the cave.

“No, where did you get that idea?” He asked. Jo just shrugged, “I didn’t know if you did, was just trying my luck.”

Carter brought over his clothe to compare the writing. It seemed to be the same letters, but slightly different... maybe it was handwriting? Ash looked over at Carter’s finding but they jumped away from him, trying to keep some distance.

“Oh shoot I forgot.” Ash said, flattening the ears on his head. Carter frowned and took a deep breath and inched back toward the bard. “Take this hurry up!” Carter shoves it at him and scurries farther away.

“Ok I guess.” Ash went back to the tapestry, trying to figure out the reoccurring letters.

Jo scooted closer to carter and smiled widely. “So... what happened with cats that caused you to be terrified so much?” She asked sweetly. Carter pauses. “Uhhhh....”

Earlier....

“Ok, everyone stick together. The shop keeper says there’s major stress at the entrance of the cave.” Cj explained as she examined the map that they bought from a gift shop. It was a old mine that housed crystals, but now it’s a tourist attraction.

The whole surrounding town was super old and and had a temple for just about every religion in the land. Even Gjhar feiiled.... Faithy kept her cloak on put away any loose jewelry. The main temple was up north, so as they traveled that way, more and more of them were more common.

But I’ll stop there. The shop keeper said someone covered in dragon scales came through the shop with a large box and went straight into the caves. He seemed like he was running for someone, so whatever was in the box seemed important.

As they ventured in the unconsciously huddled into three separate groups, Faithy and Echo on the left, Carter, Jo, and Ash on the right, and Dax and Cj in the middle.

Definitely unrelated though, Echo was tracing a wall painting with it’s finger and the mountain started shaking. “WHO DECIDED TOUCHING SOMETHING WAS A GOOD IDEA?!?” Ash screamed. “IT WAS CJ” Dax yelled back.

Like it was an action movie or something, rubble came tumbling down and separated the party.

“Ok whatever. Can you use your plants to get us out of here?” Dax asked he traced the walls of the cave.

Cj’s face read “oh duh” but as she went to feel the walls for roots or anything else she frowned. “No good. If I call them I have no idea what it’ll do to integrity of the cave.”

Dax huffed, frail mortals had to be so... frail. Sure the two of them would survive, but his favorite humanoids definitely wouldn’t.

A whistling noise echoed through the tunnel and they taking a fighting stance. Dax signaled her was going further in and Cj followed. They walk around a corner to see a green light emerging from further in.

“You got a few more millennias to live, I’ll go ahead.” Dax said dramaticly. Cj rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Like someone would be able to kill, much less defeat a Chaos god.”

Dax slapped a hand on either side of his face and acted surprised.

“To think you’d have so much faith in me!”

Cj just punched his arm, “that would be Faithy, not you.”

“Can I help you two?” A voice from behind them caused them to scream and Dax jumped into the smaller God’s arms.

Even though she was a goddess, she didn’t have supernatural strength of any nature. So her small frame was having trouble keeping him up.

It was a very very very very very very very old person. Now, Cj and Dax had no room to talk, but they had a better skincare routine.

Dax jumped out of Cj’s arms suddenly and her arms flung upwards in a very fast motion, knocking her down in the process. Dax helped her up and they readjust themselves.

“Are you the reason I heard some rumbling?” He asked as he shown his blue lantern around.

A sweat ran down CJ’s back.

“Actually, it was a lizard thing.” Dax spoke up. Cj looked at him with audacity. He had just blamed her for touching the thing she shouldn’t have, causing the mountain to come down on them. So he knew....

The old person simply nodded, “ah well, it’ll take them some time to dig that out. It earns the nearby too much money from tourist to let it stay caved in.” He explained. “Now, why don’t we talk for a bit? I’ll pour some tea.”

They reluctantly follow him into his little cave house. Well it was a small cave room, what’s the term for that? Google isn’t very helpful because all it’s wanting to do is give me tips for a man cave layout.

“So what brings you into an empty crystal cave? You seem more like adventurers than tourist.”

Back to Carter and the cats.

“Oh yeah... cats.” Carter looked away, trying to avoid the question.

Jo sighed and took a step back. “Ok it’s ok, you don’t have to answer that.”

Carter sighed in relief and turned straight around. “But how did you learn to be so swag?”

Carter paused and slowly turned back to them and was about to answer when Ash interrupted.

