#ANYWAY i didn’t die at the outdoor bar and i did have a very good time

[notjanine]

i’ll stop talking about this mf eventually but like okay. i hate being taken care of. 99% of the time, i HATE being taken care of. but i am also not naturally skilled at social stuff, like i’ve learned and i can do it and i’m good at it now, but—iiiii hate to admit it—but i’ve always wanted to be with someone who can like. take the driver’s seat, socially. and Bookstore just knows exactly how to shine the spotlight on me in a group setting. sometimes i get so overwhelmed taking everything in that i forget to talk even when i have relevant things to add! but they know just when to say Oh al said/did/made me watch/read/listen to xyz, and then give me the space to elaborate. or they’ll be more subtle and say like [Nearby person who likes something i like], have you seen/do you know about [specific thing they know i love] and it’s. gosh it’s really nice. also they are very big and warm. gosh

[scuttling]

Those Who Wait

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Word Count: 4,985 Tags: 18+, Loss of virginity, Insecure reader, Fingering, Protected sex Summary: When you let it slip to the team that you've never had sex, they make it their mission to help you find someone who will make your dreams a reality. *Requested by anons!

Link to A03 or read below! “I don’t know how many times I have to reiterate this, but I am not a virgin,” Spencer says, palms up, and it’s clear this is something he’s reminded the team of on more than one occasion. You’re on the jet on the way home from a case, all of you gathered around chattering mindlessly to decompress, with the exception of Hotch, who is in his usual seat, working on his computer.

“And I never said I was talking about you,” you reply, with a tone just shy of smartass. You regret bringing it up already, because this will open the door to a topic you did not want to discuss with the team, ever, but you can’t put the cat back in the bag.

“Hold on. Are you…?” Emily grins a little, but her face drops into a frown when she notices the change in your demeanor, the tension in your shoulders. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, at all.”

“You’re a virgin? Really? You’re almost thirty,” Morgan says, leaning forward to look at you, and you nod, shrug. “Is it a religious thing? Saving yourself for marriage?” You scoot back in your seat, blow out a breath, use the casual posture to try to mask your discomfort.

“Nope, it’s not a religious thing. I’m just waiting for someone who’s worth it.”

“If you’re waiting for the perfect person,” JJ says, folding forward, hands clasped in front of her, “you’re going to be waiting forever.”

You sigh, because this is exactly the reason you didn’t want to bring this up.

“I’m not waiting for the perfect person. For a long time, I didn’t have time to date, and I was—you know, satisfied, without it, so it wasn’t an issue.” Your cheeks heat a little when you say it, and you rub a hand over the back of your neck. “But lately I’ve kind of shifted toward wanting to have sex, to find someone to make the connection with. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but I do have standards.”

“Don’t put pressure on yourself to do it. You’ve waited this long, why rush into things?” Emily says with a soft smile, and you reciprocate, grateful.

“I actually think it might be better if she just goes for it,” Morgan disagrees. Why aren’t you surprised? “Get it in, get it on, and get it over with. Then you won’t feel like it’s hanging over your head.”

“I’m trying. It’s not that I’m not trying. I’m going on dates; they’re all just really, really bad dates—like, the worst I’ve ever been on.”

“How many dates?” JJ asks with an arched brow, and you grimace.

“In the last month? Twelve.” Morgan laughs out loud, and you kind of want to punch him.

“Twelve first dates in the last month and you can’t get laid? Where are you finding these guys?”

“This stupid dating app Garcia convinced me to sign up for. They all seem fine on their profiles—”

“Oh, no, you can’t go by their profiles. Complete bullshit,” Emily says, and you throw your hands up in frustration.

“How else am I supposed to know what they’re like? They’re strangers.”

“Your first time shouldn’t be with a stranger.” You’re a little surprised when it’s Spencer who chimes in; everyone turns to look at him. “You’re a lot like me, and I know that I was nervous and insecure, and waiting for the right person made it a really great experience for me. I think you should wait for someone you know will make it meaningful.”

“She’s going to be waiting ‘til she’s eighty,” Morgan says with a grin, but he pats you on the back. “And if you do, I guess that’s okay. Not every guy can be a catch like yours truly.”

“Oh, spare us,” JJ says with a laugh, and you move on to other topics for the rest of the flight.

When you go to grab your luggage before heading back to the office, it’s just you and Hotch left on the jet; he’s been quiet for most of the trip, but when he steps up next to you, he says your name, low, to get your attention.

“I just wanted you to know, you deserve to be treated well… your first time. You should wait for someone you know will make it meaningful, like Reid said.” You just look at him for a moment, not sure what to say.

Part of you knows what you want to say. You want to say, is it worth it? You want to say, how will I know? You want to say, would you make it meaningful?

What you say is, “Thanks, Hotch.” He nods, hands you your bag, then takes his, closes the luggage compartment; he gestures for you to go ahead of him, and the two of you exit the plane.

You all go back to the office. Everyone hangs around for a few minutes, but Hotch goes up to his office, turns on the lights, sits down at his desk, and takes off his jacket. He’s in for a long night, then. You’re just getting ready to leave when Garcia strolls over, bag in hand.

“Hey, girl. How was that date the other night? Haven’t gotten to talk to you about anything other than murder the last few days.” She notices that your eyes are on Hotch’s office, looks up at him and back down at you. “Is everything okay, hon?” The concern in her voice snaps you out of it, and you look to her, smile.

“Yeah, everything’s okay. The date was not, though. I’ll walk out with you.” You grab your things, throw your jacket over your arm, and take one last look up at Hotch’s office before making your way to the parking garage. You go on seven more dates over the course of three weeks that are a complete waste of time and effort. Who knew having what you consider relatively basic standards would make losing your virginity so goddamn difficult? You know you’re not a knockout like JJ or Emily, and sometimes your nerves get the best of you, but you’ve been pretty charming, funny, all dolled up and putting out clear, but not desperate, DTF vibes.

The longer your quest drags on, the more embarrassing it gets. It actually becomes a part of the morning meeting: as soon as you enter the briefing room each day, Morgan raises his eyebrows, and you shake your head. He’s keeping a tally. You want to die a little bit.

Finally, you’re sitting at home one evening when you get the call from JJ that you’ll be heading to Miami for a case first thing the next morning. You thank her for letting you know, but before she hangs up, she says, “Bring a dress, something sexy. If we have an extra night, we’re going to a club and getting you laid.”

You stammer, a little embarrassed at the directness, but you pack a short, light, red dress, something appropriate for a humid Miami night, on the off chance you’ll actually get to go out.

The case is solved in a day and a half, and you are going to stay the night again, so JJ and Emily make it their mission to get you ready for a night out, and Morgan and Spencer make it their mission to scope out your potential partners and check for red flags before you even get close to them.

It’s sweet, kind of wholesome, when you ignore the fact they’re trying to get you fucked.

You have a drink at the outdoor bar, try to loosen up a little; the place is swarming with gorgeous, supermodel looking women with very little clothing on, breasts and ass everywhere you turn, and you feel inadequate, self-conscious in your little red dress. You freaking hate Miami.

You get glances from Morgan and Spencer, nudges of encouragement from Emily and JJ—even Hotch is around somewhere, part of the red flag detail, which you hadn’t expected—and you’re so close to giving up when a song comes on that you know and absolutely love.

Sex is outside your realm of knowledge, but dancing you can do, and you wrap your hand around Emily’s wrist and tell her you want to. JJ takes your drinks, sets them on the table, and the three of you head out to the dance floor.

It’s clear they didn’t expect much of your dancing, because they looked surprised as hell that you know how to work your body to the music, putting your arms on JJ’s shoulders and moving against her. She looks up, grins at Emily over your head, and cocks her eyebrow, impressed.

“Not that innocent after all,” she says, and you toss your head lightly, laugh.

“Said I was a virgin, not that I was innocent.” The three of you dance together, and you’re approached by several guys who try to get behind you, in between you, closer anyway they can. JJ and Emily are selective with who they entertain and who they give the brush off, and you’re grateful, because despite the outcome, you’re having a good time, and you never would have done this alone.

Eventually, a man comes over, wants to dance with you specifically; the girls exchange looks, give you a nudge, and you put your arms around his neck, let him rest his hands on your hips.

He’s pretty hot, you have to admit, a little under six feet tall, with dark hair and eyes and a nice smile, and dancing against him feels good. If it’s any indication of what if would be like to have sex with him, you’d let him take you home in a heartbeat. Of course, it’s been pre-planned that you’ll go back to your room upstairs if you hook up, so your people are nearby in case anything goes wrong; it’s maybe a little weird, the thought of your coworkers being cheerleaders while you lose your virginity, but what about this isn’t weird? At this point, you’re just going with the flow.

This guy is nice enough, doesn’t go straight for your ass like other guys you danced with, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing; you pull back, get his attention so you can tell him thanks for the dance, but you’re going to go back to your friends.

You don’t get a chance to say that, because you’re guided away from him by two strong hands on your waist. You turn, ready to tell someone off for getting handsy with you, but it’s Hotch, so the defensive posture you’d slipped into softens.

“Oh, hey. What’s going on? Is everything okay?” you ask loudly; his expression is serious, his brows pulled down in a frown. He shakes his head, leans in closer.

“I can’t let you go through with that—with him,” Hotch says in your ear, still hard to hear over the thrum of the music, and you put your hand on his shoulder, lean up so you can speak into his.

“What? Why not?” you ask, breathless from dancing and the heat. “JJ and Emily thought he seemed alright.” You didn’t actually want to go through with it, but that’s not important at the moment, not when Hotch is clearly trying to get some kind of point across.

“It’s not that, I just—you deserve better.” You frown, not sure you heard him right, and one of the hands on your waist moves lower; he presses you closer. “I don’t know if you would consider it, but I could do it. I could be the one.”

“The one?” you breathe. You need to hear him say it to confirm it’s not all in your head, that you aren’t taking anything out of context.

“The one you sleep with. The one to show you how good it can be. The one who will treat you well.”

You take a step back, have to see his face; is this pity, kindness, genuine interest? Because for the last few weeks, after every bad date, you’ve come back to the thought of Hotch kissing you, touching you, taking you apart. You know his hands are capable, you know he is kind and gentle, and it’s only the thought of him that keeps you from leaving with the first guy to show you attention. You’re so frustrated, never more desperate to feel than you have been since he told you you deserved something good.

He swallows when you look up at him, and your heart races.

“If you want to, I want to. No pressure if you don’t,” he assures you. What he’s saying is so unexpected, but so perfect, and you nod, wet your lips, lean back up on your toes to put your mouth to his ear.

“I want to. I trust you.” Feeling bold, you brush a hand over the back of his head, press your lips to the side of his neck. “Please?”

“Are you sure?” He sounds as tense as you feel, holds you tightly, like he needs to make sure this is really happening. You cling to him just as tightly, nod your head against his throat, and he squeezes your waist, ushers you across the crowded patio and inside the cool air of the hotel. You both sigh, because it’s quieter, more comfortable, and your gaze lingers over his body until he pulls you in for a gentle kiss.

You’ve done your fair share of kissing, and Hotch is so good at it, his hands on your face, his lips softer than you would have imagined, but firm in the way they press against yours. When the kiss breaks, you bring your hands to his wrists, breathing heavily, and then lean in to follow up with a kiss of your own.

He smiles softly, and you smile back, then slip your hand into his and let him lead you to the elevator. You’re not sure if it’s the night of dancing, the heat, the thrill of not only having sex after waiting so long, but having sex with Hotch, or what, but you feel changed; you’re a grown adult, you know that losing your virginity doesn’t mean much, doesn’t change who you are fundamentally, but the thought of experiencing it gives you a stomach full of butterflies in the best way possible.

“Would you like to go to my room, or yours?” he asks when you board the elevator, and he presses the button for the third floor. You plan to say it doesn’t really matter to you, but a thought crosses your mind.

“We can go to mine. I have condoms.” You’re not shy about using protection, know it’s just plain stupid not to, when you've been essentially searching for a new partner whose sexual and medical history you know little to nothing about, but telling Hotch makes your face heat a little. “I bought a variety pack—you know, when I started going on the dates.”

“Good. That’s good,” he says, nodding, and then he bends to kiss you, brushes his fingers over your jaw. “How are you feeling? Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Good,” you clarify. You feel so much better than okay you barely know how to say it, but there is one thing you didn’t think to ask before. “Hey, are you… are you attracted to me?” You look him over curiously, and the elevator dings; you step forward to get off, walk down the hall, but Hotch puts his hand out to stop the door, which stops you.

“I’m attracted to you. You’re gorgeous, and ever since you mentioned on the jet that this was something you were looking forward to… I can’t deny I’ve thought about being the one you share it with. Are you attracted to me?” You wet your lips, ready to reply with an emphatic yes, but he must take it for hesitation. “I understand why you want to do this, but if you aren’t attracted to me—it’s important that you want this with me, not just that you want this. I don’t want us to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

His words make you lose a little of the nervousness you were still holding onto, and you decide to show, not tell, how you feel about him; you wrap your fingers in his shirt and guide him down for a kiss that is hotter than before, still soft and slow, but wet and deep, too. After a moment, the elevator dings—likely due to the door remaining open for so long—and you break apart, breathless, and exit the elevator to head down the hall to your room.

Your interaction isn’t exactly awkward at first, but a little stilted: you both take off your shoes, and you grab waters from the mini fridge, hand him one and take a long sip of the other. It’s almost as if you are delaying the inevitable, but it’s not because this isn’t something you want to do; if pressed, you’d say the idea of having this time with Hotch is actually something you want to savor, not rush into too quickly. You aren’t delaying, but prolonging, and eventually you have to snap yourself out of it and just enjoy what you have while you have it.

You cross the room, walk over to him, and put your hands on his stomach, look up at him with clear eyes. His fingers ghost over your bare arms, and for a moment you just share breath, a lingering stare, until you stretch up to meet him in the middle for a deep kiss.

Hotch moves his hands to your hair, tips your head up, and you wind your arms around his back, pulling him closer and stepping forward until his legs hit the foot of the bed. He is warm, broad, solid beneath your hands, and you push them up the back of his shirt, skim them over his skin.

“Can I take this off?” you breathe when you separate, and he nods, helps you work it over his head and drops it to the floor.

Your hands rest on his stomach again, glide up his chest, and when you kiss this time, he turns you so your back faces the bed, eases you onto it. He lays between your legs, kisses until you’re both panting with need, and when you lean your head back to catch your breath he moves his mouth to your neck, trails it slowly up, then down, softly bites at the base of your throat. You hum softly, clutch his shoulders, bring your knees up around his waist.

“God, I want you.” He pulls back, looks down at you, his chest heaving, and you nod, brush fingers through his hair. “I want you, Hotch. Please touch me.”

He begins with the slow drag of big, careful hands down the outsides of your thighs, over your hips, pushing your dress up around your waist. You can’t stop looking at his face, serious and handsome, even though the rest of him is perfect too; you like that he looks affected by this, like it means something to him as well, like you’re not alone in feeling a bit overwhelmed. He moves his hands to the soft insides of your thighs, squeezes them, then leans up on his knees so he can pull your panties off, sets them on the bed beside him.

“I’m just going to rub. Tell me if it’s too much, not enough.” He curls over you for a kiss and slides his fingers along your pussy, three of them, long and thick. You close your eyes immediately, because the first touch is so good, his fingertips gliding through your slick and spreading it over your lips and clit; you are both breathing heavily, mouths hovering over each other, and you clutch at his biceps while he rubs where you are soft and aching.

It’s not that it’s not enough—you could get off this way, easily, you’re halfway there already—but you want more, imagine yourself clamping down around his fingers, digging your nails into him when you come.

“Can you…” You trail off, bite your lip, and he smooths a palm over your cheek, your hair.

“Ask me. Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I want to give it to you.” A soft, needy noise leaves your throat, and he presses his lips to yours, slips the pads of two fingers over your clit, rubs circles against it. “Is it this? Is this what you want?” You wet your lips, think no but yes, move a hand to his face.

“Can you put your fingers inside me? I want to feel you inside.” Your voice trembles over it, not used to being so direct, not used to asking for what you want, and his answering kiss is deep, wet; he pulls back to look at your face as he presses one finger inside, and you feel your expression shift, from desperate to intensely pleasured, your mouth open, eyes wide. “Hotch, oh.” He pulls it out slowly, nearly all the way, and pushes it back in, rubs your cheek, brushes his thumb over your lips.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Good is an understatement, and you clench around him, slide your hands down his forearms, nod. “Good. It’s okay if you’re just quiet, but if you’re nervous about how you’ll sound, don’t be. I’d like to hear how you’re feeling.” Another reason to feel so good about this—because you are self-conscious of the way you’ll sound, and you should have known he would pick up on it, try to ease your insecurities. You wet your lips, nod, and he moves the finger slowly in and out, adds another when you ask him to.

“Mmm. Mmm.” You bring a hand to your covered breast, squeeze it, and he moves to push your dress up further, to bare it, maybe, but you tense, then instantly feel silly.

“What is it?” he asks gently, running his hand over your stomach instead, and your muscles relax, you sigh.

“Just a little self-conscious… about my breasts—especially after everything I saw downstairs,” you say, huffing a laugh, and he chuckles, nods.

“Miami is a bit much. But you’re so beautiful, sweetheart, just as you are, and it’s clear they bring you pleasure. If you’ll let me, I’d like to take your dress off all the way, touch them… kiss them.” The prospect sounds so tempting—your nipples are sensitive beneath your own hands, but under his? His mouth?

Your breathing picks up again, and you nod, rest your arms over your head so he can pull it up and off. You swallow, trembling and bare beneath him, and he steps off of the bed to push the rest of his clothes off, too; you know you feel vulnerable, so maybe he sensed it, wanted to make you more comfortable? Either way, he is gorgeous, and you’re so grateful to be doing this with him.

“Where are the condoms?” he asks, bending over the edge of the bed to kiss you with a hand on your cheek. You direct him to your bag, and he opens the box, takes out the one he needs, walks back to you; you lean up on your elbows to watch him intently as he tears the package open, rolls it onto his cock. When he climbs on top of you again, when he pushes your knees gently apart and makes himself at home between them, you shudder; you can feel his dick for the first time, hard against your thigh, and he leans in to kiss your throat, your shoulders, and eventually, your breasts.

His mouth covers one, his hand covers the other, and you gasp when his lips close around your nipple, suck softly. “Hotch, oh my god.” You lift your hips, looking for contact, and he removes the hand from your breast, uses it to line his cock up so it can slide over your pussy as you rock against him, wet, perfect pressure, as he pulls your breast more roughly into his mouth, nibbles it.

You arch your back, pushing your chest closer to him, and he moans, slowly glides his hands over your throat, into your hair. He shifts the angle of his hips, and he slips out from between you, making you sigh at the loss. Now that you’ve felt him, it’s maddening to be without, and you wet your lips, touch his face.

“I’m ready.” He leans in to kiss your cheeks, your chin, rubs his nose softly against yours, and you meet for a deep, slow, wet kiss.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Please.” You move your hands to his waist, guide him closer, and he pushes slowly inside, lets you get used to the stretch it brings. It just feels good, not really a new sensation, since you’ve put toys inside before, but he is so much thicker, more satisfying to feel along your sensitive channel, his body warm on top of yours.

“How does it feel?” he murmurs, lips grazing yours, and you curl your hand around the back of his neck, just kiss him, enjoy the fullness and the slide of his tongue.

“So good. You can move,” you say, and your voice sounds strained, but it’s with arousal, not discomfort. You hitch your knees up higher, put your hands on his arms, pull him in so he’ll know that. “Want to feel you, Hotch.” You share breath for a few moments, and then he pulls back and thrusts forward, repeats it a few times, slow and steady, looking into your eyes.

You moan, carefully roll your hips in time with his, and he pumps inside a little deeper, a little quicker. You grip his arms, move your hands to his face, unsure what part of him you want to touch, anchor yourself against. He leans down for a kiss and you press your fingers to his cheeks, kiss him more passionately, less timidly than you’ve been so far. He groans against your mouth, and you pant as your bodies work together; it’s almost instinctual, the need to take him deeper, to meet, thighs hard against each other.

“Are you okay?” he asks, sliding his hands over your sides, hips, and you nod, gasp when he shifts up, gets his mouth on your breast again, kisses it wetly while his cock glides inside. That’s enough to have you moaning, loudly, head back, your hands on his body now, to feel his muscles flex while he thrusts inside you.

“Hotch, oh. Feels so good, I—” He bites down, lightly, just the edge of his teeth, and your legs snap tight against his body, shaking while you come around him. “Oh, oh. Mmm.” Your muscles contract so hard he grunts, your pussy all but trapping him there, and he grinds against you, grips your thighs.

“So perfect. You feel so good coming for me, so tight.” You ride out the pleasure, rolling your hips against his, and when you’re a little looser he thrusts again, slides an arm behind yours, his hand carefully around the back of your neck, kisses you until he comes, groaning, in your ear.

You look up at him as he gathers himself, wets his lips, and you curl around him for a hug; he holds you tightly, rubs gentle palms over your body, murmurs that you’re incredible and he hopes you know that was special. It's the connection you were looking for, intimacy, and you are so incredibly happy you found it, even if you did find it in the unlikeliest of places.

You lay together for a few minutes before he pulls out, ties off the condom, takes it into the bathroom, and then you go in to pee. You look yourself over in the mirror—again, fully aware that losing your virginity changes almost nothing—but you can’t help feeling like a missing piece has locked into place.

If makes you wonder if the missing piece maybe wasn’t sex, but Hotch.

When you head back into the other room, you expect him to be dressed, or at least getting dressed, but he’s laying back on the bed, covers turned down, body still bare—what you can see of him is bare, anyway, because crisp white sheets cling to his waist, make him look only that much more delicious as he waits for you.

You suddenly ache with desire again, touch your chest at the rush of emotion, of sensation, and then you climb on the bed, slip into his lap, kiss him again. This time it’s different, because your lips and tongue are all saying what you can’t, and it’s intimate, passionate, vulnerable, intense.

Except, maybe you can say it, because he kisses back just as furiously, and it translates into something as strong as what you’re feeling, his hands on your face and lower back holding you close.

“I want you,” he whispers, looking into your eyes, and you’re panting hard, desperate for more. “Not just tonight—I want every night to feel like tonight. I know you weren’t planning for anything more than this, but if you like, maybe I could take you to dinner when we get back. We could see if there’s something more?” He looks nervous, like the offer won’t be well received, but you just nod, smile, lean close for a gentler brush of lips.

“I’d really like that. I don’t want to only feel like this tonight.”

You kiss a little more, softer, sweeter things, eventually moving from his lap to curl against his side; the two of you cuddle, talk—it’s not awkward in the slightest, just feels right, and you drift to sleep warm and content in his arms.

Maybe Miami’s not so bad after all.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream

[wind-becomes-lightning]

Drunk Ramblings

Day- 4! Happy Birthday to Obito! WOO. I love you little man.

Jonin! Obito AU (he survives kannabi bridge, has scars, lost an eye, Rin still died and he has kamui. Alright?)

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito

4023 words.

There is nothing major happening here, so I don’t really need any warnings. Rated M because of the alcohol and I have no idea what the tolerance is here.

Ao3 link [x]

For @kakaobiweek Day 4: Obito’s Birthday

Obito’s “super cells” keep him from getting drunk, or do they? His birthday party is the best chance to try it out, especially since he is mad at Kakashi.

Having birthdays in February wasn’t Obito’s favourite thing in the world. Usually it was still cold, thin snow and dried up ice lay over Konoha like a blanket, holding the village in a choke hold until spring came by late March. Obito loved the sun, the outdoors and his unfortunate birthday placement made it impossible to ever do a celebration outside. Not that he wanted a big party everytime, hanging out with the closest friends was enough, but sometimes he still wished it was in summer instead.

He was standing, freezing his hands off in a new Jonin jacket he had bought as a present to himself after his previous one had been burned one too many times by his fire jutsu. A thick, green fabric that warmed his core and back, but unfortunately left the arms completely exposed with the blue matching sweaters. Obito could have worn more underneath, could have tried to warm his arms up, but that would only be annoying later in the bar. It was freezing outside, but he’d sweat on the inside. He had to die one death.

“That’s the only time in a year you ever arrive punctually,” Kakashi teased him as he arrived. “When it is about you.” Obito looked at him through his uncovered eye and rolled it. “That is not true”, he furrowed his brow, “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.” Kakashi laughed a little and patted his friend on the shoulder. Obito had again decided to spend his birthday by celebrating with friends in their favourite bar. The food was good and beer was cheap enough that the others could get drunk easily, which always amused Obito. He didn’t need presents when he could see his friends embarrass themselves.

They arrived slowly,  Gai, who was as energetic as ever, followed Kakashi.  Tenzou was there too, a little shy around all of them even after years of friendship and Asuma had brought Kurenai. Obito smiled a bit to himself thinking of how much all these people meant to him. They entered the bar, finally releasing him from the curse of the freezing cold, and made their way to their table. Obito had it reserved at their usual favourite spot: right by the window with a good view of the busy outside street. Humans like watching other humans after all.

“I can’t stay long”, Kakashi announced right at the beginning of the evening. “I got a S-Rank mission assigned for early tomorrow.” He sighed. “I will have to leave, pack, sleep, before then.” He nodded to Obito who frowned a little with a disappointment that he could not quite place. “And then you still came to celebrate with your partner! That is so good of you, rival!” Gai said, an arm slung around Kakashi’s slender neckline. “Yes, that is very nice of you”, Obito agreed, not feeling the words at all.

He soon forgot the underlying disappointment when the food arrived. Good barbecued meat and rice as much as they wanted to eat. Obito himself needed not eat, something related to the cells that had been used to keep him alive once he’d almost been crushed to death, but he enjoyed eating anyway. After all, his taste buds were still intact. He didn’t need to sleep either, but he still did sometimes. After all, sleeping was an overall enjoyable activity, so was tasting and drinking. They emptied the first beers before they had eaten a bite of the food. Obito knew this evening would be expensive for him.

“And then, he fell over and clung to Kakashi like a little ape”, Gai laughed and pointed at Obito, who buried his head into his hands. Each year Gai told this story from their childhood to everybody’s amusement, except for Obito. Back when they’d been in the academy Kakashi and him had been put together to practice chakra control in the feet and obviously Kakashi had picked it up without issue right away, while Obito had taken a bit longer. “For once I would like one year in which I am not made fun of” he pouted, chopsticks spinning between his fingers. He caught Kakashi’s uncovered eye and felt uneasy at seeing him smile contendly.

They had a little more food and a little more beer, then Kakashi threw a look at the clock on the wall. “Sadly,” he started, shoving the last part of the fried meat into his mouth, “I think this is where I clock out.” There was a widespread “nooo” among their friends and Obito could feel the disappointment again. Of all the people present, Obito wanted Kakashi to stay the most. Kakashi tapped on the table a little and then nodded at Obito. “Sorry man, I’ll make it up to you when I’m back.” Obito nodded back. “No need, I’m glad you came out even if it was only shortly” he replied through gritted teeth. Had he ever spoken words more insincere?  Kakashi waved around and left. 

They ordered more food for the bbq and more alcohol. “So you can’t get drunk, huh?” Asuma called over the table, another one of these conversations that came up at every party. “Yes, you know I don’t” Obito answered, a little annoyed. He could appreciate the taste of it, but it had no effect on him at all. “Are you sure about that?” Tenzou hit him a little from the side. “Have you tried?” Obito shook his head: “I  haven’t really considered it much. I just thought it's not possible.” Gai banged onto the table with his flat hand: “I can smell a challenge!”

Now, Obito wasn’t the type to get roped up in challenges, well, not these kinds of challenges, but somehow in this very evening his mind needed a distraction. So what if he drank as much as he could? It was not like he could get drunk anyway. The amount of alcohol needed would have to be insanely high and who cares, it was his birthday. The others started ordering beer after beer for him to drink, he chucked them, usually on one breath. down. The others drank at their usual speed, eyes locking on Obito, trying to recognize any little change in his behaviour. Pathetic, Obito thought, nothing could ever make him drunk.

Four hours passed with the others getting progressively more drunk. Gai and Tenzou were now talking loudly about the advantages of mokuton for working out (“You could put double your weight on your back for pushups!”) and Kurenai and Asuma were engaged in a conversation full of touching and bumping heads together. They were all drunk, Obito noticed. He wasn’t. The fact that his vision was blurring out a little, was just a normal occurrence from sitting in the heat for a long time. And the fact that the room was moving like a ship on water? He must be having a headache.

They kept ordering Obito more beer to drink down, and he drank them all without a word. By now the waitress had been let in on the challenge and even though she did not quite understand the whole deal with the “super cells”, she kept the drinks coming automatically. Obito was breathing heavily now, his mind a little foggy and unclear. “We gettin tipsy, huh?” Tenzou said next to him, pushing his arm a little in Obito’s side. “Surely you must be talking about yourself,” Obito replied and Tenzou just laughed, a little red in his face.

If he was honest to himself he could feel it now, at his fingertips, the way he was forced to go to the toilet quicker than before. Obito could not believe that he’d been forced into this reckless thing. Who knew how long it would take for him to recover to his usual strength? Why had he even agreed? But then he remembered why he agreed: Kakashi had left early. Obito scratched his finger lightly over the table. His friend, his partner, the person he shared an unbreakable bond with - the only one that Obito trusted completely blindly. He’d wanted him there, wanted to watch him smile, drink, maybe lay an arm around him….Being drunk right now would probably also be much funnier with him by his side. Obito felt frustrated.

“I don’t know who he thinks he is”, Obito slurred, the glasses of beer in front of him stacking up dangerously high now. “Coming here and then going away without even much of a word.” He punched his fist onto the table and hunched himself against Tenzou on his left. “Who?” the other man said, “Senpai?” Obito put his head on the table before he said “Yes.” Tenzou laughed, his cheeks also dangerously flushed red. “I assume it was not his choice to have a mission.” Obito wanted to complain more, but instead he chucked another beer. Who’d have thought he got to defeat the super cells that had been implanted in him. “It’s my birthday though”, he pouted.

“Obito, my old friend, maybe you should tell him how you feel. I’m sure it would spring forward a new spring for your youth” Gai hollered across the table, a little bit of rice falling out of his mouth while speaking. Asuma and Kurenai, who had been busy with themselves, looked up to him. “I-I don’t feel anything, I just think he should have been here on my birthday..” Obito stammered, the faces of the others swimming a bit in front of his eyes. “We’re partners, m-mission partners so…” Tenzou patted him on the arm with sympathy. “I get you. He is quite handsome.” Obito didn’t find it in himself to disagree, instead he saw Kakashi’s face in front of his mind’s eye, smiling, maskless, the one time he’d actually seen him like that. 

