#I am very upset about it but at least I managed to salvage these

[offshore-brinicle]

Unsure if to posts these in my proper art account because I am still not very happy with the current PM situation so it feels awkward to post my fanarts now but I almost lost all of my drawings because of weird iPad security stuff so. Baeks from June

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

this is a lil part two for this lil request fic i wrote about katsuki takin' care of a drunk reader ! yall rlly seemed to like it n asked for a part two so, here it is !! hope yall enjoy !

no pronouns mentioned, just pure fluffy katsu, microscopic angst maybe kinda and if you squint HARD (reader gets a little bit upset), soft katsu but he's also an asshat but we love him anyways, mentions of food n eating, mentions of bein drunk, lemme know if i missed sum else !

"ya told me you loved me yesterday."

it's all katsuki utters in the quiet of your apartment as he looks out the window.

you promptly choke on your toast.

you manage to cough down your bread. clearing your throat as you try to speak as naturally as possible. “oh yeah ?”

katsuki grunts in response, taking a sip of his orange juice and smacking his lips before speaking again. still looking at the window and away from you, it makes you nervous. “yeah, thanked me for always takin care of ya, r’something”

katsuki is trying his very hardest to speak casually and he’s praying to every god there is you can’t hear the slight quiver in his voice or see the slight shakiness of his hand when he brings the glass of juice to his lip.

“oh.” your heart beats so loud you can hear it in your ears. you try to salvage the situation and you force out an awkward laugh. “ i mean—i am thankful to you, y’know.”

“ya should be, nobody else could handle takin’ care of your ass.”

“hey !”

you think this is fine. you were drunk and stupid and you’re fine with him brushing off your accidental confession like this if it means it won’t make things awkward. if it means he’ll keep coming over to your house like he owns the place and cook for you because you apparently don’t know how to cook for yourself well enough for his liking. as long as you can keep hanging out with him and going out for drinks and having him take care of you. though, you might not drink as much next time you two go out.

after a minute or two he speaks again “did you mean it ?”

your hand is already reaching for his half bitten piece of toast when you freeze for the second time “did i mean what ?”

katsuki scoffs, smacking your hand away from his toast with two fingers, you let out a little whine “ i know you’re not dumb, so quit actin’ like you are.”

“but i don’t know what you mean !” you inwardly cringe at your dumb response.

“when you said you—“ katsuki cuts himself off with a quiet groan, grabbing his toast and splitting it in half, chucking one of the pieces onto your plate “whatever” he mutters to himself. your heart squeezes when you see the sad frown on his pretty face he doesn’t seem to realize he has.

you don’t know if you’ve still got alcohol in your system, you don’t know if you’ve fully slept it off yet, if you’re fearless or crazy or just plain stupid, but after taking a bite of the toast he’d given you you blurt out something you were sure you would’ve only had the courage to say if you were black out drunk.

“i did.”

katsuki turns to you the moment you finish your sentence, bright red eyes widened as he tries not to let his surprise show, he fails to though. “ you did what ?”

in the back of your mind you want to pout at him because you know he knows what you mean. you know he just wants to hear you say what he wants to hear and it makes you a little grumpy because it’s early in the morning and you don’t look your best at all right now. you’re too embarrassed to even look him in the eye yet his bore into you so hard it feels like a magnetic pull, like you’re being forced to look at him despite your best efforts not to. you want to be at least a little mad but you can’t blame him, you feel like you owe this to him in a way.

“ i did mean it..when i said..” you’re incapable of looking at him as you feel shame creep onto you, clinging onto you like a sweaty shirt, you manage to swallow down the piece of toast“ when i said that.” you trail off quietly.

no sound is made and no voice is heard for at least a minute, but you feel yourself wanting to cry more and more with each second that passes.

you get the courage to look up at him and instantaneously which you never had when you see a smirk on his annoying face.

“that ? that, what ?” he jeers with a grin bordering on evil, sharp teeth on display.

you throw your head back and groan “katsuki, oh my god !” leaning forward across your table you try to pull his nose after you hear him chuckling. he swiftly dodges you, grabbing your wrist and then your other one when you try to pull a fast one on him, unsuccessfully. you grumble as you sit back down and if you weren’t as enamored with him as you somehow ended up being you’d have knocked that stupid smirk off his face. everything seems to be against you, including your heart.

he hums once you’ve sat back down “ooh, you mean when you told me you loved me, right ? s’that what you meant ?” he snickers, shit eating grin on his face. asshole, he’s not even trying to look innocent.

“you’re not funny.” you huff, crossing your arms and glaring at him. “ like, at all.”

“you’re right, i’m not.” he responds, leaning his forearms against your table “ i’m hilarious, actually.”

a part of you wishes you could punch him. hard. another louder part of you just wants to kiss his smug expression off his face, both options sound extremely tempting but one of them more than the other.

“hilariously stupid.” not your best retort, but you’ll take it. katsuki huffs out a laugh as you pout and look off to the side, you’re so fucking cute.

his smirk doesn’t fade as he keeps staring at you but his eyes soften as he leans in to rip your arms away from your chest “ relax, m’just fuckin’ witcha.”

“yeah. haha. funny.” you spit. katsuki starts getting actually worried he’d hurt your feelings and quickly tries redeeming himself. he pokes at your cheek once, twice and you swat his hand away when he goes for a third poke. then he leans forward so he can tickle your side and inwardly sighs in relief when you swat at his hand trying to hold back your laughter. the way he’s leaning against the table is a bit uncomfortable for him but as long as he keeps that warmth on your face he couldn’t care less.

he gets up and grabs his chair, dragging it against the floor causing it to squeak and making you cringe, you let out a noise of displeasure but katsuki doesn't look the least bit phased as he bring his chair to sit next to you.

his cheeks are red, you realize it now that he's sitting so much closer to you. he speaks after a moment of silence "so you meant it, yeah ? when you told me you.." he trails off at the end of his sentence. he's quieter than you're used to. there's a certain hopeful urgency in his eyes that has you shyly nodding your head in response.

he’s looking at you and you’re looking right back

“i meant it.” you whisper.

“i know.” he whispers back after a beat, before pressing his lips to yours.

the kiss lasts about 10 seconds before he pulls away, then leans in again for another, slightly longer one. when you separate your breathing a little heavy. you place your hand on his face and rub his cheek, admiring the way his eyelashes flutter slightly and how the feeling causes shivers to run up his spine. you can't help the goofy smile that pulls at your face and neither can he, you both chuckle slightly.

then you take a breath as if contemplating if what you were about to say was worth it. but katsuki knows you don't care and he's right because you say it anyway.

"we should go out for drinks to celebrate !" you giggle. he playfully rolls his eyes, pinching your side making you let out a squeal.

even though you call it a celebration katsuki knows it'll be the same charade as usual. you'll drink until you pass out and he'll bring you home. he'll help you clean up and take you to bed and have breakfast made for your hungover ass in the morning. but this time, you'll be his. and to katsuki, that's worth so much more than the headache he knows you'll give him.

[tenebraevesper]

Five Nights at Freddy's: Salvaged, Night 20: Left Behind

''I was left behind! All this torture will unwind, I was never all that kind! If you were to rewind, then you would find I was left behind! Take your turn to run and hide, I will catch you all the time! This night no longer shines, your tears divine, you'll now be mine! We hope you enjoyed the show within your grave down below!''

– Left Behind by DAGames (Five Nights at Freddy's: Sister Location)

xXxXxXx

Connor knocked on the door of the manager's office, waiting for the lazy ''Come in!'', and entered it. The manager was an elderly man who looked like he'd rather be at home and drinking beer than at this establishment.

''Ah, Mr. Davis, is there anything you need?'' the manager asked. Connor took a deep breath.

''I wanted to voice my concerns about the recent events. A lazy security guard and a missing employee isn't very good for Ricky's. I was wondering whether I could, aside from doing my regular job, also apply for the night guard job,'' Connor said, with the manager frowning. He then added, ''I would just make sure no one is on the premises after closure in order to prevent more accidents like this.''

''I will have to think about this, but considering how you're a longtime employee, have a clean record, are usually the last one to leave and we still cannot find a replacement night guard, you might get the job. Of course, we will also have to discuss your hours and paycheck for that,'' the manager said.

''I believe we will find a solution that problem,'' Connor replied, with the manager rising an eyebrow. ''It doesn't have to even be official. I'll just be on the closing shift as usual, but leave a while later after making sure no one is here.''

He knew that it wouldn't take much to convince the manager. He knew that he wanted to cut costs while pretending that everything was running smoothly and by the book. Not to mention, putting an employee as reliable as Connor was on the night guard position would spare him the hassle of having to hire a new night guard, especially since the day shift guard refused to take the night shift.

''I guess you're getting a promotion then,'' the manager said.

''Thank you, sir,'' Connor replied, exiting the office and walking towards the main area, grinning.

xXx

Sam yawned, checking her phone. It was late evening, with her and Springtrap being in her room after having finished cleaning the kitchen. Emma was a little upset about the broken dishes, although she didn't mourn the vase, calling it ugly and noting how she wanted to replace it anyways. However, she was glad things didn't escalate and Sam didn't end up scarred or worse.

''You seem to be really satisfied about this,'' Springtrap told Sam.

''Of course I am. After all, I managed to help someone improve their life, or rather, afterlife,'' Sam replied.

''Honestly, I'm just glad that she's gone,'' Springtrap said, with Sam noticing the bitterness in his tone. Before she could question him, they heard shuffling in front of the door and Emma peeked into the room.

''You two are still awake?'' she said, with Springtrap giving her a questioning look. She narrowed her eyes. ''You know what I meant, Afton.''

''Mum, could we borrow the car for tomorrow?'' Sam asked.

''As long as you manage to wake up early to drive me to work,'' Emma replied. ''Where are you even going to?''

Sam and Springtrap briefly exchanged glances, only to see Emma giving them a Don't you dare to lie to me look.

''We planned to visit an abandoned building called Circus Baby's Entertainment and Rental,'' Sam said. Emma didn't seem to recognize the name.

''So, what is that place? Are you completely sure that it is abandoned?'' Emma asked.

''It is,'' Springtrap replied, with Emma giving him a confused look. ''At least it was the last time I was there, more than a year ago.''

''Should I even ask why you were there?'' Emma said, crossing her arms.

''I used to own it, and rest assured, it is completely empty,'' Springtrap replied. ''There are no people and no animatronics, just robotic parts and empty rooms.''

''I see,'' Emma muttered, looking a little skeptical. ''Anyways, don't stay up too late, else someone is going to sleep outside. I'm not that picky about who this person will be.''

She added the last part when she noticed Sam grinning, looking satisfied when Sam's eyes widened and her smile instantly vanished. Emma left, with Sam and Springtrap exchanging glances.

''To be honest, I'm not sure whether she was messing with us again or was completely serious about this,'' Sam said.

''I don't think we should take any chances,'' Springtrap replied. ''In any case, we have a plan for tomorrow and we can discuss the details in the morning.''

He was about to get up and leave, only for Sam to grab his hand, forcing him to stay. He was a little confused when he saw the annoyed look on her expression.

''Remember how I told you that I'm getting better at picking up on whenever you feel upset about something? I'm quite sure that there's something you didn't want to tell me earlier,'' Sam said as Springtrap sat back, looking a little flustered and anxious.

''I don't think I need to explain whom that little girl reminded me of,'' Springtrap said.

''No, but the children are gone, aren't they?'' Sam said. ''That chapter of your life is supposed to be over, isn't it? Even though it does influence your current situation.''

''True, but the more I think about it, the more I feel that not all of them are gone,'' Springtrap replied.

''You mean that entity?'' Sam asked, with Springtrap nodding.

''If anything, I'm certain that this entity is completely different from the voice that told me that I'd be back, for whatever reason they had,'' he explained.

''Considering how things are, you've been brought back to be tortured. Apparently, the Hell you faced wasn't enough,'' Sam said, noticing that Springtrap looked quite crestfallen. ''There is something else, isn't it?''

''How would you feel if I just left?'' he asked. He noticed the reluctant look on her expression, as she understood what he meant. It was more than obvious that she refused to let him leave, which he actually felt relieved about.

''Well, if you wanted to leave, it is your decision…'' Sam muttered.

''Sam, be honest with your feelings,'' Springtrap said calmly, in the same tone Sam used to talk to him in such situations.

''No, I don't want to you to leave,'' Sam said, now in a more confident tone, only to feel Springtrap patting her on the head.

''I know. I am not going to leave you,'' Springtrap told her. ''At least not unless forced, and even then, I doubt I would just abandon you. Besides, I'm quite satisfied with being back, so that's an additional reason for staying here.''

Sam smiled, with Springtrap feeling a warm sensation in his chest.

Even if I have to leave, it'll be on my own terms.

xXx

''It should be here somewhere,'' Springtrap said as he looked through the window of the car. The two were searching for Circus Baby's Entertainment and Rental location. Springtrap felt a little tense about visiting it again, as he wondered whether everything remained the same, or whether the location was still there.

''Is this it?'' Sam asked, parking in next to the building next to an empty lot. There was an old rusty sign on it, saying CIRCUS BABY'S ENTERTAINMENT AND RENTAL, with the image of Circus Baby holding a microphone on the top of the sign. However, the colors were faded and chipped. The lot also had a broken fence around it, but it didn't seem like it was necessary for keeping intruders out. The whole place was decrepit and gave off a creepy vibe. The two exited the car, walking over to the building, with Springtrap being stunned.

''I can't believe this place is still here,'' he said. ''I thought that Henry had torn it down and burned the remains.''

''Well, I have no complaints about this place still being here,'' Sam said, looking quite excited. ''Let's go inside.''

Springtrap nodded, although he still stood on the spot, staring at the building. He did feel a little reluctant about entering it, as he didn't know what he might find there. Everything could've been the same as he left it, but it was also possible that there was nothing there. He sighed.

It's time to see what is lurking underground.

xXx

''Is there a bunny plushie?''

''No…''

''But, I want one!''

Kathy looked at her younger brother, who was just as annoyed as she was that the only plushies were those of Ricky and the Misfits. The two hoped that they could find a plushie that looked similar to that green-golden bunny with the purple bowtie.

Speaking of the bunny, nobody had seen it. Sure, the two hadn't visited Ricky's in a while, but they were sure that the bunny would still be here. They asked a few older kids and even an employee about the strange bunny animatronic, but none of them had even noticed that he was there. The two felt disappointed, as they wanted to play with him.

They knew that the bunny was there, but everyone else acted like he didn't exist. What was going on?

''Maybe he doesn't work today,'' Kathy suggested. She then pouted. ''Or maybe he got fired?''

Kyle tilted his head. He didn't fully understand what ''being fired'' meant, although he knew that it was something about adults losing their job, as he overheard his aunt talking nastily about the people that worked in the grocery store. All he could imagine was the bunny animatronic being fired out of a cannon by Ricky, and got scared.

''I hope he wasn't,'' he said. ''That would hurt.''

The two then got approached by Virgil The Owl, who looked at them expectantly.

''Do you want a prize?'' Virgil asked them.

''We want a bunny plushie!'' Kyle exclaimed, holding his share of prize tickets.

''I am sorry, but there are no bunnies here,'' Virgil replied. ''But, did you know that rabbits are fragile animals and are most active in the morning and evening. They prefer to sleep during the day and through the night. Rabbits are very tame and not demanding. They can be trained to learn commands and play games. Rabbits make very little noise so bothering your neighbors will not be a concern. Rabbits love to be handled, like attention, and tend to be active when most people are home. Because of all these attributes they can make an excellent pet.''

''Really?'' Kyle seemed to be awed, turning to his sister. ''I want a pet bunny!''

''Me too,'' Kathy was just as excited about the idea as her brother was, but then quickly remembered why they were here, then turned to the animatronic. ''Did you see a bunny robot?''

''No, there is no rabbit animatronic here. We have Ricky Wolfrun-'' Before Virgil could continue listing the names of the animatronics, he got interrupted by Kathy.

''But, there was a bunny named Spring here!'' she insisted.

''No, there is no rabbit animatronic here. We have Ricky Wolf-''

Kathy groaned, with her brother copying her. Both of them were frustrated that nobody knew about Spring, not even the animatronics themselves.

''Hello, there!'' The twins turned around, only to see Ricky waving at them. ''Do you need any help?''

As much as the twins were aware of, there were two Rickys. One would sing on the stage and the other would walk around and interact with people. However, they would never be seen together. Of course, when they played with another kid their age and told him about it, he said that they were wrong and that they were stupid for believing that. The twins quickly left him, not taking kindly to the fact that they were insulted by someone who couldn't tell the difference between a robot and a person in a costume.

''Have you seen a bunny?'' Kyle asked hopefully. ''His name is Spring!''

''I'm sorry, but I don't know any bunny named Spring,'' Ricky replied. Kyle looked disappointed. ''However, you can play with me and my friends. Just come along.''

He reached out for Kyle, but Kathy grabbed his arm first.

''No, thanks,'' Kathy suddenly said, feeling uncomfortable in Ricky's presence. Even though he was friendly to them, she had a bad feeling about this and wanted to leave. ''Bye.''

Connor observed silently as the two left, feeling angry. He had realized that he basically got his confirmation that there was indeed a bunny animatronic roaming through this town. However, every time he appeared or was mentioned, he would take people he was interested in away from him.

Well, it's time to hunt this bunny down.

xXx

As Sam and Springtrap entered the building, they noticed a thick layer of dust on the floor and every surface. There were cobwebs, as well as a musty scent in the air. It was dark inside, with shutters covering the windows, although Sam brought along her flashlight, shining it on the surfaces. The hallway they entered led to another room covered in posters of Circus Baby, Funtime Foxy, Funtime Freddy and Bon-Bon, and Ballora. There was also a reception counter.

''We're not even at where the animatronics were and I'm already excited,'' Sam said, contemplating whether she could take the posters with her.

''We might have a little problem, though,'' Springtrap said, pointing at the elevator a bit away from the counter. ''There are other entrances, but the primary one, which is reserved for the technicians, is this elevator and I'm not sure whether this place is still powered-up since nobody is using it. Also, just to make it clear, the last time I came here I used a different entrance.''

''Well, we could try it out,'' Sam said, shrugging. Springtrap was worried about the possibility of them getting trapped inside a faulty elevator, but decided to give it a try. Surprisingly, when he pressed the button for the elevator, it actually worked. He and Sam exchanged glances, then nodded, entering the elevator. Sam felt her heart racing when the door behind her closed. It took a few seconds, but the elevator then went down.

As they waited, Springtrap figured that there was a possibility that Fazbear Entertainment was the one who kept Circus Baby's Rental and Entertainment from being torn down. After all, they had already decided to open another location.

Meanwhile, Sam examined the entirety of the elevator, noticing how it looked exactly like it did in the game. The posters were missing, but the panel on which HandUnit asks you to type was still there. Sam traced with her fingers over the torn sticker that said ''MIKE''. She was smiling widely, feeling as if she was dreaming. However, this was much better than a dream.

''Deep below ground, where memories sleep, anger is restless and secrets don't keep.''

''What do you mean?'' Springtrap asked her.

''That was the description for Five Nights at Freddy's: Sister Location,'' Sam explained. ''Speaking of which, something's missing. HandUnit is not active.''

''I guess that someone turned HandUnit off,'' Springtrap said.

''I kind of hoped that we would hear him,'' Sam said. ''He might've offered me some Exotic Butters.''

Springtrap snorted, figuring that he should ask her a little more about those Five Nights at Freddy's games. The elevator finally opened, with both of them exiting it, entering a smaller room with a vent they would have to crawl through. Sam glanced at Springtrap.

''I still don't get why people have to use the vents to get into another room,'' she said, noticing Springtrap grinning, his arms crossed on his back and his eyes glowing in a soft purple.

''It's just a precaution, to make sure that people stay where they're supposed to be. Do you really think that, unless directed, someone would use a vent to get into the next room?'' Springtrap asked.

''Well, you have a point,'' Sam replied.

''If you don't want to use the vents, I'll show you the way around,'' Springtrap added.

''Thanks, but I actually wanted to see what Mike had to go through,'' Sam said, pointing at the vent. Springtrap's ears drooped, with him looking a little anxious. He knew that Michael had been at this place, as he personally had sent him here, but the idea of her retracing his steps didn't occur to him. However, if she did attempt to retrace Michael's steps… Springtrap's eyes widened as he realized what kind of situation he put her in.

''Say, Sam, you'll be fine on your own for a few minutes?'' he asked.

''I guess…'' Sam gave him a confused look. ''Why are you asking?''

''There's something I need to do, but I'll be back soon,'' Springtrap replied.

''What is it?'' Sam asked.

''I'll explain you later. It's just something I forgot about,'' Springtrap told her. Sam tilted her head, a little skeptical, but then shrugged and entered the vent. Springtrap sighed as he heard her leaving, rubbing his temple. ''Why didn't I remember this sooner?''

He then turned back to he elevator, walking around it and opening the door that was concealed in the small area behind the elevator. As he had already noted, there were certain aspects of this place only he was supposed to know about.

xXx

Sam felt a little overwhelmed as she stood in the primary control module room. In front of her was the vent that led to the control room for the Circus Gallery. On the sides were the vents that led to the Ballora Gallery and Funtime Auditorium. She also noticed the keypads used for the controlled shocks, approaching the one on her left carefully, her fingers itching to press the buttons. She felt giddy, still a bit in disbelief that she was actually here, at the Sister Location. As she contemplated whether she should actually try the keypads out, she was startled when the light suddenly started flickering and turned on. Even the screens above her were turned on, albeit showing only static.