“OK GUYS! The thing we’re are after is a weapon!” He then broke his instrument and tore off a part of his cape to make a proper torch. Now you might be wondering how they could see without a torch. Ash and Jo could see enough not to bump into anything and Carter could tell where the general area of something is. That piece of clothe was just pure luck.

“Jo can you light this?” He asked her. She nodded and snapped her fingers to start a flame and lit it like a birthday candle.

“How did you do that? I don’t think archers can do that.” Carter said in confusion. She laughed and pointed at her hat. “I can change my class depending on my hat. Not that I have any control of it... if kinda just happens and I can’t ever remember what hat goes with what, we kinda just got lucky.”

Carter blinked slowly. The hat made no sense and there was so no sense of making sense of the thing.

“Guys look!” Ash held up the torch near the tapestry to show the words formed a picture of a weapon. There were also stars scattered around it.

“How do you even know that’s the thing we’re looking for? It could just be something relating to something else?” Jo asked.

“Carter give me the flier.” Ash asked sticking his hand out. Carter scrambled around to remember where he stuffed it, “it’s on your belt of daggers.” Ash said. He grabs it and hands it to the cat boy.

Ash holds it up and looks for any similarity between the flier and the tapestry. “Well thats only convenient.” He said. Jo and Carter look over his shoulder and the weird drawing on the flier almost matches the tapestry.

“It’s missing the words that make up the weapon.” Jo pointed out. Now that was very apparent to Carter and Ash but ummm.... Jo is nice and is explaining what’s going on for you sweet Reader-Chan!

(Aughh that took thirty years off my life. I feel like I’m writing on Wattpad again)

But every single star was present. “Wow I feel smart for figuring this out.” Ash said proudly.

“Do they make a pattern?” Carter asked. Ash shoved the flier at him and started kicking random rocks until one fell apart. He picked it up and grabbed the flier back from carter and plopped down.

He used the fragile rock as chalk and connected each start. “Oooh smart.” Jo added.

There were five large stars and a few smaller stars scattered as well. When Ash connected them all together it looked like a deformed turkey.

“Surely that’s not right.” Ash quickly dusted off the flier and connected only the large stars. “Ok tell me if I’m wrong, but does this look like a straying path?” He pointed out.

It started at one point, split into three, then back to another. “Oh yeah I can see that.” Jo replied.

“Maybe we were going to split up anyway and the rubble just sped it up.” Ash purposed.

“I still don’t see how this has anything to with the Mortem Spera“ Carter replied. Ash thought on his question for a minute but shrugged. “Most of these stupid quest have no reason to link up together the way they do.” The cat boy replied.

“Wait, that means we should be able to meet back up with the others then.” Jo replied. Ash quickly rips the tapestry off the wall and rolls it up. “I don’t know if this will be helpful, but it’s worth a shot.” They then head off the find the others.

“So these star forgers are immortal?” Cj asked before taking another sip of tea. The elder nodded.

“The only thing known to strike down one of these beings is something called the Mortem Spera.” He replied, drinking some of his own tea.

The two gods looked at each other, remembering that was thing they were hired to receive.

“But hear my warning. No mortal has managed to get their hands on it, and if they did they would surely meet their end.” He added.

“So who wielded it?” Dax spoke up. Dax did not have tea, he was drinking black coffee. Not that the old man had coffee, he made it himself— French press and everything.

The old man fell silent and put down his cup. “I don’t know the answer to that question. My theory was a dying god.” Interesting, interesting cool story bro.

“But I don’t actually know that. But I don’t think too much about the subject.”

“Well thank you for your time, but we need to find our friends.” Cj announced and pulled Dax up with her.

“Thank you for humoring me, you young folk have fun.” He said as he was went back to drinking tea.

Cj and Dax scurried out and proceeded further into the cave. “I’m sorry I don’t think he knows what’s he’s talking about.” Dax said.

“How so?” Cj replied. The older god sighed. “As long as I’ve lived, I would have at least heard about a dying god THAT desperate to live. Sure some seek out the fountain of youth, but trying to kill something like a star forger.”

Cj thought on it and nodded, “he did seem like he belonged in a loony bin.”

They then turned another corner to find... Faithy and Echo having a tea party?

She had on a fake crown and Echo had on a fake mustache and top hat. But this wasn’t your average tea party, it was the real thing. With delicate dishes, a tower of Pastries, and Gjhar feiiled forbid... a white lace table clothe.

“Is this what you’ve been doing this whole time?” Cj asked, not that she was one to ask.