“He’s swooning”, Kurenai teased, her head set on the palm of her hand. “Are you thinking of him now?” Obito yerked upwards, straightening out his back. He grabbed the new beer that the waitress had brought and finished it in one breath. “He definitely is,” Asuma grinned, a hand around Kurenai’s shoulders. “OH I see how this is”, Obito spat back, rolling his one eye violently. “You guys are a couple now, so you think you have expert knowledge on love!” He was utterly baffled when everybody laughed. “No, friend, you don’t have to be ashamed, just be honest with yourself” Gai pumped a fist into the air.

“I don’t need you guys to make fun of me this way, it’s my birthday” Obito turned away from Gai’s face and leaned in closer with Tenzou, who let the older man set his head on his shoulder. “You’re the only one I like”, Obito slurred again, his head spinning so unnaturally for him. Well, if this evening brought one thing for him it was the knowledge that he could get drunk -eventually. Tenzou chuckled a little, his shoulders shaking with it. He lifted a shoulder into Obito’s scarred cheek. “I agree with them though. I think you should just tell senpai about it.”

Obito looked up into Tenzou’s eyes. How could even adorable little Tenzou betray him this way? “Tell him what?” The heat at Obito’s heart was burning bright, sending words to his mouth that he never dared say out loud, just that this time they spilled out. “That one of the reasons why I like these parties is that he gets drunk and a little more touchy than usual? That I like when he compliments me and when he teases me? That I like his hair when it is wet and hanging down and his half lidded eye smile? That I think about kissing him all the time?” He breathed out hard, as if he’d just finished a long run.

The others blinked for a moment and then Kurenai said: “Yes, something like that would suffice.” Slowly, as if through a thick filter, Obito realised what he’d just said, realised what those words meant. He felt a heat in his face that was not related to alcohol. Swaying a little he got up and without looking at anyone, announced that he needed to go home and rest, saying that “Alcohol makes one say all sorts of things, doesn’t it? I think I should go to sleep.” He laughed weakly and thankfully, mercifully, his friends let him go.

They dressed up and went out into the cold. Obito had never been drunk before, he’d only watched other people going through it. So now that he was part of it everything was a lot funnier, and a lot weirder. Gai had his arm around him and Tenzou and repeated over again how much he’d cherished both of them. Usually Obito would be embarrassed by this loud behaviour so late at night out, but now that he was intoxicated himself he loved it. All three of them walked very close and touched each other's arms over and over again. Maybe it wasn’t only Kakashi who got touchy when drunk. 

Asuma and Kurenai had disappeared in the meanwhile, Obito only noticed 15 mins after they’d left the bar. Well, they would probably be fine. They had each other. Gai left after, having to turn a corner to go find his apartment. Obito and Tenzou offered to bring him home, but he insisted he could find his own way. He thanked Obito for the “absolutely wonderful” evening and then walked off. Tenzou stayed with Obito a bit longer, arm in arm as they walked along the deserted streets of the village, but then eventually they also made it to a crossroad. “You think you can make it home?” Tenzou asked, sounding a little worried. But just like Gai had before Obito said: “Don’t worry, I can do it.” Tenzou did not seem convinced but wasn’t a pushy sort of person, so he said “Happy Birthday”, patted Obito on the arm a little and walked off.

The birthday boy was alone now, swaying dangerously from foot to foot without other arms holding him up. Alcohol had one weird effect on one’s body, he studied. Not only did his vision blurr without him doing anything, but his head spun and his stomach felt a little upset. When he closed his eye a feeling of freefall came over him. It had been funny with friends around, but now it just seemed kind of dangerous. How did others do this every weekend? Obito stumbled over his feet a little and held on on a house corner when he thought about a genius idea: Why not go home with kamui?

Sure Kamui would cost chakra and he wasn’t particularly awake at this very moment, but at least he would get home safe and not run around like a lost child. Plus if he’d pass out in kamui nobody would notice. He’d just sleep off the alcohol and wake back up fresh in the morning. Obito steadied himself and put a hand over his eye, then he used the familiar swirl to escape to his own dimension.

The first thing he saw there was a mess. Parts of fabric and kunai were scattered across the blocks making up kamuis landscape. There was blood on the floor. He blinked. Kakashi must have had a fight recently and used his eye and he must have forgotten to tell Obito he had. Now Obito had to deal with the fallout, the dirt and the mess. How very lovely. He let out a sharp breath, heat at his heart again. How dare Kakashi do that to him? Mess up his stuff? Not come to his birthday party? Not love him back? A voice inside his head told him to go confront Kakashi about it. In a rational state he would have seen it as a bad idea, but this was a drunk Obito.

Instead of his own place he materialised in the darkness of Kakashi’s apartment just outside his bedroom door. His mind fogged up as it was Obito was not careful to keep quiet when he took his shoes off and tossed them to the door. It took approximately two breaths for Kakashi to be at his throat with a kunai. Anbu ears always listen. Obito gasped at the cold metall against his neck and wiggled with his arms, the vision before his eye spinning. “It’s me, Obito, me, hello-” Kakashi let his hand fall and immediately held it up again as Obito was falling over his feet. “Obito. Why are you here?”

Obito turned around to look at his friend. Kakashi clearly had been sleeping, the bags under his eyes heavier than usual and his hair cramped up unnaturally. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt and only boxers. Obito took it all in, memorising the look with his sharingan still active. He let his hand wander over Kakashi’s maskless face, feeling the warm skin. “I came to see you” Obito said, the filter to prevent him from being honest was completely broken down. “I have a mission early tomorrow”, Kakashi replied, an eyebrow raised at the state Obito is in. “Are you… drunk?”

“It turns out, I can drink”, Obito giggled, still stroking over Kakashi’s cheek with his finger. “I just need to drink a lot.” Kakashi sighed. “How about you lie down a little?” He took Obito’s hand off his cheek and started guiding him towards the couch in the living room. Obito looked at Kakashi from the side and remembered again why he had come here in the first place: “Hey!” he said loudly so suddenly that Kakashi almost let go of him. “You- YOU. Kamui is a mess!” Kakashi scoffed and let his friend down on the couch to sit next to him. “I didn’t have time to play cleanup after I had a run in with a mass murderer, please excuse me.” He went with his hand through his hair and Obito watched every movement. “Is that what you came here to tell me? I will clean it up once I’m back.”

“No,” Obito said, decisively, “I did not come here to tell you only that.” Kakashi stretched and got up. “I’m going to get you some water, you can say what you need to say, though I must say I don’t know what could be so important now..” He walked over to the little kitchen and picked up a glas. Obito wanted to stand up, in his mind he definitely did, but his body was too weak, too wobbly to do anything. “I-I- “ he began, “You- you shouldn’t have left so early today. It was my birthday.” Kakashi came back with a glass of water and forced it into Obito’s hand. “Drink”, he said and then “It wasn’t my choice to go out early tomorrow. I despise early mornings.”

Obito continued as if he hadn’t heard the retord. “It is my birthday and above all people I want you to be there celebrating with me. What use is this day if you’re out of town?” He drank a quick sip of the water and then continued his rambling: “It’s fun to share these things with you, especially when you come out of your shell. A-and also the others teased me and said I have a crush on you and-” Kakashi’s head snapped around, but Obito continued mercilessly. “- and I mean who doesn’t have a crush on you? You’re the prettiest man I’ve ever met, even Tenzou said so.”

“Obito, what are you saying?” Kakashi spoke like a whisper, voice a little shaky, but Obito didn’t notice that. He took another deep sip of his water and sighed, his head turned again to Kakashi. “I mean one just has to love you, everybody who has seen your handsome naked face loves you.” If Obito’s vision had not been so blurry he might have been able to see Kakashi blush on his high cheekbones. “So I came here to tell you that. You should have been there tonight for me, because I love you.”

A moment of silence passed in which Kakashi just looked at his friend, grey eye opened and disbelief and red eye pressed shut. It was enough time for Obito to hear back everything that had just left his mouth, a sound from far outside, as if he had his head underwater. He scooched backwards away from the other man, terror on his face. “I love you as a friend. A- a friend you know. I value you. Yes, that is what I meant.” He felt sick and grabbed the glass one more time to empty it. He needed to clear his head quickly to salvage the situation. In panic he looked to get up, but before he could, Kakashi had already grabbed his wrist. “Don’t go” he said so softly that Obito felt his heart melt.

“Did you mean that?” Kakashi asked earnestly, pushing Obito’s jaw with one hand so they had to face each other. “What you just said? I mean.. before the poor deflection.” Obito squirmed a little, but his filter was still weakend and his head was spinning, especially with Kakashi’s face maskless and close. “It- it might” he said finally, unable to look the other man in the eyes fully. Kakashi, however, didn’t allow him to avert his gaze. He touched Obito’s jaw up again to meet his eye. “I’m happy you told me that, Obito”, Kakashi breathed, the air hot and tingling on Obito’s skin. 

Then they found each other, mid way between both of them, soft lips on soft lips. Obito just about dared to close his eye, a little nervous that his mind would spin out of control, but surprisingly his head was calm now. Obito felt himself forward, opening his mouth a little to deepen the kiss and let Kakashi taste him. The other man laughed a little and whispered: “You taste like beer.” Before Obito had the chance to apologise Kakashi had already continued kissing him, tongue tipping lightly forward, touching Obito’s gently and then more forcefully.

Quickly the heat in Obito’s core returned as he moved one hand into the hanging, beautiful silver hair. Kakashi sighed a pleasurable sigh and pressed Obito forward, laying him down on his back without taking his lips off him. Obito let it all happen, let Kakashi’s hands roam over him, his tongue in his mouth until he could no longer breathe. Now on his back the spinning in his head returned with a vengeance, especially with Kakashi leaning on his stomach. Obito yelped a little, choking on his own air. “S-Stop.” He pushed Kakashi away.

Kakashi let him go instantaneously, a look of worry on his face. “Is everything alright with you? You are kinda white.” Obito kept his eyes pressed shut, trying to regain his composure to be able to continue, already missing Kakashi’s lips on his, but his body did not comply. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he said a little whine, knitting his eyebrows together. Kakashi made an “aw”-sound and patted him on the head. “Baby’s first hangover.” 

“Shut up, this is not fun”, Obito whined, but he still moved his head deeper into Kakashi’s touch, eye still closed. Kakashi hummed a little and Obito did not have to see his face to know he was smiling. Leaning forward and laying Obito on his back again he said: “I think you should sleep a little. I will bring you another glass of water.” He kissed Obito again, soft and quick and it eased the other man’s suffering momentarily. Obito listened to the soft footsteps on the wood floor while he pulled up a little thin blanket over his shoulders. He had not  even taken off his Jonin-vest, but he felt like his limbs were too heavy to do that now.

Vague, as if from far away, he could hear Kakashi come back and put the glass on the table. He could feel his hair being pushed back and a kiss placed on his forehead. Then, a whisper next to his ear was the last thing he heard before falling asleep fully. “Happy Birthday, Obito.”

[actress4him]

The Barn 4 - The Pole

(Prompt #1 for Summer of Whump)

Yes, I’m coming in at the last minute with one more Summer of Whump prompt, and yes, it’s prompt #1. Also, if you read more than one of my series I’m sorry that this one is kinda like that one chapter of In Irons...? But I actually thought of this one first, and yes, it was inspired by Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Warnings: captivity, restraints, dehumanization, references to beating, mild blood, starvation, dehydration, nausea, emeto, fainting, heat exhaustion/stroke, probably medically inaccurate

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Stetson dropped Jacob’s foot, and another puff of red dust went up into the air, joining the cloud that his body had created as it was dragged. It would have been the perfect time for him to leap up and try to run again, but he couldn’t move. His everything ached.

A second later a leather-clad hand gripped his arm and yanked him upright. Jacob’s head swam with the swift change in elevation and his nose throbbed. While he was busy trying to get the world to stop spinning around him, Stetson roughly pulled his arms behind his back and started winding rope around his wrists.

Fantastic. He hadn’t even gotten to enjoy them being free.

Once they were thoroughly wrapped and the rope pulled tight, Stetson stood, taking the tail end with him and jerking Jacob’s arms backwards in the process. He cried out in surprise, and tried to get up. His legs only cooperated enough to scoot him back a few inches, but it was enough to let his arms rest against his back again.

Whatever Stetson was doing, he finished up and came back around to squat in front of his captive, arms propped across his knees and brown eyes studying him just as emotionlessly as ever.

“Maybe a few days of this’ll teach you some manners.”

“Doubt it,” Jacob immediately shot back without thinking. “My mom’s been trying to teach me manners for twenty-six years. I wouldn’t count on a few days making much of a difference.”

Stetson huffed very lightly, something that almost could have been taken for a laugh if Jacob wasn’t positive the guy didn’t know how. “We’ll see.”

Straightening with a quiet popping of joints, he turned and strolled away.

There was no way he was just leaving Jacob alone and able to run off. Craning his neck painfully around, he finally took a look at what was behind him. A post. A wooden post, probably coming up to around his shoulders. And the rope that was tying his wrists was looped through a metal hook in the top and knotted.

Okay, no problem. Jacob was good with his hands, he had nimble fingers from spending all day typing code. Struggling to his feet, he bent over forward so that he could reach and felt his way up the rope until he reached the knot, fingers fumbling around it, trying to get a sense of where it started.

Instead, he found a padlock.

Jacob let out a frustrated scream, the first time he’d actually had a chance to vent his feelings since this whole nightmare began. It felt good enough that he did it again. Then he ran forward, as hard as he could, as if he was somehow going to break the rope or pull the post out of the ground instead of nearly ripping his shoulders out of socket when he abruptly reached the end of his lead.

Tied to a stupid pole like...like a horse, or a dog. He was a human, dang it! Who did these people think they were, treating another person like this? The last…forty-eight? seventy-two? He didn’t even know how many hours anymore...had been completely flabbergasting, just seeing the sheer number of people who thought this was perfectly okay. And now he was stuck, in the middle of nowhere, with some psychopath who thought he was gonna what, train him? To do what, he didn’t even want to know.

Night was falling by then. Jacob was beyond exhausted, and resigned himself to sinking back down to the dirt, resting his back against the pole and getting as comfortable as possible.

The next day dawned with little sleep having been found. The sharp pains of yesterday had given way to stiffness and aches that made it hard to pry himself off the ground. His face was coated with dried blood and who knows what else, making him sticky and disgusted in addition to everything else.

He’d really never liked the outdoors that much. He was much more at home inside, in front of a computer. The outside had far too many things that could get you dirty, like, you know, dirt, for instance, like the kind of dirt he was currently sitting on and covered in. Most of his friends growing up had been your typical rough-and-tumble boys who lived for mud puddles and rolling down grassy hills, but Jacob had never been able to stand the feeling of being dirty.

Sweat was a thing encountered more often outdoors, too, and was just as bad as dirt. He could feel it, collecting underneath his shirt as the sun rose higher in the wide, blue sky. There was nothing in the way of shade in this field. Just dirt, dust, and more dirt, all surrounded by a wooden fence. A corral, probably. Meant for horses, not people.

The heat only grew more intense as the day wore on. There was no sign of Stetson, no indication that he would be bringing food or water or coming to untie him. Jacob hadn’t had anything to eat since this whole thing had begun, and no water since before the auction. His tongue was beginning to stick to the roof of his mouth.

He tried pacing around the pole, circling until the rope was tightly wound one way before turning and going the other way. His brain wasn’t used to boredom. There was always something to think about, always something to do. But now the only thing to think about was how absolutely screwed he was, and that wasn’t helping anything.

He tried pulling some more, too, not running this time, but turning until he could grip the rope in his hands and tugging backwards with all his might. Which, to be honest, wasn’t a lot. He was a computer geek, okay, working out wasn’t high on his list of priorities. The moral of the story was, pulling on the rope did nothing but make his back and arms ache even more.

The heat and the lack of stimulation made the day drag on and on forever. Jacob’s stomach moved from groaning to aching to roiling. If there had been anything in it, he was sure it would have been expelled. His head pounded something awful, and he wasn’t sure whether it was from heat or light or lack of water or having it repeatedly bashed in the day before.

By the time the sun finally started to sink beneath the horizon, his clothes were soaked with sweat, which was not only gross but also turned cold once night fell. He never thought that he’d actually miss the sun once it was gone. But now he was shivering, and the headache hadn’t gone away, and his stomach felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out, and he was pretty sure there was dirt in his mouth, and he was completely, totally, miserable.

Day two was somehow even worse than the first. Jacob tried standing up and stretching his legs, walking around the pole again, but he was so dizzy that he collapsed right back to the ground. Groaning, he dropped his forehead against the pole, grinding particles of dust further into his skin.

His...dry...skin. He didn’t know much about health and science, like, at all, but he was pretty sure not sweating in this heat was not a good thing. He almost felt cold still, like the chill of the night was clinging to his skin.

Hours dragged by. Every time he swallowed, it felt like nails going down his throat. Moving his head in any direction made the world swim around him, the blinding rays of the sun making spots dance across his vision. His stomach kept feeling worse and worse until he finally ended up folding over, retching uselessly again and again until every muscle in his torso was on fire and his head felt like it was exploding.

His only vague thought was, am I gonna die? before he fell face-first into the dirt and passed out.

A blast of cold woke him. He tried to gasp for air, but instead inhaled a mouthful of freezing water, sending him into a coughing fit that racked his sore stomach muscles. But the water just kept coming. It was harsh enough that he couldn’t even sit up against the onslaught, not that he was sure he had the energy to, anyway. The spray scoured every inch of his bare skin, leaving it stinging from both the pressure and the cold.

But it was water. Sweet, beautiful water. As soon as he stopped coughing he tried his best to gulp it in, letting the cold coat his scratchy throat.

He wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved when the spray finally stopped. Bringing up weary, unbound hands, he wiped the drips from his eyes, blinking blearily up at Stetson, who dropped the hose and stared him down.

“You didn’t last as long as I had planned.”

“M-maybe…” His voice came out as a croak, and he attempted to clear it. “Maybe you should try some...food ‘nd water. Haven’t...had any of that in a while.”

Stetson continued to stare with crossed arms for another moment before walking over and grabbing onto his ankle again. “You just had your water. Maybe you can have food tomorrow. We’ll see how well you behave.”

Ignoring Jacob’s weak protests and attempts to fight, he dragged him away from the doorway of the barn and into a nearby stall. Iron bars reached from the half wall up to the ceiling, giving it even more of a prison cell feel. The only good news was that he didn’t bother to tie him up this time, just threw him inside and left, shutting the door with a deafening creak and an ominous click.

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 8

Day 8 - The temperature of your chest gets hotter when you are closer to your soulmate and colder when you move further away. (D&D AU)

Pairing(s): Romantic Roceit, Romantic Background Analogical

TWs: Swearing

–

“Oh I adore being made out to be the bad guy here.”

“You robbed the lair of the Dragon Witch! It’s literally your fault that we are mired in this bog of despair!”

Roman’s accusation rang loudly within the wagon as they made the long ride back to Amoresse to rest for the night. Janus rolled his serpentine eyes, 

“You, dear delusional knight, are totally not the one who went and killed said Dragon Witch, thus leaving her treasure for the taking.”, the half Yuan-Ti hissed, appropriately, “Besides, you can absolutely take the moral high ground here when you stole her crown at the first opportunity.”

The pristine elven knight gasped dramatically, clutching his figurative pearls at such an accusation! 

“This is an outrage-!”

“Both of you shut the fuck up or I’m driving this wagon off the nearest goddamn cliff!!”

Roman and Janus both immediately quietened down at the threat issued so casually by their wagon driver as the dhampir hissed curses under his breath. The two in the back glared at each other back and forth, avoiding looking towards the wrecked fabric of the canopy and the splintered wood. In Roman’s defense, he hadn’t known that grabbing the crown specifically would cause the Dragon Witch’s castle to fall to ruin around them. He’d realised his mistake almost immediately when he felt the dark magic radiating off of it. However, he couldn’t bring himself to admit that was the case. Especially not around Janus, the damn snake wouldn’t let him live it down. 

Being careful to pick his moment, Roman hazarded a glance over at the reptilian rapscallion eyeing up his spoils; Janus was an enigmatic entity to Roman, showing such sophistication and poise while also being prone to stumbling over his words or his own two feet in the same breath. Unabashedly, he displayed selfishness unrivalled by even the most aristocratic nobility, but in a pinch, was fully able to toss aside even the most valuable of artifacts to save a life. 

Roman had tried not to think about it. The noble and chivalrous knight, Roman of Sandaria, being saved from the jaws of death by a conman who, by all accounts, he had fully expected to leave him to die. The elven man wasn’t sure where his resentment lay; perhaps Roman thought he should’ve been able to save himself, perhaps he felt guilty for misjudging Janus but couldn’t find it in him to admit it, or perhaps it was an underlying prejudice from his training days. Yeah, he really  didn’t want to think about it.

Instead, Roman made his way to sit up front next to the moody wagon driver, making light conversation,

“I should be the one manning the wagon, your highness.”

“Roman, I’ve told you before, you can just call me by my name.”, the dhampir met Roman with piercing silver eyes, “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t understand my- Virgil,”, he corrected at the last second, “Nothing’s wrong. Aside from the fact you refuse to allow me to call you by your title-”

“That’s horseshit and you know it, Roman.”, Virgil kept his eyes on the road, anxious over the possibility of a crash if he kept his gaze averted too long, “I’ve known you since we were kids, I can tell when you’re lying. Besides, being called ‘your highness’ feels wrong as it is. Coming from you? It’s even fucking weirder than this whole marrying into royalty thing...”

Roman rolled his eyes but sat closer to offer Virgil a one-armed hug. The latter gave it a moment before accepting the gesture, “Virgil, you’ll be fine. If any one of us was suited to princedom, I cannot think of a better candidate. And your future husband is unreasonably attractive, so I don’t see what you have to complain about-”

“Oh my god, shut UP!”, Virgil chuckled and shoved Roman playfully. “I mean, you’re not wrong but the last thing I need is to think too hard about Logan and crash this stupid fucking shambles of a wagon!” 

The lighthearted banter did wonders to distract Roman until Virgil managed to get things back on track unfortunately, “Now, stop deflecting and tell me what’s got you so gloomy, Sir-Sing-A-Lot.”

Roman rolled his eyes at the old nickname, “I’m fine, Virge, really. I merely wish our cascading castle adventure had been a little less…ruinous.”

“.... Was that a fucking pun-”

“Ahem.”, Janus cleared his throat from behind the two of them, “I do so loathe to interrupt.... whatever this is,”, he gestured between the two of them, “But I believe that’s our stop up ahead. Wouldn’t want to go destroying that as well.”

With that, the serpentine rogue slunk back into the wagon. Roman muttered something under his breath, inaudible to Virgil, before reluctantly joining the scaled nuisance bagging up his wares. The elven knight made sure to keep his crown tucked into his rucksack, just in case thievery was something to be wary of in Amoresse. The town’s reputation, however, gave Roman hope that their visit would prove more helpful than hindering; the rumours told of a town renowned for helping wayward, lonely souls find their soulmates. As a single, disaster gay, Roman sure hoped the rumours were true. Truly he could think of nothing sadder than turning up alone to his best friend’s wedding.

Getting booked into their rooms at the tavern was a far easier ordeal than having to endure the overly chaotic gate guard to the city. The bizarre tiefling had spent so long rambling on and on about the most grotesque topics that by the time they had successfully secured a wagon bay, the moon now shone in all her celestial beauty. Virgil had suggested resting for the night, and despite Roman’s urging that they stay together, Janus had been insistent on checking out the nightlife. The knight had been content to let him do so while he guarded the prince, but the tired dhampir insisted he too take the night to enjoy himself. Roman would have argued further had Virgil not issued the suggestion as an order after his first protest.

And that was how Roman found himself sitting at a small outdoor bar tended by a rather friendly dwarf. Said dwarf, Patton as he came to learn, was quite the chatterbox while Roman was content to take in the night air in spite of his earlier worries. 

“Say kiddo,”, the dwarf broke from his pleasant rambling, “you’re looking a little lonely there. You got something on your mind?”

Roman hadn’t expected that. He pursed his lips in thought. 

“I suppose I may as well be honest with you. I’ve been wondering if-”

“If the rumours are true?”, Patton finished, “Well, luckily for you, they are!”

He ducked down behind the counter and pulled up an ornate crystal bottle that contained a marvellous prismatic liquid inside. Roman watched with great interest as the dwarf pulled out a goblet and began to mix a sweet, fruity smelling drink before dropping in three drops of the colourful elixir.

“Anima Venenum”, Patton informed him, “Our town’s alchemist created it by accident a couple of centuries back, and ever since, we offer some to tourists who look like they need a little guidance in the ol’ world of love!”

Roman was mesmerised, “Really? You mean, I needn’t pay you for it?”

“Nope! Our only rule is to never hand it out to anyone who doesn’t ask us for it. It’s up to you if you wanna accept this, so no pressure. I just figured you looked like you might be in need of it.”

The knight had so many questions swirling around in his brain, but by the time he had settled on a single one, his hand was holding the goblet to his lips. The taste was citrusy like sweet clementines, but with a mixed berry and almost floral taste that reminded him of a rose wine. As the last of it slid down his throat, Roman noted a soft honey-like taste as he thanked Patton, 

“That tastes wonderful! I’ve never had an elixir that tasted so good.”

Patton chuckled, “Actually, the elixir itself is tasteless. People just take better to it when it's mixed with a good drink, otherwise the texture weirds ‘em out.”

“Ah, I see.”, Roman let out a gentle chuckle. He didn’t feel all that different, truth be told, and so he asked, “How will I know it’s working?”

“The effects are instantaneous, don’t you worry! It might be hard to notice at first, but when you’re near your soulmate, your heart will feel really warm- In a good way! Not like heartburn, so don’t worry about it feeling unpleasant.”, Patton assured him.

Roman nodded, making a note of it as he got up to leave before quickly asking, “Oh! How long will it last?”

Patton waved him off, assuring him, “It’ll last for as long as you need to find your soulmate, guaranteed!”

With the night reaching its peak, Roman found himself strolling along the cobbled streets back to the tavern when he felt it; a flicker of warmth in his heart. Soft as the beating of a butterfly’s wing but very much there. He followed the feeling until he came upon a narrow street, hardly lit by the lamps stationed at it’s opening. The street itself was largely empty bar a silhouette in the dark leaning against the stone bridge that arched over the shimmering water running beneath it. 

His heart raced as Roman approached the figure, the flames licking at his heart until he arrived about a foot from the entrance of the bridge. The figure turned to Roman, smirking a familiar smirk,

“Come to join me, oh loyal guardian of our beloved prince?”

Janus. His soulmate was Janus?! Roman couldn’t believe it, yet no matter how thoroughly he scanned the immediate area, not a single other soul revealed itself. The half Yuan-Ti raised a bemused eyebrow at Roman, “Please, do keep ignoring my question so you may continue to look like a fool.”

Roman scowled. Maybe the kindly dwarf was just teasing him? No, he didn’t seem the type. But this conman? His soulmate? Perhaps Roman would indulge it, see where that led him. Worth a shot anyway. 

“My apologies.”, was all Roman offered as he took a spot on the bridge next to Janus, the flames of his heart undeniably soaring to life at the close proximity. Janus gave Roman a puzzled glance which let Roman take in his features; a half scaled face and body that, the more he watched the moonlight dance along the scales, made Roman want to gently reach out and touch them. In fact, he had subconsciously been doing just that when Janus had held his wrist in place, “It’s not completely rude to just touch someone’s scales without permission. What’s gotten into that underbaked brain of yours, Roman?”

Flustered and embarrassed by his lack of tact, Roman uttered quietly, “Soulmate cocktail.”

“Pardon?”

Roman panicked, “So many cocktails. Is what I said. Like, 14 whole cocktails.” 

Great. Excellent save.

“..... You’re expecting me to believe that? Did you forget that I’m rather adept at being able to tell when someone’s lying to my face, Roman?”

End him. Just end him now. Roman wished a stray lightning bolt would smite him where he stood so he wouldn’t have to face his own stupidity. Quick, say something to help ease the situation.

“Okay. I had 16 cocktails.”, he stammered with a laugh, “I’m absolutely drunk. You got me, you clever reptile you!”

Roman of Sandaria you are a certified idiot. 

“.... Alright then. Prove it.”, Janus goaded him, locking onto Roman’s crimson eyes with his own citrine snake-like eyes. 

“Prove-?”

“Let me smell your breath.”, Janus clarified, getting closer. Each inch set Roman’s heart aflame all too literally. “If you’re as inebriated as you claim to be, your breath will absolutely stink.”

Shit.

“Uuuh, personal space-”, Roman began to move back, but Janus grasped the front of his tunic.

“Don’t give me that, Mister Personal-Space-Is-A-Societal-Construct, I’ve seen how often you get in your dear prince’s personal space...”, Roman could’ve sworn for a split second that Janus sounded resentful, or perhaps envious, before his tone took a more curious route, “... or perhaps could there be another reason you don’t want to be so close to me?”

The knight became aware of the burning within his chest threatening to rage out of control, the distance between them barely a couple of inches now. Roman wasn’t sure what to do, but the lure of Janus’ eyes and the way his ribcage radiated with a heat he’d never felt before spurred him to act; he leant forward and pressed his lips to the serpentine man before him.

It surprised Roman just how pleasant it felt, though he prepared himself for harsh retaliation from the half Yuan-Ti when he felt Janus take in a breath against his lips. However, Roman was pleasantly surprised to find that Janus, not only didn’t issue him a well-earned slap and spend the rest of the night cussing him out, but instead kissed him back even harder. Not that Roman was complaining. By the time they pulled back for air, Roman didn’t even notice the fire in his heart subsiding to be replaced with a more natural warmth as Janus’ hands softly caressed Roman’s cheeks. “I’ll be the first to admit, I totally saw the night heading that direction.”, Janus mused in surprise.

Roman let out a hearty chuckle, hardly even noticing that he’d subconsciously wrapped his arms around Janus.

“Care to tell me what brought this on, Roman of Sandaria?”

Just hearing his name spoken in such an enticing dulcet made his knees feel weak; how had Roman never noticed how beautiful Janus’ voice was? His mind was too busy latching onto every octave, every syllable, that he nearly forgot to answer him. He took Janus’ scaled hand and pressed his lips to it in a gentle gesture his soulmate clearly wasn’t used to if the flustered way he averted his eyes was anything to go by,

“I suppose you could say I did a little soul searching.”