She figured that Springtrap was probably the one who turned the lights on and looked through the windows. Both the Ballora Gallery and Funtime Auditorium were empty, albeit there were scraps of metal and plastic lying on the floor. Running from one side to the other, she simply couldn't decide which one to check first.

In the end, she decided to visit first the Circus Gallery, wanting to see Circus Baby's stage first. After climbing out of the vent, she found herself in the control room for the Circus Gallery, leaning against the machinery to see the stage. It was dimly lit, with broken stage lights, but much larger than Ballora and Funtime Foxy's stage. She took a step back and crouched, opening the door to the small space below the desk, which once served as a hiding spot for Michael when the Bidybabs went after him.

She shuddered as she closed it, reminding herself that this wasn't a game or a dream. It was real and people had died here. Not only that, but several incredibly dangerous animatronics had managed to escape by using a human as a suit. Calling it an unnerving experience would be an understatement.

After returning back to the main control room, Sam turned towards the Ballora Gallery, roaming freely through the area, as there was no Ballora or Minireenas to stop her. The room didn't have anything of interest, aside from several decorations and posters showing Ballora dancing. Sam turned her attention to the stage, staring at it for a moment, then shivered, going towards the breaker room.

Now, the breaker room was just as she imagined it to be. She saw the panel for the power, the room being covered in wires and pipes, some tools on a desk at the far end of the room, as well as some machinery.

This was where Funtime Freddy and Bon-Bon resided, at least for a while.

She stepped towards the stage where Funtime Freddy once stood, staring at it briefly, before turning back to the Ballora Gallery, with the intent to visit the Funtime Auditorium next. Once there, she glanced at the stage where Funtime Foxy was, then looked at the floor. While dusty, it was clean.

I guess we'll never know what happened to those two technicians after they were killed.

She then walked over to the parts and service room, which, similarly to the breaker room, was covered in wires, but also had closets and a desk, as well as tools and parts that would be used for fixing the animatronics. As she looked down, she noticed a charred piece of plastic. Picking it up and turning it around, she realized that, while it was quite damaged, it was Ennard's mask.

She gasped, covering her mouth in disbelief as she processed the fact that she was holding a piece of a rather infamous animatronic. She assumed that Ennard, after parting ways with Circus Baby, came here to repair himself, only for that to go wrong. Instead, he became Molten Freddy, a bunch of wires with Funtime Freddy's mask and AI, as Ballora and Funtime Foxy's AI probably ceased to exist at that point.

As she exited the parts and service room, she turned her attention to two other rooms, one being the private room and the other being the scooping room. Biting her lip, she went to the private room, wanting to check it out. As she already expected it, it looked almost exactly as she imagined it to be. The monitors had been turned off, so she had no view of the other rooms. Just as she reached for the monitors, she felt a hand on her shoulder and quickly turned around.

''Are you okay? I'm sorry I scared you,'' Springtrap said as he saw her stunned expression.

''Yeah, I'm fine,'' Sam replied. ''I am actually quite enjoying myself, just like at Fazbear's Fright.''

''I see you have already found something,'' Springtrap said, looking at Ennard's mask. Sam nodded.

''Honestly, I don't think I have even explored half of the place properly,'' she replied. ''Anyways, what were you doing?''

''I was simply making sure you won't get yourself hurt,'' Springtrap replied, with Sam giving him a confused look.

''Thanks,'' she muttered, wondering what exactly he meant, only to figure it out a moment later. ''The scooper, right?''

Springtrap didn't say anything, avoiding any eye-contact with her. He was still troubled over what happened, as well as worried about Sam's reaction to everything. Sure, she had already known about the whole deal with the scooper and remnant, but there was still a difference between knowing something and experiencing it first-hand. Not to mention, considering how curious Sam was, he had every right to worry about her getting hurt.

''In any case, I have visited pretty much every room here, except for the one with the scooper,'' she told Springtrap as she exited the room.

''I think you might want to rethink that sentence,'' Springtrap replied, then glanced back at the monitors, a little reluctant. Although, I guess she already knows, right?

He sighed, feeling torn between letting her continue to explore and telling her that they should leave. After all, this was his idea, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt that he made the wrong decision. There was a reason why I left everything behind.

He sighed, remembering the time he encountered Circus Baby decades after he had left her and the other animatronics. At the time, she had managed to somehow repair herself, becoming Scrap Baby. She was excited to see him, showing no trace of malice or bitterness towards him. She didn't care anymore about being left behind, seemingly forgotten, and wanted to do anything to make him proud. She wanted to be part of this horror show and he allowed it.

She even told him about what had happened to Michael, which honestly shocked him as, while he did sent him to this location, he didn't expect such outcome. However, the possibility of Michael still being alive despite being carved out like a pumpkin for Halloween sparked his interest, causing him to wonder whether he would encounter his son again. Still, that didn't mean that he wanted a family reunion. At that point, he had lost every sense of sanity, only wanting to continue to murder people.

Hell, even Circus Baby was a victim of his insane ideas. He no longer cared whether he was talking to the Circus Baby AI or Elizabeth when he encountered her, simply accepting idea that this is who she was. While he may have not wanted to harm her before, he had accepted her idea of her becoming his successor, while at the same time making it clear that he would also act on his own, without her help.

Springtrap sighed, closing his eyes with a look of anguish on his expression. Now that he thought about everything, he felt sick. He was furious at himself for even taking such dark path, even though he knew that he couldn't change anything about his past. He refused to understand the pain and agony he brought upon everyone, believing that there would be some kind of benefit from his actions. Sure, had had discovered what could be called essentially immortality, but at what price?

Even if put myself into a similar situation, I still would have no idea what they have been through.

Time and time again, he had to wonder why he was still here, why he was allowed to come back. Was he supposed to repeat the horror show? Sure, he tried that, but Sam convinced him that there might have been another reason for his return. Or, maybe there wasn't any other reason for his return and this was just another form of torture? If it was, then they did a good job, as he now felt even worse than he did in Hell.

Still, there was a bit of hope left for him, as he had found someone who was willing to listen to him and help him out. It wasn't a bad deal, despite the constant anxiety and fear about her getting hurt somehow. After all, he had managed to hurt and scar every person he actually felt some connection with, and she might suffer the same fate.

I should've stayed away from her.

He shook his head, his eyes flaring purple. Only because he knew that he shouldn't be around her didn't mean he was supposed to leave her. He had shown that he could change, that he could become a better person. Hell, he even showed regret for his past actions! He wanted to keep Sam safe and happy, and that required his presence, no matter how absurd that idea was.

If this is not why I'm here, what else am I supposed to do?!

In the end, the decision lied within him. Even if he had made a different choice, he would still suffer the consequences, which could've been even worse than what he was experiencing now. Springtrap sighed, exiting the private room and closing the door, then leaned against it, staring across the room.

What should I do?

Suddenly, there was a scream, with something falling on the ground, the sounds echoing through the empty room.

''Sam!''

Springtrap ran over to the scooping room, finding Sam sitting on the ground, clutching her stomach. He quickly crouched next to her, noticing the blood on her arm.

''Sam, what happened?!''

Sam looked at the dismantled scooper, with Springtrap noticing that the remnant injector had sprung open. While had had dismantled it, he forgot that there was a possibility that traces of remnant were still inside the injector and that it might activate if not handled carefully. He assumed that she picked up some of the pieces of the scooper to examine them and got stabbed by the injector after accidentally activating it.

''Sam, let me see the wound,'' he said anxiously, slowly feeling the dread rising in the back of his mind. Sam extended her arm, her eyes tearing. Feeling sorry for her, Springtrap examined her arm, seeing the tears on the bandages and blood dripping out of the tears. He took a look at her, realizing that it was just her arm that got stabbed by the injector. Still, that didn't make him feel less horrified. He looked at her, his eyes flaring purple. ''We're going home this instant.''

Sam was surprised by his stern and serious tone. It was less of a suggestion and more of an order, with her realizing that the situation was grave. She let him help her get up, feeling her arm throbbing and a little dizzy.

''Sam, can you stand on your own?'' Springtrap asked her, with Sam waiting for the dizziness to fade.

''Yeah, I think so,'' she said, even though Springtrap still held her non-injured arm. ''There's a first aid kit in the car.''

''I don't think that it will help much,'' Springtrap said as he looked at her injured arm. The bleeding had stopped, but there were still red stains on the bandages. However, he wasn't worried about her injury, but more about what the injector did to her.

As they walked past the remains of Ballora, Funtime Foxy and Funtime Freddy and entered the Funtime Auditorium, Springtrap directed her towards a concealed door Sam hadn't noticed earlier. It led to a corridor that had a fork. Sam assumed that one path led to the observatory she saw through the panel at the scooping room. Springtrap then gestured to take the other path, which led back to the elevator room. As the elevator went up, the dizziness Sam felt had faded away and she was capable of standing on her own. However, her arm still hurt.

''How do you feel?'' Springtrap asked her worriedly. Sam noticed that there was a hint of panic in his tone.

''My arm hurts,'' she said, holding her injured arm with her non-injured one. ''I also feel tired.''

Springtrap looked dismayed, fearing the worst. He didn't want to risk anything, but he also had no idea what might happen to Sam. After all, he never found out what might happen when someone who was still alive gets injected with remnant.

xXx

The drive back home was quiet. After having her arm once again bandaged, Sam insisted on driving them back home, despite feeling fatigue. Springtrap let her do that, as he didn't want to upset her further. The situation was already bad enough, even more when Sam expressed the desire to go to sleep once they had arrived.

''Sam, I don't think that this is a good idea,'' Springtrap told her. ''You need to stay awake.''

He was slowly freaking out. As much as he knew, remnant was supposed to bind the soul of a dead or dying person to a body, be it artificial or not. However, he feared that, if injected into someone who was still alive, it could outright kill the person. While Sam wasn't stabbed in any of her vital organs, like the heart, it seemed to be affecting her nonetheless.

''I'm sorry about what happened. This is all my fault,'' he told her.

''No, it's mine,'' Sam replied, her cheeks red. ''I shouldn't have touched that stuff. I should've known better-''

Suddenly, her eyes rolled back and collapsed. Springtrap managed to hold her, preventing her from falling down on the floor.

''Sam, wake up! Sam!''

Horrified, he realized that she couldn't hear him anymore.

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#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story (Masterlist)

[dojimakaichou]

To welcome the king back to his human home with tattered clothing and holes in fabric was nothing unusual; human garments lasted very little on the dragon, if he managed to salvage something at all to at least hide the most important bits. But a golden feather stuck to whatever left of his cloak was... New.

And Melissa had very good suspicions about the origin of that particular item.

"Daigo," the queen picked the feather up, trailing after her husband with a slightly amused glance, "Did you happen to run into Shun earlier today?"

★. ―

In response to Melissa's question, the old thing huffed — loudly. He shook his head out of frustration and rolled his shoulders as he pushed into their bedroom. Shreds of fabric fell down around his feet ; clearly, the dragon was not interested in preserving whatever was left of his clothing.

Daigo crawled onto the bed and began to paw up the blankets, sheets, and pillows into a makeshift nest. It was the best he could do without running away to his lair. The ancient then threw his scarred body into the strange bed he had made. There were thick, protruding spikes trailing down his spine that looked similar to his horns. They trembled, matching the beast's mood.

Suddenly, Daigo groaned — and out came the reason for his silence. A mouthful of gold, shimmering feathers plopped onto the covers with a sickly wet noise. The dragon wrinkled his lips. They tasted foul.

Melissa suppressed a soft laugh as Daigo tucked his head back down, black eyes shining ominously. With a sigh, she sat next to him. Melissa drew her palm down his back, marveling ( as always ) at the transition between his scales and false flesh. Daigo rumbled appreciatively. The Queen inevitably brought her hand up further and gently moved some of the dragon's tangled hair. She dug her nails into the base of those great structures.

"I am sure you were right, my dear, whatever you two fought about," Melissa murmured.

Daigo growled, low and rattling. "He is useless," the ancient said. " — barely a dragon. Even his smell is wrong. Were he hatched from a stomach egg, I would accept it . . . but I know he came from us, eraesthyr. Azumi spoke of his egg mother, once ; I have heard of her."

Melissa carefully leaned over Daigo and kissed the tip of his exposed ear. Her husband hissed out a hot breath in response, but the Queen knew the behavior to be friendly with her.

"I tolerate him," Daigo continued, "because his mate is useful to you and for our hatchlings. I do not enjoy it. If I am to share my territory with another male, I would prefer . . . "

The Gem Demon dropped off, though Melissa understood his unfinished sentiment. Daigo was such a marvelous creature, as old as the gods and as large as a sprawling city, but he was not immune to feeling lonely. He had found companionship in his wife, whom he adored fiercely, and their children — however, they would never truly understand what it was like to be something else. Beyond the confines of weak bodies and limited minds, as Daigo said. There were colors they could not see ; sounds they could not hear ; and whole worlds of knowledge unavailable to them. Currently, the only other being in the palace that would be able to comprehend any of what Daigo referred to was Shun.

Their friendship was rocky, at best. Melissa glanced over at the gorgeous feathers on the bed, shimmering in the light of the room. They shone like the sun. It was different than the earthy, pulsing glow that Daigo's floating half - halo of amethyst and scales possessed. A stark reminder that the two beasts, while dragons, hailed from different deities. That they had both chosen radically different paths when confronted with humans didn't help, either.

"I appreciate that you allow him here, my King," the Queen replied quietly, pressing her lips briefly to Daigo's broad shoulder. "I know you are upset, Daigo — why don't you go hunt tomorrow ?? I will come visit you after my duties are done in the fields. It will be just the two of us ; I promise nothing with feathers will intervene."

[seriouslydontneedyouhereanymore]

It’s not even a week but as days goes by, it passes really slow and mundane. Days felt like months and years. The silence is so deafening. All you can ever think about is how to be a better person, what’s the definition of being a better person and how do I actually achieve it and basically practicing it everyday on a daily basis. How can you knowingly unknowingly hurt the person you love so much. It doesn't make sense does it? Sometimes you feel like you're in control of your emotions and yourself but in reality, you're not. Not even a bit.

She wasn't asking for much in my opinion. To purely respect her in ways that I speak, no matter how disturbed I am in a situation and also on a normal daily basis. To be mature. To take leadership when she has done enough and its my time to do so. Respecting her space when she clearly needs/wants it... knowing she value and cherish her time alone so much, it means a lot to her… to recharge, to heal, to have her me time and etc. To also be understood during her tough situations and now that it is very crystal clear that she has more piling responsibilities to handle, you as a partner wouldn't want to be part of her burdens. I am in no position to help her with her responsibilities (as much as I would love to, and I will help with whatever I can) but the least I can actually do is to help her understand where she was coming from. And that my friend, was what all I went wrong in this very paragraph. I failed to do as so and I became too comfortable and selfish.

Blame yourself as much as you want kid but if nothing changes within you, you yourself is at the losing end. She has done all the things you would want for for you to be happy in a relationship with her, but you failed to understand the simple signs she was asking you for just so she could be happy too... with you.

It's weird because I have faced this challenges before and I managed to pull through but once she starts giving me the things that I want, I slacked. Slacked so much that I became comfortable and selfish. I, undeniably pushed her feelings aside. I became too dependable on her which I feel like it shouldn't be that way.

I believe that she and I, we are our own individuals. She has her own life and I do too as well. Being in a relationship means we are able to be who we want to be while still have the ability to grow as an individual as well, grow together as couple. Love itself is not enough. There's more to that. I need to fix this and I have left with no choice anymore. I'd know for a fact if I ever lose her, I'd lose it all and that will take a very long time to forgive myself because I know I let a good soul go by my own very foolish mistakes.

For all the time that we are having our time apart now, no doubt, she has all the rights to be angry, furious, disappointed & upset with me. Her feelings are valid and if I were to put myself in her shoes, I'd feel the same way and wonder how long more I can withstand this person. I don't blame her at all. Really.

As much as this silence is a real slow killer right now, I understand that we both need it. And I can't blame her if she never return back to me this time. It just shows that she was never the problem and that I was. But let's not go there and make myself even sadder if I was to lose her by my own hands. Sabar, understand, reflect and acting on it is my only options now.

If you are ever reading this, no apologies will suffice because they mean nothing to you anymore. I get it. I just hope you're doing well and that you're safe out there, not doing anything stupid. There's no one in this world that I have love so hard except for you and I would do anything to salvage this relationship that I messed up sooo badly. I miss you so much, I miss the sound of your voice, I miss the way we last spend our good day together having our own karaoke session i your room when we both initially wanted to go that night.

I don't know when you'll come back or if you ever will, just know that Im always here if you need anyone or any help. Even if you need to take some extra time apart due to your upcoming examinations, its fine. I know how important these are to you so focus on what you have to do okay? You'll always have my support.

God this time, I really did fucked up did i?

I love you so much... I do... with every corners of my heart and I always will. Despite your flaws, I love it all.

2.52am and signing off. Goodnight.

[boom-bakugou]

‘Wherever You Are’ - Shoto Todoroki/Eijiro Kirishima

A/N: This piece is for my @bnhabookclub bingo card! I’m crossing out “Be Quiet” and ‘Heated Argument’. I would also like to thank @honeytama @shoutogepi and @dragonhrte for beta reading <333

Pairings: Pro Hero!Todoroki x F!Reader / Pro Hero!Kirishima x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, mutual masturbation, minor temperature play, minor angst!

Summary: Todoroki already broke your heart when he said he was leaving for 6 months, but Kirishima can glue your broken heart back together before he returns...right?

Word Count: 5.2k

masterlist

“6 months.”

The words stung more than they should’ve. Half a year of not being able to see his face, hold his hand, sleep together in the same bed.

“Does it have to be so long? Do you really have to go?”

God your mind ran at a hundred miles a minute. Searching his face for any semblance of wanting to rethink the offer about heroing in America. But the sympathetic glance in his eyes was enough to tell you what his words could not.

Of course you were proud of him, of course you were. It wasn’t a minor thing in his career and not many heroes would be selected for such an astounding opportunity. Top heroes in Japan touring around America to show their quirks and how different cultures portrayed their heroes. A bit flamboyant for Todoroki but you presumed he was only following as Deku and Ground Zero were also picked for the once-in-a-lifetime gig.

“I’ll be back before you know it baby, I promise.”

So you took that promise to heart.

-

In the following months leading to his departure, there was a heavy air between the two of you that wouldn’t be mentioned. As if you both knew the inevitable was coming. How would you two manage a relationship from thousands of miles away? You had read every article on the internet, even bought books and followed tags that allowed you to know how to keep the fire burning between the two of you.

Shoto was typically quiet, he always was. But as he began packing his bags for the long tour, he was deathly silent. The guilt of leaving you by yourself in your shared home burning him up inside. He knew he had to say something to you about this whole ordeal, but how could he? He was taking this life changing decision and ruining what you two had perfectly here. But you two could survive right? Or was that the right decision overall? Was prolonging you two the right decision?

It all came down to the day he had to leave. Helping him pack the last of his necessities into his very packed suitcases which had been neatly placed upon your shared bed.

“I completely forgot to ask, how’re you getting to the airport?”

“Bakugou and Midoriya are dropping me off.”

Oh. You had hoped you could get those final moments of couples bliss before he left, but you couldn’t not indulge in having the two young heroes watch in jealousy of you and your boyfriend.

“Can I come? See you off before you leave?”

Your tone was so bittersweet. Not really wanting to see him leave into the airport gates.

“Of course you can.” Todoroki zipped up his final case before pressing a chaste kiss upon your forehead, lingering for a moment to then head to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for you both.

The familiar ring of Todoroki’s phone signified that Bakugou and Midoriya were outside. Bakugou had convinced Kirishima to drive them to the airport (which he did not appreciate as it was far too early for him) and he was the one to head up to help Todoroki with his cases.

“I’ll get that for you Y/N, no worries.” His toothy grin glimmered to you as he picked up the heavy case with ease. It must be fun being a pro-hero.

The ride to the airport was sweet, despite being squashed in the back with Bakugou and Todoroki. It was mostly filled with inside jokes between the four boys and Bakugou screaming for the aux cord because ‘Shitty hair’s music is shitty’. You’d miss the small moments like these.

After checking the three men and their bags to the plane, Todoroki and you parted from the group to have a few last moments together before it would only be facetimes and snapchat stories in seeing each other’s lives.

“Y/N you know this will be difficult right?”

“I know, but I’ve planned everything out! We’re gonna be fine.”

“I’m going to be so busy though, I’ll barely have time for calls and I’ll be so tired at the end of my day and-“

“That’s why when we do call, it’ll be so much more special! We have date nights planned and-“

“Y/N, look I just don’t think I want to push this.”

You could have almost spat your coffee out at his interruption. He wasn’t even looking at you, springing this up on you in your last moments before not seeing him for 6 whole months.

“Wh-what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that… I don’t know, maybe you should see other people. I just don’t think- with how busy I am-it willon’t work.”

You hadn’t even realised you were crying. Your glare towards him basically begging for him to look you in the eyes. Coward.

“So you won’t even try?”

“I just don’t see the point-“

“The point in us?” The daggers in your voice finally made him look up at you, the snivelling mess he had made you into. He had gotten your hopes up that it would work, that you’d still be there for him and support him. “Have fun on your tour Todoroki.”

You left your coffee half drunk, not even wanting the takeaway cup with his name on it. It wasn’t worth your time.

“Hey Kirishima could I have the keys to your car? I just wanna sit down for a bit.” Your eyes were practically glued to the floor, as a means to not show him that you were seconds from fully breaking down.