“We ran into this lovely dwarf who owns a restaurant in here and we’ve been waiting on the rest of you.” Faithy explained before drinking out of her cup with her pinkie at ninety degrees.

Dax and Cj looked at them confused, “how did you know we were coming this way?” Cj asked.

“Ahh... so the shop owner was telling us that the cave coming down on itself was just a illusion.” Echo replied.

Cj flops down onto the ground and leaves an indention around herself.

“Yeah the whole thing is tourist trap role playing adventure. At the end they trick you into trading a sack of gold for a wooden spear.” Faith added.

“That does explain why it didn’t get any darker when the rocks blocked the entrance.” Dax replied.

Cj shot up from her Cj shaped hole in the floor and started screaming incoherently. She then stop and narrowed her eyes at Dax. “You’re a Chaos god and you couldn’t sense an illusion?”

Dax just shrugged. “I’m a chaos god, everything I do is legit. I have no use for mortal’s artificial magic.” He said with disgust. “That and I wasn’t thinking about it.”

Then. A loud thundering noise echoed through the cave, causing everyone to get up and put up their guard. But here comes ash carrying a stupidly large tapestry and Jo carrying Carter like a baby. How were they making so much noise????

“Ok good, we all found each other and someone isn’t trying to get through rocks like an idiot.” Ash said in relief.

“How did you know about the illusion?” Cj asked. Ash raised his eyebrow, “what illusion? The freaking flier made a map. It’s stupid simple but it works I guess.” He replied.

So... this was so freaking long.

And color coding is a pain

Never again

Ever

I hate everything

Masterlist

Figure out who everyone is, I dare you

[stripper-patrick]

Gallery🖼 Hardin Scott

Warnings: language, fluff, smut, light spanking, I liked this one😁

Tags: @mrsbanreswillseeyou

Relationship: Hardin Scott x black plus sized reader

“Y/N are you ready? We’re gonna be late” I finish touching up my hair making sure it looks nice. This new color has me self conscious.

I look in the mirror one last time at my overly thought out outfit. I nod in approval of the way my butt looks. I grab my purse and strap on my heels heading downstairs.

“You look nice” my mother smiles.

“Thanks”

....

We arrive at the huge mansion of the Scott’s. His father Ken Scott is the chancellor of England and somehow can still be in the states. Not my business. I’m dreading this because me and Hardin have had a small fling before. Ok by small I mean we caught feelings and by flint I mean talked and fucked multiple times but never dated. I haven’t seen him since I left for college last year.

I step out of the car and my father gives the valet man the keys letting him park it. I walk inside the house on my own seeing art displayed everywhere. They buy the art and either sell it to a different gallery for a smaller price or sell whatever money they make to charity.

Upon arrival I’m handed a glass of champagne. Granite I’m under the age but they don’t need to know all of that. I thank the waiter and walk all the way in. I take a sip of the dry liquid cringing at the burning sensation.

The glass gets taken from me by my mother “really”

“I know I’m more of a fireball kinda girl” I hear a snicker and that’s when I see him. Hardin Scott. The one who left my guts in another state and my heart broken. He looks nice in his maroon red button down and light grey pants with some white shoes.

“Sorry. Uh I’m Hardin you must be the Y/L/N’s pleasure to meet you” he extends his hand to mine making eye contact and I shake his hand staying quiet.

He shakes my dad and moms hand smiling at them. Ken comes over with a drink for my father which he gladly accepts while his mother Trisha accompanies my mom.

I look to see Hardin already staring at me “would you like to at the art?”

“Yes please” he takes me to the back where there are these huge extravagant pieces. I’m just in awe.

“These are amazing” I smile “I love this one” I point to a painting of which could easily represent black excellence. It’s so beautiful. I look at the price tag and see $23,000 on it “OOP never mind”

“You are still so beautiful” I look at him

“Don’t do that” I say

“Do what? Try to make a conversation after you left? I miss you if I’m being honest”

“You can’t miss me if you’re the one that wanted to end whatever it was we had”

“Well I regret it and I admit to my wrong doings” he steps closer to me “you still smell of vanilla. I wonder if you taste like it too”

I clamp my legs together involuntarily biting my lip. I’ve missed his tongue game.

“Hardin”

“I miss you more than you’ll ever know. No ones had my back the way you did Y/N” he leans down kissing the side of my lips. I wrap my arms around his neck fully kissing him.

“Meet me in the sun room” he smiles. Hardin kisses me one more time before dipping off into the crowd.