----

Have some straight up Roceit fluff, this came out so cute.

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @lavender-mochi [I know you love your Roceit so I figured I’d tag you incase you needed this] @fandomsofrandom [I nearly missed the reblog where you asked to be added I’m so sorry]

[purplecatdad]

Of Bears and Friends (RDR Reverse Bang)

Written for the @rdrbigbang reverse bang for the wonderful picture of @mgcoco

| Arthur/Albert | General Audience | Fluff | Read it on AO3 |

Arthur sighed as he closed his journal. He had just finished up the sketch of their new camp at Clemens point as he reminisced about the things that had happened. 

Colm had attacked them, right in the middle of the little town of Valentine. That bastard had taken John (and Strauss, but Arthur wasn’t very fond of the feller), and had threatened to shoot him right in front of them. Gladly both him and Dutch were skilled enough with their guns to get the situation under control, even when they were heavily outnumbered. 

Arthur still had been worried about John for a moment, even if he’d never admit that to the other man. He’d become like a brother to him and he’d never forgive himself if he had been too slow to protect Jack from losing his father or Abigail her husband. 

He lit himself a cigarette after his journal was safely stored away in his satchel again and took a long drag, feeling his lungs filling up with the smoke before he breathed out again. He still had to sell that gold bar that he had gotten from that weird German guy. Arthur had thought about just donating it to the camp funds for others to take care of the selling, but right now he felt like taking a break anyway.

Cigarette dangling between his lips he got up, stretched until his bones cracked and shouldered his satchel.He didn’t plan to stay away too long but he knew that sometimes things went differently than you plan them and so he packed up some cans of beans from Pearson’s wagon. He was usually good at hunting his food but sometimes it was nice to just heat up a can instead of crouching in the bushes. 

“I’ll be gone for a bit. Maybe a week or two,” he announced to Dutch, who rested in his little tent, the gramophone blasting some random tune that Arthur had heard one too many times before. 

“Alright. Be safe, son. And better come back with a good lead or two,” the gang leader responded and Arthur just tipped his hat in response. He wouldn’t promise anything but of course he’d keep his ears open and his mind sharp. Life as an outlaw had taught him that there was money to be made at every corner and that one shouldn’t miss out on the opportunity. 

He tacked up the Black Shire he had named Thor, packed his bedroll and some more supplies to make camp before heading out. Firstly he would make his way up north. He had discovered this little, almost dead town called Van Horn before and knew that he’d make good money with the gold bar there. He also realized that it had been a while now since he’d last visited the widow Charlotte who lived up north the Roanoke. He decided to pay her a visit as well, just to make sure that she was alright and skilled enough to take care of herself. 

The sun was still rising as he made his way out of camp, setting a steady pace but making sure not to push his horse too hard. Arthur loved riding fast but it had cost him too many good horses when he was still young. He had learned when it was time to push them and when it was better to let them choose their own pace. 

"You‘re a good boy,“ he praised the stallion as he patted his neck. Back at Horseshoe Overlook, Thor had been quite the brute. One time he had even kicked him hard enough for Arthur to land on his ass. He had thought about selling him when Hosea told him to but something had told Arthur that he should keep his horse. He still missed Boadicea and longed for a horse that he could rely on. The Shire didn‘t seem to be that kind of horse at first but Arthur found him far too beautiful to just give him away to end up in front of some poor farmer‘s wagon. 

He had taken Thor out with him into the Heartlands, naming him after the god of Thunder as the sounds his hooves made when galloping over the endless meadows. It had taken them a while to properly get along, to train him to come when he whistled and to follow up. After two weeks of back and forth between them, Arthur knew that he could rely on Thor, though. Some daring Bounty Hunters had been chasing him, nearly getting him by ambushing him as he was making camp. But Thor didn’t let them. He had kicked them right off of their horses and stomped one of them to death as Arthur had shot the other. 

Since then, they had only been separated whenever he had been at camp or sleeping in a hotel rather than on his bedroll.

His first few hours of travelling were calm and uneventful. The people he passed didn‘t seem interested in him and he also wasn’t interested in them as none of them looked like they were carrying great amounts of cash. He knew that there weren‘t many rich folk up Roanoke Ridge so he hadn‘t expected it anyway. 

As he had passed the swampy area around Lagras the ground became more firm again and the road was taking him through the forest. Arthur felt better here, without the high humidity, surrounded by trees. He generally enjoyed being in nature, especially if it was the forest or the desert … but he hated the cold that they had in Colter as much as the warm and humid air around Lagras. He took a deep breath to enjoy the scent of the trees around him when he heard a familiar voice mumbling. 

"Where are they … I‘m sure they must be some somewhere here …,“ Arthur brought Thor to a halt and looked around the trees until he spotted the man with his camera. A smile spread over his lips as he watched him searching for something. Albert Mason was a strange man but he had actually become a good friend of his during the last few weeks. He had met him several times before, trying to photograph wolves, horses, and alligators. Albert seemed to be that rare kind of person who was born into wealth and still seeked out the adventurous outdoors - without being disgusted by its reality. Arthur still remembered that “gentleman” he had met on his way to Strawberry who had demanded to get a ride into the town while constantly complaining about it. It had annoyed Arthur immensely, so much that a part of him had actually thought about just robbing that man blind and leaving him behind. But Albert was different. He saw the beauty in nature, saw the dangers that lay in it, but also the wonders. And that was why he had started taking his photographs - and why Arthur thought of him as a friend. 

“Did ya lose something’?” Arthur called over to Albert who jumped and almost threw over his camera. He looked around until he saw Arthur and a wide smile appeared on his face. 

“Mr. Morgan!” the photographer exclaimed as he walked up to him and Arthur got down from his horse. “It’s good to see you again. Have you been well?”

Arthur thought about the shootout in Valentine and the German family that he had rescued from the O’Driscolls. “Hmm, mostly,” he mused with a faint smile on his lips and lit himself a cigarette. “So, whatcha lookin’ for?” 

“Oh, uh …”, Albert seemed to need a moment to remember what he had been doing. “I was looking for bears. I’ve actually found quite a few black bears already but I’d like something more …” he seemed to be at a loss of words and just waved around to indicate something big. 

“More … impressive?” Arthur suggested.

“Impressive, yes! They are pretty alright but something like … like a grizzly! That might be a great motive for a picture!”  

“A grizzly?” Arthur barked out a laugh in disbelief and shook his head. “You really do wanna die taking pictures, don’t cha?”

Albert chuckled at that and it almost sounded a little nervous. “Well, now that you’ve stumbled upon me … Maybe you want to make sure I don’t just yet?” 

Arthur looked back at him. “Ya know that we’d better head up to the Grizzlies for that, yeah? Ain’t many grizzlies around here. And I first gotta get some business done in Van Horn and then go visit a friend up at Brandywine Drop …” He wasn’t sure if Albert would be up for so much travelling but having some company actually sounded kind of nice. 

“Oh, if you don’t mind me traveling with you I’d love to join you on the road. I’m sure there will be some more opportunities for me to take pictures on the way.” Albert seemed to be delighted about the prospect of traveling alongside him and Arthur wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. What if Albert would realise what kind of person he actually was and decide that he wasn’t a person he wanted to keep around anymore? What if he himself got annoyed at him? What if … but Arthur stopped his thoughts, took a last long drag from his cigarette and flicked it away.

“Alright then … do you … have a horse?” Arthur had realized that he had never actually seen him traveling around and looked around until he saw a small Criollo hitched to a nearby tree who looked over at them like it was aware of him asking for it. 

“That’s Daisy,” Albert said as he followed Arthur’s gaze on the horse. “She might be small but she is very reliable. Has never let me down so far.”

Arthur walked up to the little horse and offered his hand for her to sniff. Her fur looked like red and grey marble, her mane a dark brown. She gently nudged his hand as if asking for treats and Arthur chuckled low in his throat. “She’s quite the sweetheart, ain’t she?” 

After Albert had packed up his camera, eager to get moving to find some grizzlies up north they crossed the Kamassa River. It already started to get dark, the sun slowly setting over the horizon in the distance. It would have been possible to get to Van Horn and rent out a room somewhere there but considering the state of the town, Arthur preferred to make camp before heading in there. 

“You know, we actually should make camp somewhere. I’ll hunt us something. You can …,” he hesitated, not sure about Albert’s survival skills. “Can you make a campfire?” 

Albert looked up at him from Daisy’s back. “I, uh … can certainly try.”

Arthur sighed at that, only now realizing that he would have to do the muscle work on this trip. “How did you survive in the wild up until now?” 

“Well, I was always staying over in Hotels, mostly. But I’d happily learn a thing or two from you.”

“There’s an old fort close by … if there’s nobody else right now we can use it as a camp for the night,” Arthur suggested and Albert’s face lit up. 

“An old fort? Oh, how exciting!” 

They headed over there, Arthur holding the big doors to the fort open while Albert rode past him inside it. Luckily there was an old, abandoned campfire right next to a small hut within the fort that Arthur brought back to life with some matches and dry twigs that were lying around. 

“You can find some more wood and add to it so it’ll last us overnight. I’ll be back in a bit, there are plenty of turkeys and rabbits here,” Arthur announced and left the fort after Albert nodded. 

After their time in Colter, Arthur actually preferred to hunt on foot with his bow and arrow, at least when it came to harmless animals like deer or rabbits. He had become good at it, thanks to practising it a lot with Charles, but not good enough to guarantee him a kill on attacking wolves or cougars. 

He went into the nearest line of trees and gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light there before he looked around for animal tracks. Arthur heard a turkey’s gobble coming somewhere from his right side and ducked down so he wouldn’t get their attention. There was a small group of four of them, so he had a good chance of getting at least one. 

He slowly got closer to them, raising his bow with an arrow ready when he was in shooting range. He was a good sharp shooter but he still needed a little more time to prepare for a shot with the bow. Arthur breathed in, pulling the bow back at the same time and released it as he breathed out again. The arrow hit the turkey at the base of the neck and it fell to the ground with a gentle thud. The others ran off immediately and Arthur went to collect his prey. 

When he got back to the fort, roughly ten minutes after he had left, Albert was gone. Sure, he had told him to collect firewood but Arthur hadn’t seen him around the fort as well and he wasn’t anywhere near the line of trees. He dropped the turkey on the floor, worried that something had happened to his travel companion. 

“Mr. Mason?!” he called out, looking around the fort for a hint where the photographer could’ve vanished too. Both Daisy and Thor, who were hitched at the corner of the fort, looked at him like he was disturbing their peaceful evening. Arthur cursed under his breath, hoping that his friend hadn’t been taken by some ill meaning asshole. 

There weren’t really any tracks on the ground that he could make out as it hadn’t rained in a while. He noticed that Albert had left his equipment at their little campsite though so he figured that he was either still closeby or that somebody had taken him. 

“Mr. Morgan! I’m down here!” He heard a voice calling from … somewhere. He approached the little cabin that was still somewhat standing and looked inside. There was no trace of Albert still but he was certain that it had come from this direction. He walked into the dark room, holes in the wall and the ceiling shining dim light into it. Soon it would be too dark to see here. He made out a ladder that led downwards and peeked inside, noticing a shadow and a dim light.

“Mr. Mason?” he asked again and got a “you should come down here, Mr. Morgan. Check it out!” Arthur sighed and climbed down into the basement, wondering if the building would collapse and bury them underneath and if whatever was down there was actually worth it. When he turned around, there was a dagger directly pointing at his nose. 

“This must be the last few remnants from the war!” Arthur took a step to the side and gently removed the knife from Alberts grip. It was big, like an actual hunting knife. There were traces of blood on the blade, long dried out, the victim probably dead for decades by now.

“That’s a pretty knife alright. You want to keep it? I’ve got my hunting knife but this might come in handy for you some time.” “But .. it belonged to someone!” Albert seemed shocked that Arthur suggested to him to just take it and the outlaw was reminded that not everyone grew up just taking what they needed. Arthur shrugged and stored the knife in the sheath of his hunting knife. 

“He ain’t gonna need it no more. But I’ll take it if you don’t want it.” He might as well just sell it at the fence, along with the gold bar he had found. 

“I also found this …” Albert noted and held up a cigarette card of a black panther. “Isn’t it a fine specimen? Oh, I’d LOVE to take a picture of one some time!” 

Arthur chuckled gently, shaking his head along with his. “You really wanna die, don’t cha?” 

A few minutes later Arthur was finally settled around the fire, strips of turkey meat roasting above it and an opened can of beans slowly warming up right next to it. Albert had excused himself to take some pictures of the fort from the outside and left him alone for a bit. 

Arthur looked up to the stars and enjoyed the silence for a moment. This was what he had longed for when he had left camp. To not be surrounded by nearly thirty people, all chatting and babbling, everybody wanting something from him or expecting him to bring in money. He didn’t mind helping people and he loved the gang like a family. But sometimes it all got too much. Sometimes he just wanted to travel, see the world and enjoy nature. Sometimes he didn’t want to be the great enforcer of the Van der Linde Gang. Sometimes he was content with just being Arthur. A wandering soul, ever moving, traveling to wherever his horse carried him. 

“This really is a lot more … rustic than I am used to.” He heard Albert’s voice coming from the side and was suddenly pulled out from his thoughts. For a moment he had forgotten that he wasn’t completely alone. “But this is very exciting! I’ve always wanted to sleep outside when I was a little boy. Never gotten around to actually doing it.”

Arthur blinked at Albert who settled down on the floor next to him, the camera neatly packed away again. “You’ve never slept outside?” It seemed so strange to him, like a completely different world. 

“Well, I grew up in the city. There weren’t any good spots to sleep outside in New York, Mr. Morgan. And as I said, so far I’ve usually slept in hotels. I’m glad to have this opportunity now, I hope to venture even further out west some time but I’m certain I’ll need more uh ... outdoor skills for that.” 

He wondered if the photographer had any idea about how dangerous the west really could be. “The west ain’t a place for city folk, Mr. Mason. Especially not if they’re all on their own.” Of course, it would be Alberts decision alone but Arthur really didn’t want him to get hurt because he was foolish enough to venture out alone. “Better get yourself someone who knows their way around and who you can trust.” 

“What about you, then, Mr. Morgan? Would you like to join me some time?” 

“Join you? Out west?” Arthur hadn’t expected Albert to just offer it like that... or to be quite so serious about it all. 

“Yes. You obviously know your way around, and I like your company. Of course, I can pay you for your time and the protection as well! I imagine it must be quite the trip there. As long as you don’t have any responsibilities here … I mean … I don’t really know how involved you are around here, of course. It just seemed to be like you’re … well, you seem to be quite a free spirit, in a sense...”  

Albert was babbling again, like he sometimes did. But Arthur didn’t mind it, it gave him time to think about the offer. What if he took it? Earning some honest money for a change and still doing things that he loved sounded good. But he knew he couldn’t just leave the gang behind. He wasn’t John who just left for a whole year or Trewlawny who didn’t even stay with them most of the time. He belonged in camp. What if something happened when he was away for multiple weeks, maybe even months? 

“I’ll think about that offer. Let’s first see how we’ll get along on this trip, shall we?”, He suggested. So far they had only ever spent an afternoon together. Maybe they wouldn’t even get along if they’d be around each other for longer. Arthur knew that he could tolerate a lot - after all, he was in a gang with Sean MacGuire for several years now and had only almost strangled him once - but he wasn’t sure if Albert would still like him if he got to know the real Arthur Morgan. Outlaw, killer, bastard. Nobody a proper man like Albert would usually keep around.  

“Yes, you might be right. But I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. So, my good Sir, what will we have for dinner, if I may ask?” Albert asked, his tone shifted from his usually happy babbling to something that resembled a fine gentleman in an even finer establishment. It made Arthur chuckle and forget his grim thoughts for a moment. Maybe Albert really could stay his friend. 

The night had been uneventful and calm, just like Arthur had hoped. After they had eaten the turkey with the beans, Albert had shared his last bit of chocolate with him. There had been some smalltalk, mostly Albert telling him about places he had been before and places he still wanted to see. All those that Arthur had never seen and probably never would. New York, Chicago, Philadelphia. Crowded places that he’d rather avoid. 

They had packed up their things after a quick breakfast with coffee, leftover meat and a shared bread roll, saddled their horses and made their way up to Van Horn. 

“So, what’s that town like? Van Horn, you said? I’ve never heard of it,” Albert asked him as they were moving along the path. 

“It’s a shithole, really,” Arthur explained as he lit himself a cigarette. “Not many people left there aside from some whores, gamblers, and alcoholics. Ain’t sure what happened to the town but it died out at some point and now there’s just the scum left.”

“Oh…” Albert didn’t seem to have expected that kind of answer. “So, what are you doing there?” 

“Well, a German fella that I’ve helped get rid of some … nasty folk .. he paid me with a damn gold bar. And I know I can sell those to a gentleman in town.” 

“Oh, there's a bullion dealer in town?” 

“Something like that, yeah.” It wasn’t exactly the truth but Arthur didn’t want to elaborate any further right now. 

They rode in silence for a while, occasionally stopping when Albert found something he wanted to photograph. 

The first thing they saw was the lighthouse of Van Horn. Once built to guide ships at the broad Lannahechee River it now started to rot away since it got neglected by the townsfolk. Arthur suspected that they simply ran out of funding. Most ships would probably rather find a harbour in Saint Denis down south, with more people being able to board in such a big city and more trades to me made with the large warehouses. He had seen plenty of towns like Van Horn in his life. Promising little settlements who had died out for various reasons. Bad investments, too many outlaws passing through and robbing the place, illnesses and sometimes for no reason at all. Sometimes, like here, there was still business to be made but other times it was best to just stay away. 

He noticed that Albert had grown more quiet since they had passed the last road bend. Arthur suspected that he was a little shocked due to the state of the town, despite Arthur warning him beforehand. He wondered if it was Albert’s first time in a place like this. 

“Don’t worry, we ain’t gonna stay long. Just stay close to me and don’t talk to anybody,” Arthur assured him and he felt Albert’s gaze on him for a moment. 

They rode past the fallen down houses and the saloon. He could see some lonely patrons in there, those who probably hadn’t left during the night and were still there in the late morning, slowly waking up to start drinking again as they had nothing left anymore. Arthur averted his eyes, painfully reminded of his own father. Sometimes he had waited for him in their shabby room right down the street from the saloon. Lyle had often promised him to come back with money that he’d win gambling but Arthur had to learn early that it were mostly empty promises, the money oftentimes just spent on liquor and women while he had waited at home with a hole in his stomach. 

Some women who stood next to the remains of the hotel looked at them with hope in their eyes for a moment, probably hoping for some money from lonesome travelers who wanted to let off some steam but they soon realized that Arthur and his companion were just passing through the town. 

He stopped next to the old post office, telling Albert to wait while he was doing his business. Arthur hitched Thor to a nearby post and walked up to the building in which he knew the fence did his business. It didn’t feel right leaving Albert behind in such a place and the photographer did look a little lost but he preferred it like that. He didn’t only have the gold bar with him but also a few pocket watches and belt buckles that he had taken from some unfortunate souls on the streets. He didn’t want Albert to just see it if there was no need to. 

“I’ll give you 550$ for that,” the fence said after Arthur had put all of the items, including the old knife he had found, on his table. 

“50$ more and we got ourselves a deal,” Arthur responded. He wouldn’t let the fence cheap out of this. 

“560$, last offer.”

He took out his gun and held it up to the fence's face. “600$, or I’ll take the money and the merchandise. We both know there’s no law around to help you.”

The fence stared at the gun for a second, then nodded shortly. “Alright. 600$. I don’t want any trouble here.”

“No trouble at all,” Arthur agreed with a content smirk and holstered his gun again before he grabbed the money that was offered and stashed it away in his satchel. 

“Pleasure doing business with you.” He tipped his hat and left the small warehouse before heading back to Albert. Arthur lit himself another cigarette, glad that he turned the gold into some money now. He frowned as he saw Albert in the distance who was being surrounded by some women who seemed to be a little too interested in him. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Arthur heard one of them say as he got closer. “I’ll give you the time of your life. Just two dollars, you won't regret it, I promise.”

Albert’s face was red as a tomato, stammering something unintelligible and raising his hands in defense. It seemed like this was his first time being approached by prostitutes desperate for money and so Arthur walked up to them to rescue him out of that situation. 

“Leave him alone,” he snarled. “There’s cheaper ways to catch syphilis. Get lost!”

“That’s rude of you, Mister!” One of the prostitutes said but she also scuttered off like the rest of them when Arthur placed a hand on his gun and said “I ain’t gonna ask again.”

Arthur unhitched Thunder and jumped up on his back again as Albert collected himself. “You alright, Mr. Mason? They’re a little obtrusive here sometimes.”

“Y-yes .. I’m okay. Thank you.”

They headed out of the city again, up North and following the Lannahechee River that was glistening from the sun standing high in the sky. Arthur knew that there were lots of mean folk around here but he still loved the area for it’s lush greens. They rode in silence for a bit, sharing the occasional oatcakes and Albert stopping to take pictures now and again. It was a calm, beautiful day and Arthur enjoyed the ride a lot, even with Albert babbling about some rare species of bird that was rumoured to be seen around here. His babbling was simply different from the buzzing in camp. He didn’t expect anything from him and instead of complaining about too many chores or not enough money, Albert just seemed to be … excited about the things he saw. 

In the beginning, Arthur had found it childish for a grown man to get so excited about animals or nature's beauty. It reminded him of Jack who sometimes got all happy about dandelion seeds in the wind, even if it was such a mundane thing. After meeting Albert multiple times though and getting to know him a little better he found it endearing. It was contagious to see him all excited and Arthur had often caught himself smiling about the same things and always ended up sketching the animals that Albert had taken pictures of. Nature was beautiful, after all. And Albert had reminded him of that. 

“Not long until we’ll reach Annesburg,” Arthur started after a couple of hours of riding. “Should we rent a room there to spend the night?” 

Arthur noticed Albert blushing for a second and wondered why but before he had the chance to come to a conclusion the other man responded. “Ah, I enjoyed camping out with you far too much to get back to the confines of a hotel room just yet. If you don’t mind.”  

Arthur chuckled at that, amused that Albert seemed to have found some joy in staying outside now. Unusual for a city boy like him, he mused. “Sure, we can. I’d say we look for a good spot after we passed Annesburg then. Have you been there before?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t been, no.”

“It’s a mining town, air’s awfully dirty there. But you’ll see it soon.” 

Arthur chose the path that wouldn’t lead them directly through the city but rather around it. He wasn’t in the mood to pass through the town, not long ago he had a little argument with the Sheriff because he had accidentally run over a miner. The man had been fine and so Arthur had refused to see it as a crime. He didn’t want Albert to get mingled in that if the Sheriff saw him again and decided that it was a day of justice to be served.

As they got closer to the city, the air started to taste of smoke and stone. It was a strange thing that Arthur had never experienced before and while he was an avid smoker, this just didn’t seem right to him. It got harder to see into the distance as well. 

“I see now what you mean, Mr. Morgan,” Albert said as they approached the town. “It really is awfully dirty.” They passed the entry of the mine above the town and both of them shortly looked at the men walking past them and towards the mines. Their faces and clothes black with the dirt, their expressions tired and bodies hunched over from the hard work. 

“Oh, what an awful job this must be …,” Albert mused and Arthur hummed in agreement. “Not seeing the sun, always in danger of being buried alive … There must be better ways to earn a living.”

“Some ain’t got no choice, Mr. Mason. And this is what civilization does to us - we got bad air and awful jobs.” It was the reason he preferred to be out west. The air was clean and there were less people. Less big towns, less crowd … and less law to get in trouble with. 

“Well, it also gives us modern technology and science!” Albert exclaimed, patting his camera equipment that was strapped to his horse’s saddle. “I wouldn’t be able to do my job without it.”

Arthur thought about it for a moment. Yes, he enjoyed the photographs that Albert had shown him so far and their little adventures together but was it really worth all the hassle of civilisation? “I think I’d much rather miss out on some pretty pictures if that means I can stay away from cities. They’ve never done me any good. But I get that they’re important to you.” 

There was a soft smile on Albert’s face on that and Arthur wondered if the other man could even understand him all that well as someone who was born and raised in the city. There was no way he could understand what it meant to always roam free and to do what you want. “Maybe you’re right, Mr. Morgan. Maybe there really are things that are more important than pretty pictures.” 

After a little while they passed a cabin on the road. It was painted red and Arthur remembered that he had looked through the place before. Nobody had been home back then and there actually hadn’t been all that much to take. It seemed like there still was nobody at home and Arthur wondered if the place might be deserted for good now. He figured that it would be a bad idea to check again, just in case somebody would come home and Albert was still around. So they just passed it by and moved to a small incline behind it. 

“This should be a good place to stay for the night,” Arthur decided as the sun set on the horizon. “Brought some salted meat with me, we can eat that tonight so I won’t have to hunt.” 

Albert agreed and together they set up a tent. Last night they had slept within the confines of the old fort but tonight they weren’t protected by any walls. Albert really had two left hands when it came to setting up the tent so Arthur just told him to tend to the fire while he set it all up. He spread their bedrolls within the tent and realized that there really wouldn’t be much space between them. Arthur wondered if it would make Albert uncomfortable or not, he probably wasn’t used to sharing his breath with another man at night so he started to remove his own bedroll from the tent again, intending to sleep out next to the fire instead. 

“What are you doing? Aren’t you going to sleep in the tent?” Albert asked him with big eyes.

“Well, there ain’t much space in there, Mr. Mason. No need to make you uncomfortable. I can sleep outside just fine.”

“Make me uncomfortable? Oh, now don’t be silly Mr. Morgan. It is your tent we will be sleeping in and it’s supposed to get plenty cold tonight. If anybody should sleep outside, it would be me. However, I wouldn’t mind sleeping right next to you, if that’s what you’re so concerned about.”

He hadn’t expected Albert to be so assertive about it and stopped in his tracks, musing over the words for a moment. Albert was right, it was supposed to get cold tonight with the sky as clear as it was and if it really didn’t bother him Arthur would very much prefer to sleep in a tent tonight. 

“If you’re sure ‘bout it…”

“I am, don’t you worry about that. I don’t just say things that I don’t mean.”

Arthur gave him a small smile at that and nodded. He turned around and unrolled the bedroll in the tent again, preparing their bed for the night before he settled in around the fire next to Albert. Tonight he heated up some canned peas that he served Albert and himself with a piece of bread and the salted meat. It wasn’t fine cuisine but he somehow always enjoyed these thrown together meals at the beginning of a trip when he still had some provisions to choose from. 

“So, how did you meet this lady that we’re visiting?” Albert asked him halfway through their shared meal. 

“Uh, well…,” it had been a tip from a guy he had freed from a prison wagon. A lone lady in a little cabin, rich apparently and an easy way to make money. After Arthur had met her he had refused to take her money, though. “Met her when I was passing by, heard her crying ‘bout her husband. Showed her how to hunt. She was more city folk before, much like you.” 

“You really like helping people, don’t you?” Albert said with a smile on her face, munching on some of the peas. “I like that about you, you know?” 

Arthur hadn’t expected to get a compliment, he cleared his throat and looked down onto his plate, unsure what to respond for a moment. “Well, can’t just let her starve just after losing her husband, can I? She wanted to create a new life for her so … I helped her achieve that. Was mostly her doing.” 

“I’m curious to meet her. She sounds like a very interesting person.” 

“I’m sure you’ll get along just fine. And afterwards, we can find a grizzly for you. Might even see a cub or two, it’s the season for ‘em right now. Just gotta be careful around them, the mothers don’t like people ‘round them.” 

Albert’s eyes lit up at that. “Oh, cubs would be so wonderful! I’m sure seeing them would help people see that they need to be protected.” 

He chuckled at that. Albert’s reason for taking pictures really was a noble one. But he wasn’t sure if he could reach that goal, especially with so many people each day being attacked and killed by wild predators that roamed America.

 “Maybe, yes. But remember that they are still dangerous, much like their mommas.” 

“Of course! But I also have you with me to protect me, don’t I, Mr. Morgan? “Sure you do.”

They finished their dinner, easing into some conversations about nothing in particular, sharing a bottle of whiskey and some cigarettes until Albert announced that he was tired and lay down in the tent. 

Arthur got out his journal, sketching their little campsite before he wrote down a few sentences about their adventure so far. 

Met this photographer again on the road. Decided to travel with him for a bit. Guy wants to see some grizzlies so I’ll take him to see one. First we’ll see Charlotte again though. Will see how she is holding up. 

He followed Albert into the tent after he had fed the fire one last time and tucked away his journal into his satchel again. The other man was already sound asleep, snoring very softly and his mouth hanging open a little. 

Arthur entered carefully, trying not to wake the other man as he lay down on his bedroll. He sat down his hat next to himself, stretched and yawned before he turned onto his side to sleep. Albert shuffled a little next to him, mumbling something in his sleep and moved up to him. Arthur felt the heat of the other man’s body getting closer and for a moment he thought about waking him or shoving him away. Instead, he sighed and just relaxed as he enjoyed the presence of another person sleeping so close to him. Just a few minutes later he drifted off to sleep, tired from the long journey during the day. 

When he woke up he felt the cold at the tip of his nose and gently rubbed it to warm it up. He frowned when he noticed that Albert had already gotten up and looked out of the tent to see if he was sitting at the fire but there was nobody to be seen. The fire didn’t even look like it had been tended to at all. 

He got up, stretching and popping his bones to wake and warm up a little. Albert was still nowhere to be seen but he figured that the man probably just went to do his business in peace. He sat down by the fire to bring it back to life and to make some coffee. A lit cigarette dangling from his lips he opened up a can of baked beans to heat up as well. When he was alone on the road he usually just had a cigarette and maybe some coffee to wake up in the morning but Albert had told him that he was used to a proper breakfast in the morning so he figured he could take care of that while the photographer was still busy. 

Arthur started to get worried when he had finished his cigarette and Albert still hadn’t shown up again. He got up and looked for traces of him. The bag with his camera equipment was missing but his horse - and all the other valuable things they had -  was still around so Arthur figured that they hadn’t been robbed during the night. He guessed that Albert probably had seen a pretty squirrel and just wandered off.

“What a fool,” Arthur murmured, shaking his head as he started to follow what he suspected were the other man’s footprints.

The track led him down the incline they had been camping on and towards the path that they would continue their travels on. And there he saw Albert standing, fumbling with the settings of his camera. 