“Sure, but, aren’t you gonna say goodbye to Sho?” He reluctantly pulled his keys out from his sweatpants pocket, dangling them in front of you in hopes that he could see your expression.

“He just did.” You try your best not to snatch them from him but your attempt fails. You just wanted to be out of there. Even pushing past Bakugou and Midoriya to exit the building and sit alone with your thoughts.

Selfish bastard. If he’d been thinking about this for so long why not just break up with you when he first told you? Why wait so fucking long for him to just break your heart when you did so much to salvage anything if things got bad? You hit your hand on the steering wheel so hard that the horn beeps and you sob more from the fright. You must’ve looked insane.

Kirishima arrived back at his car about 10 minutes later. Sliding out from the driver’s position to the passenger seat silently, you had at least cleaned yourself up a bit in the thought of knowing that he would soon be back.

“So, he told me.” Kirishima breaks the silence. Hands gripping the wheel with a nervous intent. Knowing it’s a very touchy subject.

“Yeah?”

“It’s gonna be fine y’know? At least he’s not like in your face or anything or you can’t awkwardly bump into him in the street.” His attempts to pick up the mood fall on deaf ears.

“He didn’t have to drag me along for the ride though.” Your tears slide down your face and pool on your neck, not even having the strength within you to wipe them away.

“Well we’re all here for you no matter what Y/N-“

“Can I go to yours for a bit? I know it’s early I just… don’t want to go back to the flat just yet.”

“Course you can.”

-

Staying at Kirishima’s became a regular thing. Not really being able to confine yourself to the four walls of the apartment you used to share with Shoto.

He’d let you sleep in his spare room, his gym equipment keeping you company in the night. It was a fine arrangement. Kirishima was always so nice to you when you were with Todoroki, and since your abrupt breakup; you had an inkling that Kirishima wasn’t on the best of terms with him anymore.

The barren walls and blankets kept you safe from old memories, but your mind followed through with the nightmares.

Your body shook from the antagonising scowl upon Todoroki’s face, it was terrifying but mostly upsetting. You couldn’t help but sob yourself awake. Your pillow a wet mess and your throat dry from screaming.

“Y/N?”

Kirishima stood in your doorway, the light from the hallway pooling around him and the sympathetic gaze in his tired eyes.

“Nightmares?”

You nodded, sitting yourself up in bed and wiping the wet from your cheeks. Kirishima sat on the edge of your bed, rubbing your leg comfortingly over the duvet.

“Do you need anything?” The tired croak in his voice broke your heart further. You felt like such a burden.

“No I’m okay; thank you.” With a small smile, Kirishima got up to go back to bed before you intervened. “Wait- will you stay with me?”

There’s a small glimmer of confusion that passes over Kirishima’s face, but in the end he accepts. You’d known each other for many years and had many sleepovers in each other's dorms that this was nothing new.

Taking off his dressing gown, Kirishima was dressed in a slightly ripped top of his own ‘Red Riot’ merch and loose-fitting boxers. It took you a few moments to drink him in, this really was the most intimate you’d ever seen him.

And that’s how it went for 5 months, just you and Kirishima periodically sleeping in each other's beds to just be with each other. Nothing explicit or sexual, just sometimes touching feet or waking up near enough in each other’s arms.

Until 2 weeks before Deku, Bakugou and Todoroki were meant to come home.

Whether it was the heat of the night or just an off day from not having been intimate for so long you couldn’t help but just need someone to touch you so badly. Thankfully Kirishima was in his room so you at least had some alone time to run your fingers against your slick folds, fingers sopping wet from just how aroused you actually were.

It was infuriating about how you could barely get yourself off, and stifling your moans with a weak lip bite was getting you absolutely nowhere. You knew how thin Kirishima’s walls could be from that night he brought a girl home once. You barely got a lick of sleep just from the noise… or from the slight twinge of jealousy.

Because it had become such a norm to you both, you hadn’t even noticed Kirishima enter your room with your eyelids pressed shut trying to picture any sort of scenario to get the edge off. So when you felt him tugging at your covers; your whole body turned to ice.

“Kiri wait-“

But it was far too late. He had no choice but to see the bottom half of you completely naked and drenched in your own slick.

“Oh fuck Y/N- I-I’m so sorry look I’ll go I should’ve knocked- fuck I’m sorry.” Even in the darkness of your room you could clearly see the blush on his face as if it was illuminative. You also couldn’t peel your eyes away from the rising tent in his sweatpants. You could’ve licked your lips at the sight.

“It’s alright- I’m sorry I didn’t notice you sooner.” You tried your best to catch your breath, with no real success as your tone was so ragged. You covered yourself up and place your hands on top of your covers; allowing for some form of minor stimulation to yourself without Kirishima noticing.

“D-Do you want me to help?” He sounded so innocent but the way he licked his lips sent chills to your spine. Could you really sleep with your best friend?

“I-I don’t know, but- you obviously need some help yourself.” You do your best to joke about the awkward situation, something that was rather natural for your friendship. Kirishima couldn’t help but slyly place his hands over his crotch despite you already noticing the dark grey patch of pre-cum staining the fabric.

“Well… we could just… masturbate together?” The thought hung in the air for a brief moment as it washed over the both of you, Kirishima gulping as the silence lasted longer than expected.

“Okay…” Your tone was hesitant but he could tell by how dilated your pupils were that this would probably be something neither of the two of you would mention in the morning. He’d be okay with that… maybe. Maybe not.

Sliding to his usual side of the bed, he leaned against the headboard and you sat yourself up a bit further. Pulling the covers to the side so everything was fully out in the open again. You could hear Kirishima hiss between his teeth at the sight of you even more drenched at the thought of you two doing this together. You watched with the same anticipation as him as he pulled his sweatpants down to let his cock spring free. The sight of it so red and flush couldn’t stop your hand from sliding back down to your heat.

Seeing the two of you like this was enough to get you both off, the room was filled with an air of silence but it wasn’t heavy. No, it was littered with the soft moans of you and your best friend.

Your eyes traced each other’s bodies as if you needed to discover every inch of each other with just your eyes. You’d seen Kirishima without his shirt many timesa time but you could practically beg for it just to see the way his muscles move as he pumped his cock. Kirishima gave you the same attentive look as he studied the way your fingers slid in and out of yourself.

After a few minutes of pleasure filled and moan ridden ecstasy; your hand began to cramp and the frustration of still not being able to get yourself off had tears streaming down your face.

“Fuck Kiri-“ You whined, hearing his name come out of your mouth was a sinful kiss to his ears. He wanted to hear it all the time.

“Yeah, me too princess.” He sounded so low it was basically a grunt of a sentence. “Do you want me to-?”

“Please.” He didn’t have to wait, you lifted away your tired hand from yourself and he slid along the bed to run his fingers up your slit. Just the feeling of another person touching you so intimately was enough to release the tension from your sore head, the scream released from your throat could’ve made him come undone right then and there.

“Just like that baby?” Kirishima’s calloused fingers danced delicately along your folds, squeezing ever so gently at your clit making your back arch. Your hand drifted along his midriff until it found the way to the bottom of his cock. He hissed at the feeling of your hand around him and his fingers stuttered against your core.

“Please, mmmf… need you in me.” You managed to choke out. Kirishima didn’t need another sign as he plunged two fingers into your wet self. He set his hand just above your head, leaning down on you as you fisted his member at the same rate he thrusted his fingers in and out of you.

You both silently knew that it’d be too weird if you two actually had sex. You were just helping each other in a time of need.

Kirishima pressed his knuckles down on the spongy part of your insides, making your hand falter aagainst him before finding your way to pick up your pace again.

“Fuck fuck, Y/N- I’m so fucking close.” Kirishima forced the words out of his mouth as he watched you writhe in pleasure underneath him.

“Me too Kiri oh fuck-“ You could feel the coil tightening within you ready to burst and you felt him twitch beneath your hand.

“Fucking hell fuck Y/N I lo-.” The sound of him moaning as he came into your hand and parts of your stomach drowned out his sentence and the way he curled his fingers while inside of you was enough to also tip you over the edge, grabbing his shoulder with your free hand for a reason to ground you to reality.

Catching your breath, Kirishima slid away from above you. The reality of the situation almost settling in for the two of you. He lifted the waistband of his sweatpants up before pressing a chaste kiss on your head. He wished he would have lingered longer.

“I’ll get something to help you clean up.” He returned with two hot flannels, rubbing wherever his come had landed on you and using the other to wipe any sweat or where your slick had coated your thighs.

“Thank you Kirishima.” Your throat croaked from the pleasure of it all, Kirishima couldn’t help but give a short chuckle as he crawled into bed with you after throwing the flannels in the washing machine.

“I should be thanking you too.”

With that you both fell asleep, a little closer to each other than usual. But, what was he going to say before he got interrupted? You didn’t have time to think of that now.

-

Within two weeks, you and Kirishima had become a lot closer after your little ‘sexual altercation’. Your social media was flooded with photos of you and him going out to eat and going to the movies together and just dumb stuff you’d do at his apartment. So after 6 months of living on and off together; you two decided that you’d officially become roommates. Not a couple just… roommates.

“You gonna need any help or anything?” Kirishima smiled as you opened the door to your old apartment you used to share with Todoroki. Thankfully for the last time.

“Just go to work silly. I'm just grabbing the last of my stuff. It's nothing big, just clothes and ornaments.” You waver him off with a shake of your hand. “You gotta head to work and finish that paperwork.”

That earned a groan from him.

“I’d rather be manly and helpful to you.” He leaned his arm against the doorframe as you unlocked the door.

“Yeah? Well you can go and be manly and helpful to the public, I’ll see you later Kiri.” You smirk, he rolls his eyes. You parted with a small hug and you began to get started to clean up the final things in your old apartment with Todoroki.

It looked almost barren now, you didn’t realise how much of you was in this house and not him. He was always reserved, unlike Kirishima. Even though it was never a fully agreed upon thing that you were living with Kiri as you’d come back to this old house for most of the week- it didn’t feel like home. But it did with Kirishima.

You placed old bedcovers and old clothes into a cardboard box, humming to yourself at the glee of not being alone in the birdcage of your ex. You didn’t even hear the keys go in the door. It wasn’t until you were exiting your old shared bedroom with the box in hand did you notice him. You couldn’t help but drop the box as there was Todoroki, unchanged from the day he left you at that airport cafe.

“Y/N?”

“I was just leaving.”

“Leaving where? Where’ve all your things gone?” He couldn’t not help but notice your decorum missing, it brought life into the modern studio apartment.

“I don’t live here anymore Todoroki. I’m just getting my things and going home.” You attempt to save yourself the embarrassment of already dropping the box by spitting back with venom.

The look of confusion on the bicoloured man’s face was evident. You had no time to play his games.

“I live with Kirishima, I’m getting the last of my things. I didn’t even realise you’d be home today.” You sigh. Though, maybe you subconsciously did. Maybe you knew that he’d be home today and that’s why you decided today was the day you’d get the rest of your things.

“I thought you were getting a bit close.” Todoroki grumbled under his breath, but he knew you heard him. “Always on dates together, always at his house.”

The loud ‘hah’ you let out of your mouth was a jutter in the conversation, Todoroki was obviously taken aback.

“What’s it even to you? Why should you give a shit about my life when you just up and disappeared for 6 months on your own volition huh?” You spat despite your whole body shaking, you couldn’t have missed him right? “You left me alone even when I supported you, did all that shit to make sure we’d stay in contact and now you have the nerve to be jealous?”

His eyes scanned your face before watching you intently, crossing the space between you to finally stand in front of you. You could smell his cologne, citrus and sharp. You’d forgotten how much you missed that smell.

“I didn’t know how much I’d missed you Y/N.” You could feel his breath fan your face catching your own ever so slightly. “I missed you so fucking much baby.”

“Todoroki-“

“Come on baby tell me you didn’t miss me too.” His voice was so soft and sweet to your ears, you couldn’t even stop him from leaning in so close to your face.

“I-“ But before you could speak his lips had encapsulated yours, the box in your hands losing grip.

God had you missed his lips upon yours, you sunk into the kiss as if you had never slept and he was the comfiest bed on earth. He pushed the box from your hands and it landed to the floor with a large thud, taking you by surprise. Yet despite you breaking the kiss from the surprise he swooped you back to having his lips against yours once again.

Kicking the cardboard from the separation of the two of you, Todoroki pulled you close. Taking you in his arms and furthering the kiss. He’d gotten more toned in the months that he’d been gone, your hands dancing over his muscles which were taught against his jumper.

“I should’ve never fucking left you baby girl.” He moaned against your lips, hand to the back of your neck as he drank you in. “Never. I missed you so fucking much.”

Sliding his hands from your neck to your lower back until he reached your thighs, Todoroki pulled you up and you gripped onto his waist as if it was clockwork. How could you have ever thought about anyone else but him? Todoroki walked with ease with you around him to your old bedroom, and when he lay you on your bed it didn’t feel so small anymore.

Buzz Buzz

“Fuck- Shoto my phone,” You whined as Todoroki left nipping kisses down your neck, you shifted beneath him to grab your phone from your back pocket to only see Kirishima’s name flash before you. You could feel Shoto’s heterochromic gaze as the photo of you and Kirishima lit up the screen.

“Answer it-“ Todoroki’s voice was a commanding growl and by the way he squeezed your breasts roughly you couldn’t help but coincide. “Answer it, but be quiet.”

With a gulp you shakily clicked to answer the call and put it on speaker as Todoroki began to slide down your jeans.

“Hey Y/N! Look I know this is out of the blue and I’m at work but- I can’t just stop thinking about us and you know… what we did.” Kirishima’s voice rang through the phone and you feel that Todoroki’s eyes could have pierced through you right then and there.

“But I just think you know with everything we’ve been through together- god this is so not manly asking over the phone but… do you wanna go on a date sometime? I’ll take you out somewhere nice and proper.”

Todoroki rolled his hips into your clothed core after taking off your jeans and a moan threatened to erupt from your throat. Sliding your underwear down his fingers pressed against your wetness and slid down before he bent his head down licking a strip against your sensitive clit. He knew your body like the back of his hand- you missed his gentle touch.

“And I know it might be weird because of Todoroki but he broke up with you so it’s understandable right?” Todoroki’s grip on your thigh became tighter as he lapped your pussy you thought that if you bit your lip any harder it would surely bleed. “I talked with Bakugou about it and he didn’t exactly give the best advice but… I like you… a lot Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but let out a whimpering moan as Todoroki slipped his tongue inside of you and moved in and out of you slowly, relishing the small moans you made.

“Y/N? Are you there? You okay?”

Todoroki’s hand left your thigh and he sat up, allowing for his bulge to once again grind against your core. You gasp at the friction of his jeans against your sensitive clit.

“Y/N? Hello? Please tell me you’re alright?”

With a swift grab of your phone and a hand pressed to your lips; Todoroki began to basically growl back at Kirishima.

“She’s busy.”

Making a scene of pressing the end call button, Todoroki through your phone to the carpeted floor where it thankfully didn’t smash.

“Shoto!”

“So you’ve been messing about with Kirishima, baby?” You whimper at his words as he harshly presses his bulge against you. “Also, didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”

He grasps your chin with his forefinger and his thumb, placing a gentle kiss against your lips before bringing his other hand and slapping your ass hard. You wail at the contact which only gives Todoroki a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

“It was only once Shoto I promise-“

“Shh shh shh, your filthy mouth needs to be quiet baby girl.” Todoroki leans up from you and begins to unbuckle his belt painfully slowly. His hand gestures afterwards as if telling you to finish disrobing yourself by yourself. “I should’ve never left you, no one else gets to know that this pretty little pussy is mine and mine alone. Got that princess?”

He brings his belt to slap against your thigh when you don’t give him a reply immediately, to which you soon nod your head.

“Let me hear your words baby girl.” His hands slide down to his boxers, jerking himself off as if to tease you as you couldn’t fully picture how he was fisting his cock right now.

“I’m yours Shoto, nobody else’s. Only ever yours.” You’re a whimpering mess and you try to cling to him desperately. He lets out a low chuckle before pulling his boxers fully down and letting his cock spring free.

Todoroki settles himself in between your legs, savouring a taste of your slick before angling his body back up so you were face to face, leaving wet kisses down your neck but biting at all the sweet spots he knew too well.

“Gonna mark you so that everybody knows that you belong to me.” His voice whispered against your skin, the tip of his member prodding against your folds; sliding up and down against you for some friction.

Shoto made his way back up from your nipples to your mouth before pressing his lips against you hungrily. He settled his hips neatly against yours and you instinctively wrapped your thighs around him as he pushed inside of you. Moaning into the kiss with each thrust until he completely bottomed out inside of you. You felt so full and right, you were Todoroki’s.

“God princess I forgot how much you felt like you were made for me.” Todoroki grunts as he begins to set a pace for himself, entangling his hands in your hair and tugging slightly so he has free reign over your neck for every bite and mark he saw fit. “Isn’t that right baby?”

“Yes- fuck me Shoto I’m all yours.” You dig your nails into his back, hard enough to leave marks tomorrow. Shoto starts pistoning his hips into you and you both can’t help but groan at the friction of your two bodies melding together.

Shoto slides his hand up your body until he reached the small of your back, arching you at a deeper angle into him as he fucked you directly into the bed. The sound it made only added to the erotic symphony of your bedroom combined with your moans and the wet skin slapping together. You fist your hands into the sheets in fear of clawing Todoroki’s back any more and you swore you could’ve torn the covers.

“Does that feel good princess? Am I the only one who knows how to make you feel as good as this?” Todoroki’s laugh is almost sinister as he brings his right hand to your clit, making it drop in temperature just to see you squirm.

“You make me feel so fucking good Shoto- so full I only want you- I only need you. Fuck I’m gonna-“

“You gonna come for me princess? Gonna come all around my cock? Good girl, come on come for me.” He whispered into your neck, feeling you tighten around him. Your back arched even further as you came undone around him, pushing himself even further into you to feel you convulse against his cock.

“Shit Y/N!” He groans, absolutely exasperated as he comes inside of you. Letting hot spurts of come dribble out from your pussy. His hands slide from your sides and into your hands as intertwines your fingers together. Shoto catches his breath, his bicoloured hair stuck to his forehead with sweat as he leans into your chest- the two of your synchronising your breathing together.

“Did you miss that my baby? Miss me taking care of you like that?” Todoroki showers your fluttering body with kisses as he pulls himself out of you. Your heart raced but also the pang of guilt was there from the phone call from Kirishima.

“I missed you Sho.”

Todoroki took care of your heavily bruised body, apologising for the bruises upon your waist where he gripped you too tightly and covering you up tightly into your old bedsheets to lay together just like the old days.

However Kirishima was just glad he had a lock on his office door. He gripped his phone tightly in his hands after hearing your orgasm brought him to his own. The pretty profanities that fell out your mouth drove him insane. He’d have to seriously clean himself up after jacking off to your explicit moans from over the phone. Did Todoroki mean to hang up? He didn’t care right now, he just cared about good he could still make you feel.

He was going to make you his. Todoroki or not.

[papirlife]

Chipin’ In

Okay so I’ve had minimal exposure to this game from the start, and I only just finished the main quest line enough to get to Chipin In and I am SPEECHLESS. So please find my interpretation of chipin in from my V’s perspective. But feel free to comment because honestly I think it could really apply to any V’s out there and I like analyzing stuff. Fair warning this is LONG, you have been warned.

So in my canon game, by this point V and Johnny have worked together enough to build up a strong sense of camaraderie. While V never truly hated Johnny, even if they were wary of him at the start, what with their rough introduction, by this point, V’s started to tentatively trust him, and even rely on him in some situations. They’ve started to feel comfortable in his presence, and been more open with their thoughts, ideas, emotions because despite sharing a brain, they’ve still kept their guard up as best they can.

My V ( Vendetta) is a very distant person, they like keeping to themselves, they don’t like to drink because they hate being out of their senses, the only time they willingly touched alcohol was at Jackie’s funeral, as a way to honour him and pay their respects. Other than indulging in the occasional smoke, to settle their nerves and get Johnny to stop gripping so much they’re very reserved, solitary and not at all interested in such things.

So to have enough trust in Johnny after they realized he kept them safe when they blacked out and when he gave them his tags to allow him to take this step and settle his past once and for all, only for him to go and completely throw in their face sent them reeling.

They were scared outta their mind when they woke up in the motel room. V didn’t know where they were, the relic was acting up, they were half dressed, and their brain felt like it was gonna vibrate out of their skull. The only familiar thing they saw was Rogue, and that wasn’t really helpful because at this point they weren’t terribly fond of her. They respected her, and admired her skills but they ABSOLUTELY DID NOT wanna wake up in a shitty room with her looming over them.

When the pieces start falling together and the events of last night start coming back to them, V is just numb, and their not sure if it’s because of their emotions or if it’s because of the remains of whatever the hell Johnny swallowed the night prior. Either way when he makes an appearance V just wants him GONE, he’s the last person they wanna see. During their conversation in the motel, he’s shocked that they didn’t trust him still, and V is just...not having it because their trust in him before this wasn’t solid, giving him control had been as much of test for him as it was for them, and he blew it by violating their faith in him, lying to them not once but again and again and then violating their body despite knowing their reservations. And the fact, that he was being a prick when they woke, making it out to seem that THEY were the one’s overreacting, was just icing on the cake.

After the brief conversational the motel, V just gives him the silent treatment, they ignore him, they don’t acknowledge him, don’t turn in his direction if he shows up, they’re just on autopilot and the only thing they want is to go home.