I make a left and go to the sunroom where there are a lot more paintings. By his mother it’s one of her hobbies. After about 10 minutes I’m about to get restless and leave. This was a mistake.

I stand up and I’m about to touch the door knob when it turns and the door opens. I back up and see Hardin walking in “we’re you about to leave”

“Yes I thought you weren’t coming” I fold my arms

“I’m sorry I got caught up handling some business” I roll my eyes and he puts his hand on my waist pulling me closer. “I’m sorry but what I just did you won’t regret”

He kisses me again. Gotdamn it I’m under his spell again. Hardin pushes us back until we fall on the bed. He lifts my dress and smiles at me in the middle of the kiss.

I can feel his pants straining at his hard-ok just waiting to be released. I move my hand between us and rub him through his tight pants. He moans in my mouth and now it’s my turn to smile.

I flip us over and focus my attention to his pants. Hardin sits up and slides my dress over my body. He kisses my collarbone and rubs my dripping pussy through my thin underwear. I finally get his pants undone and I unbutton his shirt. The artwork on his body never ceased to amaze me. My favorite was the tattoo on his hand. So intricate. I grab him stroking him a few times before going in his wallet and grabbing a condom. I grab the dick and slide it into me moaning. It feels like home when I’m with him... or in this case on him. Like he was meant to be with me.

He wraps his arm around my waist and thrusts upwards into me while I bounce down on him. The chatter of outside is luckily loud enough to cease everyone else from hearing our moans.

“Fuck Y/N” I loved when he moans my name. I own him now.

I rock on him harder occasionally swirling my hips. I’ve missed this feeling of him being inside of me. I never knew I’d have to admit that.

He slaps my ass gripping it afterwards making me moan. Hardin leans back on the pillows and I put my hands on his chest riding him harder. I let out a breathy moan.

“You’re so beautiful” I huff a ‘mhmm’ feeling the sunlight warm my skin.

“Don’t stop” I’ve never seen him this vulnerable before. He was always the dominant one and it was seldom if I took control like this.

“I miss you so much oh my god” I moan

“Look at you so beautiful on top of me” he moans. His grip on my hips will definitely leave a bruise. Hardin sits up again this time thrusting harder into me. I moan louder and just before I’m at the point of screaming he covers my mouth. He sucks a patch of skin and my legs begin shaking nearing my climax.

“Awww are you about to cum on me?” I nod moaning. He lets go and holds my butt cheeks open and starts drilling me.

“H-Hardin I’m cumming” I moan. That billsful moment that I haven’t felt in a long time. It always feels different with him.

“Make a mess all over me darling” he closes his eyes and grunts. I watch his stomach tense as he empties his load inside the condom.

My legs are still shaking feeling the aftershock and I smile at him. His beautiful eyes look at mine and he seals our space with a kiss.

“I wanna do this with-“

“Hardin?” I hear his father calling for him.

“Hold on” he yells back. I get off of him and slide my dress back on while he re-buttons his shirt and fixes his pants.

“Can you zip me back up?” I ask. He zips my dress and kisses my shoulder

“I wanna do this with you Y/N. For real this time”

“I don’t wanna be hurt again Hardin” I say “go out first”

He looks at me nodding before walking out first. I lean on the door sighing. “Where were you?” His father asks

“I needed a minute to myself” he lies

“Where’s Y/N?”

“Bathroom maybe?”

I wait a couple minutes before I emerge and sneak behind my parents. “There you are. Did you see anything?”

“I saw a lot” I smile

....

It’s been a week since me and Hardin’s rendezvous and I haven’t called him. What if I get hurt again? What if it’s just like last time?

I’m sitting in my room listening to music when I hear someone knock on the door. “Come in”

My mom emerges with a huge package and a smile “it’s for you”

I sit up and she leaves it on my bed. She shuts the door leaving me along again and I see a note attached to it.

‘I hope this proves that I won’t hurt you H’

I open the box and see the painting I fell in love with at the galley. I gasp and pull it out all the way. This is really mine.

I grab my phone and call Hardin. He picks up on instant and I can hear the smile in his voice “hello love”

“Hi Hardin. I just got your package”

“Ah that is the one you wanted right?”

“Yes but I- I don’t know what to say H. I can’t possibly take this”

“Nonsense. It’s yours and that’s the bottom line” he chuckles “it’s a peace offering”

“So me letting you be inside of me wasn’t enough peace?”

“It was but that was physical I want your mental and emotional peace. I want you”

I smile looking down “then you got me”