“Morning, Mr. Mason,” Arthur said, loud enough to startle Albert and make him jump.

The photographer turned around to him, his chuckle sounding a little nervous after he got scared. 

“Good morning to you as well! I’ve just ah- I wanted to capture the beautiful sunrise over the river, you know? Didn’t want to wake you up.”

Arthur followed his gaze towards the river. The sun has already risen by now but the sky was still painted in pretty colours with the river glistening in the early light. Albert was right, it was a beautiful view and Arthur had a hard time to blame him. “Could’ve still woken me up, wasn’t sure where you had gone, just like that.” 

Albert seemed to be surprised about that and blinked at him for a moment. “Oh, I … didn’t think you’d be that worried about me, Mr. Morgan. Otherwise I would’ve- “ “No, no. It’s alright,” Arthur assured him and realized that it probably had been a little stupid of him to just assume the worst, especially because Albert was a grown man, after all.

After a quick breakfast they went on their way again, following the Roanoke Ridge up North. Most words between them had been spoken, so they rode in a comfortable silence, just broken once or twice when Albert pointed out a pretty tree or animal to him. Arthur usually had seen them before and if he had been alone he might’ve stopped to sketch it as well but he just wasn’t used to people he traveled with caring about the marvels of the world. 

They rested at one particular interesting tree that both of them found fascinating and while Albert set up his camera to take a picture of it, Arthur got out his journal and sketched it as well. It didn’t take long for Albert to notice the Journal and what Arthur was doing. After he w3as content with the pictures he had taken, he walked over to Arthur and asked him to have a look at his drawing. 

“It ain’t much, Mr. Mason…”

“Just let me have a look, Mr. Morgan … I really do enjoy art and I’m sure it’s wonderful.” 

With a sigh Arthur presented the journal to Albert who suddenly made surprised sound. “Oh, that IS wonderful, Mr. Morgan! You’ve captured it so well!”

Arthur felt himself blush. He wasn’t used to getting compliments like this and he felt a bit embarrassed to be praised like that for a simple sketch of a tree. “Well .. thank you. It really ain’t special, though.”

“Oh, it absolutely is. I wouldn’t be able to draw such a thing. Now, take the compliment and leave it at that, yes?”

Arthur shook his head in amusement. Albert really was a special kind of person. “Sure thing, Mr. Mason.” 

   Eventually they reached the little cabin that Arthur probably would have never found out about if it hadn’t been for the tip he had gotten. Instead of robbing the place, he had found a friend there. Someone to visit whenever he needed a break from the gang. Someone much like Albert. 

He led Albert up the path and dismounted the horse after he passed the little entryway. Charlotte had started to try and make something of the little garden and had also fixed up the fence. He wondered if she would follow her advice and get some goats for milk and meat, just to help her when hunting didn’t go well. They hitched their horses and as Arthur turned around he saw Charlotte leaving her cabin. She stopped in her tracks, probably surprised to see two horses on her property. But her face lit up as she saw him and Arthur smiled right back to her, equally happy to see her. 

“Arthur!” she called over and dropped the basket she had been carrying onto the chair on her porch. Charlotte approached them and Arthur was happy to see that she really looked well now. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes were bright and she looked like she was back to a healthy weight again. “It’s good to see you here. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Albert Mason. Him an’ me are traveling up to the grizzlies to see some bears,” he explained to her. Charlotte’s face darkened in worry and Arthur, the fool that he was, suddenly remembered how Cal had died. 

“Oh, just to take some pictures of them,” Albert chimed in cheerfully. “You see, Ma’am, I’m a nature photographer and I’d like to capture the beauty of the American wildlife. So this isn’t going to be a bear hunt or anything like that.”

“Well, I hope that you stay safe…,” Charlotte said in a low voice while mostly looking at Arthur. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. But .. how can I help you?”

“I was actually on my way to check on you when I met Mr. Mason here, so … I suggested we make a break here first before heading West. If you don’t mind. Otherwise we can be on our way again, of course.” 

“No, of course I don’t mind. It’s nice to have visitors, it tends to get a little lonely here sometimes. Feel free to come in … I even got some stew on the stove that I wanted to eat after the laundry. But that can wait, I’m not the biggest fan of washing anyway,” she admitted with a cheeky smile.

As they entered the cabin Arthur noticed a stretched out grey tabby cat right next to the fireplace. It rolled around, got up and stretched before lazily walking up to Charlotte. “Did you wake up from your nap already?” Charlotte asked and picked up the cat before she kissed its head. “This is Artemis. She helps me with the rats and I share my fish with her. If I manage to catch one, that is…” The cat started to struggle a little so he let her go again. Artemis landed on her paws rather gracefully. She ignored the men in the house and sat down on a pillow that was placed in front of the fireplace. “I’ve always wanted a cat but Cal didn’t really get along with them. He also always had to sneeze and got watery eyes when he was near them, weirdly enough… I found this one a few weeks ago and she’s really great company.”  

“Well, I’m glad that she’s keeping you company,” Arthur said and pulled his gaze away from the cat who had started to stare him down like they were having a staring contest. He had never understood cats very well and usually preferred dogs over them. But he wasn’t there to judge Charlotte’s choice in pets. 

They settled around the table in the middle of the room and Charlotte got out some bowls and spoons for them. “So, how have you been, Arthur?” she asked him and gave him a small smile before she got the pot down from the stove. 

“Ah, it’s been a few busy weeks. I’m glad that I’ve got some free time to spend now. Just wandering ‘round a bit, seeing some folk.“

"You know, you‘ve never actually told me what kind of work you‘re doing,“ Charlotte mused as she served all of them a steaming hot bowl of stew. "Very few jobs offer this kind of freedom.“

Arthur had already wondered if she‘d ever ask him this question. Maybe, he had thought, she had already guessed it. Maybe she had been avoiding the question on purpose, afraid of what the answer might be. Albert also looked at him expectantly now, curious probably what kind of man he was travelling with now that it was brought up.

"I just … do some odd jobs here 'n there. Whatever brings in some money, really. So between jobs, I like to travel a bit. Means I see more than just one place of the world.“ It was the truth, even if not all of it, but it seemed to be enough for them for now. Arthur knew that even those folk who stayed on the legal path oftentimes went from job to job. It wasn‘t unusual to just go where the money was, after all. 

"Oh, that sounds so adventurous!“ Charlotte exclaimed. "You must tell me a story or two sometimes, maybe I can put something of it into my writing.“

Albert smiled at that, curious now about Charlotte as well. "Oh, you‘re an author?“

"Well, I try to be. I haven‘t published much, just a short story or two in the newspaper in Chicago. But I‘m working on my first book now and it‘s going well. It‘s like the muse has kissed me after Arthur came to my rescue.“

"He really has a habit of doing that, doesn‘t he?“ Albert said and chuckled softly.

Arthur cleared his throat and shook his head, focusing on his stew. He wasn‘t quite used to people talking like that about him. If he was praised, it usually was for his strong fists in people‘s faces or his ability to shoot someone in the head from 200 feet away. 

Albert and Charlotte eased into a conversation about Chicago and other bigger cities that they visited. Arthur had never been to any of those but to him it seemed horrible. Bigger cities like Saint Denis? That seemed like outright torture to him. More civilisation, more law, more rules to follow. No, he was content being out in the wild. And he now understood even better why both Albert and Charlotte chose to flee from all of that and built new lifes out here. Nature gave them room to breathe and to live and to just be, whereas the city restricted them.

After dinner they played a few rounds of poker. Albert had a horrible poker face and was easy to beat but Arthur was surprised to learn that Charlotte was actually really good at it. She ended up winning almost all rounds they played and smiled brightly as she stashed away the money that she won. 

"I‘ve used to play a lot with my sisters and we all had to have a good poker face for when we had some higher up guests join us for dinner,“ she explained. "But it was fun to play with you.“

It was time to sleep afterwards, and while Charlotte had a spare room in her house she only had one bed to sleep on. "'s alright, I‘ll sleep here on a bedroll.“ Arthur assured Albert after he offered to sleep on the floor multiple times. "I‘m more used to it than you, don‘t worry 'bout it.“ 

They settled in for the night and after being woken up by a purring cat who shoved her butt into Arthur‘s face twice before settling down and rolling up on his butt Arthur actually had a pretty good night‘s sleep. He was used to sleeping outside, with and without a tent, but sometimes he actually enjoyed having a real fireplace nearby and a roof above his head. 

He was up early in the morning, before Charlotte or Albert had gotten out of their rooms, so he decided to brew up some coffee for them. Charlotte actually had one of the better brands, one that he‘d probably never buy for himself, even if he loved his coffee in the morning. It was simply not a luxury that made sense when you have to feed over twenty people in a camp. He also found some eggs that he cracked open and scrambled in a pan, roasting some bread along with it. The sizzling seemed to have woken up the other people in the cabin, both Albert and Charlotte got out of their rooms shortly before the eggs were fully cooked. 

It was a peaceful, quiet moment, both of them thanking him for the coffee and sitting down on the table for breakfast. Sometimes Arthur wondered what life would be like, in a place like this. Away from society but still living in a home. A place to make his own, with people to love and care about. He loved the gang, of course, but he couldn‘t call them a family. At least not all of them and not with the way they were living right now. Always fighting, always on the run. What kind of man would he become if he had a cabin like this? If he didn‘t have to fight just to survive? If he wasn‘t wanted with a bounty that could probably feed him for a whole year? 

“So, you’ll be heading out again today?” Charlotte asked and interrupted his thoughts with that. 

He blinked for a moment to process her words, then nodded as he put bread and eggs on each of their plates. “Yeah. Don’t wanna bother ya for too long.” “Oh, don’t worry about bothering me. Both of you. I enjoy company, especially if it’s as pleasant as yours," Charlotte assured him with a smile and again Arthur thought about how different she would perceive him if she knew how he made his money. “You can also feel free to take some supplies with you. I’ve got plenty of cans to spare.”

“Oh, that would be very kind of you, Mrs. Balfour. It was definitely a pleasure meeting you. If I’m ever in the area again I might drop by,” Arthur was glad that Albert and Charlotte had gotten along to the point that he actually considered visiting her again.

And Charlotte also seemed to like the idea. “Oh, please always feel free to come and visit whenever you wish to. My door will always be open. To both of you.”

Arthur was happy that she was inviting him but unsure if he would be able to come to her much longer. Dutch had talked about all the things that he wanted to change. About Tahiti or Australia or some other island that they would do to flee the law. He knew that it was unlikely that they’d actually go that far … but he knew that at some point he should stop coming here. Just to avoid Charlotte getting dragged into something that she didn’t deserve to be dragged into. He always hated letting go of people like that but he knew that it was for the best. The only people he could keep around for long was the gang. Because they knew what they had signed up for. 

They finished their breakfast and packed some of the bread that Charlotte had baked the day before and she insisted that they had to take it with them. Arthur refused to take some of her meat though because he was “Very capable of huntin’ my own food,” and wanted her to keep it as she still was very much a beginner when it came to hunting animals. Charlotte agreed eventually and after saddling their horses they continued their travel. 

They crossed the Roanoke River alongside the train tracks, passing by that weird building with the tower that Arthur had seen when he had been around these parts before. The building had been vacant though with nobody close by so he had just let it be. There had been some expensive looking machines inside but nothing that he could’ve loaded onto the back of a horse so he had figured that breaking in wouldn’t have been worth it anyway. 

The further they got to the west, loosely following the train tracks, the more their environment changed into some rocky paths. There were less trees and the patches of forest weren’t as lush as the ones around Roanoke Ridge. It was easier to see further ahead - but also easier to be seen. Albert, of course, wasn’t worried about that - Arthur suspected that he wasn’t even aware of that. He kept chattering about Charlotte. About her lovely cabin, the beautiful waterfalls close to her home, her lovely little flower patch and her hospitality. Of course they also had to stop, again and again, for new photo opportunities. Arthur still didn’t mind it though, the trip to O’Creagh’s Run wasn’t too long of a ride and he was certain that they would make it in time to make camp right by the water. 

And Arthur had been right. The sun just started to set when they reached the lake. They approached it from the side at which the old veteran named Hamish was living. There were no lights coming from inside though and Arthur figured that it wouldn’t make sense to tell a hunting-loving man that they would go looking for some grizzlies, not if Albert wanted to take those pictures with the bears still alive.  

“What a beautiful place this is,” Albert marveled as Arthur led him around the water. He didn’t want to camp just next to the cabin, so they needed to ride a little further. “Nature really is gorgeous, isn’t it?” 

“It is,” Arthur agreed, following his gaze over the water that lay almost still in the evening light. It really was beautiful and Arthur had the urge to draw again. Instead, he looked over at Albert. “What do you think of some fish for dinner?” 

“Fish?” Albert asked. He sounded like he hadn’t expected Arthur to suggest fish for dinner at all. 

Arthur gave him a short, crooked smile before answering. “Well, these waters are great for fishing. Have pulled out some big fellas out of here. Besides, if we want to attract some bears tomorrow, some bait will be good. And nothing’s better than some fish.” “Well, then … It sounds absolutely delightful. You’ll have to show me how it’s done, though.”

They set up camp close to the water, not quite on the shore because Arthur knew how uncomfortable it was to sleep on the gravel right next to the water. They made a small fire, mostly to make sure to keep the nearby animals that were lurking away from them. Albert had already gotten better at setting up a camp and knew how to arrange the firewood so they were finished fairly quick and still had time to catch a fish. All they needed was a little luck. 

They stood at the shore next to each other, Albert holding the rod because he had requested to actually learn it. Arthur leaned in closer, correcting the grip on his hand and directing him how to throw the line out to the water. 

“I see why so many people enjoy this … it is fairly relaxing if you- oh! Oh, I think one bit!!”

The rod almost slipped out of Albert’s hand and Arthur jumped in to take over. He leaned back and reeled the line in, huffing as he felt the pull of the fish. 

“Oh, this sure is a big one, Mr. Mason …,” he said as he took a step back to have a better posture. “Can’t reel ‘m in too quick, otherwise the line will break,” he explained further as Albert hopped around on the balls of his feet to get a better look at what was in the water. The fish broke through the surface as he was fighting the pull, even more so when he was dragged closer to the shore. 

Finally he got the fish out onto the shore. He grabbed it and killed with a quick hit on the head before presenting it to Albert. “May I present you - dinner.” “Oh, that’s a salmon, isn’t it?” Albert asked, still excited and moving closer to expect the fish. “I’ve always just seen illustrations or photographs in books. And ate them, of course. But never this fresh.” “Yeah, you’re right. They’re also the grizzlie’s favourite fish. So this should be perfect.” 

He lay down the fish on a bigger stone nearby, gutted it and wrapped up the guts in a piece of cloth. Albert wrinkled up his nose, it was obvious to Arthur that he hid his disgust. He agreed that it was a rather nasty thing but it had to be done. He put the gutted salmon onto a stick and hung it above the fire to cook. 

“Alright, now we just gotta wait until it’s done. Can cut up some of the bread that Charlotte gave us and we'll have a decent enough meal.” Arthur said and stretched out his legs by the fire. “And tomorrow we’ll find some grizzlies to take a picture of.” 

“That really does sound wonderful,” Albert agreed with a soft sigh as he sat down next to him. He shared his cigarettes with Arthur and both of them watched the fire for a moment, enjoying the quiet and the darkness that started to wrap around them like a blanket, held off only by the fire. 

“So, Mr. Morgan … is this how you live?”, Albert asked. Usually those words would have sounded like a criticism, like it was something bad. But with Albert it sounded more like he was simply wondering and trying to get to know his friend a little better. 

“Most of the time, yeah. Sometimes hotel rooms, but I prefer being outside. Less rules to follow,” he said with a short smile towards Albert who chuckled softly. 

“I know what you mean, yes …” he said in a low voice. “But you’re not alone all the time, are you?” Albert’s voice was gentle, almost careful. Arthur wondered if he really wanted to know the truth or if he wanted to find out if he should start distrusting his travel companion.

Arthur took a drag from his cigarette, contemplating his answer for a moment. There weren’t many groups of people living outside, always traveling around. He was sure that Albert knew this as well as any other … and it was pretty obvious that Arthur was no circus clown, even if he felt like it sometimes. 

“No, I’m not,” he answered eventually, his voice low as well. “It can be a hard life and we’re always .. moving ‘round. But I’ve got my folk and they’ve got me.” 

There was a little smile on Albert’s face as he looked at Arthur. “And I’m glad that’s the case. Life must be awfully lonely with nobody around when you’re living on your own. Especially out in the wild. So … I’m happy to hear that I always meet you on your own because you chose to and not because you got nobody else.”

Arthur had not expected Albert to be worried about something like that of all things he could be worried about. “You really ain’t got no reason to be worried ‘bout me, Mr. Mason,” he told him with a short smile. “I’m fine. Just needing some peace and quiet from time to time.”

“And then you choose to travel with a blabbermouth like me?” Albert laughed and Arthur joined in. Albert really wasn't good at keeping quiet but he had never minded that. If all he enjoyed the things that Albert talked about and how joyful his perspective on life was. 

“Well, I tend to be a fool, you should know that by now,” he said with a grin and Albert shook his head. 

“So am I, Mr. Morgan. So am I.”

They both got hungry because of the tasty smell of the fish so Arthur cut up some slices of bread that they dunked in oil and ate with some of the oregano leaves that they could easily pick from the plants growing nearby. They added the succulent fish meat as it was done cooking, both of them enjoying the texture and the warmth in their bellies. 

With each evening, Arthur had enjoyed Albert’s company even more and it didn’t even feel awkward anymore to get into a tent with him. They slept side by side on their bed rolls and when Arthur woke up during the middle of the night because Albert had put his arm around him in his sleep he found that he didn’t even mind that. It was nice in fact to have a warm body right next to him and he dozed off again with a smile on his face. 

“Mr. Morgan! Mr. Morgan, wake up!”

Arthur felt someone gently shaking his shoulder and he opened up his eyes, blinking in the process at the early sunlight that was hitting his face. 

“There are some bear cubs!” Albert exclaimed with a shouted whisper. Arthur was awake instantly, knowing very well that cubs would always be close to a very protective mama bear. 

He got up and out of the tent to see what was happening. Roughly 70 feet away from them were actually two bear cubs playing in the water at the shore and trying to catch fish. He put on his hat and watched them warily, searching for their mother. 

Albert, on the other hand, set up his camera quicker than Arthur had ever seen him do it before to start to take some pictures of them. The clicking of the camera made the cubs look over to them and Albert mumbled something in excitement that Arthur did not understand in the slightest. 

Suddenly there was a growl behind them, Arthur turned around and saw the mother of the cubs, standing on her hind legs and glaring at them angrily. “Shit…” he said and grabbed the revolver in his holster. 

“No, don’t shoot her please!” he heard Albert plead behind him. 

“Well what ELSE would you suggest?!” Arthur hissed back to him as the mother dropped down on all fours again and started approaching them. At least she wasn’t in full attack mode yet. 

“Maybe we can … distract her, somehow?!”, Albert suggested and Arthur remembered the fish guts that were still in his satchel.

He moved slowly, not to piss her off in any way, and took the smelling bundle out of his bag. He threw it over to her, right in front of her big paws and she started sniffing it with interest. 

“‘Right, now or never …,” Arthur said and dragged Albert behind him. The photographer was clutching his camera as they slowly moved away from the camp, the bear now munching on the innards of the fish. They reached their horses and unhitched them, both Thunder and Daisy running away on their own, smart enough to know that they were in danger. “They’ll find their way back later,” Arthur assured Albert as he tried to grab Daisy’s lead. 

They moved further into the bushes, now watching the mother and her cubs on the shore from a safe distance. For once, Albert wasn’t talking and Arthur suspected that he knew very well how important it was now not to attract the bears anymore. The mother started rummaging through the things that they had left, ripping the tent and chewing up the last bit of fish bones that were left of their dinner. Eventually she decided that it was time to move on and so she did, followed up by the cubs.

Arthur took a deep breath and lit himself a cigarette to calm his nerves, offering Albert one as well who gladly took it. “Well, that was close. Hope the pictures will be worth it.” 

“Oh, I’m sure they will be. Playing cubs was so much more than I expected! Thank you again for joining me. Someday I really ought to pay you for always having my back!”

Arthur shook his head. “Ain’t no need for that, Mr. Mason. Your company is reward enough for me,” he assured him and it almost looked like Albert was blushing. 

“Well, if you say so …” he cleared his throat. “I really enjoyed traveling with you. Maybe you should really join me some time … venturing out west.”

Arthur looked back at Albert and thought about it again. He had his responsibilities. People who needed him. Who relied on him being there. But they’ve managed without him before, for a few weeks. Who said that they wouldn’t manage again? Who said that he had to spend all his life running with a gang of outlaws if he also could spend it with Albert? He found himself smiling at Albert. 

“I think you might be right, Mr. Mason.” “You know, you can call me Albert…”

He smiled again, knowing that this would only be the beginning of their friendship full of new adventures. “Albert. I’d love to join you out west.” 

[teamsarawatshusband]

Word Of Honor - 1st watch insta thoughts - Episode 1

K, before I get started, here's what I know about "Word of Honor" prior to watching it, based on random unexplained gifsets on my dash: Not much tbh. I know there's this one guy that is a bit more tanned and has a beard. And there's some smirky guy. No idea what else he does, but he seems important. There's also swords cutting fabric, i'm thinking sleeves, because cut-sleeve? Way to be subtle. Oh, and there's two girl assassins. I have no idea who they kill or what their motives are. But they look fierce. That's literally all. Oh, and it's on my dash so much that I just HAVE TO assume it's BL. Because... my dash has tendencies.

Okay, here we go.

Episode 1

I'm skipping the intro, because I don't wanna be spoilered.

Oh, somebody explains the background story. That's nice. I have no idea, because the subtitles are going by so fast, but something about 5 lakes and an armory which is like a treasure. K, Glazed armor is important for... whatever reason.

Wow, they have nice trees.

Ninja people on roofs. Magic lanterns. Oh no, they broke the paper windows :( Lots of fighting. Why on earth are they going back and forth between fast movements and slow-mo? That looks so weird. Ah, yes, fighting on rooftops. I've seen better. Just saying. Probably gonna make so many enemies saying that. Oh, already the first fabric cutting. Was it a sleeve?

K, so the one guy is the leader of the window of heaven, whatever that is. And people are shocked to see him. Is he a good guy or a bad guy?

He looks sad. Does he even wanna be there? Oh, he's helping the bad guys? Is he our tragic hero? Now I didn't catch his name.

Oh, girl, there is no way you sat down alone in that room and your robe fell all pretty around you like that.

She brought back somebody's body to tragic hero roof guy. And now he wants her to kill herself. This makes no sense, wth. And she actually goes and drinks the poison. Hm, and now they're talking about the dead guy, so he must have been important too. He's burried at the Four Seasons.... Hotel? Probably not hotel, I didn't catch that right, I guess.

She has some wooded thing in her hand.

Oh, flashback to a pretty guy carving it. Is he the dead guy?

And the other guy in the flashback is tragic hero guy, just younger. Are they the lovers??? :O Wait, was the dead guy in love with poison girl?

Tragic hero guy is visiting some older guy at some place. Ah it's four seasons MANOR. Ok. And tragic hero guy is some sort of lord. WTH is this window of heaven thing? Is it like a magical place? Is tragic hero lord poisoned or something? Oh, and the old guy is kinda pissed at him for some reason, they don't say why. He wants his nails done or something. That's... probably not right.

Eww, no, he wants nails stuck into him. And they’re not nails, they’re actually screws, but okay. Anyway, weird. I really don't get it. Were they friends before? But then why does the old guy not wanna serve tragic hero lord guy anymore? And why is tragic hero lord guy going around dooming everybody to die?

K, so the nails make you lose your senses and mind and then kill you after 3 years. Got it. I like how they give little explanations in between the story.

Everybody's dead except for tragic hero lord guy. Is he staying alive to suffer on purpose or something?

Some palace, looks a bit like Koi Tower to me. Some guys talking about somebody spitting blood. Tragic hero lord guy maybe? (who else is left alive anyway?)

:O He's got the nails himself? WHY??? Ok, he's definitely a masochist. Who on earth puts nails in sloooooowly in order to not lose all their senses at once?!

Wait who's the mirror guy? Was that pretty flashback guy? Seems like it. (Sorry, I'm faceblind - not even joking, I really am and utterly bad at recognizing people) Oh no, and now tragic hero lord guy is crying. We're only in episode 1... why are there tears already?

And why are they all talking about 7 nails, and he only has 6 nails showing. Where on earth did he put the 7th nail? Do I even wanna know?

It's constantly snowing in the outdoor scenes, that must have been annoying. At least all the extras get to wear hats or helmets.

Okay, tragic hero guy goes to the palace. Talks to the... guy there. Whoever he is. Ooh. Tragic hero lord guy is getting naked. In front of... ah just to show off the nails. And palace guy is shocked. Oh, tragic hero lord guy gave himself ONLY SIX nails. K, no search party needed, whew. And now palace guy is super pissed. Because he... doesn't want him to die? So... he threatens to kill him? What?

Does tragic hero lord guy want to be killed right away or want to be given that 7th nail? I don't understand. Also, side note, what's up with those other scars that he has?

Now that other random side guy gets promoted and gets to take tragic hero lord guy's job. Did tragic hero lord guy get the 7th nail or not? What? None of this makes any sense.

Oh, it stopped snowing.

And he went... somewhere.

And is doing arts and crafts.

Oh, he's putting on a mask. Wait, is he the tanned beard guy? :O Oh. But why? He’s going into hiding?

Whoa, those statue mountains look AWESOME. 10/10 for scenery!

Wait, who are all those people fighting now? Some red guys with masks. And they're falling off the edge like lemmings. And some giggly guy on wires.

He's a ghost? What? And he stole something.

If he's a ghost, why is he bleeding?

WHOAH, what a cool film set with the stone statues holding up the stone ceiling. Is this a cave? or just a valley? Is this some magical place? Anyway 10/10 again!

Some guy playing with nuts. Hehe.

And lots of people with lots of make-up. Ah, more ghosts, okay. Why is nut guy in red not showing his face to the camera?

Oh, they're talking about glazed armor again. Like in the intro story. Did they steal it? Who are the ten devils? Are they all ghosts? I'm so confused.

Okay, new location.

Wait, did they film this at The Untamed's Caiyi Town? :o Sure looks just like it.

(not my gif, I googled and found this on @elvencantation​’s tumblr.)

Ok, tanned tragic hero lord guy is an alcoholic. Seems faintly familiar.

Oh, and there's smirky guy that I know from the gifs on my dash. With a very prejudiced and talkative purple girl.

Everybody who's wearing white also carries a fan. Both smirky guy and the kid that just walked in. Who is he?

Ooooh, purple girl can fly jump. Is she a cultivator? ARE there cultivators in this series? So far, nobody has flown on any swords.

And how did smirky fan guy know that tanned tragic hero lord guy is not a beggar? Does he know him? Does he recognize him? I bet he gets a kick out of being so mysterious.

Oh no, purple girl broke the rice sack. What a waste. :( And now she kicked tanned tragic hero lord guy right into the salad bar.

At least the kid is trying to stop her. Yeah, somebody has to. Ooooh, she's got a whip. Niiiiiiice! But now she BROKE the salad bar, that is just WRONG!

Ok, so... if alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy made that mask in order to go into hiding, he maaaaybe shouldn't be fighting so well in front of EVERYBODY to see. Just saying. :O Somebody stopped the whip before it hit alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy.

Oh, end of episode. Ok. So what have I learned? I still don't know who is who. Or why they do the things they do. I don't know how they're connected either. Hmm. But I wanna know who stopped the whip. Probably smirky guy, I guess. But, in any case, the last shot makes me wanna continue watching. Cheap trick, but it works. Yes, definitely gonna keep watching!

[thecassadilla]

Change of Pace - Chapter 3

Pairing: Kristanna

Chapter 3 on AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Word Count: 3,481

Summary: With her sister’s blessing, Anna takes a step back from her royal duties and finds herself working for a ski resort nestled in the mountains. A chance encounter with the resort’s maintenance technician leads them down an unexpected path, as they must work together to plan the resort’s annual ball - and maybe fall in love in the process.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! Happy December! I can’t believe it’s already December - like, I don’t know about the rest of you guys, but this has simultaneously been the fastest and slowest year of my entire life lol. Anyway, here’s the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it!!!

“I’m sorry...what? Are you kidding?...Okay, we’ll be right down,” Holly said, slamming the receiver down and standing up. “Come on, Anna, we have to go.”

“Wait, what happened? Where are we going?”

“We have to go to the ballroom,” Holly explained frantically. “Right now.”

Anna slid her chair back and stood up from her desk. “Did something happen?”

“Come on, we have to go.” 

“Can you please tell me what happened?”

“There’s some kind of an emergency, Bonnie didn’t go into detail but she said we have to talk to the maintenance guys because we may not be able to have the ball here.”

“What?”

Holly waved her hands dismissively. “I don’t know, we have to go.”

The two women ran out of the office and into the elevator, all the while Anna wondered what possibly could’ve happened that would have derailed their plans so far in advance. The party wasn’t for another three months, so she was trying to remain hopeful that whatever had happened could be rectified by then. Just as they reached the first floor and the doors slid open, Holly grabbed Anna by the wrist and began to pull her in the direction of the ballroom.

“Is this really necessary?” Anna asked, trying to pull back slightly. 

“Come on!” Holly answered frantically, tightening her grip and pulling harder.

“I don’t really have a choice!” 

They made it past the lobby and to the back area of the hotel where the ballroom was situated with only minimal staring; Anna imagined that two of them had to be quite funny to look at, especially considering that Holly was a lot shorter than her and had still managed to drag her across the length of the hotel.

When they finally reached the end of the hall, they were met by a tall, blond man staring at them with brooding eyes. Her first impression was that he was incredibly handsome and strong-looking, but she quickly made note of the fact that he seemed quite angry, as if he was having the worst day of his life. It did nothing to soothe her anxiety, and instead increased it tenfold. 

“What’s going on?” Holly asked breathlessly, finally dropping Anna’s wrist.

“Pipe burst in the ceiling,” he answered, irritatedly. “The ceiling is destroyed, the floors are destroyed, the tables and chairs are ruined.”

“How soon can it be fixed?”

“With damage like this? A couple of months, at the very least.”

“We’re supposed to be having a party here in less than three months. Will it be fixed by then?”

He scoffed before shaking his head. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Do you mind if I take a look?”

He shrugged. “Do I look like I care?”