V was FURIOUS; they were hurt, upset, frustrated, but they were also angry at themselves for trusting him. They get home, and just break down because they’re overwhelmed, the last few weeks have been rough and this was just the straw that broke the camel’s back and they feel like an idiot for it all. To top it off, they also have to acknowledge that they we’re starting to feel something FOR Johnny; not love, at least not yet, but that’s likely where it was headed and it just makes everything so much worse because V had tried to ignore those emotions up until now, and they had a suspicion that Johnny has as well but this episode brought everything to the surface and made them face it head on.

The best part is Johnny has a front row seat to all of this, and when V breaks, down he really starts to feel like shit too because it’s the first time in his life that he gets to the experience the emotion behind all the pain he caused not just to V but to everyone who dared to care about him, who tried to get through to him. And he hates it.

Eventually V, starts to become a little more clear headed, and then they start thinking and that’s when the doubts set in. They start doubting everything between them and Johnny, each interaction and conversation, every word he spoke to them at Pistis Sophia, the dog tags he gave them as a show his trust, his potential sacrifice, his regard for them and their safety, the friendship and sense of camaraderie they had built up together; all of it gets thrown out the window because now the the only thing V can think is “how much of it was a lie? How much has he manipulated me into helping him, liking him, agreeing with him? How much, if any of it was true?”

Because, in their mind, had he really cared about them, he would have been honest, upfront or he wouldn’t have done something like this in the first place regardless of wether it was intentional or not.

Meanwhile, Johnny’s freaking out, V’s not holding anything back, they’re letting him read their thoughts loud and clear because right now they could care less about anything he has to say to them and Johnny is freaking the fuck out because damn it, this isn’t what he wanted, this isn’t how it was supposed to go, that promise, the tags it was all true, and it’s all he can give them because he’s got nothing else to show them that he does care.

It’s when V gets up off the floor, and locks the tags away in a safe in their armory, that the panic sets in and Johnny is just going like fuckfuckfuckfuck.

When Rogue calls, after a whole day of not speaking to him or really anyone for that matter, Johnny fully expects V to call off the hunt on Smasher, and he knows that Rogue won’t go after him alone. But to his shock, V agrees and heads down to the Afterlife, to work out the details because they made him a promise and unlike him they inteended to keep it. And Johnny hopes to god that maybe yesterday was just a fluke, maybe they can just forget the whole thing, never talk about it again and just be normal.

But he knows in the back of his mind that that’s not gonna happen because while V is still keeping their end of the bargain, he can still feel how hurt they are because of him and this is just further confirmed because when Rogue’s presents them with the jacket, V thanks her, but asks if they can just leave it in the trunk for now. They continue to ignore him, and just try and get through the night as quickly as possible.

They’re trying to numb their emotions, numb the hurt. But it comes to a head during the confrontation with Grayson because V can’t ignore how they feel, they can’t pretend that they don’t care about Johnny, that they don’t care about his life, his mistakes, his past. That they don’t care and about what happened to him, or what will happen to him depending on how all this pans out. Which is why V gets defensive when Grayson starts talking crap, starts stalling or making a mockery of Johnny’s legacy.

And this is what kinda prompts Johnny to make an attempt to fix his mess, because up until now he fpthought that V likely hated him for what he’d done. But seeing them getting protective, defending him, gives him a little hope that maybe, just maybe he can salvage this.

When V gets into the Porsche and heads to the Oil Fields, when they hear the shear amount of pain and disappointment and remorse in Johnny’s, they mark his place in the field, and decide that while yes they’re hurt, they don’t hate him, they doubt they could ever hate him.

Some part of Johnny still hopes that he didn’t colossally fuck up, which is why he tentatively says that their friendship is the one thing he hasn’t managed to ruin but he knows he’s put a permanent dent in their relationship, which is why I think that if you choose not to confront him he thinks you’re being insincere, because throughout the whole quest, from every interaction they have together, you can tell that V is upset because of what happened, and he knows because they share an intimacy that could never hide this fact from him so if you suggest otherwise it feels like you’re just avoiding the elephant in the room.

But he recognizes his mistake after V points it out, he understands that he did them wrong, that he had no right to use them, use their body the way he did, and the dealbreaker here is that he recognizes it and he apologizes and asks them for a second chance. And V truly forgives him, because the apology in and of itself is a miracle, because the old Johnny would never even think to apologize, just let the wound sit and fester and ignore the emotional trauma that came with it. But this Johnny, the one here and now, has grown and he wants to set things right, with Rogue, with Kerry and especially with V. And V sees this, sees the remorse, hears his apology, and decides that yes, this Johnny deserves a second chance. And in my canon, this is a turning point in their relationship, and it’s where they start to develop something like love for each other, even if they don’t t realize it just yet.

[dragonswithjetpacks]

Theurgist

Chapter Three: A Night with the Magistrate

-dragonswithjetpacks

Summary:  Astarion chuckled, pulling another blade of grass from the ground and spinning it between his fingers. There was more to the woman in front of him. From what he had gathered, she had already given more than what she was willing to share. A warlock from Baldur’s Gate with a bag full of books and smirk full of secrets. He may have found decent company  in the most unexpected of places.

Read here on Ao3.

“A temple?” Shadowheart glowered behind her. “Are you sure?”

Ferelith climbed up the debris, her hands rough and hot from touching the hot fleshy walls. She brushed off the soot and looked down at the rubble below. Flames were still rolling, sending ash and smoke through the sky, now growing darker. They would have to find somewhere to camp soon. Which shouldn’t be to difficult considering there was fresh water nearby. Now that they had crossed the remains of the crash, it would be easier to find spot.

“I’m entirely sure,” she finally answered between thoughts, waiting for them to follow her up the path. “The architecture resembled something of the sort. I can’t imagine what other structure would be placed in the middle of nowhere. It’s not like it’s a bakery.”

“The luck we would have if it was,” Astarion sighed.

“Then there must be something in there that could help. Perhaps even shelter.”

Ferelith was partial to the idea. If they made it in time. “Let’s focus on what we can, first. It doesn’t look like we’ll have much-”

Her words drifted off as she stopped on the trail. There was a slight buzzing sound, like energy activating at a source. She turned, watching something flicker across a marking on the stone wall.

“What is it?” Shadowheart inquired as she grew closer.

“That glyph,” Ferelith cocked her head to the side to study it. “Sounds like someone’s using it.”

With a loud crack, a large hole twisting with energy opened against the stone. A wayward glyph, one that could be used to travel quickly. She was familiar with such means for transportation. Shadowheart jumped back, her mace already in hand. Ferelith lifted an arm out, holding her back in case whatever came through was not hostile. Though with the luck they had that day, the likelihood of something else trying to kill her was very high. It was a bit of a relief to find a man walking through to the other side, stepping lightly into the brush next to the path. He took one disbelieving look at Ferelith and gave a warm smile.

“You’re alive,” he said as the light flashed again, dismissing the portal. “That’s unexpected.”

“I’m sorry?” Ferelith approached, inquisitive to the nature of their newly appeared friend.

“Last I saw you, you were lying in a crucible’s worth of blood, an intellect devour nibbling at your ear. Glad to see my eyes deceive me.”

Ferelith shuttered at the thought of one of those walking brains near her head, but was somewhat relaxed by his friendly tone.

“I’m Gale,” he nodded. “Well met.”

“Ferelith,” she continued to watch him carefully, observing his stance. “Well met.”

There was a time in her life she had been surrounded by magic users of excellent caliber. And she had grown used to a certain aura they emitted. It was a mix between arcane energy and arrogance, always aggravating her as it made her feel less superior. Wizards were always assuming their magic was the only the kind that mattered. She was never fond of them. But she always knew one when she saw one. And Gale held his confidence at a level where she could not mistake him as anything but. His robes were even loud.

“You were on the ship, I presume?” she shifted.

“The very same,” he replied. “A traumatizing experience, if an instructive one.”

“An interesting way to put it,” Ferelith couldn’t help but chuckle. “By trauma I’m assuming you mean the worm that was forced into my eye?”

“Yes,” he pointed at her. “The ocular penetration by an illithid tadpole which will-”

There it was. The all knowing ramblings of a man who liked to overshare his intelligence. Typical and common in nearly every wizard she had met. Though, she could think of a few who were humble enough. Mostly those in the abjuration school. They were never that much fun, though. No, Ferelith was more attentive to listen to the words of the necromancers and their theories of the dead. Now they had some interesting thoughts.

“You’re staring at me like a Rashemi at a blackboard,” he said when he realized she was hardly listening. “You’re no wizard, are you?”

“No,” she crossed her arms. “I’m a warlock.”

“There’s a gust of Weave about you, but it’s a mere breeze.” he squinted at her. “I need a tempest. It’ll have to wait. The primary need is a healer. I take it you recall the insertion of the parasite?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Quite vividly.”

“Are you aware that after a period of excruciating gestation, it will turn us into mind flayers? A process known as ceremorphosis?”

“I am aware of that, yes,” she noted the intensity in his voice.

“It is to be avoided,” he said firmly, his eyes shifted from her to the other companions. “I assume you’re no accomplished healer, either? A powerful cleric maybe?”

“It seems you’re out of luck. We’re all in the same predicament as yourself.”

“Well, we’re all in a whole lot of trouble. We need help and I’m not sure where we’ll find any in this wilderness. How about we embark on the quest for a healer together?”

“We have been looking for others,” she glanced back to her other companions. “So I imagine that’s just the plan we had envisioned.”

“Most excellent!” he proclaimed, a bit more excited than she had anticipated. “Then without further ado, let’s be off. Besides, it looks like you keep some interesting company.”

His gaze fell back onto Shadowheart, biting the corner of her lip with a menacing glare.

“A woman with shadows for eyes- deep as the Darklake. A pleasure, madam.”

“Is it, indeed?” she tilted her head with a mocking tone. “We’ll see.”

Astarion snicked, remaining hidden behind the two women. Ferelith looked back to cast a look of disappointment, but it hardly phased him. She turned back to Gale, the wizard with the optimistic grin. He would be useful. And if anything other than, he would at least bring some positive musings to their solemn thoughts. Even if those musings were just the truth spoken in a happy manner.

“We were just headed up the hill to the ruins,” she motioned. “We were looking to see if perhaps there were supplies we could scavenge.”

“The ruins?” he looked in the direction she was pointing. “The old temple, yes.”

Ferelith took another look behind as if her eyes would tell the others that she had been right on her earlier assumption.

“I took a peak during my rounds. Looks like the place is covered with bandits.”

“Which means there’s supplies,” Shadowheart stepped closer.

Ferelith turned to her at her left shoulder. “We’ll have to prepare for a fight.”

“Prepare for a fight? You’re going to raid the bandit camp?” Gale looked at them with surprise.

“It’s them or us,” Shadowheart shrugged.

“We can try to ask nicely, I suppose,” Ferelith smirked. “But something tells me they won’t be willing to share.”

“This is going to interesting,” Astarion smirked, his enthusiasm rising in the two women whom he it seems he had not judged fairly.

“Let’s just assess the situation when we get there,” Gale raised his hands, clearly not anticipating a battle ready party so soon.

“He’s right,” Ferelith came to reason. “We should make camp, first. Somewhere close to the water? I’d like to wash this soot from my face.”

“We should head back, then,” Shadowheart agreed.

“Yes, I think I saw a nice bank to camp on from the cliff side. Shall we?”

With the sun setting and weary bodies, the party had agreed to settle on a flat surface near the river. There was enough sand to make the ground soft. And enough dead wood to create a fire. Gale was gracious enough to provide flames while everyone helped collect wood. There was little they had salvaged from the wreckage, but Ferelith and Shadowheart managed to pull together a few bedrolls from the fishermen they had looted earlier that day. They all pooled their findings together to create a meal of bread, cheese, and two apples. Ferelith was even pleased to find she had a few leaves left in her apron to make tea. If only she had a kettle. Feeling around her waste for her belt, she found the component bag which had remained empty. She placed the leaves inside, deciding there would be another time she would need it.

"So," a voice approaching from behind. "We're resting here? Turning in for the night?"

She stood up to face Astarion who seemed a bit uncomfortable if not distraught. He not only seemed worried, but he was shifting as he stood in front of her. As if he were too embarrassed to say what was honestly on his mind.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, trying to catch his veering glances.

“No, not at all,” he smiled, appearing grateful, but unconvincing.

“It’s nothing what you’re used to in Baldur’s Gate, I’m sure. But it’s a lovely spot.”

Ferelith looked about. It had been a long time since she camped in the wilderness. Truth be told, she would consider it one of the best campsites she had rested in. There may not have been beds or tents, but the sound of the river nearby was calming. There was a waterfall close. A ruin to other side. And a group of rocks and logs to provide seating and shelter.

"I suppose," he said politely, noticing her admiring looks around the scenery. "I'm not sure what I expected, really. This is all a little new."

She couldn't help but feel some satisfaction from his suffering. A noble forced to sleep on the ground. It was nice to have some sort of entertainment for the evening. Still, he appeared not to be completely broken about it. She imagined if he was truly upset about the matter, he would be demanding more bedrolls. And for that, she was somewhat impressed by his humility.

"You mentioned you were from the city as well,” he went on. “The night for us normally means bustling streets... bursting taverns..."

His eyes narrowed a bit, searching her face for a sudden realization. But... there was none. Ferelith had not recalled their run in whatsoever. The illithid must have cleared the memory of his face when he mind controlled her. It made having to explain himself nonexistent. And it made smoothing her over all the more obtainable.

"Curling up in the dirt and resting is... a little novel," he went on with a sigh.

"You're being terribly polite for not having much a choice," she crossed her arms.

Again, he saw the hint of tease in her nature. She was going to be fun. A challenge... but fun... He smiled.

"You expected me to be rude?" he questioned, impersonating someone who was hurt. "No, I won't complain. Not while everything remains unsettled."

"Agreed. Not that I want to hear your complaints. But we should get some rest so we can catch up on that unsettled business in the morning."

"I'm in no place to rest yet," he raised his brow. "Today has been... a lot. I need some time to think things through. To process this. You rest. I'll keep watch."

There was something ominous about the idea of resting in the midst of three complete strangers. Her perception had not failed her yet, but it seemed odd to put her life in the hands of someone who had tried to stab her just hours before.

“I’m afraid I won’t be needing much rest,” she stated. “Besides, I’m not so eager to completely trust any of you just yet.”

There was a pause as the two elves stared at one another, as if two predators had spotted each other from across an empty field. It created a tension that could crack the moment it was disturbed. Or could wither away with a simple word. Astarion plotted his next statement carefully, as he knew if he went about it the wrong way, she would never learn to trust him at all.

"You know,” he leaned forward, “if you wanted to spend time with me, you only have to say so."

The drop in his tone during the last few words caused Ferelith's expression to drop. In most occasions, she did very well to conceal her emotions. But the audacity of this man was enough to change that. The familiar flutter in her chest had returned. And she was not so willing to bury it this time. Her jaw had nearly dropped open, but the long pause gave her away.

"But suit yourself," Astarion said smugly. "I'm sure we'll drift off at some point."

"Yes, well," she closed her mouth and shook her head, looking down into her book. "I've got work to do... with this..."

"Good evening, then," he gave a slight nod before he sauntered back across the fire.

As she rummaged through notes she had written that day and the small black leather book she clung to tightly, she couldn't help but feel she was circling back to an unanswered question. There was still no word from her patron. She was lucky she could even still feel him. And as the night grew quieter, she could hear the feint whispers in the back of her head. They were only causing more distractions. As if the occasional on looking eyes were not enough. Looking up from her book, she glanced to Astarion, picking grass and throwing it to the fire. They really were the only ones awake. Then again, they were the only ones who did not need to sleep.

"Is there something you need?" he asked, catching her staring.

"No," she replied, looking back down to her book.

“You look like you need a break,” he suggested, crossing his legs.

Ferelith sat up, stretching her lower back as she pushed her chest out. “What is it they say? No rest for the wicked?”

Astarion chuckled, pulling another blade of grass from the ground and spinning it between his fingers. There was more to the woman in front of him. From what he had gathered, she had already given more than what she was willing to share. A warlock from Baldur’s Gate with a bag full of books and smirk full of secrets. He may have found decent company in the most unexpected of places.

“If that’s the case, you and I have a long night ahead of us.”

“Long nights never bothered me,” she placed her hands on her lap. “What about you? What were your long nights like back in Baldur’s Gate? Other than those bursting taverns.”

He felt a tightening in his chest at there may have been a hint of recognition. “There were nights spent outside of taverns.”

“I see,” she nodded at his quick dismissal. “Likely filled with entertainers and wine, then.”

“Not always,” he shrugged, picking the grass apart just as he did the one before. “Some nights were spent studying. Much like yourself.”

“A scholar,” she shook her head in jest.

“A magistrate,” he corrected. “It was all rather tedious.”

“Oh,” she brought a hand to her chest. “Excuse me, then. I must apologize. I didn’t realize I was in the company of someone so formal.”

Astarion sneered from across the fire, remembering that she had been in the upper district when they crossed paths. “You know,” he inhaled, holding his breath for a moment while he contemplated her remark. “Something tells me you’re not so humble, yourself.”

“I’m quite proud of my work,” she blinked. “And I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“You carry yourself with a strange sense of power,” he glared at her now, as if he were searching beyond what her face would show. “Something greater than pride. You wouldn’t happen to be familiar with the nobility of Baldur’s Gate, would you?”

Her heart sunk as her mind began to search her memories for his face. There were none. She was certain she had never met this man before. But his in-sinuous tone told her otherwise. If he was asking, it only meant he was unsure of himself. And if she gave him the answer he desired, it would mean she was admitting to something she was not certain she was guilty of. Whatever the case, she remained firm in her decision to remain as unapproachable as possible.

“I can’t say that I am,” she lied.

“That’s disappointing,” he threw the rest of what was left in his hand into the flames. “You seem like someone I would have acquainted myself with.”

A commendation cloaking the questions of an obvious interrogator. She knew the tactic and dismissed it, taking it only as a backhanded compliment. Turning her attention back to work to ignore his presence, she began to scratch more useless notes across the paper. Anything to keep her from talking to him further. Her heart began to pound against her chest. And again, she tried to recall the memories of Baldur’s Gate. Even as far back as her time in Neverwinter. But not a thought was found for a handsome white haired magistrate. She was sure she would have noticed.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said softly when she had been quiet for a few minutes. “These are strange times and I find myself in need of… a friend.”

Ferelith couldn’t help but feel he was looking in the wrong the direction. Still, she looked up with interest to find he had rose to his feet, towering over the flames and looking down at her.

“Those are not so easily acquired,” she retorted.

“Weeeell,” there was a shift in his brow, “if you ever warm up to the idea, I’ll be here. For now, I think I’ll take my leave to admire the night. I’m growing ever more anxious for the sun to rise.”

Ferelith said not a word as he strode off toward the ruin. She watched as he hesitated crossing the log, but found his footing to be rather graceful as he strut across it. He was being very careful. Not just about the river, but about how he was speaking to her. There were too many blank spaces that she could fill detailing what he could be hiding from her. That, of course, was also due to her the charade of what she was keeping to herself. And with that distracting her from any more work, she shut her book with the conclusion that she needed rest more than she needed answers. She was anxious now, as well.

[transxfiles]

Love Like You by two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat | @homeworkforpigeons

“Jane Kirk is sixteen, a sophomore at the Riverside public high school, and she’s never left Iowa. Not really. Visits to Starfleet California with her mom when she was a toddler don’t count, and   she doesn’t let herself think about Tarsus at all. To be honest, she’s rather blocked out most of Tarsus - they tell her it’s the Human brain’s reaction to stress, fight-or-flight scenarios. But even though some of her memories might not be great, she knows she’s never met a Vulcan before.

Right now, there’s a Vulcan standing right next to her on the sidewalk.

And God, she’s pretty.”

Word Count: 4210

Find this fic on AO3

The alarm’s ringing again. Loud enough to wake her up.

She doesn't want to wake up. She never wants to wake up.

“Fuck,” she mutters, kicking her covers away and rolling out of bed. She doesn’t really have any reason to be upset, other than being woken up early - but she’s the one who set the alarm, so really, she shouldn’t be that frustrated at all.

“Stupid past me,” she mutters. “Jane Tiberius Kirk of last night, what were you thinking?”

Jane Kirk is sixteen years old. Practically an adult, she thinks, as most teenagers often do. Of course, Jane’s thoughts are a bit more justified, in this department. Raising yourself will do that to you. After your Dad dies on the day of your birth, and your Mom remarries an asshole and then abandons you, and then your brother ditches you on top of it all, you start to make your own breakfast and fold your own socks and make your own deadlines and shit. It happens.

Every day during the school year she wakes up like this, to the pinging of her alarm

She didn’t used to be like this; preferred sleeping in, getting to school an hour or two late. Sometimes not going at all. But a shitty report card gave Frank yet another excuse to call her a waste of space, and was the final tipping point for shipping her away for good.

(Tarsus… wasn’t great. To put it very, very vaguely. She was sent there at fourteen by a stepfather desperate to get rid of her, and she’s determined to never, ever go back. She knows it’s over, now, knows it can’t hurt her. That’s what the therapist told her. But it’s still there.)

It’s not the first day of school today, thank God. Just another mid-year one. A day of no importance. It’s almost insignificant enough that Jane might just consider skipping, except she knows she can’t skip, not after what happened on Tarsus two years ago. So she opens one of her dresser drawers and fishes around for clothes.