Holly walked over to the entrance to the ballroom, opened one of the doors, and peered inside. In the meantime, stared at the stranger in front of her while he was keeping his eyes rolled towards the ceiling; his eyebrows were tightly drawn together, his lips were pulled downwards in a scowl that would not budge, and his nostrils were flared as he breathed heavily. Despite his agitated demeanor, he was quite attractive, and she thought back to the conversation she’d had with Holly about dating just that morning - maybe she had been looking in all the wrong places. And then he caught her looking at him and she quickly diverted her eyes to her feet, feeling her ears burn with shame.

“Okay, that’s bad. Like, really bad,” Holly announced upon returning.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Anna groaned. 

“I wish I was kidding.”

“First, Jenny quits and now this?! What am I supposed to do?”

Holly took a deep breath before placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Anna. There are plenty of other venues in the area - not here in Valley, but within a few miles. You’ll have to call around, but we can’t think of this as a death sentence.”

She shook her head, trying to maintain her composure and avoid a breakdown. “This is terrible. No, it’s worse than terrible - it’s a literal nightmare.”

Holly nodded sympathetically. “I know. I’m sorry. Look, I’m going to see if Bonnie is in her office and then I’ll go through Jenny’s paperwork and see if she had any connections to catering halls nearby. We’ll have better luck if we start calling around right away.”

“Thanks,” Anna said, though as soon as the other woman was out of earshot, she turned back to the man. “Are you certain that the repairs will take that long?”

“Do you want to see the damage for yourself?” he offered. “The entire room has to be gutted. It’s not an easy fix.”

She nodded, and he motioned to the door. She peaked inside and her jaw nearly hit the floor; the room was in shambles, far worse than she could have imagined. “One pipe caused this much destruction?”

“Unfortunately.”

“This is unbelievable.” She raised her hands to cover her mouth. “Oh my god, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t…I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she sighed. “At least I have some time to find a venue. Thanks for letting us know.”

He fidgeted in place for a moment, and just as she started to turn away and head back up to the office, he called out to her. “What if I told you that I know a place?”

“You do?” 

He motioned for her to follow him, and he led her over to the textured map on the wall of the lobby, before pointing to a building that was located in the mountains. “Right there.”

She squinted. “What is that? Where is that?”

“It’s a huge, empty building that was supposed to be a restaurant, but they scrapped the idea when they expanded the resort. You can take the C Ski Lift up there and check it out for yourself.”

“There’s a ski lift that leads to an empty building?”

“It doesn’t lead directly there,” he explained. “It’s not a far walk from the hot chocolate bar, which is the first stop.”

“I’ve never been up there,” she admitted. “I don’t take the ski lifts. I don’t even ski.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You work at a ski resort and you don’t ski?”

“I’m not proud of it. If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind taking me up there? I can’t pitch it to Bonnie unless I know what I’m working with.”

“...I don’t take people places.”

“Please,” she begged. “I’ve never been up there and I really don’t know where I’m going.”

“Fine,” he reluctantly agreed. “I guess I can do that.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, you may have just saved me.”

“No problem. Let me just go tell my boss that I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed, watching as entered the decimated ballroom. She rocked back and forth from her heels to the tips of her toes and rolled her shoulders back in an attempt to relieve some of the tension that built up while she was freaking out. In no time, he emerged.

“Let’s go,” he said, as he strode past her.

She raced to catch up to him. “I don’t believe I caught your name.”

He glanced over at her for a moment before answering. “Kristoff.”

“I’m Anna,” she smiled, offering him her hand. 

He paused to shake it before pulling his hand away and continuing. “So, uh, how’d you get roped into this? You said someone quit?”

“My boss did - it was very unexpected. I was her assistant and now I’m...her.” 

“Isn’t that a good thing? You got a promotion.”

“A promotion I did not want, or ask for. A promotion that is requiring me to finish planning a huge party with not much time to spare - something that I’ve never done before, by the way. And to top it all off, the one easy part of my job got destroyed today when a pipe burst.”

As soon as the automatic doors opened and the blustery wind hit her, she crossed her bare arms over her chest to preserve any warmth she could. It probably wasn’t the best idea to agree to an outdoor excursion without a coat or any other winter attire. 

“Weren’t you around the last time your boss planned this party?” he asked, as they got into the queue for the C Ski Lift. There was no line, so when the next gondola approached, they climbed in and the doors closed around them. “Like, can’t you just go off of memory and try to replicate everything from last year?”

She sat down before shaking her head. “I just started working here in September. This will be the first and last time I’m responsible for something like this.”

“Last?”

“Yeah, I’m only here until the season ends and then I’m going home.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Home?”

“I’m not from here,” she explained. “I’m here temporarily for work.”

“Oh, sorry, most people who work here are from this area and I just assumed.”

“Are you?”

He faltered for a moment before answering. “Yeah, I live in town. I’ve worked here for a few years and I’ll probably work here until the day I die.”

“That’s depressing.”

“Not everyone can afford to travel around and work temporary jobs,” he pointed out.

She grimaced. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. If it’s any consolation, I was born into, um...my family’s business, so I don’t have much of a choice in terms of my career, either.”

“Our stop is coming up,” he said, changing the subject and saving her from any further embarrassment.

The car pulled into the station, and when the doors opened they stepped onto the platform. 

“That’s the hot chocolate bar?” she asked, pointing to the small building next to the ski lift station. 

“Yup,” he answered. “We just have to take this path and we’ll be there.”

All she could see to the left of her was snow. Lots and lots of snow. “I don’t see a path.”

“It’s buried.” And without further hesitation, he started along the hidden path,  burying them deep in the snow and then pulling his legs straight up with each step.

“You would think they would shovel this every once in a while,” she remarked with a scoff, taking the bottom of her midi dress in her hands and stepping into the two foot deep pile. With each step she took, the cold snow fell onto the tops of her exposed feet and she sorely wished that she’d managed to put her snow boots on before she left the office. She was only partially grateful that she’d chosen to wear a dress today. Though the snow was stinging her legs, it was better than the alternative - wearing cold, damp pants until her heater managed to dry them.

He glared at her. “First of all, nobody ever comes this way so the path doesn’t have to be cleared. And second, you’re talking to one of the guys who would be responsible for shoveling if it was necessary for this path to be cleared.”

“Today is really not my day,” she groaned, feeling her cheeks heat up. “I am so sorry.”

“Let’s just make this fast, okay? I have to get back to work.”

Luckily, the building wasn’t very far from the station, and they were there in no time. Her first impression was that the building was large and could seemingly accommodate the amount of guests that were invited. There was an entire wall that was made of paneled glass, which provided an excellent view of the ski resort down below, the snow covered trees that surrounded the area, and even the sky. The interior was much more modern than the ballroom, with hardwood floors as opposed to carpet, elegant chandeliers dangling from the high ceiling, wall sconces, and a neutral color scheme. 

“Wow, it’s so nice! I love all of the windows,” she said excitedly, as she peered through the glass. “And it’s huge inside. There will definitely be enough room for the guests and a dance floor, and tables and chairs. And you said that it was supposed to be a restaurant, so there must be a kitchen where the caterers could set up and store the food. I actually think this may work.”

“Told you.”

“You’re a lifesaver! I just need to figure out a way to get all the equipment up here and then I think I’ll be all set.”

“There’s a road right over there.” He pointed to the large clearing between two wooded areas. “It hasn’t been plowed, but if Bonnie is willing to let you have your party here, it’ll get done. The path will be shoveled, too, so people can take the ski lift up from the hotel and walk over.”

“Seriously, you’re the best!”

Before he could respond, she’d managed to pull him into a hug, squeezing his waist tightly. He awkwardly patted her on the back until she pulled away.

“Sorry, I probably should’ve asked if it was okay to hug you.” She sheepishly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just so thankful that you showed me this place.”

He cleared his throat, obviously a bit flustered from the sudden contact. “It’s fine.”

“We should probably head back now,” she said. “You said you have to get back to work, and I’d like to run this by Bonnie.”

“Good idea.”

By the time they got back to the ski lift station, her teeth were chattering and she was shaking like a leaf. She couldn’t wait to get back to the resort and warm up, deciding then and there that she’d never venture out into the cold without the proper attire ever again. As soon as they were seated in the gondola, she bent down to rub her reddened legs with her hands, hoping the friction would heat them up faster.

“You should probably wear snow pants and boots.”

“To be fair, I work in an office,” Anna rebuked, glancing up at him. He quickly diverted his eyes away, as if he’d been staring at her. “I wasn’t expecting to come outside and walk through the snow.”

“Touché.”

“At least I can go back upstairs and sit next to a space heater for the rest of the day.”

“Be careful with those things, they catch fire easily.”

“I wish I could go without it, but I’m not keen on numb toes,” she laughed. “But I do remember to turn it off and unplug it before I leave for the day.”

“Good, the last thing we need is another disaster.”

“Tell me about it. It’s been quite an eventful day.”

“I’d describe it as hellish, personally,” he remarked. “I had a bad feeling about today. I thought about calling out.”

“Really? That’s so interesting,” she mused. “I had a great feeling about today.”

“Well, you were given a promotion and I was given a huge mess to clean up.”

“I didn’t want the promotion,” she reminded him. “If it makes you feel any better about today, you’re basically a hero in my eyes. You literally saved the day.”

He offered her a lopsided smile. “How about you hold off on the gratitude until Bonnie approves this as the new location?”

“You don’t have to be so humble.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” he said with a shrug, standing up just as their gondola reached the station. 

They stepped onto the platform and speed-walked toward the entrance of the hotel in a silent attempt to escape the blustery cold. 

“Thank you again,” Anna said, once they’d reached the lobby. 

“You’re welcome. And I believe the person you’re looking for is right over there.” He pointed to the front desk, where Bonnie was engrossed in conversation with another employee.

“We have to go tell her. Come on,” Anna insisted, motioning for him to follow, which he did. “Excuse me, Bonnie?”

The tall woman spun around at the sound of her name and smiled. “What can I do for you, Anna?”

“I may have found a location for the ball,” Anna explained. “I wanted to talk to you about it.”

Bonnie nodded excitedly. “Go on.”

“What do you think of the empty building near the hot chocolate bar? It’s big so it should accommodate the amount of guests on our list, there will be enough room for a dance floor and a buffet, and it’s on property.”

“What a wonderful idea!” Bonnie gushed, clapped her hands together. “How did you come up with that?”

“It was all Kristoff’s idea,” Anna insisted, motioning to him. “I really can’t take any credit.”

“Really?” she raised an eyebrow, looking over at him. “Well, I think I found your new assistant, then.”

Kristoff’s face fell. “Excuse me?”

“You’re going to help Anna finish planning the party. We won’t have enough time to hire a new assistant event planner, and since you came up with the idea to use that building as the venue, then you can assist with the rest of the planning.”

“No, no, no,” he interjected. “I am not a party planner. I’m a maintenance technician, and that ballroom is currently in shambles. I have plenty of other things that I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Relax, it’s only temporary. As soon as the season is over, you will return to your regular position.”

“But -”

She raised a single finger and he stopped talking. “No buts. Starting on Monday, you will report to the event office upstairs and you will assist Anna, or you will be looking for employment elsewhere.”

Bonnie’s word was final, and as she walked away from the two of them, Anna finally gained the courage to look at Kristoff’s face - which was clearly a mistake, because if looks could k*ll, she’d surely be d*ad.

And once again, she found herself apologizing to him. “I’m so sorry, Kristoff, I had no idea that she was going to do that.”

“Why did you tell her that I was involved?”

“Because you deserve the credit! I didn’t even know that that building existed until you told me about it.”

“You shouldn’t have said anything,” he snapped. 

“You don’t even have to help me,” she insisted, trying to placate him. “You can sit in the office for the next couple of months and not do anything, and I won’t tell her, I swear. Kind of like a paid vacation - just come to the office and play on your phone.”

“And what do you plan on telling Bonnie when she comes in and sees that I’m not doing anything?”

“I don’t know! I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“I guess I should start looking for a new job,” he sneered, before marching away. 

She felt herself physically deflate; she had made mistakes before, but she’d never managed to make someone that upset. It wasn’t even technically her fault, it was Bonnie’s fault but she still felt horrible. She stood in place for a moment before slinking over to the elevator and ascending to the third floor.

“Where’ve you been?” Holly asked, as soon as she re-entered the office.

“I found a new venue for the party,” she answered, in a low voice.

“How’d you manage to do that?”

“That maintenance guy knew a place,” she explained. “Right here on property, not too far from the last stop on the C Ski Lift.” 

“Ooh, the maintenance guy! He was really cute! Did you get his number?”

“No, he hates my guts.”

Holly’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? Why?”

“I think I ruined his life.”

“Anna, what are you talking about?”

“I thought that he deserved recognition for finding a new venue for us, so I mentioned it to Bonnie. Now she’s forcing him to step away from his maintenance job and be my assistant for the rest of the season.”

“Why would she do that?”

Anna shrugged half-heartedly. “I don’t know, but he’s not happy about it and I don’t blame him.”

“You were doing the right thing, though. He can’t hold that against you. It’s literally not your fault.”

“I don’t know, Holly, he seemed very upset with me.”

“You’re the sweetest person on the planet. I guarantee that he won’t be able to stay mad at you for very long.”

“I guess we’ll see what happens on Monday.”

With a resigned sigh, she retreated to her desk and buried her face in her hands. How the day had gone from bad to worse in the blink of an eye? She wasn’t sure, but her snap judgment when she saw Kristoff in the lobby and assumed he was enduring the worst day of his life was correct - if only she had assumed that this would be her worst day ever, too. 

[halequeenjas]

What the Howl || Harsh & Jasmine

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @notsoharsh & @halequeenjas SUMMARY: Jasmine hears through the grapevine that Harsh is a hunter. She hires him to take out the Cù-sìth occupying the backyard of one of her listings. CONTENT: Gun use

Living in White Crest, having contacts with a wide variety of skill sets was a must. Jasmine knew as much. While she could kick a ghost out of just about anywhere, monsters were decidedly not her thing. She was still super human even with her abilities. There was no accelerated healing or added strength to make her more likely to survive an encounter with a beast. When she saw this wolf-like animal roaming around the yard of the estate she was trying to sell, she knew she’d have to get rid of it quickly. She couldn’t even safely show the property with it there. Thankfully, this Harsh guy seemed confident he could take care of the beast and she’d pay him generously for it. All the doors were secure as she waited for his arrival. Once she heard a knock on the door, she jumped up a bit startled by the sound, and glanced out the peephole. Thankfully, it was just her hunter and not the monster getting smart on her. She opened the door and ushered him in. “Hey,” she greeted, “I appreciate you coming out and helping with this problem. I may be good at many things, but beasts aren’t one of them.”

Someday Harsh would learn to not do the first stupid thing that popped into his head. Today probably wasn’t going to be that day. On the one hand, the more people thought he was a hunter, the less that might show up at his door with stakes in hand. But on the other, even hours of googling had only given him the slightest idea of what he was about to go up against. Green Dog hadn’t gotten him very far, but it hadn’t shown up on any weird werewolf hunting forums, which were mostly just trolls and conspiracy nuts anyway. So maybe it was something else. He had stocked up on silver bullets anyway and grabbed a few wicked looking knives for good measure. Hunters always had tons of those. The fact that the cashier hadn’t looked at him twice told him a lot about White Crest that he probably should’ve already known. The property was for sale. Huh. Harsh grinned even as he half waited for the invisible push to keep him from crossing the threshold. It didn’t come. That was good to know. “Yeah, no problem. I like doing what I can. Now, fair warning, I wasn’t able to find much on your wolf, but I think what I’ve got should cover most things. You’ll probably want to hang back, just in case things get rough.” 

Between the weapons packed on him and his build, Harsh definitely looked the part of hunter. Whether he was a good one had yet to be determined. Even so, Jasmine led him towards the back of the house where the expansive backyard was. Minus the creepy wolf, it was quite the setup with an outdoor bar and kitchen, lush foliage, and plenty of space to run around. It was a dream backyard that plenty of people would pay a pretty penny for, but she could not in good conscience sell it knowing it was unsafe. The fact he wasn’t able to find much on the wolf wasn’t promising, but at least he had that whole strength and dexterity thing going for him. At least, she hoped he did. Calling the police and animal control to collect a dead body was not high on her to do list. “You’ve got quite the arsenal there. I don’t think Mr. Wolfy over there will know what him… or her. I don’t really care I just want it gone.” She gave a firm nod and said, “You don’t have to tell me to hang back twice. I’ll keep an eye out from the balcony.” Odds were the wolf couldn’t fly or leap quite that high. It still felt odd sending someone into danger, so she added, “Shout if you need anything.”  

“Got it.” Hopefully one of these things would do the trick. Harsh pulled the gun from his bag, loading it up with silver bullets as he headed toward the back door. Maybe just one shot would be enough. Whatever this thing was, maybe it wouldn’t like silver. At least he wasn’t trembling when he gripped the door knob. So many years of faking, he always looked confident at the very least. That was probably good for a hunter. They probably never looked like they were about to go off to face certain death. He threw open the door. The monster… whatever it was, looked like it was just standing there. It was definitely green. And big. And wolfy. But not a werewolf. Harsh could tell that much at least. The beast looked at him with curious eyes. If he was more patient, maybe he could reason with it. Patience had never been one of Harsh’s virtues, so he lifted the gun and fired. Then the beast began to howl. 

Jasmine had shuffled up to the balcony to keep eyes on the situation. While she was sure what the hell she could possibly do if things went south, she still had an iron bar firmly in her hand anyway. Better safe than sorry they always said. She jumped slightly at the ringing sound of gunfire and let out a small gasp. Neither of which could be heard over the loud bang or the howling of Shrek the werewolf over here. Since when were monster wolves green anyway? So far, the situation still seemed to be under control so she watched from the balcony and hoped with everything in her that was where she could stay.  

It had probably been a few decades since Harsh had last fired a gun. Or that was at least the reason he was going to go with when he missed. His second shot was a little more on target, catching one of the beast’s legs. The creature let out a pained bark, far louder than any wolf had any right to be. Harsh winced, throwing his free hand up over one ear. Shit. This thing was seeming less and less like a werewolf. What the hell was he supposed to do? Maybe it would still die if he just shot it enough times. But the creature didn’t look like it was too interested in letting him. With an oddly silent snarl, it charged. Harsh swore under his breath as he leaped out of the way, firing again. A direct hit, the bullet biting into the beast’s chest. It staggered, letting out another ear splitting cry. But it didn’t go down. As Harsh watched with widening eyes, it looked like it was already shaking off the first hit. Shit. That was so not good for him. He cast a glance back to the house, Jasmine was still in there, maybe she could grab him something else. Catching sight of her, he gave her a slightly panicked look. “Uh, I don’t think it’s a werewolf--” was all he had time to say before the beast charged again. 

The loud bangs of gunshots left her ears ringing and the wolf relatively unbothered. Injured, yes, but now seemingly pissed off. Great. Jasmine was beginning to wonder if this guy had any idea what the hell he was doing. She didn’t even deal with real monsters and she could tell this big bad green wolf over here wasn’t a werewolf. It wasn’t even a full moon. Why would the assumption had been werewolf? This was decidedly not good, the wolf was charging Harsh and he kept shooting at it. Enough bullet wounds should be enough to kill it she hoped. Outside of the fact she was supposed to stay away from them, Jasmine knew little else about beasts. Her recreational reading was reserved for trashy romance novels and ghost-related research. “Uhm, duh,” she called out from the balcony wondering if he needed anything. She was not about to go down there and get charged by that thing. She already had a broken arm. The last thing she needed was claw marks ruining her near-flawless complexion. She threw her hands up over her ears again as it let out another deafening howl and she could feel her heart rate creeping up. Terror was evident on her face as she watched the scene play out before he. “Watch out,” she screamed. Her hands were shaking, but she needed to do something. The wolf was nearly on top of Harsh as she leaned over the railing of the balcony. For a moment, she was frozen in panic as the iron rod she had been holding fell out of her hand and onto the wolf seemingly distracting it from Harsh.

Shit shit shit. Why had he just gone straight for the silver bullets? This thing definitely wasn’t a werewolf. But it was still wolfy. And shouldn’t shooting something at least slow it down? Harsh cursed as he tried to throw himself out of the way, throwing up his hands. If the gun didn’t do it maybe he could punch the stupid thing to death. Hunters did that, right? But then the wolf stopped. The creature skidded to a halt, letting out a deafening yelp of pain. That was something. What did that? Harsh looked over frantically, watching as the creature shook, throwing a metal rod from its back. Huh. There wasn’t time to think. Harsh rushed forward, snatching the iron rod as it fell. “You don’t like this, huh?” He bashed the beast across the snout with the iron. Something crunched as it let out a piteous howl and staggered backward. Harsh found himself grinning as he straightened up. “Arlight, now we’re talking. You’re not all that wolfy, are you?” He twirled the rod in his hand. Iron… he was going to have to google that when he got home. But for now, there was a monster to put out of his misery. It was out of it, still shaking its head. Harsh readied himself, iron rod held tight as he whistled. “Hey, over here, greenie.” Blood was dripping from the creature’s mangled snout as it hissed, one claw dragging through the dirt before it charged. Maybe it was a little too showy, but wasn’t that what hunters were supposed to do? They acted like such bigshots, treated themselves like real life superheroes. And Harsh had never really been able to resist the urge to show off. So he rushed forward as the beast charged, dropping at the last second as the beast ran right over him. He rammed the rod up, right into the beast’s chest, driving it in as hard as he can. The beast let out one last, mournful howl before it went still. With a great shove, Harsh forced the creature off, staying where he was, taking a few unnecessary breaths. Had to make it look real. Managing a grin, he looked up to Jasmine, lifting a hand. “I think I got it.”

 Every howl left her heartbeat racing faster and faster until the iron rod fell onto the wolf causing it to yelp in pain. A new development that Jasmine hadn’t quite expected, but Harsh got his hands on the rod which would surely only help his fight. It appeared this thing also didn’t like iron. Was it a ghost wolf? No, Harsh wouldn’t have been able to seen it if it had in fact been spectral. Other creatures could have iron sensitivities too she supposed. That happened to be some dumb luck and she felt the terror melting away as she watched Harsh fight. Okay, this guy knew what he was doing. She held her breath as she watched the finally moments of their showdown. The bar collided with the wolf’s face. The way Harsh seemed to move quickly. She’d held in a gasp as the wolf charged him and he managed to move out of the way just in time to let it collide with an iron rod. The pitiful howl resonated in the yard and sent a chill down her spine, but it was over now. Once the relief set in, she was able to offer up a small round of applause. “Clearly, you know what you’re doing. Sorry for any doubt on my end.” She made her way back down to the first floor and let him back into the house. “That was intense… and impressive.” She gave him a smile as she got her checkbook out. “I don’t think I caught your last name before-- Who should I make the check out to?” 

“Hey, I don’t mind. I looked kind of stupid for a minute there,” Harsh said, with an easy laugh at himself. “I went at it with the wrong equipment. But hey, live and learn.” At least now he could deal with these things easily if he ever ran into another one. He still wasn’t quite sure what it was, but if iron did the trick, maybe it was a ghost or a fairy… or some third thing he had never even heard about. That was always a possibility. Even with how long he had been around, there was plenty to the supernatural world that he had never really experienced. And getting paid certainly didn’t hurt. “Harsh Mishra. And thanks. If I ever have any ghost issues come up, I’ll make sure to send them your way.”

“You said it, not me,” Jasmine joked as she fished her checkbook out of her purse. Not surprisingly he had been a good fighter, most hunters were. He was right about the equipment though. Still, for not knowing what hell kind of wolf it was, that had been relatively quick and easy. “Harsh Mishra,” she said more to herself as she filled out the check, “Please do, I’m kind of the best in town.” Or definitely. It felt more like a definitely considering the other exorcists she knew. She handed him his check and offered niceties as he made his way home. Or to hunt more monsters. She didn’t really know what hunters did with their free time, but she did know she’d have his number on speed dial. Just in case.

[fandomfreak1000000]

HEY GUYS STORY TIME!!!

 OK first off new story.....yay...

I just came with this "Original" Idea while watching Spiderman into the Spidy verse, so here goes

You are Y/N Beck, daughter of Quentin Beck, who in this universe did not turn evil and still works at Stark industries, anyways you were born in New York City and for the first 2 years of your life, everything was going well, you had both parents and a nice house and was happy, until one night, while your father was out and your mother was taking care of you, someone broke in the house. Your mother fought back and did everything she could to protect you but she got killed, your father got home just in time with his boss and friend Tony Stark. They both were alerted that something happened and went they there, the villain was about to take you, but they both stopped him and got him behind bars. Devastated of his wife's death and almost losing his little girl, he almost quit his job just keep an eye out for you, but Tony had another suggestion, to move to Musutafu, Japan. Where most of the top Pro Heroes are and will keep both of them safe, plus he knows most of them, your father hesitated for a few moments, he wanted the best for you and you to be safe in the end he agreed.

Moving to Japan was a long journey, but you both make it and move into a house, that had a connect backyard with a fence. After moving in, both of you are greeted by your new neighbors, they talk to your father while also introducing their son, Sero Hanta, who seems to be a little older than you. You both get along just fine and soon become the best of friends, the both of you did everything together and got into a lot of mischiefs. And got even worse when Sero got his quirk, you both got hurt a lot and that got your father to worry about your safety, but didn't do anything until you got your quirk a few weeks after Sero got his. Then he got really worried, so then he pulled you out of school and had you homeschooled. But that didn't stop you from hanging and talking to Sero, you got homeschooled by the best tutors that your father hired for you(Thanks to Tony).  

   You grew very intelligent and was even doing things above your grade level, but got kinda boring, wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast, study with a tutor, hang out with Sero, eat lunch, study again, practice violin, eat dinner alone, wait for your father to come home, fall asleep on the couch, then wake up in your room and repeat. This went on for a good 6 years(both of you are now 12) and Sero tried his best to be by your side, but school keeping him busy and vise versa. Plus he has been training his quirk to get into U.A, while you were ban from using yours at all plus you were not interested as he was of becoming a hero, that's until your father got into an accident at work and almost lost his life if some pro hero weren't there. Now knowing that you didn't want to see your father almost die ever again, you wanted to be a Pro hero, to protect him and your loved ones.

After begging your dad for weeks to let you train to go to U.A., he refused, of course, he didn't want his little girl to become a pro hero. He was scared that you might get into trouble and possibly might get killed. But you still plead and plead that he would let you got but nothing until you told your Uncle Tony about and he was on board of helping you train and getting into U.A. he sends some of the avengers to help you. And training behind your father's back was not easy but little lies here and there plus Uncle Tony keeping him distracted did the trick, at least that you thought but turns out that your father knew the whole time and he confronted you about it. After the conversation, he allowed you to keep training as long as you keep track of your health and safety.

2 years go by of training and studying, you're done with homeschool and get to see Sero more often. You don't tell him the news of you getting trained and that you been allowed to go to U.A., of course, your dad was scared when he heard about the entrance exam and fighting giant robots. So he asked Tony if there was another way to let you in without taking that entrance exam, so boom you got recommended to get into to U.A. At first you found it unfair that you get a pass to get in the school and others had to take a test to prove their worth, such as your best friend Sero, who has been training and wanted to be a hero his whole life. But it was the only way for your father to let you go to the school, so waiting for Sero to get the letter if he got in or not was kinda nerve wreaking for the both of you. But he got in and you both so happy that he got in and it kinda slipped out that you were going too, and he was even happier that his best friend was going to be by his side to become heroes.

So the day finally came, the first day of going to U.A., the first step to becoming a Pro Hero. That's where your story begins, a girl with a spider-like quirk going to U.A. with her childhood friend and new friends she meets in U.A. and having Pro Heroes as teachers, including All Might. But you know that becoming a hero is not easy, there will be villains, hard work training, a lot of studying, and even some complicated romance. But whatever this path leads you, you will not be alone. For your Father, your Mother, your Friends, and Family, and most importantly Yourself.

SO WHAT'S UP DANGER!!

Name: Y/N Beck

Quirk: Spider

She had the ability of a spider, climb onto walls, shoots webs from her arm, spider senses, and can lift up 170 times her own weight, and her special moves are jumping about 25 feet in the air and having night vision. That's all she knows about her power so far.

Disadvantages: her arms get sore if she shoots too many webs and she scared of spiders(how ironic)she also can't really be in closed areas since she can't use her webs or jumping abilities.

Ranks

Intelligent: S+(but you be a little dumb sometimes)

Strenght: A+

Teamwork: S

Stamina: S

Strategy: A+

Personality: S+++++

Likes: her father, her avenger family, Sero, her new friends, sweets, spicy food, reading, cute animals, being outdoors.

Dislikes: bullies, sour things, SPIDERS, being locked inside, perverts.

Well, that's all for now for this book so far, be an eye out for the first chapter of this book and another two chapters of my other book. Fandom out.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 9

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​

They don’t speak on the drive into town; the tension that hovers over them thick and suffocating. Tyler can’t remember the last time he’s felt this agitated with Ovi.  If he’s ever felt this way. Where every little movement the kid makes or even the slightest clearing of the throat or a small cough is enough to sever that last shred of sanity. And when out of the corner of his eye he sees Ovi’s fingers begin to tap against his knees, he snaps at him to ‘knock it the fuck off’.  It’s never bothered him that badly; even in Dhaka it had only been a minor annoyance. But Ovi hasn’t done it in years; stopping almost immediately after that’d taken him to Colorado. Where his life had been simpler and less stressful, and he wasn’t looking over his shoulder ninety nine percent of the time and his nerves were no longer as raw and fragile. And it’s more irritating that he’s slipping back into old habits than the actual habit itself.

“It just annoys me,” he explains, his tone softer. Apologetic. And he knows he isn’t on edge just because of the fallout from the night before. It’s been three days since he’s taken the Valium, always cutting them out when he feels as if he’s doing better and no longer needs them. Then having to suffer the consequences not only when he’s off the med, but when he starts back up and has to deal with the brutal side effects all over again. “What are you so nervous about anyway?” he asks.

“You,” Ovi readily admits.

“What do you think I’m going to do to you?”

He shrugs.

“If I was going to lose my shit on you, I would have done it while we were still in the driveway.”

“I know you’ll still pissed,” Ovi says. “I can tell.”

“Yeah? How?”

“You’ve been doing twenty over the speed limit since we left the house. Your knuckles keep cracking because you’re holding the steer wheel so tight. Just like your jaw keeps popping because you’ve got it clenched so hard. And have you ever looked in the mirror when you’re mad? At your eyes?”

“Not exactly.”

“You don’t even have to say anything. It’s all on your face. It’s all in your eyes.”

He’s been told that before. Many times. That he doesn’t even have to utter a word; that one look is enough to let someone know to either tread lightly or just avoid him altogether.  It isn’t something he’s exactly proud of.  It may have come in handy while on the job, but in his personal life it’s been pure and utter hell. His own wife having to often walk on eggshells because she can just tell when it’s been a bad day, or those demons are getting ready to surface.  Of all the people who shouldn’t have to feel that way, it’s her.  The person who’s been by his side through the lowest of all the goddamn lowest and has seen him at the darkest points in his life.   Who’d put her own ass on the line back on that bridge in Dhaka, sticking by him and keeping him alive even though there was a very real chance that both of them could end up dead.  

“I get it. You’re mad,” Ovi sighs. “And you’ve got every right to be. I shouldn’t have caused problems last night. After dinner. With Esme.”

“You think that’s what I’m most pissed about?” Tyler scoffs. “The fact that you upset her?”

“I know how protective you are. I know you don’t like people overstepping when it comes to her. That you don’t like to see her upset.”

“I don’t. I fucking hate seeing her upset. Especially when she cries. But we worked through all that last night and put it behind us. She’s dealing with some stuff. Stuff her and I are going to work on together and make sure she gets through. Trust me, it wasn’t just Chloe opening her big goddamn mouth that caused issues.”

“That isn’t the way I wanted it come out,” Ovi sighs. “I wanted to tell her myself. I didn’t want her to find out like that.”

“I didn’t want her to find out at all. There was no reason for her to find out about it.  Once I told you that I wasn’t interested, that should have been it. And you should have told Chloe to keep her mouth shut. Now Esme’s ready to throat punch her and I don’t think that’s the hill Chloe wants to die on. You know how Esme gets.”

Ovi’s eyes widen as he nods. It takes a lot to get Esme to the point of losing it, but he’s been there when it’s happened, and it isn’t a pretty sight.  How a little thing like her can have that much rage and vengeance inside of her is both impressive and terrifying.

They find an empty parking spot across the street from Ovi’s restaurant of choice; a newly opened sports bar that features traditional pub fare and twenty different domestic and foreign beers in tap.  Tyler can smell it the second they step through the door, the powerful mixture of various types of alcohol.  And it makes him nauseous and triggers the craving. It’s been intense the last four days, and Ovi’s announcement of wanting to try his hand at the job had kicked things into high gear; he can practically taste it on his lips.   But it’s more than Ovi and the job. So much more.  The cutting of the Valium cold turkey, the rapid approach of Millie’s six birthday and the dreams he’s been having of her and Austin, the pain that never seem to cease despite taking those meds religiously.  

They’re offered a seat at the bar that Tyler declines and suggests the sparsely populated outdoor patio. There are two reasons: he can avoid breathing in the scent of booze and seeing people enjoying their drinks, and his back won’t be to the door. He can’t break himself of the habit. For years...decades even...he’s had to sit facing any entrance or exit. It’s safer that way; no one can speak up on you and try to put a bullet in your head or slit your throat.  It’s happened to a few mercenaries that have stepped on the wrong toes: letting their guard down and meeting an untimely and gruesome end.  He wonders if he’ll ever get over it. The need to always have his guard up. If one day he’ll get up in the morning and the hyper-vigilance won’t exist anymore.  If he’ll sleep through the night without even the lightest of noises immediately wake him. If he won’t constantly be on the lookout for even the slightest hint of danger or find something suspicious in even the smallest of action. If he’ll stop viewing everything he sees...everyone he comes across....as a potential threat.  

The waitress seems disappointed when they both opt for ice water as opposed to beer. Booze makes the bill higher, which in turn makes her for a bigger tip.  

“Yeah, well my sobriety is a little more important than helping you out,” he informs her, and she gives him a sympathetic, understanding smile and has the gall to lay her hand on the top of his bicep and actually give it a slight squeeze.  And he frowns as he watches her head back into the restaurant, shaking his head when she gives him a long glance over her shoulder before disappearing inside.    

“Everywhere we go,” Ovi laments. “Everywhere."

“You think you have it bad. I’ve got strangers trying to feel me up all the time.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t look like that,” Ovi suggests.  

“Or maybe you should step up and take one for the team and get your game on.  I’ve got a wife to keep happy. She likes the way I look. You’ve just got Chloe and anything’s a step up from that. So....”

Ovi ignores the cheap shot and flips open the menu in front of him.  “So what’s going on?” he asks. “With Esme? Is she okay?”

“Not really,” Tyler admits. “But she will be.”

“Is she sick or...”

“Look mate, I know you’re worried. I know how close the two of you are. How much you love her. But I love her more. And I respect her. Which means I can’t tell you. It’s personal. And we’re dealing with it.”

“But she’ll be okay, right? Like she’s not going to die or anything like that?”

“It’s nothing like that. I promise. It’s just personal and she’s struggling and it’s something we need to deal with. That I have to help her with. She’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Ovi sighs and begins drumming his fingers against the tabletop. Stopping and giving an apologetic smile when Tyler glares at him. “Sorry,” he moves his hand to his thigh. Out of sight, out of mind.  “I just worry,” he says. “I don’t want anything bad happening to her. She didn’t give birth to me, but she’s still my mom. She’s the only mom I remember having. I don’t want to lose that.”

“She’s going to be fine,” Tyler assures him.  “You just have to trust me. That I’ll help her through things.”

“I do,” Ovi says.  “Trust you.”

“Yeah?” he sips his water. “So why didn’t you trust me enough to come to me sooner. About the job. That’s why we’re here, right? You want to talk about it in a public place because you know I won’t lose my shit on you.”

“Maybe,” Ovi sheepishly admits.

“I don’t know what more you want me to say. You know how I feel about it. You think it’s a terrible idea. That I think you’re way too good for that life. That you deserve a lot better than that.”

“So did you,” Ovi points out. “You deserved a lot better than that. But you still went into it.”

“I deserved shit. I was a fucking mess. Addicted to booze, addicted to pills, I’d abandoned my own kid when he was dying. I was a horrible fucking person and I deserved everything fucked up that the job entailed. I didn’t give a shit if I lived or died. I just didn’t have the balls to pull the trigger myself. Figured if someone did it for me, it was an easy way out. And if I did survive, I’d get paid for doing it. Win win, don’t you think?”

“I think that’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard,” Ovi says. “You made some mistakes. You were in a bad place. Especially when your son was sick. Doesn’t mean you had to pay for those decisions with your life.  That’s just...I don’t know...wrong."

“It’s where I was at the time. It’s what I felt I deserved. And if I’d died in Dhaka...” he shrugs. “...I died.”

“That’s messed up. You’ve paid for your mistakes. For your bad decisions. When you got me across the bridge. One good thing erases all the bad. You didn’t have to do it, but you did. You could have just left me in the street. When you knew there was no money.  But you didn’t. You still put yourself on the line to get me out of there. A bad person doesn’t do something like that. And you can’t convince me otherwise.”

He’d been looking for an absolution. Redemption, even. To wipe his slate clean.  Some days he feels as if he’s found it. That he’d been given a second chance to be a good person; blessed with a wife and five amazing kids and a peaceful, comfortable life. Other days he feels as if he’s still stuck in the same nightmare. Guilt that plagues him, dreams that haunt his sleep, a brain that won’t let him truly rest.  

“I just want to try it,” Ovi says. “The job. Just to see if it’s my thing.”

“It isn’t something you just ‘try’. You either go in balls to wall or you don’t go in it all. You want to try something? You want excitement? You want to test your adrenaline? Go bungee jumping or cliff diving or sky diving or shit like that. Don’t go into the job. Because it isn’t excitement you’re going to find. It’s death. And lots of it.”

“I like the idea of the risk. The danger.”

“All of a sudden you get off on having a gun held to your head? Or having to fight off a group of guys in a dark alley? Or constantly wondering if there’s a sniper getting ready to put a bullet in your brain? Fuck that. You’re smarter than this. Way too smart to think any of this is a good idea. And if it’s Chloe putting this bullshit in your head...”

“It’s not Chloe,” Ovi interjects. “It’s not. It’s me.”

“Bullshit. Because you’ve never once talked about any of this since she came along. Tell her if she has a death wish, she can go out and do the job. Get her to commit. Don’t let her throw you to the wolves, mate. Don’t let her make you think you’ve got something to prove or that this is the only thing that will ‘make you a man’. Because that’s shit and we both know it. That’s not what makes a man a man. Killing people. And it doesn’t matter if they deserve it or not.”

“You don’t think I can handle it, do you.”

“I know you can’t. And that’s not a slight on you. Some people are made to do the job, and some people aren’t. Some people are made for bigger and better things. And you’re one of these people.  You’re made for bigger and better things. Why would you want to settle for anything less?”

Ovi shrugs. “I want to do some good. After what you did for me in Dhaka....”

“I did what I had to do, mate. What I wanted to do. You don’t have to prove anything to me. I don’t expect thanks. And I don’t expect you to spend the rest of your life showing how grateful you are. I just want you to happy and live a good life. A good, long life. And that won’t happen if you get into the job.  There’s rarely a good ending, trust me.”

“You’ve been given a good ending,” Ovi points out.

“And I’ve probably used up all of the good luck that can come to one family. So about we not test it, yeah? How about you just forget about all of this and find something else to do with your life. Go back to school. Get an education. Get into a real career. I’ll pay for it. No hesitation. Just don’t do the job. That’s all I’m asking. That you do not get into that life.”

Ovi nods slowly as he considers Tyler’s words; eyes riveted on his menu, chewing nervously on his bottom lip.  “I have a confession to make,” he speaks after several minutes.

“I don’t think I like the sounds of this.”

“I’ve been talking to someone. About all of this. For a while now. Someone that’s still in the business and could answer all my questions and lead me in the right direction. Someone that wouldn’t freak out and threaten to beat my ass.”

“Someone who would encourage you to do stupid shit you mean,” Tyler concludes.  

“I needed to talk about it. With someone who wouldn’t get upset about it.  Who doesn’t have the history like you do. So...” his voice trails off.

Tyler’s eyes narrow.  “What the hell did you do?”

That's when he feels it; a presence lingering off to his right. A familiar scent. A firm hand that falls on his shoulder.  And he doesn’t even need to look back. He just knows.

“Hey Nik.”

****

“You look good,” she says in way of greeting, her hands massaging his shoulders.  “The retired life suits you.”  He’s considerably bigger now; wider, stronger, a brick wall of muscle.  The time he’s both devoted to the gym and living cleaner makes him feel healthier. And happier.

He smirks. “I’d say it’s good to see you, but...”

“I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome. At least not from you. But it’s good to see you, Tyler I’m glad life has been treating you well.  Of all the people who want a happy ending, you're the one who actually deserved it.”

“What are you doing here, Nik? I know it’s not just to stroke my ego.”

“Ovi invited me,” she gives his shoulders a final squeeze before sliding around to the other side of the table, waving down the waitress before slipping into the empty seat alongside of the younger man. “So we could talk.  We haven’t seen or talked to each other in six months. I was starting to worry about you.”

“You mean you were starting to get nosy,” Tyler retorts. “Wanted to see if my life had fallen apart. If maybe my wife had taken off with my kids yet. Kyle doesn’t keep you up to date on this stuff? I am married to his sister.”

“Kyle’s been very adamant about keeping his loyalties to his sister. The last time Esme and I spoke, things didn’t end very well.  She was stressed, you were on your way home, and she was worried about how to help you. Things were a little...harsh...between us.”

“For a reason,” Tyler points out. “I know exactly what you talked about and what she said to you. We don’t keep secrets. So cut the bullshit, Nik. What are you doing here?”

“Would you believe me if I said I missed you?”

“I’d believe you if you told me you missed the things I can do for you. And I’m not talking behind closed doors, either. So don’t get your hopes up.”

Ovi shifts uncomfortably in his seat; thankful when the waitress comes to take Nik’s drink order. It lifts the tension and the hostility, at least temporarily.

“Last time we talked, things didn’t go so well,” she address Tyler.  “You told me to never contact you. Never to just show up out of the blue, never to text you, never email you.”

“Yet here you are so for some reason. Tracking me down where I live. Which I’m pretty sure I told Kyle to never mention to you. So you couldn’t just show up.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. “You of all should know if I have ways of finding things out. You’re harder than most, I have to admit. You know how to cover your tracks. You barely leave a footprint.  Still holding onto certain things, I see. Trying to exist but seem like a ghost at the same time. Old habits die hard, don’t they, Tyler.”

“You have no right being here, Nik. I asked you to stay away from me. No. I told you to stay away from me. I finally have a life. Somewhere quiet and peaceful where I don’t have to constantly look over my shoulder and I know my kids are safe.  And you...” he stares pointedly at Ovi.  “...what the fuck, mate? You knew I’d cut ties with her. With everyone involved in the job. Yet you go and do this?”

“Ovi thought it was a good idea that you and I talk,” Nik speaks for him.   “We haven’t touched base in a long time. It’s a good idea, don’t you think? If we get used to one another again? I am marrying your brother in law.”

They’d gotten the invitation a month ago; thick ivory card stock with gold leafing on the inside of the envelope and the invitation itself covered in dried, pressed flowers and ornate calligraphy done in rich cooper colored ink. It hadn’t been much of a surprise; Kyle had already created an entire Facebook page just to document their journey as an engaged couple.   And while they’d tried to be happy for Kyle’s sake, there was a lingering bitterness towards Nik that neither of them could let go of. She’d worked too long and too hard trying to destroy their marriage, why would they want to have anything to do with hers?  So the invitation sat on the top of the fridge collecting dust and they never spoke of it again.

“And you’ll be living in Colorado or wherever the hell you’ll drag his ass too and I won’t have to do have anything to do with either of you.  I don’t care if you’re marrying him or not. As long as you stay away from me, stay away from my wife, and stay away from my kids.”

“That’s not the way to treat a relative is it,” she coyly remarks, then gives a nod of appreciation to the waitress as she returns with her martini.   “The baby’s beautiful by the way. Congratulations.  Kyle’s shown me the pictures. She looks just like Esme. I’m looking forward to meeting my niece.”

“You’re not going to get close enough to meet her face to face, so...”

“Can’t you two just stop?” Ovi pleads. “Enough. Enough with this going back and forth. That’s not what we’re here for.”

“What are we here for?” Tyler asks, as he leans back in his chair and places his clasped hands on his stomach. “And don’t give me some bullshit, Nik. Just say what you want and get out of here.”

“Ovi asked me to come and talk some sense into you.”

“More like he wanted me to just cave in and agree with what he wants to do. Not going to happen. So if that’s what you’re going to try and do, you’re wasting your time and you should just get on the next flight out of here and...”

“I’ve been recruiting him,” she says. “I’ve been recruiting him for about a month now. After he contacted me wanting information about the job.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “What the hell are you doing, Nik? And why are you doing it? We both know that he’s not job material. That he wouldn’t last a day out there.”

“He’s tenacious, has a lot of energy, he’s smart.”

“Too smart to get involved with this. There are a million and one better things he could be doing with his life.  And being tenacious and having a lot of energy doesn’t mean shit when you’re out there.  When you’ve got to make the quick decisions in order to keep yourself alive. He doesn’t have what it takes.  He doesn’t have it in him to hurt people. He killed Gaspar and that fucked him up for years.”

“He was a kid then,” she reminds him.  “And if I remember correctly, I’m the one that said calling Gaspar wasn’t a good idea. I tried to talk you out of it, but you were so determined that he’d help you out because you’d saved his life. How did that go for you, Tyler? Trusting him? It didn’t take long for his loyalty to you to disappear, did it. As soon as there was ten million put on the table. Ten million for him and Esme, right? That was the deal.  Most men would have taken it.”

“What can I say, Nik?” he smirks. “I’m not most men.”

“He would have killed you to get to them. He wouldn’t have stopped until you were dead. And if Ovi hadn’t have picked up that gun...”

“He was fourteen years old and it fucked him up,” Tyler angrily interrupts. “It doesn’t mean if has what it takes to go out there and kill people. You’re smarter than this. Both of you are. So I don’t know who is brainwashing who, but...”

“You made me a promise, Tyler,” she says. “We made a deal. That I’d start a second branch and you’d run things.”

“That’s before things ended the way they did. Once I walked away from New Zealand, that was it. Fuck our deal. It meant shit after that.”

“I’ve offered Ovi a job.  A position with my team. As a mercenary.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind, Nik. You’re both out of your minds. This is a bad goddamn idea and you know it.  I gotta get out of here before I say or do something I really regret. I’ve got places I’d rather be than sitting here listening to this bullshit ”

Ovi throws his hands up in a mix of disappointment and exasperation and Nik instructs him to stay where he is as she hurries after Tyler, who easily escapes the patio just by swinging one leg over the makeshift fence, then the other.  She has to leave through the restaurant itself, and he’s already across the street and using the keyless remote to unlock his truck.

“You owe me this,” Nik growls, and lays a hand on the driver’s side window, forcing the door closed when Tyler tries to open it.

“I owe you shit. I’ve given you enough. I almost gave you my fucking life. Isn’t that good enough for you? You were perfectly fine with leaving me on that bridge to die.”

“That’s not what happened, and you know it.”

“It took you twenty minutes to come back. And you only did it because Yaz said he was going with or without you. You weren’t just going to leave me there; you were going to leave Esme there. Do you know what would have happened? Once Asif sent more people down there and saw that she was alive? Do you know what they would have done to her? I wouldn’t have been as quick and painless as a bullet in the head. They would have made her suffer and you knew it and you still left her there.”

“It all worked out in the end, didn’t it? The two of you. Marriage, five kids. You got your happy ending, didn’t you?”

“Because that’s what makes it all okay, yeah? That things didn’t get worse. We were expendable. Once you got Ovi, you didn’t give a shit about either of us.  You could keep whatever money you got. Two less people to have to share it with. Or were you that pissed about what went down? Those five days in the hotel. You knew what was going on. Did it piss you off that bad? That you’d just leave us there to die? Did we need to be punished, Nik? You needed to get even because it wasn’t you I was fucking.”

“Fuck you, Tyler!” she snaps, and he catches her by the wrist before the slap can even connect with his face. His fingers biting straight through the flesh and pressing painful against the bone.

“What do you want?” he hisses. “Why are you here? You won’t be happy until you completely fuck up my life? Until my wife leaves me and takes my kids?”

“That’s not it. At all.”

“Then what is it?” he snarls. “Quit wasting my fucking time and tell me.”

“I want your help,” she struggles against his grasp “With Ovi.”

“I’m not giving you shit.”

“I want you to just listen to me....and ow!” she lays her forearm against his chest and tries to shove him away. It’s as successful as trying to move a brick wall with your bare hands. “You’re hurting me!”

“Try to hit me again and I won’t hesitate putting you on your ass, understand me?”

She nods, then takes two steps back once he releases. “I just want you to listen to me. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking for.  I don’t to bring you back into the job. I just want you to help me with Ovi. I’ve given him a spot but on condition.  He needs training. Lots of it. I can’t send him into a situation without him knowing how to handle different weapons, hand to hand to combat, how to assess situations and problems before they arise.”

“I’m about five seconds away from washing my hands of this. Of you, of him, of this goddamn bullshit mess.  This is a mistake. A huge mistake. And I’m not going to just sit back and watch you fuck his life up. He doesn’t have it, Nik. And I know you see that. I know you see what I do. Why the hell push it? Why encourage when you could be helping him make his life better, not worse.”

She places her hands on her hips, regarding him with her head cocked to the side. “Why are you so against him doing this?”

“You’re actually asking me that? After everything he’s been through. After everything he saw in Dhaka. After living with us for five years and seeing my marriage nearly fucking destroyed because of the job. You have the nerve to ask me that? He’s better than this. And he deserves better and I’m not going just sit here and watch you screw up his entire life.”

“You can’t stop him, Tyler. He’s a grown man. He can make is own decisions.”

“He can’t even talk for himself and you think he can go into a place like Dhaka and handle shit? Enough with the bullshit, Nik. This ends. Right here. Right now.  This is a mistake and you know it. And the fact you would even prey on him like this...”

“I didn’t prey on him,” she interjects. “He contacted me.”

“And you could have told him that you weren’t interested and to never call you again.”

“And then what? Him find someone else? Someone that doesn’t have nearly the same experience? That would have ended badly, and you know it.”

“This is going to end badly!” Tyler snarls.  “Because he doesn’t have it and you know it and I know it. For fuck sakes, Nik. Enough.”

She remains steadfast. “You can train him.”

“Like hell I can!”

“You’re the best mercenary I’ve ever had. There’s no one that can train him the way you can. I know you think you’re probably rusty and you...”

“That’s not what I think. That has nothing to do with it. I’m not saying I can’t do it. I’m saying I won’t do it. I’m not getting involved with this. I’m done.”

“You don’t actually have to go on a job,” she informs him. “It can all be done right here. There are gyms, there’s firing ranges, there’s an entire beach at your disposal you can use to your advantage. I’m not trying to bring you back. I just want you to help.”

“I’m not helping you, Nik. I was done helping you six months ago. And I love the kid like he’s my own, but I wouldn’t let any of my boys get into the job so I'm sure as fuck not going to let him.  What the hell is wrong with you? That you’d even have the nerve to come to me with this?”

“He’s your son, Tyler. Maybe not by blood. But...”

“Yeah. He is. Which is why I’m not helping you. I told his old man I’d take care of him. Not throw him to the fucking wolves!”

“So you’d rather I just send him out there with no training?” she challenges.

“I’d rather you give your head a fucking shake and realize what a huge mistake you’re making.”

“This is what he wants, Tyler. He wants a chance to prove himself.”

“To who? You? To his girlfriend? Who is just as delusional as you, by the way. The two of you should meet. You’d make a great pair.”

“You ever stop to think he’s trying to prove something to you?”

“What the hell does that mean? What does he have to prove to me? When have I ever made him think he has to?”

“You may not have made him feel that way, but he does. He thinks he has to fill your shoes. Take up where you left off.”

“That’s bullshit. I’ve never made him feel that way. And I never would.”

“It’s how he feels. He feels he needs to live up to something. That he needs to prove to you that he’s good enough. That he’s worthy of being your son.”

“Jesus Christ, Nik,” Tyler laughs. “That is really reaching. Are you just making this shit up as you go along?”

“I can send you the text messages. The emails. That he sent me when I asked him why he wanted to do this.  That way you can see for yourself that what I’m saying is the truth.  He feels he owes you something. For saving them. And for nearly dying while doing it.”

“He doesn’t owe me anything. It was my job.”

“It was more than that you and you know it, Tyler. It stopped being about the job the second Mahajan screwed us over. It was all about Ovi from that point on. Because somehow saving him meant you were saving yourself. That you’d find forgiveness for the mistakes you’d made. He saw what you went through. Not just during Dhaka, but after it. And he feels guilty for that. He wants to make it up to you.”

“He has nothing to make up for. I did what I had to do. Nothing more, nothing less. We both know that he can’t hack it. The job. There’s no way.”

“He deserves a chance.”

“A chance for what? Getting shot in the fucking head?”

“He’s going to do this whether you like it or not, Tyler. Don’t you think he deserves a chance to make a real go of it? To survive his first day.”

He sighs. “Of course, I do.”

“If you train him...”

“I can’t. I can’t encourage him to do this. I told Esme I’d do everything I had to to stop him, not help him.”

She smirks. “That’s what it comes down to right? His safety and his life isn’t worth more than her trying to control you? She hasn’t done that enough? When she made you walk away?”

“We’re done, Nik,” he yanks the driver’s side door open.  

“We’re done when I say we’re done,” she shuts the door once again. “You’re going to let her call the shots? Still? It wasn’t enough for you to just walk away? She has to control everything else too?”

“I made the decision. I’m the one who left. She was the one who told me go back to New Zealand and when I got there, I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. I left willingly. Because my wife and my kids are the most important things in my life, and it was time I showed that to them.”

“And Ovi isn’t important to you? He's not important enough to save his life?”

“I’ve already done that once. And I wouldn’t have to do it a second time if you weren’t encouraging him to do this shit.”

“And if you weren’t encouraging him to prove to you that he’s worthy of your love. Of being one of your kids.”

He shakes his head and gives a dry laugh. “I’m going home, Nik. To my wife.  I’m done. I’m not letting you drag me back into this. You find someone else. I’ve shed enough blood for you.”

She relents, holding her hands up in surrender as she backs away from the truck. “You’ll regret this Tyler.”

“Yeah?” he tosses the door open and climbs into the truck. “Add it the list”

[inspirationdivine]

(Nearly) Dead Poet’s Society || Lydia and Deirdre

Murder moms take a much-deserved wine break, until somebody screams.

Brief talk of domestic abuse tw/emotional abuse tw

“Deirdre! Come on in! Are you in the mood for a Bordeaux or a Malbec?” Lydia asked, tilting her head curiously. She hadn’t seen Deirdre since Haven Hotel, where… let them be completely honest, Deirdre had been a wreck of a person. At one point the cleaning staff had come over to check on them, and Lydia had shooed them away with a glare. Her own imminent loss was difficult, of course, but Deirdre’s was so very current. “How are you, my dear?”

Deirdre, despite being an avid wine drinker, knew next to nothing about the drink. There was some power to be had in going to a restaurant and proudly proclaiming for then to bring them their most expensive bottle. What was in the bottle, however, she had no idea usually. "Bordeaux," she answered; it sounded fancier. If wine at Lydia's was going to be a regular affair, which she hoped it would, then she really needed to read up on it. "Better. So much better. I really can't thank you enough for that." She stepped into the home, a smile wider than she was used to it being this past week. "How are you? You know, with…" she gestured, "...everything? And the—uh—mimes?" 

“I’m glad to hear it, my dear,” Lydia replied with a soft smile, leading Deirdre to the sitting room and the cream leather sofas there. She returned quickly with the wine glasses filled up and the bottle for top ups, and settled comfortably into the couch beside Deirdre. “With the dying human upstairs? As well as can be expected, frankly. I’ve promised to talk to Regan soon as well, so we shall see how that fairs.” She shrugged about the mimes, waving them off. “I honestly think it may have been a fluke. The humans are a little shaken up, and Chloe can’t speak, although that’s a blessing in disguise, I suspect. The outdoor alarms have rung a couple of times, but it doesn’t seem to have been anything.”

"Are you sure?" Deirdre asked, less uncertain about Lydia's words and more...simply concerned. "I mean the talking to Regan..it didn't—well, if anyone could do it, it would be you." Jealousy cut through her, and she hid the feeling with a sip of wine, and then another. But at the rest, she let out a gentle laugh. "Might be better then, especially with Annaliese..." Deirdre trailed off, taking another sip. "Do you ever worry about getting caught, Lydia? With Annaliese about to die and Chloe being...what I assume is insolent...do you worry about someone poking their head around too much? Is that...ever an issue?" She took another sip, showing worry for her friend plainly across her features. "If you ever needed more help with covering things up, I'm admittedly very good at that." Years of murder and coming from a family that did exclusively that, she had some expertise in evading the law—not that she imaged Lydia would even need her help. And like Regan, there was a sense of helplessness that filled her. Lydia had aided her, was it so bad to want to do that in return? 

“I am not sure, but when I heard your scream, and you didn’t reply to me, I tried asking Regan about it, which of course set off certain alarm bells. I’ll approach it with compassion, and I will pray for an outcome where I’m not barred from her life.” Lydia said, trying not to worry about it too much. Regan liked her, and the truth could be piecemeal. Lydia had promised to tell the truth soon if it was to Regan’s liking, which meant that anything Regan wouldn’t like, she could withold until Regan could at least handle it. The ‘soon’ itched at her ankles, but Lydia suspected she would have ample opportunity. It would be easier, without the human in her head, too. “No. I have had a few close shaves, but that’s in part because I’m on every warden’s kill list anyway, no matter how knowledgeable or honorable they think they are. Certainly, I could worry about it either way, but that would only result in me making my life miserable. I have complete control over them, between the kiss and all the promises I have extracted from them, over the years. A police officer could walk in right now and demand to speak to Chloe, and for however much she likes to test boundaries, she would tell them nothing I didn’t want her to. Ultimately, all of them know that they want to be here.” Lydia spoke about them blythely, uncaringly. She was arrogant, and had few compunctions about it. “I appreciate that, darling. I hope you know that I don’t hold you to any debts. But if the situation arrives, I’m glad to know that I could rely on your help.”

Deirdre frowned, "But you promised to talk to her soon...are you sure that's—" she bit her lip, quieting her concern for the moment. She felt like she might have had a little too much of it for a woman that seemingly... wasn't affected. Or did a good job of hiding it. Deirdre, by comparison, had become very poor at hiding her feelings, once she learned she could indulge them. "There had to be a time when enough people tell you about the car for you to assume there's some truth in that, right? I'm sure Regan can't deny it forever." She sighed, taking another sip to find that her wine glass was suddenly empty. "Well, if you're not worried about it then.." she trailed off, reaching for the bottle of wine to pour herself more. "You could hold me to anything you'd like." There was a habitual flirtatious tinge to her words, lips curled up into a soft smirk. "But I do want to help you and...well, maybe one of us can be a little cautious about things. Some things, at least. You will let me worry about you, won't you?" Lydia was understandably arrogant, and while Deirdre's arrogance had mostly been shaved down since failing miserably with Regan, she could understand why. Most days, she felt untouchable with her own righteous criminal activity. "Have you ever killed before, Lydia? Personally, I mean. Beyond feeding and beyond getting others to do it for you." 

“Indeed. There are things she already cannot deny. I’ll start there. She needs to control her wings without the use of an amulet. If nothing else, I can teach her that.” Lydia said, looking to Deirdre’s concern softly. She gave the other woman’s hand a quick squeeze. “However, I can’t teach her her heritage. If I manage to get through to her, I’ll do my best to get her to speak to you again.” Ever the quick host, Lydia reached for the bottle to fill up Deirdre’s glass. “I worry. I just don’t see any use to that specific worry.” Laughing, Lydia easily flirted back as much as they had been since they first met. There was something so easy about being with Deirdre, sipping wine and curled on a sofa with her legs tucked underneath her. “Mm, don’t tempt me.” 

“What brought on that question? I did not plan for Miccy to survive even being successful, although I suppose I wouldn’t have done it myself.” Lydia wracked her brain. “If using my words don’t count, then only a couple. A warden thirty odd years ago, and a member of Sammy’s family several months ago. When I can, I prefer to avoid conflict, considering that I’m five foot and my natural weapon is to spit on people. Why do you ask?”