Jane Kirk is sixteen. She cuts her own hair with her mom’s bad kitchen scissors (she wouldn’t use Winona’s good ones, wouldn’t do that to her) cuts it short short short like she likes it, and she wears shitty t-shirts old enough to be considered precious artifacts if they weren’t so goddamn ratty. They say things like ‘Beastie Boys’ and ‘Talking Heads' and she even has one that says ‘Nine Inch Nails’. Old bands, from the 20th century or so, that are loud or angry enough to suit her just right, but old enough to be free online.

She gets dressed, grabs her backpack and her school PADD, running out the door and letting it slam behind her. She could technically be driving to school (she’s old enough by now - technically she won’t be able to get her real license until she’s seventeen, but sixteen is old enough for a permit, which could get her to and from school no problem) but Frank told her to fuck off after she kinda sorta drove his precious sports care off a cliff.

She doesn’t even regret it, not really, not even as she finds herself walking alongside the dusty Riverside highway.

It was damn fun to drive that car off a cliff. Fuck Frank.

-

Jane Kirk is sixteen, a sophomore at the Riverside public high school, and she’s never left Iowa. Not really. Visits to Starfleet California with her mom when she was a toddler don’t count, and   she doesn’t let herself think about Tarsus at all. To be honest, she’s rather blocked out most of Tarsus - they tell her it’s the Human brain’s reaction to stress, fight-or-flight scenarios. But even though some of her memories might not be great, she knows she’s never met a Vulcan before.

Right now, there’s a Vulcan standing right next to her on the sidewalk.

And God, she’s pretty.

“‘M Jane,” she says. Trying to make conversation. “You waiting for the bus?”

The Vulcan’s eyes are intelligent, scanning her up and down, noting her backpack and the PADD in her hand, but no response comes. Jane realizes, for the first time, that she might not understand Standard. Which would be a bit odd - most people understand Standard, especially if they plan on visiting some middle-of-nowhere Terran dump like Riverside. But Jane’s never met a Vulcan, doesn’t know much about them. Their culture, their customs. It’s quite possible this girl never learned Standard at all, has never heard it before now (however unlikely that may be).

So Jane tries again.

“You going on the bus?” She asks, again, pointing to the little scrap of metal that’s a lousy excuse for a sign, the only indicator of there being a bus stop here.

The Vulcan girl looks at her. Barely nods - though the nod is there, that small sign of understanding, and Jane’s grateful for that.

“Neat,” says Jane. “I’m, uh, catching a ride to school.”

The girl says something in response, but it comes out awkward and quiet. Jane can’t tell what language it was meant to be, though she has some hunch it was an attempt at Standard. She’s really wishing she’d stolen some translator tech from school, now. She’d thought about it, before, but never had much use for it.

“I’m Jane,” Jane says, again, trying to salvage whatever it is that currently feels like it’s crashing straight into the ground right now. “Dunno if you caught that, before.”

She seems to understand what Jane’s saying, now, at least enough to know the name.

“I am Spock,” she says, Standard broken and heavily accented, pointing to herself.

“Nice to meet you Spock,” Jane says, for some reason unable to stop herself from grinning. “Welcome to hell.”

-

Spock seems to be around her age, though can’t say for sure - Jane has a hard time understanding specifics through the language barrier problem, and she’s never met a Vulcan before. She doesn’t know how the whole aging thing works with them.

Spock’s tall and wiry and absolutely stunning. She wears too-big sweaters, probably hand-knit by a parent, and bright purplish-blue eye makeup that Jane’s pretty sure doesn’t really fit the Vulcan norm. She seems clever, incredibly clever, which would make sense; Jane’s heard that Vulcans are insanely smart, eidetic memory or something like that. She’s sure it’s true; she can see it in Spock’s eyes. She’s intelligent.

Of course Jane wants to know everything about her.

But Spock doesn’t seem to speak much Standard, and Jane doesn’t know any Vulcan.

She doesn’t understand a word she says.

-

The bus arrives, they get on it, and when Jane sits down, Spock takes the seat beside her, back completely straight, hands folded neatly in her lap. Jane takes it as a good sign, and spends the bus ride to school rambling on and on about new research that’s come out in transporter tech, how they haven’t quite figured out the way to transport people long distances yet but they’re getting better, how she thinks she might know where they’re going wrong and how to fix it, and she tells Spock, and Spock listens, and no one’s listened to Jane in a long, long time.

They get off the bus and they go to school and it turns out that Spock’s in all the advanced classes, which is great, because Jane’s in the advanced classes, too. She wonders what the fuck Spock’s doing here, how she can manage in school when she barely knows the language, why anyone would even want to come to Riverside in the first place. But she doesn’t ask, because she’s not sure how well Spock would understand, anyway, and then it’s evening and Jane’s taking the bus home and she’s on her bed and on her PADD and stealing textbooks off the Internet. It’s not that hard, really; most of the time she doesn’t even have to hack the stuff herself. Someone else has done it for her, a similarly desperate student with no cash and no way to keep up in class without a textbook. Finding one that’ll assist her in this specific area of study proves a bit harder, but eventually she finds a website (passcode protected, membership required) and she gets past all that shit with ease, and she downloads what she’s looking for.

Jane Kirk is sixteen, and she’s smart, damn smart, and she considers herself pretty good with languages. But Vulcan is fucking hard. And for her, it shouldn’t be. She conquered most of Earth’s predominant languages within the span of a year, and she picked up SSL (Standard Sign Language) within a week. She can do Orion (quite a few dialects), Tellaran, even a bit of Klingon (which means she can introduce herself and say dick and fuck off and other such choice phrases). But Vulcan?

Vulcan’s a bitch.

(She means this in the nicest way, of course.)

She picks up her PADD, new textbook just downloaded, and she finds it almost impossible to get through. She can’t even really explain why. Maybe it’s just the general syntax that’s fucking her up. That’s happened before. Could be that the language is just nearly impossible for Human vocal chords to manage, in which case this would all be yet another lost cause. But she digs a bit deeper and finds out that, though broken, she might be able to get out something understandable.

She skips all lessons on written Vulcan; she won’t need that. She’s looking for the more practical uses. Conversational type stuff. She looks into phonetics, watching videos of spoken Vulcan.

She’s up until maybe 3AM, and she realizes she ought to get at least a bit of sleep before the sun rises again. She didn’t even realize the time until she looked to the top of her PADD. She’s never been good at noticing time passing when she’s caught up in something like this. But once she realizes she only has four hours at most to get some sleep in, she turns of her light and tucks her PADD away.

Jane’s sixteen. She’s tired, but she can’t seem to fall asleep. She thinks she’s in love with Spock. She realizes, for the first time, that she has no idea what love is.

-

They see each other all the time, thanks to school. It’s great. Before Spock, Jane really had no one. If they were down a person in Chem, she’d go without a lab partner. She worked by herself on History presentations, never went to study groups. Arguably never needed study groups, based on some of her recent test scores, but still, the socialization would have been nice. When she really wanted company, she stopped by the local bar. She was technically a minor, yeah, but the town was small and no one cared. It was unhealthy and far from safe, she knows that, but it was where she could go.

But now, she’s got Spock, and she doesn’t really do any of that anymore.

They stick to each other, through the school day, then before and after it. Hanging out under trees or in the wide open spaces between farms that no one really goes anymore. They’re walking through one of the empty fields right now, and Jane has her eyes on a gnarled old tree to climb. Spock doesn’t climb trees, so Jane’ll probably have to go on by herself, but she knows that Spock will be happy to stand and watch, talk maybe. It’s been a few weeks, now; they’ve both been getting better at communicating.

Jane points at the tree in the distance, question in her eyes.

Spock nods, and they begin to walk towards it. As soon as they reach the base of the tree Jane’s climbing, one branch, then another, up and up, glancing down every once and awhile to check that Spock’s still there.

Jane notices that Spock’s wearing one of those sweaters again. Spock’s always wearing sweaters.

“Ko-mekh?” Asks Jane, pointing at the sweater. Mother? She’s been meaning to ask about it, and hopes Spock’s able to understand; Jane’s Vulcan isn’t perfect, but she just finished up the chapter on family and interpersonal relations last night, and she’s feeling pretty good in that area.

Spock nods. “Gift,” she says, in Standard. “Hanukkah.”

“Oh! You’re Jewish!” Jane smiles. “Me too. My family's not really practicing though...” ...because my dad died and my mom's never home, she thinks, but doesn't say it out loud. She reaches for another branch just above her, only to find it the slightest bit out of reach. With a grunt, she jumps, grabbing at it with both hands and swinging herself around until she’s successfully made it up another level. Jane’s grinning, looking down at Spock who’s looking a bit smaller now. “Taller than you,” she says.

The Vulcan’s raising her eyebrow again. “Riyeht.” Incorrect.

“Not when I’m in a tree.”

Spock sighs, says something in Vulcan that probably translates to ‘Silly Human.’ Jane makes a mental note to look that up when she gets back to her house tonight. Figures it’ll be useful to know.

-

Jane’s sixteen, and tall enough for her age, and strong from working in the fields every summer. Strong enough to hold her own against Frank, even if she can’t really fight back.  It’s fine, thought; Frank doesn’t hit her so much, anymore. She doesn’t know why. Might have something to do with Tarsus, or something to do with her getting older. She tries not to think about it. She still keeps her door locked at night.

When she sneaks back into the house this evening, she finds him passed out on the couch. He smells like shit - she plugs her nose as she walks past him, resigning herself to a shower as soon as she gets upstairs, just to get rid of the lingering stench. Done with the shower, she collapses onto her bed wearing the first clean clothes she can find (which in this case is a pair of jeans and a tank top), weary, eyes closed as she fishes around blindly for her PADD. As soon as she finds it, she opens her eyes, and flips through one of the Standard-Vulcan dictionaries she’s been using for reference.

If she’s reading it right, ‘Silly Human’ would be Duh-komihn. She flips a few more pages, but she can’t find a term for ‘Silly Vulcan’. She wants to call Spock now, but Frank could hear; the walls are thinner than they seem. She doesn't want to risk that. She’ll have to bring it up with Spock later. They're doing some project or another together in Chem, and they're meeting up for it tomorrow. She'll ask her about it then.

-

They’re getting better at communicating with each other.

It's useful for a variety of reasons - for one, Jane can understand Vulcan, and she knows for a fact that Spock isn't making fun of her all the time, which is a bit of a relief. And now Spock knows how much Jane swears, which is probably for the better, because hey, that's important shit to know. Jane asks her what the Vulcan word is for 'Silly Vulcan' after explaining her 'Silly Human' research. Spock tells her that they don't say 'Silly Vulcan' because Vulcans are incapable of being silly (or at least, that's what Jane thinks Spock tells her - she's still not the best at Vulcan, after all). Jane says that she doesn't think that's true, and Spock struggles to maintain her cold Vulcan facade, so so tempted to stick her tongue out at the duh-komihn.

"Vulcans do not lie," Spock mutters.

Jane keeps a list of the new things she’s learned about Spock. Right now, it looks something like this:

Good at chess.

Jewish

Human mother?

(Maybe) exchange student

Could theoretically climb trees but won’t because of ‘Surak’s Teachings’ or something like that.

Meditates

Enjoys ‘Narat do-toh’? NOTE: Vulcan game, like hide-and-seek

Can't lie - but that's obviously a lie. Yeah.

“What you writing?” Spock asks, after catching Jane adding something to the ever-growing list in her school notebook.

“Nirsh apc’koik du,” she says. No business you. She cringes at herself; she definitely butchered that. She was trying to say something along the lines of Not your business but she’s pretty sure she just completely screwed up.

Spock grabs the notebook, eyes skimming the page with superhuman speed. She raises an eyebrow, passing it back to Jane.

“List?”

“Oh quiet you.”

The corner of the Vulcan's mouth twitches in that way that's basically her version of a smirk. "A me list."

-

Jane's sixteen. She's smart, smarter than most sixteen-year-olds are, though she couldn't explain why. She likes coding (specifically hacking, though she's been told by multiple people that that's not technically legal) and learning languages and even the rare History lesson here or there. But she absolutely despises studying.

“Spock,” Jane whines, throwing herself across the desk. “When’re we gonna go?”

They’ve been cooped up in one of the far corners of the school’s (very, very, small) library for hours now. She’s honestly amazed it hasn’t closed on them yet, especially taking into account the annoyed looks the librarian won't stop shooting them. After her latest stink-eye, Jane thinks that they’re a minutes away from being forcefully booted. Not that it’ll deter Spock; whatever it is she’s currently researching, the Vulcan seems keen to continue until midnight if she must.

“Come on, look at me.” Jane tapped Spock’s shoulder.

Spock’s head snaps up, eyes locking on hers. Vulcans aren’t meant to show emotion, Jane’s heard, but the frustration in Spock’s eyes is clear.

“Listen. The librarian’s gonna kick us out any second now.” Jane’s gaze strays back to the angry woman at the front of the library, and she suddenly remembers every sin she’s committed in its vicinity (pre-Tarsus, of course, but still) and she gets a bit more anxious. “We really should go soon. Soon as in now. And don’t play dumb or anything because I know you’re smart and can read body language and understand at least a tenth of what I’m saying because we’re good at understanding each other.”

Spock runs a hand through her uncharacteristically mussed black hair.

“Ashal-veh…” she sighs, obviously tired. Spock mutters some other words in Vulcan, too, with the odd Standard phrase thrown in (she’s picked up a few of those - full immersion will do that to you). Jane opts not to listen; sleep-deprived ramblings tend not to be the most coherent, and it’s not really worth her trouble, anyway, since she barely speaks the language.

Jane raises an eyebrow. She’s been practicing, working on it in front of a mirror, trying to do it the way Spock can. She knows she’s not nearly as good as Spock, yet, but she’s sure that once she finally gets it down it’ll be hilarious. “You must be more exhausted than I thought. You don’t normally slip into Vulcan when we’re at school.” Jane paused. “Didja get enough sleep last night?”

Spock gives her that look of Stop questioning me or I will kill you.

“So that’s a no.”

Spock mutters something else, but Jane doesn’t catch it.

“Y’know, I’m pretty sure killing people is against Surak’s teachings,” Jane says, hands falling to the pockets of her jeans.

At this, Spock lifts the corner of her mouth ever-so-slightly - the closest Vulcans seemed to get to a smile.

“Now come on, you,” Jane says, tugging at the sleeve of Spock’s sweater. “School’s over. Come on now. Out of the library, we’re getting you home.”

“But-” Spock says, switching back to her accented Standard.

“I.” Says Jane, Vulcan sharp in her mouth as the librarian glares at them once again. Now.

-

Jane's house is empty today. Frank's gone out somewhere, work, she thinks, not investigating further. So she brings Spock over, because she can, because she wants to.

Jane's sixteen. She's bored. She's in love with her best friend, and and she wants to invite her over.

They go in through the back door, the one with the tattered old screen over it to keep bugs away. It squeaks when it opens, but they never oil the hinges. Jane doesn't have the time and Frank doesn't give a shit, and Winona's never home to hear it, so they leave it be. Jane walks into the kitchen, tile cool beneath her feet (a relief after the outside heat) and Spock follows her silently. Spock's very quiet in the way she moves - almost cat-like, though Jane's never really spent time with cats before. She thinks this is what they're like. She thinks it's a bit funny.

They hurry up the stairs to Jane's room, not wanting to spend time in the rest of the house. Even when Frank's not home something about being in any of the main rooms just feels a bit off. Jane's room is better; cleaner (though the bar for that is so low, it may as well be on the ground) and it smells a bit nicer than the rest of the house, especially when she opens the window, and she has a little old-fashioned radio that she turns on when they walk in the room. She gets a few stations in, up here, mostly the local ones that play mediocre music and report on news and sports and things. She turns the dial until she finds a station that doesn't sound like it's being eaten by static. There's a song playing on the radio, quiet and sweet, the lyrics about love or something like that. Jane's not listening to it too much.

“You ever been dancing, Spock?”

She raises an eyebrow, mutters something in Vulcan, feigns annoyance. But Jane knows her well enough, now, and she knows that Spock's just avoiding the question.

"Okay," Jane says, thinking. "Well, would you like to dance with me?"

Spock considers this for a moment, the same way she thinks through difficult test questions, or how she acts after she's just learned another odd Terran phrase. After a moment's thought, she nods. Jane reaches out to grab her shoulders, and Spock puts her hands on Jane's waste. They don't hold hands; Jane doesn't really know why, yet, but she knows it's not something Spock's too keen on. And then they're dancing, just a little, slowly and a bit awkwardly, the music coming from the radio washing over them, floating out the open window on a breeze.

“Ashel-veh?” Jane whispers, knowing that Spock can hear her.

“You looked up the meaning?” Spock asks. Her Standard’s gotten better, just like Jane’s Vulcan isn’t so bad anymore.

“It was a bit harder to find, I’ll give you that.” Jane’s voice holds amusement, soft and warm and happy. “Not in my textbook, or anything. But eventually I found it in a dictionary.”

“Hm.”

“You called me darling,” Jane says.

“Yes. And you just returned the favor.”

“Yes.”

They're quiet. They listen to the music, soft and sweet in the background. The air is warm and muggy around them. Jane's holding on to Spock, resting her head on her shoulder, and she never ever ever wants to let go.

-

The grass is soft beneath them, if a bit damp, and the field is wide and open and empty and the sky feels vast and endless. Technically, it is. But it's not something you notice too often, with the tall structures constantly on the horizon and people crowding up every space known to man. Right now, it's just them. They're laying down in the middle of the field. They're young and naive and untouchable. They're looking at the stars.

"Do you have constellations on Vulcan?" Jane asks.

Spock says something about how drawing pictures based on lights in the sky is illogical, even if one does not know that they are simply burning balls of gas in space. Jane laughs, and immediately starts to show Spock all of the constellations she knows, spinning the stories that go with them. Ursa Major and Minor, Leo, The Seven Sisters, Orion...

"Illogical," Spock says once more. It's becoming her favorite word in Standard.

(Jane's favorite Vulcan phrase is 'bath-paik' meaning 'damn you'. She thinks it's funny.)

The stars are bright and stunning out here, where the light pollution can’t touch them. Jane finds herself reaching for Spock’s hand. She’s surprised when Spock offers two fingers to her - her index and middle - and Jane mimics the movement, unsure of what it means, and they’re touching their fingers together.

“I’m gonna be a Captain someday,” she says, quietly. "Like my dad."

It’s the first time she’s ever said it out loud, and it sounds like a promise she’ll forget to keep. But Spock’s here with her, holding her hand, and she feels calm. Calm in a way she can’t quite explain.

Jane’s sixteen, Spock maybe a bit older, though not much. They spend the night watching the sky as stars and starships dance in the darkness. Jane sneaks back into her house later that evening, after she and Spock both realized they had to go home. She falls asleep quickly, feeling content. For the first time in a long time, she looks forward to waking up.

[dettiot]

Proof of Claim

Opposing Counsel | Case Law | Statute of Limitations | Amicus Curiae | Cause of Action | Precedent | De Novo | Discovery | Moot |  My Star Wars Fic Masterlist

Proof of claim:  A written statement describing the reason a debtor owes a creditor money, which typically sets forth the amount of money owed. 

Cursing all the gods on Earth and above, Ben dashed through the rain, running up the steps of his building. Of all the days for the skies to open up!

He was supposed to be picking up Satine in twenty minutes, but he was soaked and couldn’t help sneezing. He certainly hoped he wasn’t getting sick . . . he had so many plans for tonight . . . Plans that required proper preparation. 

Perhaps he should cancel? 

At the very least, he needed to call Satine and tell her he was going to be late. 

Ben tried to manage his disappointment at giving Satine any reason to be upset before he pulled his phone out of his briefcase. When she answered, he felt himself smiling, despite how bad his day had been. 

That was what told him that he loved her: how she made even his worst day better. 

“Hi, Ben,” she said, her voice warm. 

“Hello. I’m afraid I’m going to be late--I got caught up at the courthouse and then the rain . . .” 

“Oh, that’s all right. Take your time--or, wait, why don’t I just pick up some food and bring it over?” 

His heart started pounding at the idea of Satine in his home . . . at being able to prepare . . . 

“It’s really coming down out there--I’d hate for you to go out in that,” Ben said slowly. 

Satine let out a soft laugh. “You’re very sweet, but I won’t melt. I’ll be fine.” 

“Well, then . . . that would be wonderful,” Ben said. “What did you have in mind for dinner?”

“Thai? From that place I told you about, near my place?” 

Ben felt his shoulders relax. “Oooh, that sounds perfect. Chicken pad thai, please?” 

“I’ll see you in an hour,” she said, sounding happy and excited. 

They hung up and Ben felt his spirits rise. Not only did he have time to recover from his day--he could finish his preparations for tonight. 

And hope that Satine would respond in kind to his declaration of love. 

XXX

Just as she promised, Satine was there within an hour, holding a large bag and smiling at him from under her umbrella. 

“Come in, come in,” he said, taking the bag of food from her and stepping back. 

“Thank you,” she said, walking into his apartment and looking around as she closed her umbrella. 

Ben tried to look at his apartment through her eyes, but then had to stop as he grew nervous. 

“I’ll just take this into the kitchen and get it ready. Would you like some wine?” he asked. 

“I’d love some,” she said, walking into the living room, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood floors. 

Taking a few deep breaths, Ben carried the food into the kitchen and opened a bottle of red wine, letting it breathe as he plated the food. 

By the time everything was ready, Satine was walking into the kitchen, smiling at him. “I like your place.” 

“Oh? I’m glad,” he said, which was a massive understatement. 

She nodded and reached out, playing with the placket of his shirt. Then she looked up at him, her eyes soft, and he just . . . 