Deirdre smiled softly, a grateful glint in her eyes. “You’d do that?” She perked up, biting the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling too wide. She extended her glass out for the pour and decided then that there wasn’t any point in hiding how much she enjoyed Lydia’s company and friendship. She released the inside of her cheek from her teeth’s grip and shone a grin at her. “Mhm. Hush and let me worry about you, Lydia. I’d like to.” Concern was care, after all. Deirdre took a slow sip of her newly filled wine. “Oh--uh--” She shifted. Of all the people that would have a problem with her fate killings, she imagined Lydia to be at the very bottom. But still, she worried. She always did when a part of her would be laid bare. “It’s just that I--” Her body stiffened. She curled her hands tighter around her glass until her grip turned white-knuckled. Fire licked up through her insides and she turned her head, momentarily caught off guard by the abruptness of the scream coiling around her. But expertly, as she’d done numerous times before, she swallowed it back down despite every instinct begging her not to. And as her eyes dipped into pure darkness and her pale face became marred with black veiny cracks, a vision took her mind.

She saw Annaliese first. Then Lydia with hands woven into her soft brown locks. The lighthouse stood valiantly behind them. Annaliese leaned back, her mouth moved. Lydia leaned forward. Their lips met and--- 

Deirdre blinked, snapped back into Lydia’s impeccable living space. “Oh.” She turned to the other fae. “That-uh--vision.” She pointed up, imagining Annaliese was right above them somewhere. “Her. Vision. For her. That--” she swallowed. “Are you okay? Are you sure you’re--is it really okay?”

Lydia stiffened too as Deirdre did. The Banshee’s eyes flooded with blackness as cracks spread across her face, staring into some future Lydia couldn’t see. It would have been beautiful had it not been so alarming. Lydia had never seen a Banshee scream before, only heard them, and she stared, transfixed, as moments later the black faded from her eyes and the black veins retreated. “Who-” But of course, she didn’t need to ask. Lydia swallowed as she looked across the halls, to where she could feel Annie struggling to write her last few poems. She knew they were among her last, but not quite how much so.  “When?” Lydia asked softly, shrinking into her seat a little. The pain in her features was unmistakable, and there was little point in hiding them, as she clutched her wine glass tight to her chest. 

“Soon.” Deirdre said, inching closer. Would Lydia like a hug? Was she a hugging kind of person? “It feels like...the end of the week. Sunday, maybe?” She swallowed, then repeated it more confidently. “Sunday.” The banshee placed her glass down, one hand reached out to hover awkwardly over Lydia’s shoulder. She had spoken of it bothering her, but up until that point, Deirdre hadn’t seen much of it physically portrayed. And she’d wanted a way to help Lydia, but it seemed wrong that this was it. She just assumed there might have been something high up on a shelf she could reach. “It was a nice death. If that helps. You’re there, of course.” But she imagined Lydia already knew this. She imagined this wasn’t her first death, and it wouldn’t be her last. Relenting, Deirdre reached out finally and wrapped her arms around the other fae. “Do you want me to…” kill her, her mouth worked around the words. “Is it easier if you do it yourself?”

“Sunday,” Lydia repeated, more for herself than anyone else. She wasn’t truly aware of Deirdre, in that moment. “I suppose it isn’t too much of a surprise. You get to a point where you can tell you’re just drinking the dregs at the bottle of the barrel. She’s barely writing in coherent english, at this point.” She looked up at Deirdre again, her eyes shinier than usual, but as she spoke she managed to push the feelings back and away. “It would be a nice death. She’s earned it.” One of Lydia’s favourite humans in this millenium, too. When Deirdre wrapped her arms around Lydia, it was a little odd, but nothing Lydia couldn’t melt into, resting her head against Deirdre’s shoulder. “You are so very kind to offer. Let me finish my meal, my darling. Would it be alright if I came to find you after, with something stronger than red wine?”

Deirdre had watched enough people die to feel the way it could ring through another. But she'd never known what death must be like with a telepathic bond, how harshly it would rattle inside Lydia. So much of the other woman was a mystery, but only because she'd never bothered to ask. In that moment, watching her rein in emotion, she felt horribly for knowingly keeping her at a length. Projecting her ideal of a fae, she'd forgotten to know Lydia as she was. And here, it was the woman about to lose something dear. "Yes," she said gently, holding her a little closer. "Of course. Find me. We'll drink the stuff that burns on the way down and you can tell me about Annaliese, as she was in life...how does that sound? Or you can...do whatever you need to. But find me, Lydia. Come. I'm here." She softened, though no but disingenuous with her comforting prattle. "Or you can tell me about her now? It helps. What made her special?" 

Lydia leant into that cool squeeze, until eventually she sat back upright, straightening her shoulders, and smiling. “I don’t walk to talk about her as if she’s already dead. I’m sure I’ll be talking about her more than enough in the coming weeks.” She adjusted her hair, fixing it back in place, and drank from her wine. As she spoke, a wide smile spread across her face, with a teasing wink. “Besides, we have much more important things to talk about, like this zombie of yours, or whichever topic you want to try and distract me on to…”

Deirdre frowned momentarily, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—" but she stopped herself. Lydia was right, to some degree, even if Deirdre had always felt a scream meant someone was as good as dead already. Her mouth fell around the words to vocalize her desire to get to know Lydia more, and by extension, the humans she housed. As Lydia went on, Deirdre found her wish to be a foolish topic, and followed the woman's lead. "Zomb—" Deirdre flushed, quickly shaking her head, "oh no, don't distract me. Not when I've had this burning issue in my mind for weeks now and—" Deirdre gestured around them, matching Lydia's smile with her own. She sat up. Her voice dripped with obvious teasing, and then she set about her dramatic display: "You call this decorating? Where are the bones? The taxidermy? The urns? I'm appalled. Look at that wall. It needs bones. Where are all the ones I give you? What is that painting over there? Zero skeletons! Zero decapitations! And here I thought you had taste, Lydia." And like that, she went on about where she'd put bones. Arguing art for the sake of explaining it needed more murder. Taking thinly veiled attempts at ribbing Lydia. At some point, finding a moment quiet enough, she spoke softly. "I do love you." And strange as the feeling was, she hoped it might be good enough to soothe some ache of Annaliese's impending passing. Lydia deserved just as much. 

[pseudorganized]

The Bachelor(s)

Summary: (Sequel to My Best Friend's Wedding)

"It's the night before the Big Day. Are you ready? See you at the Bachelor Parties tonight! #bakahusbands"

Or Daiki and Ryouta are getting married but Daiki needs to get through the bachelor parties first.

Characters/Pairings: Aomine Daiki, Kise Ryouta, AoKise. A bunch of cameos.

Notes:  After two years, #bakaboyfriends will finally become #bakahusbands because it took me two years to write up the sequel lolAnyway, here is my actual offering for AoKise Day but I am fashionably late, it seems. There will probably be mistakes and those are mine. But anyway, I won't delay you any more. Hope you enjoy!

Also available over at Ao3!

"Aomine-kun, Akashi-kun has a problem."

Tetsu's eyes were huge in his face like they usually were but for some reason, they gave Daiki an uneasy feeling just then. The feeling didn't ease when Daiki found himself meeting eyes with Akashi who looked too calm and too serious as always..

"Aomine, I apologize." The apology felt sincere and Daiki wished Akashi would blink. "I don't have smaller bills."

Not for the first time in the past few days (weeks, months) Daiki had no idea what was going on. "...What?"

"For the night's… entertainment," Akashi non-explained delicately, quietly, still very seriously and Daiki really wished he knew what he was talking about.

Satsuki only told him to come pool-side where “his” side of the bachelor party was going to be. No one told him he was going to have any part of keeping things organized, never mind having to hold Akashi Seijuuro's hand through commoner pre-wedding festivities.

He probably looked like the actual idiot he was because Akashi's face was actually starting to look a bit pinched. You kind of start to notice his shifting expressions after spending some time with him and he often told you to run laps until you dropped dead.

"I don't have the necessary denomination for tipping the exotic dancers--"

"Wait."

Daiki felt like his head had exploded. He held up his hand to Akashi's face to stop him. He must have really just experienced brain damage because he actually dared to just put his hand up to Akashi's face within stabbing distance.

What the fuck?

Daiki looked urgently at Tetsu. "Exotic--I thought Satsuki said no strippers?"

Tetsu looked at him quietly for a long time.

Big, innocent eyes on his stupid, fucking child-like face.

"Yes, Momoi-san definitely said no strippers," Tetsu confirmed.

Daiki absolutely felt his blood pressure shoot up. "Then why did you--"

"Oh, I understand now." Akashi interrupted Daiki mid-mind explosion #2. Now those eyes were on Tetsu.

Tetsu turned his head and looked right back at Akashi.

No fear, ice cold. He just needed a milkshake and a pair of sunglasses.

Akashi looked back at him like he was about to wage some kind of war. It felt like the Winter Cup Finals back in first year high school all over again. "That was not funny, Kuroko."

In turn, Tetsu smiled a little, the Rakuzan ass-kicking asshole. "I kind of thought it was, Akashi-kun."

And Daiki left them there because he did not need the added stress on his already huge pile of it the day before his wedding. Where the hell was Kagami when he needed him?

Two years ago, Satsuki got married and Daiki had been involved with some tasks and responsibilities for the wedding. He had seen first hand what kind of stress and turmoil one had to go through just for one special day and he had thought himself adequately prepared for it. As usual, he was wrong. It was a whole other ballgame when it was you on the way to be shackled and it was your soon-to-be spouse who was stressed because no, Daiki, we can’t just do it at our favorite outdoor court! Among other things.

And now they were at this beach resort with a bazillion of their family, friends and acquaintances (It’s just about a hundred people, Daiki, don’t be dramatic--) for the ceremony. Tonight was the bachelor parties which took up the bar and restaurant and pool areas. Too many people they knew and vaguely did were milling around socializing, eating, drinking and having a great time before the big day tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Daiki was overwhelmed and kind of tired but that wasn’t anything new nowadays.

"Hey, Aomine!"

Daiki stopped then sighed before just turning towards the voice, not at all surprised to find himself face-to-face with his brother-in-law. Well, sort of brother-in-law.

Hamada Tadashi was a robotics engineer who was involved in developing technologies towards making the world a better place. More importantly, he also happened to be married to Satsuki, thus explaining his presence in the party. What was strange was how he was seated at a table with his old Touou Captain, Imayoshi Shoichi, and one Kuroo Tetsurou. Looking at all three of them together already made Daiki's head hurt a little bit more.

"Are you okay?" Tadashi asked, looking genuinely concerned. Daiki might not have gone out of his way to befriend the guy until he did the right thing and proposed then married the girl Daiki considered his sister but he had always, grudgingly, thought the guy was a decent one. Always friendly and accommodating and wasn't deterred by Aomine's attitude one bit. "You want to sit down with us for a while?"

"You do look kinda overwhelmed," Imayoshi put in and Daiki was pretty sure his old Captain was giving him a surveying look.

Beside him, Kuroo hummed in agreement as he looked around idly. “It’s kind of a madhouse around here right now, huh?”

A madhouse was right and if Daiki thought about it a bit harder, his brain would most likely die. He had no idea how he and Ryouta were able to accumulate these many people as friends and acquaintances through the years. Take for example Kuroo here who was a member of FC Tokyo and was currently sitting in the smart kids’ table. Before Tadashi noticed him, they must have been talking about something brainy, like Tadashi’s latest project that had something to do with robot nurses or whatever they were called. It almost always flew over Daiki’s head whenever Satsuki tried to explain it to him.

“I have no idea where all these idiots came from,” Daiki grumbled as he took a seat beside Kuroo which faced away from the chaos happening in the pool area behind him. Normally, Daiki wasn’t one for socializing but people were here for his wedding and he supposed he could spend some time being welcoming.

“Well, you’re gonna have a wedding in a beautiful beach resort plus food and booze. Most everything’s free,” Imayoshi shrugged easily before taking a sip of his own drink, something amber and expensive-looking. “Are you really that surprised, Aomine?”

Daiki gave his old senpai a bit of a glare. “And all of you didn’t have to come.”

“Come now, Aomine, you can’t be this annoyed about us accepting your and Kise’s invitation, are you?” Kuroo has a hand over his heart, shit-eating smirk on his face, and right then Daiki knew how he and Imayoshi could get along like a house on fire. “I’m hurt. It wasn’t cheap coming out here, you know?”

Was it too late to regret his choice to sit down? It probably was.

“I think Satsuki and Kise did a great job organizing everything, though.” Tadashi came to his rescue with a winning smile, that smile that always came out when he talked about his beloved wife.

“They’re a powerful combination,” Imayoshi noted with a nod and even Kuroo had to smile at that.

It looked like Kuroo had something to add to that but then a loud whoop swelled from the pool area. Daiki looked over to that direction and found Midorima walking away from the ruckus with a bit of a pinched look on his face and the day's lucky item in one hand. It seemed to be a rolled-up sock.

“What’s going on?” Daiki asked, a bit worried that someone might come in and call everything off.

Midorima looked at Daiki like this was all his fault. “An arm-wrestling match.”

“Between who?” Kuroo suddenly asked, looking far too interested for anyone’s good.

“Iwaizumi-san and Matsuoka Rin.” Everyone turned to find that it was no other than Nijimura-senpai who spoke and tagging along was Himuro, of course. It was still kind of strange seeing their old Teiko Captain with Himuro Tatsuya but apparently they were friends. Or something.

Himuro was almost grinning. “We’re on our way to witness an epic gun show, according to Matsukawa-san.”

“Any bets going around?” It was Imayoshi who asked, unsurprisingly, as he rose up from his seat.

“Not that we know of as of yet but we can always ask around, Imayoshi-san,” Himuro replied with playful cheek and it didn’t take long before Imayoshi was walking off with them followed by a very curious Kuroo.

“Are they going to be okay?” Tadashi suddenly asked from the side.

Midorima pushed his glasses up against the bridge of his nose as he did. “I expected better from Iwaizumi-san and Matsuoka-san both but I suppose the occasion inspires a reckless sense of fun.”

It still sounded like Midorima was blaming Daiki but he had known Midorima long enough that he knew just to just ignore it.

"They're grown ass adults," Daiki said with a scoff. "They should know what they're getting into."

Thankfully, Midorima made no further comment and politely excused himself.

The noise level behind them was rising and normally, Aomine would have been in the middle of that. An arm wrestling match between Iwaizumi Hajime, his old College roommate and former volleyball ace, and an actual Olympian? Aomine would have been all over that but not today.

He sighed and he noticed Tadashi just kind of smiling at him sympathetically.

"...What?" he asked with a bit of a frown.

The smile on Tadashi's face barely shifted. "You want to take a breather? I can cover for you."

Daiki actually took a bit of time to think about it. What were the consequences if he stepped away from this circus for a while? How painful would they be? Could he actually trust Tadashi?

"Can I trust you?" he asked and Tadashi got points for not making a fuss about even being asked.

He just smiled that friendly smile and Daiki could really sort of tell why Satsuki fell for him. Tadashi was just a really nice guy.

"I think anyone would want a break every now and then."

And wasn't that true? Daiki was pretty sure Tadashi would even have some science to back all that up.

With a sigh, Daiki got up from his chair and made to go, nodding at Tadashi as he went.

"Stay outta trouble, Hamada. Don't get into any arm wrestling matches or whatever."

Tadashi's laugh sent him off. "See you later!"

Daiki raised a hand and quickly made his escape. Finally.

Walking down the path toward the restaurant and bar area made him realize that it wasn't long before sunset. The path leading to the restaurant cut through a well-maintained garden with a sea view. The sky was slowly turning into a mix of yellows, pinks and purples and even Daiki could definitely appreciate the sight.

Honestly, he could get married anywhere, even just a basketball court (wearing his favorite Jordans, of course), but he had to admit it was a good idea to have their wedding in a beautiful place like this.

"Oh there you are, Aomine-kun."

He had to look away from the view to find Mibuchi Reo coming up to him and he felt an instinctual urge to flee. Mibuchi was one of Ryouta's so-called Groom Squad, a group of Ryouta’s friends from all over who offered their assistance to Ryouta and Satsuki as the wedding approached. Daiki barely ever saw the lot of them the past few weeks without it involving some wedding-related task.

"Hey, Mibuchi-san," Daiki greeted, deciding to try and make this as painless as possible for his own good. "What's up?"

"I'm so glad you're here, Aomine-kun," Mibuchi replied, waving a well-manicured hand toward the direction that Daiki just left from and making an annoyed-looking face. "Imagine if I have to go over there where all the brutes are? No, thank you."

"You were looking for me?" Well, that was a dumb question but Daiki asked anyway.

"Yes, Mr. Husband-to-Be--" Daiki thought Mibuchi was about to reach out and pat or pinch his cheek; he didn't. "--Ryou-chan says to meet him by the Sandbar."

It was probably super sappy to say that his heart thumped when he heard that Ryouta was asking for him. "At the Sandbar?"

Mibuchi waved him off. "Yes. Go on now. He's waiting."

And after what felt like years, Daiki felt like smiling.

"Okay," he said with a nod but before he went, he took a moment to look Mibuchi over. "You look tired, Mibuchi-san."

Mibuchi made a less than elegant, very weary face and Daiki would have laughed if he could but he got it.

"Satsuki-chan runs a tight ship,” he quipped dryly. “But I love her and Ryou-chan so Neesan will persevere. I will tell you this, though, Aomine-kun.”

Mibuchi lifted a finger poignantly. “Yu-chan and I are most definitely eloping."

And that did make Daiki laugh. "I don't know if Kasamatsu-san would agree but hold on just a little bit more. This’ll all be done tomorrow."

"Thank God."

Daiki didn't waste time on making his way to the Sandbar after talking to Mibuchi. Now, the Sandbar wasn't some piece of land that sprouted up from the sea. The people who came to the resort just called it that because there was a lot of sand and there was a bar. It was an area by the beach where a bar and dining area was set up. Low tables were placed down on mats over the white sand where you could sit or even lie down comfortably and enjoy some drinks or a meal while looking out towards the beach. And if you decided to go for a swim, you were just a few steps away to doing just that.

He found Ryouta some ways away from where the early dinner crowd was, looking over to the direction of the sea and away from his phone, finally. The setting sun's golden light reflected on his hair and eyes, making him glow and look even more beautiful if that was even possible. He seemed to sense Daiki's stare as he came closer and he turned his head to smile at him.

"Aominecchi~!" Ryouta called, drawing up the old nickname teasingly that Daiki had to scoff and lean down to give him a kiss for it.

Ryouta smiled when he kissed him back and it made Daiki feel warm. That little detail was something about Ryouta that he would never get over.

Daiki sighed when he drew away. During the kiss, he had gotten a hand down to lightly cup by the side of Ryouta's neck to end up with fingertips caressing his nape. Ryouta was smiling still, looking fond and sweet and also a bit like he was tired. Daiki kissed him again for good measure. When was the last time they were alone and this close?

"Daiki must have missed me," Ryouta observed with a grin a moment later after Daiki settled beside him. Daiki didn't care to occupy his own side of the table, happy enough to just squish up against Ryouta as much as possible that he was almost on his lap. He even leaned his head by Ryouta's shoulder and closed his eyes. When he breathed in, he smelled Ryouta's lavender shampoo layered with the sunblock he must have just reapplied. Ryouta smelled so good and familiar he could fall asleep right then and there.

"Could we leave and go to bed already?" Daiki asked with his eyes closed. He bothered to ask even when he knew the answer would be "no".

A soft giggle and Daiki felt fingers playing with the hair by his nape. A shiver ran through his spine and he almost groaned. Ryouta and his magic fingers...

"But we still have the ending program for the bachelor parties, remember?"

Daiki actually groaned at that. "There's more?" He almost turned his head and nipped Ryouta on the shoulder.

Another giggle, more petting, this time more soothing and indulgent rather than playful. "Just some games and we gotta give a 'thank you' speech for the guests. Poor Daiki. I'm sorry, baby." Finally he got a kiss for his troubles. "You must be tired. Daiki needs to recharge, hm?"

"Do I get a lapdance from you at least?"

Ryouta tugged at his ear kind of hard even if he did laugh at the question. "No, Ahominecchi! Not when my sisters are gonna be watching, come on…"

That tug hurt a little and Daiki frowned but he just grumbled under his breath and took more cuddles for compensation.

If you asked him, this big, flashy celebration was not really Daiki's style. It was something he decided after having to follow Satsuki around for months to make sure she wasn't obsessing over little details too much and that she got enough rest. Wedding planning was stressful as all hell and he would prefer to not have anything to do with it if he had a choice. He could get married anywhere and have it done anytime. All that mattered was that Ryouta would be the one standing with him and that he would say "I do".

But Ryouta wanted the big, flashy wedding because it was his style. In his own way, Ryouta loved the planning, the hassle, the stress. He wanted to make memories and have people to share them with. Plus, Ryouta just loved a good party and why not make his wedding the best one ever?

And since Daiki loved him and knew what it took when it came to getting together with Kise Ryouta, he agreed to the beach resort wedding with the bazillion guests. Also the crazy bachelor parties though his batteries were drained and he would prefer not to see anymore people for the next year or so.

But for now it was okay because he was in a corner away from all that with just Ryouta and he was getting his hair petted while waves coming up the beach sounded in his ears.

"Daiki."

"Hm?"

"You awake?"

He must have dozed off for a bit because when he opened his eyes, the lights around them had been turned on and night had fallen. It was cooler and with a deep sigh, he shuffled even closer against Ryouta. He wrapped his arms around him and was prepared to get settled for a bit longer when a smell distracted him.

A waiter had come up with a bit of a smile, a tray held over one hand. On the tray were two plates of food and he laid them down carefully before them.

One plate had some beautifully grilled chicken and a hefty vegetable salad on the side. On the other plate was a burger, the patty thick and juicy and topped with finely shredded cabbage, paired with wedges of potatoes.

"I ordered us dinner!" Ryouta chirped after sending off the waiter with a smile of his own. "Did you know that they served Teriyaki Burgers here? I thought you might want to give it a try."

His burger definitely didn't look anything like the ones he got at Maji Burger but his stomach rumbled at the sight of it. When was the last time he ate?

"Do we have time for this?" Daiki asked even as he already reached to examine the burger. He wasn't sure about the cabbage but well, he was hungry.

"I asked Momocchi for at least an hour," Ryouta answered as he picked up a knife and fork and immediately pierced one of Daiki's potato wedges. Rude.

Daiki took one of the bite-sized pieces of chicken Ryouta had sliced up as payment.

"An hour?"

Ryouta hummed in answer. "An hour to have dinner and just to hang out." He offered Daiki another piece of chicken with his fork and Daiki obligingly ate it. "I told her I missed you."

Daiki cut up about two bites' worth of his burger and placed it over one side of Ryouta's plate.

"I missed you too…"

Ryouta gave him that pleased, happy smile that always crinkled his eyes, very unlike those polished ones he gave cameras, and Daiki sighed. He reached to wipe off a bit of dressing that was by Ryouta's lip with his thumb.

"Now eat,” he told him. “And you better finish all of that."

Ryouta nodded obediently. "Yes, Daddy."

And then laughed when Daiki scowled and rolled his eyes at him.

Sometimes, Daiki really couldn't believe he was actually marrying this annoying (precious) brat.

The burger was juicy with the right amount of teriyaki sauce and the cabbage added a good crunch. It was pretty good and Daiki enjoyed it as he and Ryouta had their dinner. It was their first time having a meal alone since they arrived at the resort and it was a nice break. They got to catch up a bit with each other and how the whole day had been so far. As usual, their conversation flowed smoothly, hardly a dull or quiet moment.

Daiki watched Ryouta as he told him about his day, voice lilting and always in motion. Ryouta had always been animated, full of life, glowing and golden, and Daiki often had a hard time looking away. He had long grown past the embarrassment of getting caught staring at Ryouta for too long and now, they had come to the point where Daiki knew he wouldn't really be able to look away ever again. And that thought was…

Ryouta was smiling at him, amused, and Daiki knew he was caught just staring again.

"Ah, Daiki is so in love with me," Ryouta sighed wistfully as he lifted a hand to his forehead like he was going for a swoon. "How is he to survive another night without being married to me, I wonder? This must be my curse for being so handsome."

"Oi, stop that," Daiki grumbled as he reached and took the hand that Ryouta had to his forehead, the one with the ring he gave him. "You really need to stop picking up shit like that from Oikawa-san."

Ryouta was laughing again, flushed from giggling too much and that random cocktail he ordered, while he held onto Daiki's hand and looked like, well.

Daiki's Forever.

"Ki-chan! Dai-chan!"

Satsuki appeared with a wave and a smile and Daiki sighed because he knew it was time to go back to the party. Joy.

"Momocchi!" Ryouta waved back with his other hand that was not holding Daiki's. "And Cheekinui too!"

"Can you just go back around and take that demon with you?" Daiki asked as he eyed Satsuki and the plump plushie in her arms. The plushie that resembled Ryouta down to the blond hair and big amber eyes. Daiki had no idea why Kise Ryouta plushies existed but there was probably a method to the madness and it included fangirls and wishful thinking.

Satsuki shook her head just as she handed over the plushie, Cheekinui, to a Ryouta making grabby hands. "You're always so mean to Cheekinui, Dai-chan. What did he ever do to you?"

"It's a trespasser," Daiki answered just as he avoided soft sausage hand pats that Ryouta was inflicting on his cheek via Cheekinui. "We're on a dinner date. And it’s evil."

The plush might look like Ryouta but it was evil to its core, Daiki just knew. He could tell by its penetrating, judging stare.

"Then I’m a trespasser, too," Satsuki said with a shrug and ignored Daiki's answering groan. "It's time for you two to come back and make an appearance at your party."

"Tell them we're busy," Daiki insisted and no, he was not whining. What are you talking about? But he stopped and just sulked a bit instead when Ryouta kissed his cheek.

"Give me just 10 minutes, okay, Momocchi?" Ryouta said as he got up, smiling that professional Kise Ryouta smile. "I'll just freshen up."

Satsuki beamed. "Okay, Ki-chan!"

Ryouta turned to Daiki and wordlessly held out Cheekinui like the plushie was a baby, hands under the plushie’s armpits while his feet dangled. Cheekinui had a wardrobe change--blue and white Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts, usually he wore a tiny Kaijou jersey--and somehow he had white angel wings strapped to his back. Daiki really didn't get it but he took it like a man and just accepted the Ryouta-looking plush. He was rewarded with a happy beam from Ryouta.

"Be right back!"

Daiki watched Ryouta go with a sigh before sitting back on his chair and putting Cheekinui over his lap. It was weird, sitting a plushie over his lap like it was a child, but he had probably done weirder for Ryouta and would continue to do so in the future for sure.

He felt Satsuki's eyes on him and he turned to meet her gaze.

She was smiling at him, something soft and fond, and it made him just hold Cheekinui closer for some reason.

"Are you ready, Dai-chan?" she asked and Daiki knew she didn't need to elaborate.

He knew what it was she was asking and he also knew his answer.

"Yeah," he replied easily, calmly, and he looked back to the direction Ryouta went.

"I am."

[the-dark-fantastic]

Trick Or Peet (Fanfiction - Pokémon HG/SS - Petrel/Reader)

Title: Trick Or Peet Author: ultra-warped / the-dark-fantastic.tumblr.com Fandom: Pokémon HeartGold / SoulSilver Characters: Petrel/Reader, Giovanni, Team Rocket Grunts, Original NPCs Rating/Warnings: General/Teen - Completely SFW fic; the rating is for some mildly-naughty words and bad jokes. Notes: At the end of the fic (along with a 'deleted scene')! Summary: Everybody has a good time at the holidays. Even Team Rocket.

One of the great things about this town is that no one's ever too old for the Haunted Harvest Festival. Even the people who don't go all-out for it still give it a nod, in the way of a hairbow holding a tiny pointed hat, or a porch full of plush Pumpkaboos, or that one incredibly odd fellow with the lapel pin shaped like Mismagius that when you lean in turns out to be an actual Mismagius -

Alright, that guy's a f'n freak. But everyone else is having a good time, including you, though you'd probably be having an even better one if you hadn't gotten stuck taking your little brother around for tricks and treats. Your dad was supposed to do it this year, but -

"He went out for candy cigarettes three hours ago and hasn't come back," your mom said, staring out the window with the most worried expression she could possibly contrieve, and you'd just groaned, dropping your head into your hand. (He really will be back, though. Your mom just thinks that joke is a lot funnier than it is - but your brother's not old enough to understand it yet, so it's probably okay.)

(And to be honest, you wouldn't put it past your dad to have gone out the front door, snuck around the back, and been hiding in the basement choking on his own laughter. The whole family's like this, but at least you know where you got it from. And whose fault it will be when you finally get your sweet, sweet revenge.)

So you're stuck with the kid instead of meeting up with your own crew, but at least it's a nice night for it. Last year, it rained until the garlands of paper Ghost-types turned to purple mush, and the year before that, it was so cold that nearly everyone had ended up in a universal costume of parkas and overfluffed earmuffs. But right now it's warm enough to slip off the light jacket and go bare-armed, and once the temperature does start to fall, you'll have been running around for so long you'll welcome the kind of breeze that scratches leafless branches across a midnight sky.

Your neighbours are nice - and certainly festive (Gentleman Edward and Madame Vivianne do the absolute best amateur spookyard, hands down) - but for the real haul, most people head downtown, where all the local businesses and even a few of the larger chains are stocked with full-size chocolate bars, gift bags so heavy the bottoms are threatening to fall out, and in one case, a berry-bobbing tub deep enough to drown in. It's all about drumming up customers, of course, but it's hard to mind when every window is filled with a living display and the only way you can tell the employees from the guests is by their nametags because all the costumes are that damn good. There's no half-assing it with just a googly-eyed, wiggly-eared headband here.

But what's better yet (or much, much worse, or absolutely hysterical, depending on who you talk to)? Is that Team Rocket gets super-into it, too. No one had been happy when the infamous criminal organization had set up shop here - and it's not like they'd been open about it at first, they hadn't put the Big Red R on their roof or anything; but once the rumours started to spread, they'd spread fast, and once someone actually managed to prove it - by then, they'd become firmly enough entrenched that no one knew how to run them out to begin with, or if it would have been the right thing to do even if they’d found a way. Weirdly enough, Team Rocket puts a lot back into the local economy. So sort of an uneasy truce had formed, with most of the residents looking the other way as long as Team Rocket didn't do anything really publically illegal, and Team Rocket pretending their business wasn't doing things that were...well, really illegal.

But then they'd started up their Happy Harvest, Family Fun! campaign, handing out candy and trinkets and colourful little cards right outside HQ, and the PTA Brigade had lost their minds. “Criminals? Luring our children into their creepy black van? Not in my backyard!” If ever there was a lost cause, though, trying to keep kids away from an increasingly-shiny combination of candy and danger was probably it. Eventually, Moms Against Team Rocket (MoTeR, pronounced exactly like it wasn't actually spelled) had given up on attacking the event directly and settled for grumbling behind the closed doors of what their husbands assumed were meetings full of wine and those lemon bars their hands had been smacked away from.

Your mom hadn't been part of it (though you're not sure if that's because she isn't particularly concerned about Team Rocket or because of the Noodle Casserole Incident that had gotten her politely but firmly invited not to feel as if she needed to continue attending the PTA), and so you don't feel much guilt about taking your brother that way once the frenzy at the shops starts to die down. He's still as wound up as he'd been when you left the house and probably doesn't need any more sugar, but he's easier to manage when he thinks he's getting his way and once you get back, he's going to be your parents' problem, not yours. (Ha. There's your revenge.) He's run into one of his little cronies and they're shrieking about who's collected the most, and by the time you rock up to the Rocketyard, the stories being passed back and forth about all the people they know who know someone who's been to Lavender Town (and occasionally, someone who didn't come back from Lavender Town) are actually a relief, because every time they manage to scare each other silent, it lasts a whole three seconds or so.

Whatever's beyond those heavy red doors is off-limits to anyone not a member of the organization, so the party takes place outside, and outside is packed. Most years, it's been the grunts handling the handouts, but tonight - Seriously? The big boss himself? Those are the murmurs at the back of the line, anyway. You've never seen Giovanni in person before - just his portrait staring into your soul from the posters put up now-and-then - and you bounce up on your toes, trying to get a glimpse over the top of the crowd. You can't - too many taller heads prevail - but a pair of girls you remember vaguely from your senior year are passing by on their way out, and you can hear them giggling and gasping - "Oh! I know Team Rocket's terrible, but Mr Giovanni's really quite dashing, isn't he?" "...did you really just call him dashing? Did Celebi transport me back in time and I missed it?"

So it is him? That adds a further touch of mystery and excitement to a night that's already got no shortage of either. Why here? Why now? It's no secret that Team Rocket hosts these events to boost their image, but they're doing well enough right now (for a given value of 'well enough', anyway) - so is it that he feels safer making an appearance when public opinion is high, or could it be a ploy to push it even higher? Because, face it, ninety percent of these kids would vote the man into office right now. (The other ten percent are too firmly on the Pikachu is Pikafection platform, and by tomorrow, they'll all be throwing their support to Mr Mime's Wall O'Wonder Show. The candy bribes giveth, and the candy bribes taketh away.)

As you get closer, the image you've seen in those pictures begins to resolve. Giovanni isn't costumed (though he is very definitely dressed up - like, to the nines up), but he's made a concession to the festival by pinning a spray of purple blossoms to his lapel. He's seated in a chair padded with the sort of leather that probably shouldn't ever actually be brought outdoors, and though he's generally accompanied in promotional material by the most smug Persian the world has ever known, the Classy Cat is currently nowhere to be found. It seems, too, that the grunts are still the ones running the show, because Giovanni nods and smiles - kind of smirks, really - at the visitors who've made it to the front, but it's his henchmen who are filling bags and making jokes and pulling punches at the teenagers who think they're too cool for fun and just want to say they went toe to toe with Team Rocket.

And while the Persian may be strangely absent, there are an assortment of the other Pokémon people have come to associate with the most poisonous team in town - an Arbok dancing amidst fan-blown ribbons, the full Zubat evolutionary line flapping about overhead, and more Koffing than you can shake a swab stick at.

Seriously, there are so. Many. Koffing. They're bobbing around like balloons, and they're dressed up, too - with hats and body paint and fluttering capes, and one even has a little papier-maché head stuck to its side, so that it can know what it's like to be a Weezing even though it's not quite ready to evolve.

You've reached the end of the queue, and while your little brother is hopping up and down, jabbing the air next to a grunt who's clearly weary as hell but still doing his best to make sure all the kids get to have a good time, Giovanni steeples his fingers and dips his head in such a way that his eyes flash before going darker still, and alright, you can absolutely see why the airheads called him 'dashing'. You only get to hold the thought for a moment before the two of you are ushered away, though, and you don't have time to snatch it back before your brother's shoved his head into the sack and started reeling off a list of his ill-given gains. It's a smorgasboard of crackerjacks and actual jacks, little plastic toys that won't last for more than a day but it doesn't matter because little boys can't stay interested in most things that long anyway, and the reason you know they're going to break immediately is because your brother's managed to snap one in half before you've even made it halfway home.

Unfortunately, 'halfway home' is well before the limits of even the shortest attention span, and delight turns to dismay with a wail that could make a Haunter shudder and turn pale. You do what you can to, if not distract him, convince him that it's not the end of the world and he probably didn't care that much about the trinket anyway, but he's already convinced himself of the exact opposite, and in the end, the only thing you can get him to agree to is to stay right here while you run back to see if they'll give you a replacement. It's a goodwill gesture, right? And they'd all seemed fairly good-natured about it. Maybe they won't mind.

By the time you get there, though, things are winding down; the Rocketyard's mostly cleared out and the remaining grunts are either sweeping up the hundred thousand wrappers dropped by hands that are surprisingly incapable of holding on to anything for being so sticky, or trying to recapture the overly-excited Koffing that are now chasing each other around with all the grace of drunken bumper cars. "Oi! Peety! Come get your freakin' plague puffs!" one shouts, and if this Peety, whoever that is, answers, it's lost beneath the cacophany of cleanup. Your chances of finding (or buying, or begging) a new toy seem to be dwindling as rapidly as the chance anyone's getting those Koffing back in order, but from the corner of your eye, you catch a flash of dapper black vanishing around the building's far side, and screw it, you are going for the gold.

"Mr Giovanni! I'm sorry to bother you, but do you have a minute? My brother -" you call, and then you stop short, because as you come up on the man you're chasing, he starts to strip - no, wait, he's wearing something else beneath that fabulous suit, and you wouldn't have thought that to even be possible, it fit so well. Did he not hear you? He must not have, because he's dropped his face into his palms and raked his fingers through his hair, and when he turns toward you at last -

It's not Giovanni. It's a tall man in the black and white uniform of a Rocket executive, with purple hair swept up atop his head, and if you hadn't seen the transformation yourself, you never would have believed it. He's as surprised as you, now - but for a different reason - and the elegance he'd displayed in Giovanni's suit is gone as he stumbles back. "&#%$!" he yelps, and you can hear every symbol rolling off his tongue. "You, ah, didn't see that, did you?"

You stammer an answer as you edge away yourself, because as fun as it may be to play 'Take On Team Rocket!' when you're eight and loaded up on Vanillish Wafers, this seems a lot more like it's going to result in real trouble, and though your hands have found the wall and you're trying to use it to guide yourself back the way you came without taking your eyes off the executive, it's no use - his long legs outstride yours and he's caught up to you well before you have any real hope of getting away. His own hand plants to the wall, just beside your head, and he leans in, smirking that same smirk that had you so convinced he could really be the Fearless Leader. "'cause if you did, I'm gonna have to make sure you won't talk."

Oh, &#%$, you think, legs shaking, you are going to die here; you are going to disappear and at your empty-coffined funeral, your little brother is just going to scream that you hadn't gotten him another toy before you were tossed off the mortal coil, but before you can manage to pass out so that you at least won't see it coming, the man ducks the rest of the way in and smashes his lips to yours. And then he's gone, darting around that corner you were so desperate to reach yourself, and based on the sound that's rapidly fading as he puts ever-more distance between the two of you, you're pretty sure that he

is

giggling.

"G'damnit, Peety!" you hear as you're creeping out, apparently from the same grunt who'd been yelling for the mysterious Peety before. "The hell have you been?" You don't stick around for the reply, because no one's looking your way - including the lanky executive, who not only has his back to you once more but has suddenly been flocked to by every last one of the runaway Koffing, cloaking him in a cloud of poisonous purple love - and this seems like the perfect time to make your escape.

"Where is it where is it where is it!" your brother demands as you run back up, grabbing his hand to pull him along whether he's ready to go or not, and you mumble a reply you can barely understand yourself; They didn't have any more or They were already closed or something else that doesn't have a damn thing to do with what actually happened but at least takes the blame off you because what are you supposed to do in that situation? Your face is on fire, but as long as he's trying to find the perfect balance between crying over his broken knick-knacks and stuffing his mouth full of candy, he's not paying enough attention to notice, and by the time you've made it back to your house and pawned him off on your parents (Dad was indeed in the basement, and you are not surprised at all), that chill evening wind has mostly washed away what you haven't managed to yourself. The sooner you're in your own room, the better, though, and you spend a few minutes flattened to the closed door, trying to catch the breath that should never have left you in the first place.

...Team Rocket throws a Christmas party, too, don't they?

Notes:

- For @hollowsart, who said there wasn't enough Petrel/Reader fic in the world. - There was a discussion about Team Rocket (or at least some members) doing Random Acts of Kindness to cast them in a more positive light, which reminded me of the Yakuza group that does that with Halloween, which is how we're now getting a Halloween fic in May. >_> - It ended up with a lot less actual Petrel/Reader than I intended (or even Petrel at all), but this is what I do, I make it so we can't have nice things, and also I think it's cute so you'll get this and you'll like it! <_< - =D

Bonus Deleted Scene:

Jessie and James roll out a mechanical Persian, which promptly malfunctions, necessitating a need to whisk it away as quickly as possible lest the Jig Be Completely Up.

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 2: Thoughts on The 100 2x05, Human Trials

Thoughts on Human Trials

They set up an electronic gate really fast, didn’t they? An efficient people. I think of the big Arkadia wall as really being a S3 thing, but they had to specifically unlock the entrance to get Clarke in.

Clarke & Abby was another relationship they really destroyed, huh? “That’s not a prisoner. That’s my daughter.”

Omg, Clarke thought Abby was dead this whole time. I completely forgot about that. I mean, I remember that she saw the Exodus ship explode, but I forgot that she had no way of knowing up until now that Abby wasn’t on it. Technically, Abby should have been a bit of a surprise to Bellamy and Finn, too, but I guess they had bigger surprises to deal with at the time.

I kind of miss Byrne tbh.

Six people made it to Camp Jaha. That’s Bellamy, Finn, Monroe, Sterling (RIP), Raven, and I guess Murphy is the last one, although as far as I can remember, the last Clarke saw him he was blasting a hole in the dropship and running away into the woods. So she probably wouldn’t guess he was one.

Jasper looking for Clarke 3-4 times a day in medical just tears me up inside. He’s so loyal. He feels all emotions on such a large scale. And his disbelief that Clarke would abandon them.... Who was it who theorized that Jasper was more upset about Clarke abandoning them in Mount Weather than abandoning them in 2x16 because I’ve never been certain I agree but I am intrigued.

Raymond J. Berry is so underrated.

I tend to think that Dante is sincere in offering Jasper the chance to leave and come back but I also think that this is a perhaps unintentionally cruel test because of all of the 48, Jasper is the one for whom it would be hardest to step back outside the bunker even on a mission of great personal importance.

“I have to believe they didn’t survive here all this time by fighting.” But like, actually.... didn’t they? RIP to my mom’s theory that ALIE kept the Grounders in a constant state of war to discourage population growth.

“In Grounder Creole.” I mean I guess that’s one word for it.

Clarke’s incredulousness that her mother is Chancellor is semi-hllarious.

She keeps on mentioning Finn and Bellamy as the most important people--were they among the six who made it? Where are they?

And yet RAVEN was the one who was waiting outside for her all night. Outside that shitty little medical tent. With her little tablet, reading. RIP Princess Mechanic.

Too bad Clarke put on pants before The Hug or think how much better it could have been lol.

I could watch them hug all day. Just this scene man. The best. I’m such a simple person. This is all I want. People smiling and being fond of each other.

Bellamy’s face when Clarke says she’s the only one who came back.

That Mount Weather/Reaper stuff is fully fucked up and I don’t think the show ever did anything more outrageous than this season. Which is why it should have stepped back from trying to be outrageous.

I really like scenes like this one with Bellarke and Abby, the tension in the power structure being so uncertain. Kane is the Chancellor, but Abby is also, and there are multiple groups of people out there with different levels of information, working toward different ends, and different ideas about who should be prioritized, and why, and Bellamy and Clarke are used to having the power to make those decision but now they don’t--just the intricacy of the plot at this point in the narrative. I love it. I love power dynamics and stuff like that. Also, while I get why Abby doesn’t want Clarke to leave, Bellamy is 100% right that she owes aid to Murphy and Finn, and Clarke is 100% right that, tactically speaking, cutting them loose is dumb, because they could easily create problems with the Grounders--which, in fact, they do.

Clarke’s “We’re gonna need guns” is so hot.

Adventure Squad to the rescue!

Electric fence. And Wick helping them out. I love Octavia actually looks younger than them here even though objectively speaking Marie is not. ALSO the massacre happens at Lincoln’s village but isn’t he from TonDC, which also had that bomb drop on it? Or am I confusing things? Because if so, damn, that’s a lot of bad luck lol.

So Monty would have left immediately to go after Clarke and Jasper wouldn’t--in part because he’s afraid but I also think he does feel betrayed that she left them, which Monty really doesn’t seem to care about. Interesting. And then of course the containment breach, organized to distract them and keep them from leaving. Not sure how to fully unpack that. I will note that Monty sees Maya being irradiated, which is to say that when he opens the vents in 2x16, he knows what that will do, down to the details, what it looks like, everything, and Jasper does too. Also interesting that Maya doesn’t want Jasper to leave, thinks it’s “smart” to stay. Because she doesn’t like Clarke? Because she fears the outsiders? Yet isn’t the greatest wish of her people to see the ground?

Also looks like they’re already prisoners given that you need a keycard to get out of the dorms.

I find it intensely suspicious that the Grounder blood didn’t work on Maya, since I’m sure they’ve seen radiation that bad before--the guy Clarke saw was pretty well covered if I remember correctly. I think they just weren’t doing anything, to try to get Jasper to volunteer as a subject. But is this done with or without Dante’s knowledge? I am going to say without personally.

“I know that look.” Monty knows Jasper’s ‘I’m gonna do something stupid’ look lol. Also, he is brave! He is!!

Bellamy looking at Clarke by the fire is so capital-R Romantic. They’re so efficient at comforting each other that he literally does the entire conversation re: guilt over closing the dropship door on him by himself. Don’t worry babe, I got this forgiveness narrative down.

Finn... is such a weird character. I don’t actually dislike his arc but it’s so hard to tell, for example, how smart he is, the details of him. He’s certainly very weak. Cracks under pressure, loses whatever moral compass he had at the first convenience. And what of Murphy? He’s uncomfortable with what is happening but for whatever reason seems to find himself unable to stop Finn even as he inches closer and closer to something terrible.

Is their leader... Indra?

Jasper’s “heavily sedated” face and Monty’s reaction lol. “Nothing, I feel nice.” And Monty’s eye roll. Bitch why are you so judgemental? Like you haven’t heavily sedated yourself for fun. And the classic ‘no, not going anywhere’ Monty gesture. Truly an Icon.

Ooh, I like this little outdoor cafeteria/bar. Forgot about that. Forgot about how much in S2 was outdoors or in tents.

I remember when Doctor Mechanic was a significant rare pair/side ship and you know what, I rather miss it. I was never really on board but I can see the appeal.

Minus the slapping, obviously. Which doesn’t even really fit in this scene imo.

“She stopped being a kid the day you sent her down here to die” is of course an iconic line but tbh it’s not really fair. More fair since Abby just slapped her but like--it’s a little late to be pulling that card. If they’d stayed on the Ark, more of them would have died than died in S1 on the ground, imo. And at this point that’s basically already known.

I wonder what all the ‘warning radiation area’ signs are from. Was there a post-bomb period where survivors lived on the ground and divided the worst radiation sites from the more habitable areas? Also the “no weapons beyond this point” sign clearly pre-dates the Grounders. And it’s in English.

Kane’s optimism/pacifism is really halfway and to that extent, what does he expect. Also is there prison a subway station? What a ridiculous but great way to bring Kane and Jaha back together again.

Yet again floored by this set design at the Grounder village.

Tbh I find it highly unrealistic that that amount of forest could have grown up on the National Mall in 100 years. And where are the other monuments?

Bellamy’s handdddddddddddddddddds.

Or maybe they just made Maya extra sick. So the treatment of circulating her blood through Jasper’s system is the same one they use with the Grounders, so it isn’t so much taking Grounder blood, as I tended to think of it, as using the Grounder circulatory system. But obviously this can be done without kiillng the person--so do they just use each body repeatedly until it... dies? I realize trying to find order in this is futile but I’m curious anyway.

“We all have jobs to do. Mine is to be obeyed” should have gone down in the canon of great lines. It’s certainly much better than some others I can think of.

I don’t believe Dante took the kids to experiment on them, what with his intense aversion to the experiments, and the way he gets attached first to Clarke and then to Jasper. But then, truly, as Tsing says, why take them? What was the endgame here?

“We have no choice but to move ahead with the 47″ is truly one of the weakest forms of ‘no choice’ on this show. Because, I mean, you do have a choice. You’ve discovered that they’re useful to you, but that doesn’t mean you HAVE to do the useful but completely immoral thing, that’s quite an obvious example of wanting, not needing.

No one can convince me that Dante is straight with scarves like that.

So in other words, Delano, of one-eyed Delano fame, was like the Murphy of TonDC. Don’t cast people out, nothing good comes of exile.

Finn’s “I found you” at the end is top 5 creepiest moments in this series and no I am not taking criticism on this post.

[choosingmylife]

Memories (Jake x MC)

as So, I tried this earlier and I did it and I thought it was great and I was proud of it and then Tumblr said BITCH YOU THOUGHT! and it was gone so...yeah. I’m going to try and rewrite it the same way as before but whatever. It’s pretty long because I got started and couldn’t stop and it just rode away from me. Enjoy you lovely people!

Some lines are directly from Pixelberry’s Choices: Stories You Play, and there are characters from there as well, if this is how you do this credit thing. (please don’t sue me. it’d be pointless anyway cause im a broke college student so...)

Warning, I almost cried writing it so, maybe keep some tissues nearby? Whatever works for you. Anyway, here ya go.

God, he was stupid. So incredibly stupid. How could he let Mike talk him into this? Better yet, how could he even consider going through with it?

But he had, at least enough to be standing here, just past the front door of the local bar he and Mike frequent. He’d wanted to meet in a place he felt comfortable in and he figured a place where all the employees knew his name would be a good one. So this is where he’d told Mike to set up his date.

Yeah, his date.

He wanted to turn around and walk back out the door, away from this date he hadn’t really wanted, away from the music that always played just a little too loudly for his liking. He should go home, down ten out of the twelve beers in his fridge (because you need one, or two, to chase the pain pill for the hangover the next morning) and fight against the memories he always worked so hard to forget. 

Just as he turned to leave, a voice called out to him and stopped him in his tracks.

“Jake?”

He slowly turned back and located the source of the sound. It wasn’t hard, she was practically standing on a bar stool and was waving, frantically, at him.

“Jake! Over here!” she called and he let out a slow breath. She’d seen him, called for him, and he’d responded, so he very well couldn’t leave now. 

He walked over to her and she leaned forward to hug him, her vibrant red hair falling over her shoulder and onto his. He caught the smell of it, a plain soap kind of smell, and he longed for a mix of sweat, outdoors, and honey to fill his senses. But it’d been a long while since the last time that particular scent had been in the air and he’d never smell it again. 

“I’m so glad you could make it,” she says as she pulls back and sits back in her bar stool.

“Yeah, thanks for coming...Kathryn, right?” he asks and she nods.

“Most people call me Kat, but yeah, that’s me,” she replies, lifting both thumbs towards herself briefly before setting them back on the table.

“Alright, Kat it is, then,” he says and they both fall into an awkward silence. Jake isn’t sure where to go from here, other than to high tail it back to his lonely, one bedroom apartment. 

While they sit, both looking everywhere but each other, out of the corner of his eye, Jake sees her raise one hand to her face and her thumb goes into her mouth. A simple, nervous gesture, but one that hits his heart so painfully and provokes a memory that slams into his mind.

“I don’t know about this, Jake. It just seems like everything is going to-”

“Stop worrying, Princess. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise,” Jake assures her, but it doesn’t ease the worry lines from her face. She turns from him, putting her thumb to her mouth and biting it as she starts to pace. 

Jake walks to her, putting one hand on her waist to still her and using the other hand to gently pull her finger from her mouth. “I’ll take care of you, okay? Nothing’s gonna happen to you, or any of our friends. You’ve got to relax.”

She turns her head to him and frowns, “And who’s going to look after you?”

He scoffs, “I’m invincible, Princess. Nobody’s gonna get to me unless I want ‘em to. Now quit all of that worryin’, or you’ll get wrinkles on that gorgeous face and I’ll have to swap you out for someone else.”

She rolls her eyes, but smiles despite herself. She playfully hits his chest, “You couldn’t get rid of me, even if you wanted to.”

He pulls her against him, her body molding into his as if it was always meant to be there. “Like I’d ever want to,” he mutters, laying a kiss on her lips and enjoying the sigh that falls out of her mouth. If her lips and that sound were the last things he’d experience in this world, he’d die a happy man.

“Jake?” Kat’s voice brings Jake back to the present. 

He shakes his head to clear it and forces a smile onto his face, “Sorry, were you saying something?”

Kat nods, biting her lower lip. “Yeah, I just asked if you wanted to get something to drink.”

He looks away, towards the bar and the line of bottles on the shelves. He wants a drink, badly, to chase away the demons of the past, but he knows if he starts he won’t be able to stop. 

“No, I’m alright,” he tells her and she signals for the waitress, who comes and takes the order before leaving them alone again.

Kat takes in a deep breath, “So, you and Mike are friends?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

She nods and drums her fingers on the table top. She speaks again, another question, “Are you guys close?”

“Mmhmm,” he mumbles as the waitress comes back with Kat’s drink.

Kat takes a long sip and Jake glances at the way her throat moves as she drinks, an enticing sight that would have any guy wanting to kiss or lick it for hours. But Jake wasn’t just any guy and the very thought of being intimate with anyone else made him feel nauseous. Still, the movement didn’t leave him unaffected, at least not in the way it should have, and he tries to fight it, but another memory forces its way into his head.

“You gotta try this, Princess. Raj found it the other day and it tastes amazing!”

She looks apprehensively at the item in Jake’s hand and shakes her head. The fruit, or what he assumes is fruit, has a solid brown exterior, with prickly hairs poking out of it all over. Jake has cut the fruit in two and she can see the soft, purple inside. It’s not like any fruit she’d seen and on this island, there was no telling what could happen if she ate it. But Jake seems so excited about it...

After a moment, she groans, “If this kills me, tell everyone I died heroically. Make it a way better story than this.”

“Stop being so dramatic and just eat it already,” he demands and she grabs one piece to bring it to her mouth.

Just before she opens and places it inside, she freezes and looks at Jake, “But what if-”

“Just eat it!” he exclaims, pushing the piece into her mouth. He watches her face scrunch up as a sourness hits her taste-buds and then shifts to pleasure when a sweetness takes over. 

“Mm! That’s so good!” she manages to say, mouth full of the sweet fruit. She says something else, but Jake doesn’t hear it. His eyes are focused on a trail of purple juice that’s falling down her chin and to her throat. He can imagine how it would taste, a mix of sweet nectar and saltiness from the sweltering heat. He wanted so badly to lean down, lick and suck the liquid away until the purple turned to red, marking her as his for everyone to know.

“Jake?” she says, concern in her voice. He glances into her big, brown eyes before zoning back in on the trail of purple that has now slipped down to the top of her chest. The look in his eyes makes her gasp.

“No, Jake. We can’t! Our friends are literally right behind those trees,” she hisses and points, but he only grins as he pulls her to him.

“Then I guess we gotta be real quiet, Princess,” he whispers before he descends onto her throat. She moans and grasps at his hair, neither one really caring if anyone actually heard them.

A glass slamming onto the table brings Jake back this time. He looks at Kat and sees her mouth in a tight line, knuckles white as she holds the glass on the table.

“I’m sorry, Kat. Really. I just...” he trails off and, after a second of staring at him, she relaxes. 

“I understand. I’m not her. I can see it in your eyes. Whoever you’re missing, I’m not her,” she says and his eyes widen in shock.

“But... how did you...?”

She moves to stand, grabbing a jacket he hadn’t seen hanging on the back of her stool and putting it on. “I don’t think this is going to work out, Jake. But, can I say something?” she asks and he nods.

“Let it go. Let her go. Whatever you have to do, because what you’re doing now? It’s not healthy. From what Mike’s told me about you, which isn’t a whole lot, you deserve to be happy. Living in the past only makes you miserable. Move on, Jake.”

He sits in stunned silence as she walks past him, only stopping to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and leaves the bar. He ponders over her words, knows the truth in them, but it isn’t as simple as she makes it seem. He can’t just let her go and move on. And he wasn’t miserable, not really. He just missed her. A lot. All of the time.

Sighing deeply, he gets out a couple of bills and throws them on the high table before he exits out of the front door. He decides to walk home, needing the fresh air to help him calm down and think, to get himself together. 

Except, with the thinking comes the memories. And it doesn’t help that everywhere he looks, he’s reminded of her in some way. Each memory running in before the previous one can even finish.

Like the song that plays as he leaves the bar, one that happens to have been her favorite song. “I love it so much! It’s definitely on my list of top ten favorite songs,” she tells him. He’s only half listening to her, but, before he knows it, she takes his hand and pulls him up. She starts swaying to the beat of no music and it takes everything inside of him not to kiss her. God, he should kiss her. “Dance with me, Top Gun. I know you’ve got moves.” He smirks. “Oh I’ve got moves, Princess. Just not one’s for the dance floor.” He winks at her and takes pride in the way her cheeks blush a pretty red at his words. If that’s all it takes to make that happen, then he wondered just how far that blush could go when the heat got turned up....

Or the kids laughing with their parents as they leave the family restaurant across the street. “Have you ever thought about having a family?” she asks, her brown hair splayed across his arm as her head lays on his chest. “No, I never thought it was in the cards for me,” he says and she sits up in bed, the cover falling off of her just enough to torture him. “Do you think it might be in the cards now? With me?” Jake looks at her barely covered chest and grins, “If it means I get to see what’s under that blanket a hell of a lot more than I absolutely think it is now.” And he leans up to pull her back down to him, a chorus of giggles hitting his ears as he tickles her....

And a faint smell of flowers as he passes a park reminds him of the day they had their hand-fasting ceremony. She had looked stunning that day and he couldn’t wait to tear that dress off of her, almost deciding to do it right then and there, ceremony and crowd of people be damned. He also remembered his promise to her, told as he stared into the eyes he would spend the rest of his life gladly drowning in. “Being with you is everything to me...I’m not half the man a true Princess deserves, but I’m gonna give it all I got and then some. With a little luck, maybe we can land this thing somewhere near ‘happily ever after’.” He couldn’t believe all the luck he’d already had just to win her heart, hell, to have met her at all. But he would spend a life time showing just how thankful he was for all of that luck.

The wind picks up as he walks, stinging his eyes and ruffling his hair. The chilly night air brings him back to that night, the night he lost her, and he tries to contain the tears that threaten to fall. “There’s something else.” A beat. “I c-can complete the Island’s Heart...by giving myself to it. The world would go back to normal...but Vaanu and I will be gone forever.” She looks so broken, so scared. Jake’s heart is in his throat and anger wells inside of him. “Dammit, don’t you know I’d come after you? I’d find a way! Cross every mile of space to get you back! My heart is where you belong, not Vaanu’s.” The tears are there, in both of their eyes as she wraps him a hug. They both squeeze too tight but it doesn’t matter. Jake knows what she’s chosen, what will happen. He can already feel a hole ripping through his chest and going straight to his heart. How is he ever going to live without her?

Turns out, he couldn’t and with the assault of memories, each one more painful than the last, his legs give out and his knees hit the hard sidewalk. He is fully crying now, unable to stop the river as it pours out of him and it’s taking everything in him to stay vertical. He misses her so much, yearns for her every minute of every day. If he could have one minute, just one minute to see her beautiful face, to hold her in his arms, kiss her lips and remind himself of her taste as he is blessed with one of her soft sighs when their tongues tangle with each other. 

“Jake? Jake!” he hears Mike call out, but he doesn’t see him. His vision is too blurry and he doesn’t have the energy anymore. The memories took it, the pain a more than willing accomplice. Hands go under his arms and suddenly, he’s standing again and Mike is there, holding him up, holding him together.

“Jesus, man. What...what happened?” Mike grunts out as he half carries Jake to his apartment.

Jake doesn’t answer the question. “Phone,” he mumbles.

“What?”

“The phone, Mike.” 

Mike stops moving and looks at his friend, studying him. Jake had given him the phone a few months after they’d all gotten back, to keep it safe in case something happened and to keep Jake from obsessing over it day in and day out. It’d taken some begging and pleading to get to the agreement that Mike could have possession of the phone, until a time when Jake really needed it. Neither one of them knew what that meant or what they needed to look for to know, but it’d worked so far. Jake had moved on as much as he could, at least enough to bathe and get a job, and Mike considered that a win.

But right now, the way his friend looked, Mike knew it was time. He fished the phone out of his pocket and handed it over. Jake let out a breath of relief, like simply seeing the phone was enough to save him. He quickly navigated the phone to what he needed and held it up to his ear as they entered his apartment building.

“Jake, I promised you a year and a day, and I’m sorry I won’t be able to fulfill that vow. Part of me will be with you always....”

Jake closes his eyes as he listens to her sweet, melodic voice and replays it over and over. Oh how he wished she was here right now. He needs her, he needs her more than he could ever imagine. Why isn’t she here?

Mike walks him into his apartment and deposits him on the couch, shaking his head and sighing sadly at the state of his friend. He leaves him alone to do something, probably to find a more put together friend, one that isn’t cursed with a broken heart for the rest of time, Jake doesn’t know and doesn’t really care. He listens to the recording, playing it as the night turns into morning. The thought of what was and what could have been haunts him until he’s begging for a remedy from all of the pain. 

When will it stop hurting?