He had to kiss her.

Leaning in, Ben pressed his lips against hers, softly and tenderly. Without thought, his hands slid around her waist and pulled her in close to him. But it didn’t take long for the kiss to go from tender to heated. 

Somehow, he was able to pull away from her. “W-what--what about dinner? It’s getting cold.” 

A frown flickered across her face, her forehead wrinkling. “Ben . . .” she said slowly, before she gave her head a shake and stepped back. “All right.” 

It was clear something was bothering her, and Ben knew it had to to do with him. He swallowed and lifted the wine, pouring each of them a glass. He silently passed her a glass and took a healthy swallow from his own. With the liquid courage flowing through his veins, he said, “What’s wrong?” 

Satine took her own gulp, then looked at him. “Are you attracted to me?” 

“What?” he said, staring at her. 

“It’s a simple question, Ben. Are you attracted to me? Because it seems every time we’re kissing, when we’re on the verge of going farther--you stop. So perhaps you’re not attracted to me any longer, and I’d like to know that sooner rather than--” 

“I’m attracted to you,” Ben said, setting down his glass and stepping in towards her. “How--how could you think--?” 

He had to ask, because he really didn’t know how she could have gotten this so wrong. To think he wasn’t attracted to her! Couldn’t she tell how he felt? Couldn’t she see how hard he fought to keep his hands from roaming over her, from backing her up against the nearest wall and having his way with her . . .

Her eyes snapped with anger and annoyance. “What else am I supposed to think?” 

“Perhaps I want to treat you like a lady--to respect you,” Ben said, fumbling for words. Words that weren’t the ones he wanted to say. 

“Stop coddling me, Ben,” she said, stepping towards him. “I don’t need it--I don’t want it. I want to know exactly what you think--what you feel.” 

“Is that so?” he snapped, setting his hands on his hips. 

Stepping so close that her head tilted back, Satine glared at him. “Yes, it is! So tell me, Ben! Tell me why you keep pulling away.” 

“I love you, that’s why!” 

Oh . . . oh, this was not what he had planned. He was going to light a fire in the fireplace, serve her wine and fancy chocolates, and tell her how amazing and special and wonderful she was, and that was why he loved her. He hadn’t meant to blurt out his feelings in a moment of passion. 

And whatever Satine had been thinking, it seemed obvious she wasn’t expecting that. Because she was staring at him, her eyes wide and her lips parted. 

“I love you,” Ben repeated, trying to salvage this. The words were out now--he could at least prove he felt them. “I love your fire and drive, I love your committment and passion. I love how competitive you are, I love how smart you are. And I am ridiculously, utterly attracted to you. You don’t know how many cold showers I’ve taken since we started dating--no, since we became friends--and I just want to make love with you for hours.” 

By the time he finished speaking, he knew his face was red. But it wasn’t with embarrassment--it was with lust. And he just couldn’t wait to kiss her. 

Taking Satine by the waist, he pulled her in to kiss her. His mind, though, made him stop. 

“Satine?” he asked softly. 

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with life and energy. Her lips quirked in a soft smile. “I love you, too. So don’t stop, Ben.” 

And with that, Ben crushed his mouth against hers, turning them around and pushing her against the wall. She met his kiss, her mouth open and needy against his, and it was like the whole world stopped existing. 

It was just them. 

End.

[redhawtriot]

Caught in the Act: You and I (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

Hiiii bbys

Back by popular demand: The Sequel to Caught in the Act!

This story shifts perspective like a mother fucker so take some pepto-bismal and enjoy the ride. 

PS: You and I both have the same name

HnM 💕

What… just happened? You turned back around to face the door and placed your hand on the knob. You let it sit for a moment before you slowly retracted it, cursing under your breath. His soft, sad smile replayed in your mind over and over again as you stared at the handle—each run through of the scene causing you to fall deeper into uncertainty.

You had never seen him smile like that before. You had, of course, recently been exposed to a new, vulnerable side of him—raging and begging like a caged animal as you struggled to separate yourself from him, yet you had never seen him accept his defeat so solemnly. Actually, you had never seen him accept defeat in general. 

Your face settled into a hard expression.

Was he really going to be okay? Did he finally crack after everything? Maybe you should turn back around, just to make—

“Y/N!”

You jumped at the sudden voice before a set of familiar, firm hands were pat down on your shoulders, “Sorry! I am so sorry!” It was only Kirishima. You relaxed from your tense stance as he continued, “I didn’t know Bakugou had left the hospital, I swear! I would have never sent you here!” You whipped your head toward Kirishima’s frantic expression as he profusely apologized, clasping his hands together and praying for your forgiveness. His sudden appearance sent a jolt of realization into your being: Katsuki cheated on you—that’s why you left him.

That’s why he was feeling the way that he was now-- why you were feeling the terrible way you were now. 

No matter how much you wanted to make sure that he was okay, you needed to give yourself that pleasure first. You owed yourself at least that much after dealing with his bull shit for the past months.

You shook Kirishima off of your shoulders, startling him slightly; however, you sent him a reassuring smile, “You have to take care of him...” you didn’t mean for your voice to break toward the end of you sentence.

“W-what?”

“I…” You cleared your burning throat in an attempt to save your voice from cracking again,  “I can’t-- won’t take care of him anymore, so I need you to, okay?”

“O-okay. Well—uh. I-uh… I was not expecting that,” he nervously laughed—breaking himself off mid-chuckle to search your eyes for any distress signals, “You okay?” He had an eyebrow raised.

“I’ll be okay. Thank you so much Kiri,” You once again smiled at him before you made your way to your car.

“N-no problem, I guess… You are really not okay right? I feel like that is what I am gathering from this situation,” his eyes continued to dance across your expression in an analytical matter. 

“Don’t worry about me. You’ll have…” you signed a load of air that you hadn’t even realized had been stored within your heavy chest, “...a lot on your plate,” you finished before turning around to walk towards where you had left your car.

You could only manage a few heavy trundles before you felt strong arms wrap around you, “You’re solid, Y/N. I am so sorry you had to go through this, but if anyone can handle it, its you,” he whispered into your hair before placing a light, friendly kiss on your forehead, “Love you,” he bid his farewell as he pulled himself from you.

Kirishima watched as you made your way to your car to make sure you made it safely since it had grown dark outside. He noticed the tired way that your shoulders drooped as you walked. The dense man was never thought to be the most perceptive of the bunch—he knew this, but he swore that somewhere within your somber stance, was a hint of relief. It was as if your drooping form was due to a sudden weight being lifted off of you. You were only contoured to the emotional baggage that had weighted you down and soon, like the resilient, wonderful woman you were, you’d eventually mold back into yourself.

Kirishima felt the corners of his lips tug into a warm-hearted smile as he watched your car pull off—exchanging one more wave to you before you left.

It was bitter-sweet for sure. After all, who knows when the next time he’ll see you will be?

Never mind that though; He’s got another buddy to worry about right now. The man’s red eyes uneasily shifted to he front door of his crisp, worn down apartment, wherein he knew a train wreck resided.

Would Bakugou even listen to him after all that they had been through that day: the tree villain, the argument, the fire? 

‘That night, you told me that you didn’t want her to leave us. There is no us, you delusional bastard. It is me and her.’ Bakugou’s words rang in Kirishima’s ears worse than any one of his explosions had ever managed to. Obviously, there was still some unresolved issues between them, so what chance would he have in being the comforting friend that Bakugou needed in that moment?

Kirshima suddenly shook his head in a crude attempt to get rid of the swarm of doubt infesting his mind, and pushed his chest out strongly as a man should,

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered under his breath as he opened the door to the home, “Bakugou?! Bro? You in here?” He knew very well that he was, but it felt right to give him some sort of alert to his presence. He read that about feral bears once when he used to hike with Bakugou a lot. It seems as if it could apply in this situation a well he guessed…

“Come get your crap,” the sudden rough voice shook Kirishima out of his his wandering thoughts. He looked up to see Bakugou holding a large plastic crate, “I only brought two bins, so make sure not to pack like a dumbass.”

“Huh?” Kirishima was expecting him to be much more of a... mess. The dull shine that your hazy eyes had held a few minutes ago was very similar to those of shell shocked veterans, yet this scene in front of him was far from war-- actually pretty domestic for Bakugou standards.

Bakugou’s expression hardened as he slammed the crate down in front of Kirishima. It sounded with a loud clang as he spoke up once more, his pressing voice just as booming, “We are going to Racoon Eye’s aren’t we, dumbass??”

“Uh-- right, yeah!” Kirishima found himself being distracted by a glint of something else in Bakugou’s angry expression, “You’re… okay with that now?” he questioned as he moved around the apartment, searching for salvageable items to bring with him. 

Mina was the first and only one of their friends to come visit them at the hospital that evening, only because they were hospitalized for just a few hours and she was so close by.

She obviously offered to house her two friends until they got back on their feet since she had plenty of room in her duplex; however, before she could even get the words completely out of her mouth Bakugou had already begun protesting with “I don’t fucking need your help,” and “I’d rather live on the street than live in your garbage can house, Racoon eyes!”

The explosive man was now singing a different tune, “Well it’s not like I have much of a fucking choice now do I?” The blond man currently grumbled to himself as the two packed up their belongings. 

Kirishima simply shrugged in return-- a slight smile on his face. Bakugou seemed to be doing much better than he was when he left the hospital. Maybe he was afraid for him for no reason. 

The two men continued packing as a thick sheet of uncomfortable silence engulfed them. Kirishima didn’t mind though. He would much rather have this than have Bakugou explode the apartment again. Besides, the two were soon enough, finished packing up and Bakugou went to go “take a piss” one more time before they departed for Mina’s apartment.

As Kirishima placed his final item in his bin, a sudden gleam from Bakugou’s crate caught his attention. It was honestly nothing too vibrant or spectacular, yet something inside of the man told him to go investigate it. He shuffled the tightly packed items a little to uncover more of the object and turned it slightly to its side to unvcover its shattered face when suddenly—

“Don’t fucking touch that!” Bakugou roared, snatching Kirishim’a arm and tossing it away from the bin, but it was too late-- Kirishima’s eyes told that he had already seen what it was. 

“That was the sports festival picture of you and Y/N from high school…” Kirishima reported with a concerned expression.

“I know what the hell it is, you idiot,” he gruffly replied as he snatched up his bin and began marching toward the exit.

Kirishima hurriedly grabbed his own and followed Bakugou’s actions, “I... saw her leave when I came in,” he wasn’t sure how to start this conversation, but this seemed neutral enough. And it actually piqued the blond’s interest.

His eyebrows slightly furrowed in surprise. Kirishima hadn’t come in for a long while after you had walked out of the door. Were you really waiting out there for such a long time? What the hell did that mean?

“She looked a little upset, but not like usual.” well recently. Kirishima could only internally add that,  “You got the closure you needed, didn’t you.”

“Are you gonna just run your goddamn mouth all damn night??” Bakugou suddenly snapped, but upon seeing his friend’s worried expression a pit of guilt settled deep within his stomach. An awkward air of silence filed in between the two friends once more as a big Taxi van pulled up in front of them. Bakugou blew out a gust of hair as a pout rested on his face.

He would never say this out loud but maybe he would apply his new found methods of care to his best friend as he had planned to with you. It was no secret that Kirishima had pretty much been the only thing holding him together for the past few months, and he honestly didn't deserve all of the thrashing that Bakugou dished out toward him-- no matter how thick his skin was. 

The blond didn’t know what he would do if Kirishima left him alone like you had.

“I kissed her... I kissed her a lot actually,” Bakugou grumbled under his breath. Kirishima’s jaw dropped in shock as Bakugou continued, “It felt like good bye, but also really good,” His cheeks crept into a slight blush at the recollection of how amazing your body had felt on top of his. He shook this light feeling away as the Taxi trunk lifted open, “So it can only mean goodbye for now. I’ll get her back one day—if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll have her be my wife,” Bakugou knew that he wasn’t saying this fully because he believed it, but as Kirishima as his witness, he would be held accountable for his winning or failing. No. Fuck that. For his winning.

Surprisingly, Kirishima ate up Bakugou’s determination and made it his own, “Sounds like a plan,” his eyebrows tensed as his expression folded into a proud smirk,  “Just don’t do any thing irrational, these things take time.”

Bakugou grabbed the other man’s bin from him to load it, “Do you think I’m and Idiot or something?! I know that! That’s why I sent her out.”

“Wow…” Kirishima’s heart began swelling up, “That was really manly of you. Mature too! I am proud of you, bro.”

The other man simply rolled his eyes, “You haven’t ever even been in a real relationship, shitty hair. I don’t know what the hell makes you think that you’re better than me at this shit,” A sudden dull pain ripped through Kirishima’s chest at Bakugou’s words. He knew that he hadn’t meant it with more malice than typical, but for some reason, these words had reached him in a sore spot in his heart.

As Bakugou finally finished packing his final objects into the taxi, he slammed the trunk down, snapping Kirishima out of his wandering thoughts. Finally, the two made it back to Mina’s just as the sun had begun to rise again.

They walked up to her apartment, but just as Kirishima raised his hand to knock a loud screeching of metal could be heard from next door. A fumbling voice cursed under her breath before a face peeped out of the other half of the duplex. 

“You must be Mina’s new house guests! Sorry for scaring you! This door is stupid loud! It just needs some oil, but honestly, I like to call it my homemade alarm system,” Kirishima gave hearty laugh at the woman’s passing joke, while Bakugou only glared away.

“Yep! We’ll be hanging out for a little while! I’m Eijirou Kirishima!” the red haired man excitedly greeted, “And this is my buddy, Bakugou.”

“Nice to meet you Bakugou—Kirishima,” the way that his name rolled out suddenly made Kirishima’s blood pool into a hot mess near the surface of his cheeks.

I studied the two of their faces and gauged them with my serial killer/freak/pervert radar and found nothing too alarming, “I am her landlord, Y/N,” I continued with a smile as I made my way fully out of the apartment to properly greet them-- eyeing the light shade of pink dusted across the cute one’s expression. I was obviously too infatuated to notice that the other man’s face had crumpled considerably at the mention of my name.

“We didn’t ask,” the ignored man spat instinctively, causing my eyes to sharply snap in his direction. He looked almost hurt. I honestly have seen a lot of hurt men in my day—not because I’m some kind of heartbreaker or anything, but because my apartments are usually dirt cheap. The inevitable divorce that happens with two people are fed up with one another usually sends the male party packing, and guess where the sad saps end up?

My duplex apartments—or some other crappy place like them.

So, what’s this ‘Bakugou’s’ story? I looked to him with an intrigued expression; however, he still hadn’t found the resolve to look me in the face yet.

“Bro! Can you stop that!” Kirishima instantly reprimanded his friend. He was completely embarrassing him in front of the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, “I am so sorry for him! He’s just had a bad day.”

I don’t even entertain that bullshit as I keep my eye’s steadied on the angry, obviously broken man in front of me, “Uh-huh… So anyways,” I finally looked back toward the cute red-head, “Here’s the keys Mina wanted me to give you. She’s got a early shift today so she won’t be around, but I am always here... sadly,” it was true. Being a landlord was pretty much my only gig. I really should pick up a damn part time or something.

Yeah right. And miss out on sad sap soap operas like this? I stifled a laugh at my thoughts before walking back to my apartment.

I sharply turn around catching the red-head’s eyes lingering on my form, “Holler if you need anything, but don’t holler if you don’t because nobody likes a noisy neighbor, got it?” I wink at him before making my way into my apartment.

Bakugou finally averted his gaze from the metal rail that he had been glaring at in the distance and snatched the key’s out of Kirishima’s frozen hands, “You’re drooling, dumbass,” he snaps his friend out of the trance that I had left him in as he roughly shoves past him toward Mina’s front door. The blond felt his heart ache begin to creep up on him again.

 I just had to have the same name as you did. Who knew Y/N was such a popular name?

On the other side of town, you had only just returned home as well, “Todoroki?” you called out softly into the dark house. No reply came and you weren’t sure if you were relieved or upset. Your feet were still heavy from earlier as you tiredly shuffled into the living room and plopped down onto the couch, a huge sigh being released from your being as you threw your head back.

You sat like this for a moment, unable to feel much as a numbness began spreading throughout your aching body. Your eyes peeled open to stare at the ceiling above you. You forced your heavy head back up and took in the mess of papers scattered throughout your home from yesterday evening’s transgressions.

“Y/N,” The sudden voice made you jump, but your tense body was soon engulfed in Todoroki’s tight arms, “I was so worried when you didn’t come home last night! I--” the man found himself trying to calm down. He took a short breath and restarted his approach once more as he looked into your eyes, “You were stress driving again, weren’t you? I don’t like how we left things, Y/N. I can’t have you leave upset like that ever again. I love y-“

“Katsuki and I hooked up,” you abrupted his oncoming confession. You had to let him know. You were the mess of a human that ruined Fae’s love and stomped on Todoroki’s as well-- god!

A well of tears pooled in your eyes as you stared at the man who loved you-- the man you were definitely destroying. “W-what?” his stoic demeanor completely shifted into a zone of hurt. 

“Katsuki and I kissed. A lot,” you corrected, “God Todo, it was like melting back into home-- into what I am supposed to be! I-I am no better than him!” your voice finally cracked as your first tears began falling. You moved your body to walk away from him, but he tightened his grip on you just enough to hold you in place,

“You’re nothing like Bakugou. You’re caring and honest and considerate and beautiful and I don’t take back what I said. I do love you. I still really do,” regret began filing into his expression as his pursed his lips, “Maybe I shouldn’t have waited so long to show that. I know that actions speak louder than words,” His eyes flickered down to your lips.

He had wanted to wait thing long to give you the time to properly heal, but that approach was obviously was simply letting your emotions simmer and crust over. Maybe the Todoroki would have to take a more direct approach in showing you your worth.

“How I feel remains the same,” his breath reached your face in a warm blanket as he wiped away your tears, “Y/N, I’d like to know if you feel the same way,” he leaned in closer to you and waited. He needed you to close that last centimeter of distance, then he could fully show you how much you meant to him—No reservations.

“I... do...” you weren’t sure if you sounded too sure, but to Todoroki’s ears, he’d never heard anything so certain! Taking initiative Todoroki disappeared the final distance between you as his lips slowly found their way towards your own. He passionately pressed his mouth against your own as if he were desperately trying to erase any trace of Bakugou.

Fuck that bastard for hurting the woman he loved and then having the gall to keep you entranced in some sort of spell. He was going to erase that fool from your life no matter what...

“Achoo!”

“Damn, city flowers!” The sun was at full mast as Bakugou made his way back toward Mina’s apartment after his “hike.” Mina lived pretty much in the middle of the city’s most urban area and there was practically no tree’s in sight. What was supposed to be a refreshing walk was turned into an aggravating extra shift at work as he came across multiple attempted muggings, an assault, and even a flasher.

The man huffed.

It wasn’t like he had shit else to do. He fucking wished that he could be like Kirishima, sleeping like a baby. He was going on 40 hours without sleep, after all. The past two days had been, in lack of better words, a complete shit show.

But things were about to look up for him. He had a plan in place to get you back. All that he needed to do was follow that plan and nothing in heaven or hell could stop him from—

A feminine shriek snapped him out of his thoughts, “Get you damn hands off of me, prick!”

Bakugou growled in frustration. He was gonna explode the hell out of whoever this was he swore to god. 

The man angrily marched toward the bickering voices. They were near the base of Mina’s duplex. 

Bakugou paused as he walked straight into one of my frequent arguments with my on-and-off dick of a boyfriend, Ty. 

“Baby, you know that I love only you,” his voice hardly sounded believable. In, fact I was sure that I have heard toddlers be more persuading, “It shouldn’t matter what happened in the fucking past. Can’t you just let bygones be bygones?” A half-laugh, half-snort love child tore out of me as I rolled my eyes at the bag of dicks in front of me. 

“You’re full of shit, Maybe that’s why your breath smells like ass all of the time,” I tried to turn to walk back into my apartment, but he suddenly snatched me by my shoulder and roughly whipped me around toward him,

“Dammit, Y/N!” the sound of yours and my name caused Bakugou’s heart to race as his nervous system suddenly went on edge. An intense mode to protect suddenly activated within him as the man that I was arguing with continued, “If you’d stop being such a bitch for five seconds and let me explain!” he roughly snatched my face in his hands.

“GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!” 

Should Bakugou interrupt this lover’s quarrel? Or ignore the couple’s arguing and go home?

YOU DECIDE!!

Follow this link to cast your vote

[sundropscribbles]

A Good Nap | Thirteen x Reader | 7.5K

Gosh, hello. It’s been approximately a thousand years since I last posted anything here for real.  Quarantine has had me in a whole different realm, if I’m honest.  But I miss you guys, and I’m getting back at it, and I’m gonna start with this very sweet request for @gayforthe13th 💕

Your bedroom had been destroyed. 

No — destroyed might not have been the right word, because even that implied that there might still have been something left of it to be salvaged, and, well... there wasn’t. 

The floor, the walls, all of the furniture, the small bit of clothing you’d had stowed away in the closet... it was gone, all of it, completely obliterated with one devastating crash landing. 

The TARDIS had been in crisis, damaged in flight, and her shields had been down. It had been all that she could do to protect the console room ( which you were more than thankful for, as it had, in fact, contained you and The Doctor at the time). 

“Oh, darling,” you heard The Doctor murmur as you made your way back into the console room a few minutes following your discovery.  You come upon her standing at the console, stroking it gently as she looks over what seems to be a map of some sort. “You took some real damage, didn’t you? I’m so sorry.” 

You sigh as you watch her speak to her ship, so softly; it always brings a smile to your face to see it, because it’s one of the softest sides of The Doctor. 

“She definitely did,” you pipe up, folding your arms across your chest and making your way toward the console. You stand by The Doctor’s side, sparing a glance at the map that she’d been examining.  You wonder where your own room might be on that particular map, but you quickly come to the realization that you wouldn’t have been able to read it properly if you had tried.

The Doctor looks your way, then, and flashes you a smile. She straightens up a moment later and turns toward you, and with a glance between the console and your face, she shakes her head. 

“I’m afraid we might need to park someplace for a while,” she says. “The TARDIS will recover — she’s done it before, but it takes her a good bit of time and even more rest.”

You smile and nod at that; it makes enough sense, after all. 

“Can’t go hurdling through time and space with a hole in the hardware, can you?” you point out, and she laughs softly. 

“Exactly right,” she says. She turns her gaze back on the map, first, and then the console itself, which she pats gently once more. “The old girl probably deserves a good rest every now and again, anyways — if you asked her, she’d probably tell you personally that I mistreat her at least a little bit.” 

You don’t even have to ask, in the end; the TARDIS chirps her agreement the moment The a Doctor finishes speaking, and you snort softly at that. The sound of it is a bit tired and a bit insistent, like she’s telling you firmly that it’s definitely more than a little bit. 

The Doctor mutters something in response, you think, but you don’t hear it, not really; now that everything has calmed down, you find your brain melting into an all-too familiar fog.  It’s the type of daze that comes with potentially life-threatening experiences — the let-down of it all. 

Often times, this would be about the time you might head off to bed, or to have a relaxing shower; it was instinct, you thought, to resort to some old-fashioned self-care when you had had a hard day.  The instinct came to you all the same, today, but for obvious reasons, you wouldn’t be able to act on it right now. 

You must wind up lost in thought about it for a good moment or two, because before you know it, The Doctor has turned her attention on you again. She’s all warmth and kindness and concern as she places both of her hands on your shoulders and turns you to face her, and when you find your focus once more, she smiles at you. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?” she asks, and raises one of her hands to touch your cheek gently. You make your best effort not to let it make you blush, obviously, but you’re not entirely sure it’s effective. 

“Oh, yeah — I’m fine,” you reassure her with a tired smile. You subtly avoid her gaze as she brushes her thumb across your cheekbone, not looking very convinced. 

“Are you certain?” she prods, finally dropping her arms to her sides and withdrawing her gentle touch. “Not injured or anything, are you?  You’re looking a bit... spacey.” 

You can’t help but laugh softly at her observation, and as you recover from the brief closeness in proximity, you offer her a much more genuine smile. 

“Spacey?” you ask, eyebrows raised. She scoffs and rolls her eyes at the bit of teasing, but she stays close nonetheless, arms folded across her chest as she eyes you. 

“Yes, spacey — a bit loopy, out-of-it, zoned-out, blank-faced... d’you need anymore synonyms? I’ve got a thesaurus full of ‘em,” she retorts, smiling as she proceeds to poke fun right back at you. 

“Alright, alright,” you sigh, raising both of your hands in surrender.  She raises an eyebrow at that, watching you closely as you go on to explain yourself. “I am a little spacey, I suppose. Not anymore than normal, though — it’s just...” 

You pause momentarily, considering how you might explain to her that your bedroom had been one of the many pieces of the TARDIS destroyed in the midst of all of the chaos. Had she already noticed? Did she even know where your bedroom was? 

“It’s just..?” she urges you on, and when you meet her gaze again and notice the way that her smile has faded into concern once more, you sigh. 

“Well, my bedroom was destroyed. Along with all of my things,” you say, and she blinks, definitely looking rather surprised.  “So more than anything I’m just... thinking about where I’m going to be lying down for the nap that I very much need.” 

“Oh, no — oh, stupid me, I didn’t even realize!” she says, and in the next moment her hands are on your shoulders once more. “I’m so sorry, Y/N! I really hope you didn’t lose anything important.” 

You make a face and shrug your shoulders in response to that, taking a moment to consider what you had actually lost along with your room — apart from the room itself. 

“I mean — not really. Not apart from my clothes, anyways,” you tell her. “Might have lost a souvenir or two — and definitely my favorite jumper — but nothing valuable.” 

She softens at that, making one of those faces that clearly says “alright, I’ll take it, but I’m still not happy.”  You offer her a smile, regardless — it’s not like it had been her fault, anyways. It hadn’t been anyone’s fault but the rogue ship who had seen you in their flight path, apparently, and decided to move you out of it. Forcefully.

“If I had my way, we’d go and confront those lot,” she mumbles, returning once again to touching the TARDIS’s console gently. “Not very often I let anyone get away with using my ship for target practice.” 

You laugh softly as you watch her, looking thoroughly offended on behalf of her TARDIS. You give the console a pat or two of your own, and you sigh softly when you here her respond with a soft hum, sounding just as tired as you feel. 

“I don’t think I’d mind giving them a good telling off,” you say. You allow your full weight to rest against the TARDIS, finally, as you close your eyes for a split second. The energy she’s giving off now seems to be equal parts apologetic and relaxing, and the moment it hits you, your exhaustion seems to increase tenfold.  “But I think what I might like most right now is a good nap.” 

The Doctor looks your way again, then, and the thoughtful upset on her face fades into concern once more. 

“You do look absolutely knackered, Y/N,” she says with a shrug. “No offense.” 

You snort, responding first with a shake of your head as you absentmindedly rub at one of your eyes. “None taken,” you muse, smiling at her a moment later. “I’m feeling it.” 

She mirrors your smile, looking thoughtful for a a brief moment.  She seems to mull over something for a good moment or two, glancing between your very tired-looking face and the map of the ship that she had been focused on earlier. 

“You know...” she begins, seeming to wait for your acknowledgement before she goes on. “My bedroom wasn’t destroyed in all of the wreckage.” 

Your eyes narrow at that — at the hesitant way that she looks at you as she talks about her own room. You cock your head curiously to one side as you consider what she might be implying. 

“Rather lucky, that,” you say, as nonchalant as you can manage.  You’ve got to admit, you’re rather intrigued even at the idea of seeing The Doctor’s bedroom; you’ve always known she had one, and that — like you — she was a bit of a comfort napper.  You had never seen her room, however, no matter how many times she had mentioned it. 

“Right — lucky, yeah,” she agrees, and you smile — you can’t help it. “But, what I was getting it was — well. You could always kip off to my room for a nap, couldn’t you?” 

Your smile grew. 

“The shape that the TARDIS is in, it’ll be some time before she can repair yours, and I can’t leave you without a place to sleep, can I?” 

The laughter that escapes you in response to that is soft, and amused, and rather unavoidable. It’s just... funny, is all, how flighty The Doctor is when it comes to anything even remotely intimate. You’ve always liked to toe those boundaries a bit — to flirt, as it were, with every intention of making The Doctor blush a bit. 

But even so, you don’t want her to feel uncomfortable, because she is your closest friend, after all. 

“Oh, Doc — honestly, I don’t want to go imposing like that,” you insist. As difficult as it proves to be, you right yourself and turn to face her properly.  “I don’t want to invade your space.” 

She mumbles and grumbles for a moment at that, but the next time she meets your eyes, she’s shrugging her shoulders and smiling. 

“Strictly speaking, you wouldn’t be invading my space,” she points out, dragging a hand through her mess of blonde hair. “Not really. It’s sharing a room and a bed and all, sure, but... my bed is big enough for both of us, you know.” 

Your only reaction to that is a rather startled blink.  

It’s not that you’re put off by the idea — you aren’t, not in the least. It’s rather more that you’re surprised that The Doctor isn’t put off by the idea.  

You certainly enjoyed flirting with her a bit every now and again, just to see her go red and hear her stammer for a good minute, but you had never imagined it would go anywhere. Not in a real way, anyhow. And — and not that this was what that meant, either, because it surely wasn’t, it was just — 

“Oh, don’t look so shocked,” The Doctor says, effectively breaking your train of thought. The tone of her voice clearly conveys a bit of a tease, and as your focus returns to the immediate conversation, you snort softly. 

“No, no — I’m not shocked,” you explain, happy to backtrack a bit. “Well, not really, i just — I didn’t quite expect you to be so willing to share.” 

She cocks her head to one side at that, folding her arms over her chest as she gazes expectantly at you. “And why not?” 

You shrug your shoulders, then, not entirely sure how to respond for a good handful of seconds. 

“Well, it’s your bed, innit?” you say — a bit dumbly, you’ll admit. “And you do love your naps.” 

The Doctor snorts at that, still smiling at you even though she definitely looks at least mildly offended.

“Oh, don’t be absurd,” she argues, and you snort. It’s not all that absurd — not as far as you’re concerned, at least. “I do love a nap — didn’t let myself have nearly enough of them, the first thousand-and-some years of my life, mind you — but I can still have a good night’s sleep with you there next to me.” 

You watch her carefully as she makes her point, gesturing animatedly with her hands as she so often does when she feels particularly strongly about something.  The Doctor is a good liar, but you’re also rather good at detecting it.  And looking into her eyes now as she waits for your response, there doesn’t seem to be anything there but honesty. 

“Well, alright,” you begin, cautious, still. “If you say so.” 

“I do!” she insists.  You grin. 

“I don’t think I’d even mind if you changed your mind later, so long as I could have a good, long sleep now,” you comment, breaking eye contact, finally, as you drag a hand through your disarrayed hair once more.  You hear her laugh at that, soft and amused, and next thing you know, there’s a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“Well m’not planning on it, am I?” she says. You feel her thumb brush across your shoulder blade, then, and it’s a real struggle for you to keep from piling yourself into her arms and demanding a cuddle. “Anyways — you know where my room is, don’t you?” 

You shake your head. 

“I’ve never been in your room before, Doctor,” you point out with a smile and a shrug. She looks a bit surprised at that — why, you’re not entirely sure. 

“Oh,” she says quite simply. “Well, in that case — it’s up the stairs and down that hallway there. You’ll take a left near the end, and my bedroom will be the second door on the right.  You go on and have yourself a nap while the TARDIS and I figure out the rest.” 

You sigh at that — perhaps a little bit too relieved — and nod your head. Before you turn to make your way up the stairs, you make a point of taking half a step closer to The Doctor and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. 

There isn’t any intention behind it — not really, not apart from expressing your gratitude — but she blushes anyhow, and you can’t help but smile at that. 

You leave the room without another word, content with you goal to seek out The Doctor’s bedroom and kip in for a nap.  It takes you a moment, admittedly, to remember the exact directions you had been given, but you get there in the end.  And as it turns out, it’s terribly obvious which door leads to The Doctor’s room. 

The doors are grand in comparison to all the rest, large and wooden and very french-looking in style. Even the handles are quite elaborate looking, all old-worn bronze, and you smile at that; you can’t help but wonder what the inside of the room is like in comparison. 

To no one’s surprise, everything inside is rather magnificent as well.  Or, no — perhaps eccentric would have been a better word.  The furniture, the decoration, the room itself... if anyone had asked you, you’d have said it was a rather good reflection of The Doctor herself. 

All in all, none of it quite looked like it belonged together; not exactly. Apart from the bed and the room itself, which you had to assume had been put together by the TARDIS as a baseline, everything was quite mismatched. For instance, there was a night table in one corner that looked like it might have come out of early, early times, with chipped wood and rickety looking drawers and legs that looked like they were only just holding the thing up. But to the same tune, there was a massive armoire on one wall — or what you assumed was an armoire, anyways — that looked like it could have been picked up from an IKEA store in modern times. 

There was so much to look at that you spent a good handful of moments just standing in the doorway, admiring each individual item. It was lost in translation sometimes, how much time The Doctor had really spent traveling here and there and seeing this and that and the other, but her bedroom and all of the things inside of it gave every bit of that away at a mere glance. 

Eventually, you gather your bearings and round back on your original plan to tuck yourself straight into bed, but even that proves to be a something of a challenge.  

The bed may not have been one of the most eye-catching things in the room, but even it, in it’s own very, very unique way, had The Doctor written all over it.  The sheets were rumpled and purple and soft, and immediately upon toeing out of your shoes and lying down amongst the (abundance) of pillows, you notice that they smell like her, as well. A bit like amber, a bit like clove, and a lot like some unidentifiable spacey thing that you’ve always liked to think of as moon-dust.  

You’re grateful for it, for the touch of familiarity; you’ve always had a bit of trouble sleeping in rooms that weren’t your own, but wrapping yourself in the sheets of The Doctor’s bed feels a whole lot like wrapping yourself up in The Doctor herself, and if you were honest? She had always felt more like home to you than any old room could ever have.  

Even despite the fact that you’re fully clothed, it doesn’t take you very long to begin drifting off; your eyelids had been heavy to start, and as you make yourself comfortable, the feeling only grows tenfold.  With a a deep sigh and a final tug at the bedsheets, you allow sleep to overcome your exhausted body.  You had come here with the intention of resting, after all, and you’d be damned if resting wasn’t just what you were going to do. 

✦

In the end, you must wind up sleeping much, much longer than you might have initially planned, because when you do wake, it’s not of your own accord. 

What initially rouses you is a soft touch at your shoulder - nothing urgent nor insistent, but firm enough to wake you from your nap. You roll onto your back with a soft groan, quite unwilling to come to at first; you toss one arm over your face stubbornly and sigh, certainly not ready to face the waking world just yet.  That touch at your shoulder becomes a firm grip, then, and a gentle shake within another few moments. 

“Y/N,” a soft, familiar voice — quite close to your ear — says. “Y/N, wake up.” 

There’s a rather insistent noise to accompany the voice that must come from the TARDIS, and you mutter an unintelligible complaint under your breath at that. You’re pouting as you drop your arm back to your side and submit to the idea that you might not be able to get back to sleep right here and now, and with a deep sigh, you give your legs a stretch. 

It’s only when you finally open up your eyes that you come to remember that you aren’t, in fact, in your own bedroom.  You’re still very much in The Doctor’s room, surrounded by her things and sleeping in her bed, and as it turns out, the soft voice that had been attempting to wake you had been hers, too. 

Your cheeks flush as your eyes fall upon her face. 

“Oh, Doctor,” you mumble, still very much half asleep. “Sorry.“

She smiles at you, looking… rather fond? You blink, wondering offhandedly if your tired eyes are playing tricks on you. 

“Oh, don’t be sorry,” she says, waving a hand dismissively.  “Must have been a good nap, eh?” 

You respond with a soft snort, closing your eyes for a brief moment and nodding your head. 

“It was,” you say with a smile, combing a hand through your knotted hair and wriggling a bit until you’re a sitting a tad more upright. “Thanks. But I can definitely leave now, if you want the room—“ 

You don’t have the opportunity to finish your sentence before The Doctor is shaking her head at you, murmuring a little string of “no, no, no’s” and looking quite a lot like she’s the one invading your space. 

“You don’t have to leave,” she insists. She sits back on her heels, and you realize for the first time that she’s knelt down beside the bed, at your side.  “In fact, I wasn’t going to wake you at all — it was just…” 

You raise an eyebrow, watching her closely as she explains herself.  She’s looking almost bashful, now, and altogether it has you feeling curious. 

“What? Was I snoring or something?” you ask her, only half-joking. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been known to snore a bit boarishly in the past. 

She shakes her head at that, laughing softly and fiddling with her hair somewhat nervously. 

“No, no. Nothing like that,” she reassures you. A handful of seconds later she looks you in the eye once more and smiles kindly.  “I came in to check on you, that’s all.  And found you fully clothed.” 

You spare a glance down at yourself and your rumpled clothing, taking in the state of yourself for a moment before you offer up a shrug in response. 

“I didn’t have anything else,” you explain. “Everything but what I’m wearing was in my bedroom when we crash-landed.” 

She nods. 

“No, I know,” she responds. You tilt your head expectantly, then, and she averts her gaze. “I just wandered in to check on you — to make sure you were alright, yeah?  Crash-landings can be tough on a human person, and I just wanted to make sure — never mind.  Not the point. Anyways…” 

You don’t take your eyes off of her as she continues to waffle on for a moment, and you’re just about to pipe up and ask her where, exactly, she’s going with all of this when she finally reaches her point. 

“You looked comfortable enough when I came in, but I just thought — I don’t know, I got the idea in my head that you might like to borrow some of my clothes,” she says. She gestures offhandedly to the armoire that you had caught a glimpse of earlier as she says the words, and you spare a glance in its direction before looking back at her. “Just for now — so you have some proper sleepwear, right?” 

There’s no holding back the fond smile that plays on your lips as she explains herself.  You don’t think that you’d have been able to withhold it if you had tried, because it’s just so sweet, the way that The Doctor seems to be doting on you.  It’s not exactly a common thing — she cares for you, and you care for her (to say the very, very least), but it’s never gone beyond that; not before now.  

It makes you wonder — it does — but you keep your curiosity to yourself for the time being. 

“That would be really nice, Doctor,” you say simply. It’s a stark contrast to her rambled explanation, and she seems to flounder for a moment before she smiles brightly and makes for the armoire. 

“Brilliant! In that case —“ she starts, opening up a door here and a drawer there and pulling out a couple of soft-looking pieces of clothing.  None of it looks terribly a lot like her everyday clothing, but it all looks quite comfortable. “These ought to do nicely, eh? You can take your pick, Y/N — whatever you like.” 

You flash her a smile as she tosses the garments your way, and as you pick through them, you hum quite happily.  Most all of them are as soft as they look, and you’d be willing to bet that they’re just as comfortable, too. 

“You do know how to pick out pajamas,” you comment, and she snorts.  After a bit of sifting, you settle on an oversized, button-up sleep shirt and a nice, loose pair of shorts.  She’s looking rather smug when your gaze finds its way back to her, and you laugh softly as you set the remaining clothing aside. 

“What’s a good nap without some extra-comfortable sleepers?” she says, perhaps a little too proud of herself. 

“Not a good nap at all,” you agree, regardless, and brush a few stray hairs out from in front of your eyes.  You are grateful, genuinely, for her generosity with both her clothing and her space, because if you’re honest?  You still feel a right mess, and having these few comforts makes you feel just a little more human. 

You’re quiet for a moment (and so is she, oddly enough) before you look The Doctor’s way once more, a curious gleam in your eyes. 

“I don’t suppose you would mind if I used your shower as well, then?” you ask, not quite as hesitantly as you might have at the beginning of this day. You might have felt a bit worse about it had you actually asked for everything that The Doctor had given you, but… well, you hadn’t.  And honestly, if there was anything in the world that you might just have done anything for, it was a good, hot shower. 

“‘Course you can, Y/N,” she responds without hesitation.  There’s something a bit softer in her voice, and it prompts you to study her for a long moment as she stands there.  It’s only fifteen seconds or so, but she must begin to feel the scrutiny rather quickly, because it’s not very long afterwards that she turns her gaze away and makes for the door. “I’ll leave you to it, then.  I’m in the console room if you need me!” she calls to you as she goes, and you laugh softly as you look after her for a moment. 

With a stretch and a yawn and a creak of your bones, you crawl out of the bed and go about finding your way into the shower — into the bathroom that branches off of her bedroom, just like your own little ensuite had done.  

No use wasting any time. 

✦

“Oh, shut it,” The Doctor says, firm, but without much fight.  She’s standing at the console in the control room, and she’s just left her own bedroom in a ridiculous hurry, because she just... couldn’t seem to collect herself, as it were.  She was usually rather good at it, if she did say so herself; she had been doing it for such a long time, now, that it didn’t tend to be such a bother for her to keep her guard up around you.  Today, though — today, it seemed that something had slipped.  And it had been a rather significant something, if her current, flustered state was anything to go by. 

Maybe it had been your peacefully slumbering face. She had only seen you in such a state a handful of times, after all, and you had just looked so... so... content. Serene, even. And you’d been in herbed, for crying out loud — 

She groans. Her head drops into her hands as she props herself against the console, and she sighs thickly as she thinks it over. You had never so much as been in her room before (which she had less than gracefully forgotten, earlier), and now you were in her room, her bed, her space — and sooner than later, you would be in her clothes, too.  All of it, as a whole, had her feeling rather flustered. 

“Then go on and do something about it, would you?” she catches the TARDIS insisting. It’s a tug at the corner of her mind, her ship’s intention, but it’s there, and she rolls her eyes, choosing not to dignify the demand with a verbal response. 

The TARDIS doesn’t stop there, though, no — she continues to niggle at The Doctor’s mind, each and every suggestion coming across her consciousness like an insistent child jabbing a finger into their sibling’s shoulder to catch their attention. 

“It’s been months, Doctor. Months!”

“Are you just going to sit by and stare at them forever?” 

“If you paid attention you’d notice that they stare at you, too.”

“Constantly.”

“Doctor!”

The frustrated yelp that she had been valiantly suppressing breaks free, eventually, and she straightens up, staring pointedly up at the TARDIS’s dimly glowing crystals. 

“What do you suggest I do, eh?” she demands, and the TARDIS gives a dissatisfied vworp. “They don’t know. I can’t — ! I can’t just waltz into the room and, what — ask them for a cuddle? Tell them how astounding I think they are?” 

Her words start out just as sharp as she’d meant them to, but the fire in her outburst dwindles rather quickly the moment she really hears herself.  

It’s... different, saying these things out loud. Very different, and the weight of it all seems to bear down on her very suddenly.  The TARDIS appears to catch onto this, and adjusts the lighting in the control room to reflect the abrupt shift in The Doctor’s mood. 

With her features now cast in a delicate, fuchsia light, she shakes her head. Shadows dance across her face as she turns away from the console and makes for a way to distract herself once more.  

“I know your intentions are good, love,” she says, and the light in the room begins to sink into a deep purple as she speaks. “But it’s not realistic.” 

The TARDIS wants to argue the point further — she really, genuinely does. She can, after all, see you in her pilot’s room, fresh out of the shower and wearing her clothing, ever-so-gently perusing the room with that special sort of awe in your eyes. 

But she also knows The Doctor, and she knows better than to force the issue with her.  She had never been one to have any issue forced upon her — thus the ship’s roundabout way of wordlessly guiding her where she needed to go most. It was almost always better (where it wasn’t exactly possible to coax her) to let The Doctor come around on her on, and, with an exasperated thunk of her engines, the TARDIS supposed that that was what she would have to do. 

✦

In the hours following her confrontation with her ship, The Doctor made every effort she could to keep herself occupied.  

She cleaned, she tidied, she repaired what she could; she tinkered with everything that she could tinker with, and read through a solid three-and-a-half six-hundred-and-something page books, and paced metaphorical ruts into the floor.  She was doing anything and everything she could think of to keep busy, to keep herself distracted while you rested, but in the end, her efforts didn’t make the kind of difference that she might have hoped they would. 

No matter how much she paced, she still paused every so often to ponder whether there might be something more she could be doing for you. No matter how deeply she buried herself in thick books written on the most wildly obscure topics, she still found herself distracted at the thought of you sleeping in her bed. 

You had been resting for quite some time, now, hadn’t you? It had been hours. Did you typically nap for this long? Was she overthinking it? Were you okay? Why couldn’t she just stop thinking about it? 

The TARDIS would nip in every now and then, too, much to The Doctor’s frustration. She would mumble and grumble at the back of her mind that she knew bloody well what was going on in her own head — that she had simply refused to acknowledge it. 

“You can only do this for so long, Doctor,” she had sighed at one point.  It had also been at that point that The Doctor had pushed the thick book she’d been thumbing through aside and groaned out loud. 

She was utterly exhausted. 

She hadn’t actually rested since well before the incident with the TARDIS, and the whirlwind of emotions that she was currently experiencing wasn’t doing very much to help her case.  She could hardly focus, anymore, and that — that wouldn’t do.  

It was usually right around this point that she would sneak off to her bedroom for a nap, but — well. 

“You told Y/N that your bed was big enough for the both of you.  That hasn’t changed,” the TARDIS pipes up, conveniently. 

“Get out of my head,” The Doctor mutters, dropping into her seat beside the console and burying her face in her hands. 

“You know full well that I can’t do that.” 

She grumbles once more, dragging her clammy palms across her face as she sits up.  She couldn’t lie in this bed that she had made for herself forever, could she?  Not unless you came waltzing out of her room in the next few moments (unlikely), or the TARDIS suddenly announced that she had been able to pop up a spare bedroom (even more unlikely), she was doomed.  Completely and utterly doomed. 

“That’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it?  Y/N might be offended.”

The Doctor snorts at that, in part because you absolutely would be offended at the phrasing. No doubt. 

She also recognized, however, that it is a bit dramatic.  She was tired — so, so bloody tired, and upon further consideration, the strange way that she had been acting would likely only succeed in raising your suspicions. 

She had to sleep sometime, and tonight, she supposed... tonight, awkward as it may or may not have turned out to be, it would have to be next to you. 

✦

As it happened, you had only just fallen asleep by the time The Doctor came creeping into the room.  And — quite unfortunately for you — you hadn’t even fallen asleep on purpose.  

You had spent a long, long while after your shower perusing The Doctor’s room, and all of the delightful treasures that it had been hiding. Well, you thought — not hiding. Not really. You had been careful not to be too invasive in your curiosity.  Your intention hadn’t been to dig up anything terribly personal, after all, and when it came right down to it, you had only bothered with the things that had been in plain sight; out on bookshelves, lying across an oddly-shaped chair in the corner, that sort of thing.  

And, in the end, that had been more than enough.  Hours had passed, and by the time you had worn yourself out, there had been books and trinkets and clothing strewn around you.  The mess was primarily confined to the bed, where you had propped yourself against the pillows to read through an old, dog-eared book that looked like it had come from a time not so far off of when books had been carved into stone rather than printed onto paper. 

You had fallen asleep not more than a hundred-or-so pages into the story, book in hand and sheets only half-covering your tightly-curled form. 

This was the sight that The Doctor came upon, as she so-stealthily crept into her bedroom.  

Her first reaction was open-mouthed shock, of course.  She had expected to find you asleep, yes, but not like this — not quite literally surrounded by her very own belongings, from the lovely, color-changing crystal necklace she’d nicked from Planet Steppes to a bundle of tapestries and odds and ends she’d gathered from an obscure civilization on the outskirts of Andromeda.  

She very likely should have been much more upset than she was — it was her room, it was, and you had gone and made quite the mess of it.  But regardless of what she should or shouldn’t have been feeling as she stood, gobsmacked in the doorway, she could hardly help but smile. 

You were just so cute.

She stifled soft laughter into one hand as she proceeded to tiptoe into the room, sidestepping a jacket, which looked to have been tried on and then discarded. 

The situation at hand slips her mind as she spends a good few moments tidying the bed around you, and all she can think about is the wonder that must have shone in your eyes as you had inspected all of her favorite trinkets. She considers it, and the sweet smile that never failed to accompany it when you were especially enthralled, and it warms her heart. 

There’s certainly a small part of her that’s hesitant, still, about the situation as whole.  There’s not going to be any changing that.  A good amount of that hesitance certainly dwindles, though, when she gets all of the non-essential things cleared from the bed, gets changed into her own set of comfies, and pulls back the bedsheets just in time to get a full view of your face as you begin to mumble something in your sleep. She grins — she can’t help it.  She grins, and she sighs in a distinctly lovesick manner as she shakes herself from her trance and goes about wedging herself into the bed beside you. 

It’s not a tight fit, not in the least; The Doctor had always been a fussy sleeper, even when she slept on her own, and she had been sure to accommodate herself with a bed big enough to support that.  All roominess aside, though, she still finds herself hyper aware of your presence beside her; your warmth, your soft mumbling, the sound of your breath, every tiny movement — she couldn’t help but be aware of it, and while she tried her damndest to tune it out (she did, honestly), she couldn’t help but gravitate towards it. 

The moment her eyelids began to droop, she became keenly aware of every little noise you made — every hum, every murmur, every stray word. When she allowed herself to sink into the mattress, even just a little bit, she found herself lolling towards the heat of your body. 

It’s somewhere around the fifteen-minute mark (and her third bout of shaking herself away from the edge of sleep — from you), that you begin to stir.  You’re not aware of her presence immediately; you were only just coming back from a very good nap, after all. You couldn’t be blamed.  It’s not long before you do become aware of her, though, because you’ve only just woken up, and the first thing you hear is the sound of her grumbling softly.

“Blimey — “ you hear her mumble as she wriggles, trying (again) to get comfortable in her own space.  It doesn’t seem that she’s successful, though, because she stretches out again not a moment later, mumbling something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like “not getting any bloody sleep tonight”.

Your eyelashes flutter as you process the words, and there’s a crease in your brow as her frustrated expression comes into focus.

“Wh’not?” you ask on the cusp of a yawn, dropping the old book that you’d been holding, still, in favor of rubbing at one of your eyes.  She doesn’t respond to the question for a handful of seconds; she’s quiet for a spell, and then she begins to shuffle, again. You’re just about ready to repeat yourself when she looks your way and finds your eyes on her. 

“Y/N!” she says, soft.  Your name comes out sounding more like a surprised squeak than much anything else, and you snort softly. 

“Doctor,” you murmur, taking a quick moment to stretch the sleep out of your own muscles. You get comfortable again not a moment later, though, and you level her with a curious gaze.  “Why can’t you sleep?” 

The Doctor looks somewhat startled at the question.  She avoids your eyes, looking this way and that and blushing in a rather guilty fashion as she rummages for an excuse. 

“Ah, no, I’m alright — really, it’s just — I don’t—” she stammers.  She bites her lip to quiet herself a second later, though, apparently collecting her thoughts. “I suppose I’m just not used to sharing a bed, s’all.” 

It was close enough to the truth, anyways. 

The face you make, though… the startled blink, the furrow in your brow, the hesitation in your eyes — it still catches her off guard.  

“Oh,” you say. You’re the one averting your gaze, now, and it sends her backpedalling rapidly.  “D’you want me to leave, then? I can leave.” 

She doesn’t think before she speaks. 

“No!” she exclaims, propping herself up on one elbow and looking squarely at you.  She seems to realize the abruptness of her response a moment later, however, because her cheeks flush and she makes a soft, frustrated sound. “You don’t have to go, Y/N.  Really.” 

“Oh,” you say again, a touch baffled. “Alright.”  

The Doctor sighs softly, feeling quite sheepish.  Your response hadn’t been negative, but it was still clipped, still confused.  Clearly you were beginning to notice her odd behavior, and she didn’t want you feeling like you weren’t welcome, did she?  She thinks about it for a moment, about all of the TARDIS’s scolding and about her own racing mind.  And she decides to tell the truth. 

“I’ve been more worried that I would make you uncomfortable,” she admits.  Her voice is soft, and she doesn’t quite meet your eyes at first, but you hear her nonetheless.  

“What, me?” you say.  There’s laughter and disbelief in the tone of your voice, and when The Doctor does look at you again, her worry ebbs, if only a little bit. “Doctor, this is your room, and I’ve had a good sleep already. You don’t need to worry about me.” 

She laughs softly at that, watching you closely as you readjust once more, picking up the book that you’d been reading and searching out the spot where you’d left off. 

“And besides,” you say, glancing at her overtop the pages and smiling somewhat mischievously. “I don’t mind sharing space with you.  So if that’s what you’re worrying about… don’t.” 

If her cheeks hadn’t been red before, they definitely are, now.  Had that been… a hint of flirtation?  Surely she was imagining things, wasn’t she? 

Right on cue, the TARDIS begins to grumble at the edge of her mind, as if telling her to knock it off.  She can’t help but smile. 

“Alright then,” she says, as noncommittally as she can manage. There’s a bit of residual nervousness, of course, but the look of you, the smile on your face and your content posture… it puts her at ease. 

It’s uncharacteristically quiet for a moment afterwards, as she makes herself comfortable and you settle back into your reading.  It’s not a terribly long time before she begins to feel sleep settle over her once again, and she breathes a soft sigh as she nestles against the pillows beside you. 

“Thanks, Y/N,” she mutters, as she allows herself to drift.  The last thing she hears before she falls asleep is your soft laughter. 

“Don’t thank me,” you say, and inch just a little bit closer to her as you settle in. 

✦

Sometime later, The Doctor wakes slowly.   Her hair is a terrible mess, the sheets around her have been kicked into disarray, and there’s a crusty bit of sleep clouding her eyes, still.  Clearly, it had been a good nap. 

It’s only as she makes an attempt to turn over, however, that she realizes why, exactly, that is. 

Beside her, you’re still reading intently.  Your eyes are bleary, your head is propped a bit awkwardly against a couple of pillows, and in the midst of your fascination with the story, you’ve slunk down beneath the covers beside her. 

That’s not what catches her attention, though.  It’s all captivating, obviously, all on its own, but what really holds her interest is the arm you’ve got curled around her shoulders.  Her head is resting comfortably near your collarbone, and as she comes to recognize her surroundings fully, she can feel every inch of your body, too, pressed warmly against her own. 

Her cheeks flush bright red in an instant, and she doesn’t move another inch. 

She doesn’t let herself tense, though, no — she doesn’t want to soil the moment.  The warmth, the closeness, your arm wrapped almost protectively around her… it’s nice.  More than nice. It’s comforting.  She’s craved it, and she’s not about to cut it short. 

Instead of addressing it, she lets out a soft breath and very, very carefully, she turns closer to you.  She lays her arm across your stomach and closes her eyes once more, nestling close.  

She’s not sure whether you realize that she’s woken up or not, but all the same, you sigh, too, and press a sweet kiss to her temple, and that seals it.  She’s not moving anytime soon.

[their-destinys-writer]

Luka vs Lila

It seems I won't be working for several days due to the COVID-19 situation. In the meantime, now I have a lot of new extra time to create more content. Starting with a little Lukanette one-shot. Enjoy!

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Luka didn’t know much about Lila. What he did know was that Marinette didn’t like her, and that was enough for him to be wary of her. Though he usually waited to meet a person before making any kind of judgement, he also knew Marinette was not the type of person to easily give up on others. If she gave up on Lila, there had to be a very good reason.

And that reason he found out about the very day he decided to ask Marinette out.

Everything was set up. Luka had managed to get a cherry blossom he would gift her, and then, when they were out of earshot from her classmates, he would ask the question. He had initially thought about getting his amplifier and playing her song as she got out of school. But after some thought, he realized the last thing he wanted was to put Marinette on the spot.

So, there he was, in front of the steps of Françoise Dupont Collége, holding the cherry blossom in his hands, waiting for the most extraordinary girl in the world.

As students started pouring out of the school, Luka’s heart sped up, as butterflies fluttered in his stomach. This was it. This was the day he would find out whether he had been reading the signs correctly, or not. A light jolt went up his spine, as he recognized several of Marinette’s classmates stepping outside.

He took a deep breath, hoping to relax as much as possible. He craned his neck, searching for those familiar pigtails. Instead, he found a pair of olive-green eyes locking into his. Luka turned around, thinking they were probably staring at something behind him. When he didn’t see anything of interest, he turned back to see the owner of the eyes marching her way towards him.

Luka made a scan around the sidewalk, yet the girl still headed his way. Right before she reached him, she tripped, and he was forced to drop the cherry blossom in his hands to catch her.

“Woah, are you okay?” he asked, holding her by the shoulders.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I’m so clumsy sometimes,” the girl said, in a manner that seemed almost theatrical. “Thank you so much for catching me, you’re so sweet.”

“No problem,” Luka shrugged, letting go of her. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks to you.” The girl almost swooned, taking a step closer. “You’re my hero! Is there any way I can repay you?”

“Your thanks are enough. Sorry, but there’s something I need…” His voice trailed off, as he looked down on the ground. The cherry blossom that took him days to find was smushed underneath the girl’s boot. “You’re… stepping on my flower…”

“Huh?” the girl looked down and gasped. In taking her foot off it, she only made it worse when the sole of her shoe dragged on the sidewalk. “Oops! Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your flower. Now you have to let me repay you.”

“No, it’s fine,” Luka sighed.

“But I insist.” The girl pushed into his personal space, now sounding more flirty than ashamed. Though to Luka, it sounded more like nails on a chalkboard. “You have to let me buy you an ice cream or something. I’ve heard Andre makes the best flavors in all of Paris.”

Luka arched an eyebrow. “That sounds nice, but—”

“Then it’s settled!” she interrupted. “I hear he’s at the Trocadero today. We could take the train to get there faster.”

She instantly looped her arm around his, to which Luka responded by freeing himself as quickly as possible.

“I think you misunderstood me,” he rushed to say, taking a step back. “I can’t have ice cream with you, I’m actually waiting for someone. Thank you for the offer, but I have to decline.”

“Oh.” The girl gasped and paused for a minute. Luka didn’t miss the way her eyes shifted, as if rapidly thinking how to salvage the situation. What was she up to? “I am so sorry!” she sobbed suddenly. “Gosh, I feel like such an idiot! I’m acting like a total fool!”

“You really are, Lila,” a sweet melody spoke behind Luka. He turned on his heels to see the music of his heart, who was not as harmonious as she usually projected herself. “I see you’ve met Luka.”

“Lila?” he inquired, turning back to said girl who no longer had any signs of ever crying.

“Oh, hi Marinette,” Lila greeted, with a tone faker than Autotune. “I had no idea you two know each other. Luka, you said? That is such a lovely name. Nice to officially meet you, Luka. Sorry, Marinette, we were just discussing the possibility of us going for some ice cream. It’s the least I could do after he saved me from scraping my face against the sidewalk. He’s so sweet, isn’t he?”

Her hand started caressing his arm. And it was then that it hit him why Marinette disliked her so much.

“Marinette, would you go out on a date with me?” he loudly asked. No, it hadn’t been the way he planned, but he’d be damned if he let the liar girl ruin any chance he had with the girl who made his heart sing.

“What?!” Marinette and Lila said in unison, though with very different tones of surprise.

“I was gonna offer you a cherry blossom, but Lila stepped on it. Since that’s gone, I see no need to wait to ask you. So, would you go out on a date with me? As more than friends?”

There was a pause, where Marinette’s blushing face started turning into a smile. Before she could respond…

“Oh no, this is embarrassing,” Lila chimed in, catching the other two teens’ attention. “Luka, you didn’t know? Marinette has a crush on Adrien.”

“Had,” Marinette cleared up, eyes squinting. “And he knows that.”

“I’ve always known that,” Luka added, before turning back to Marinette. “That’s why I waited this long. So, would you want to?”

Her smile turned giddy. A hand landed on the back of his neck and he was pulled down to Marinette’s lips, as she kissed him for the very first time. Luka had barely closed his eyes, when she pulled away, still smiling.

“I was planning on asking you tomorrow with an elaborate plan,” she said. “But this works much better.”

“Wanna get some ice cream or something?” Luka asked wistfully.

“I would love to. I hear Andre is in the Trocadero. My favorite place in the entire city.”

“Perfect.” Without giving it a second thought, he wrapped his hand with hers and pulled her into a comfortable walk.

“Marinette, remember we have that big project for tomorrow!” Lila yelled behind them. To which Marinette responded with an unenthusiastic wave, not even looking back. Luka couldn’t help but snort.

“So that’s the famous Lila you’ve complained about.”

“Yeah,” Marinette sighed. “Sorry you had to meet her that way. She’s always looking for ways to upset me. I’ll bet ten macarons she didn’t trip on you by accident.”

“Definitely not,” he agreed, thinking about how she stared at him before it happened. “I’m just glad you got there before she could make a scene.”

“And she would’ve. She’s a master manipulator. Anyway, I don’t wanna talk about her anymore. Trocadero, right?”

“Yes. But first…” Luka turned to Marinette and placed a hand on her cheek. Gingerly, he brushed his lips against hers. Marinette quickly returned the kiss, hands grabbing the front of his hoodie to pull him closer. After several seconds of flavorful bliss, Luka broke it, keeping his forehead pressed against hers. “Sorry, I wanted a proper kiss not witnessed by that girl.”

“You know, we could just go to my house and make out,” Marinette breathed.

“Tempting,” Luka chuckled. “But I’d like to take you on a proper date before we do that.”

“Deal,” Marinette giggled.

With a kiss on the back of her hand, Luka led them to the Trocadero, hoping for a pleasant afternoon with no unnecessary drama from a girl who couldn’t stand other people being happy.

[missbrightsky]

I didn’t know where else to go

Fics Masterlist

Chapter 4: Feyre

Prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick

Only by chanting that word over and over again in my head did I manage to make it home to change and then to the precinct without grinding my teeth too hard. I was late to work, beat to hell, and oh, had just slept with the guy I was trying to arrest and am now secretly working with him. Lucien is going to have a fucking field day.

But he can’t know anything about the past 24 hours, I reminded myself, resolving to lie my ass off. My jaw instinctively tightened, pulling the sore muscles which caused me to wince and make it hurt even more. Stupid thugs.

I spared a minute back in Rhysand’s home to look over my injuries from the night before. Dark bruises covered most of my torso but no broken ribs, at least. My face was a mottled canvas of greens and blues and blacks with a laceration on my hairline. How the hell I had managed to have the best sex of my life while this injured… blame it on the alcohol. Along with all my other decisions, I guess. The hangover didn’t help my state either, but Rhys’s packed breakfast of bacon and toast soaked up some of the acid in my stomach.

Prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick

Finally, the precinct came into view. Simple black letters on white background indicated the entrance.

Velaris City Police Precinct No. 12

The towering brick building housed my coworkers and I, along with countless generations before us.

Let’s get this over with. I pushed in the glass doors, shooting a small wave to the front desk, hoping they were too busy to notice my bruised face.

The rickety ride up the elevator to the third floor was a comforting familiarity, the tang of sweat and metal stinging my nose. Too soon, the door opened to the bustling room, officer buzzing about on their daily grind. A flash of red caught the sunlight from the far end. Lucien was spinning around in his chair.

Someone is bored without me.

Pushing through the gate, I avoided casting my usual hellos in a vain attempt to slip by unnoticed. It almost worked until a booming voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Detective Archeron, why are you almost two hours late?”

Shit

I slowly turned towards the source, keeping my head low. “Sorry, Captain Cartana,” I said, “I had a rough night. I’ll stay late today to make up for it.” Please let me go, please let me go, please let me—

“What happened to you face?” the words were soft, compassionate, worried. Helion Cartana could be a harsh captain but he genuinely cared for the well-being of his staff.

I braved a look up into his face, gaging the emotions there. Frustration at my tardiness was fading into a quiet rage. Not at me, but for who presumably did this to me. His amber eyes turned molten, making my fingers itch to pick up a paintbrush and capture their unholy violence.

“Ah...,” my mind scrambling. Truth or lie, lie or truth. Both. “I was on my way home from grabbing a drink and three men got the jump on me. Bunch of jackasses who got off on beating someone up. Didn’t even make it worth my while by trying to steal my phone or wallet.” The shallow attempt at humor fell flat when it failed to dispel Helion’s rage.

Most of the floor had fallen silent at this point, monitoring the captain, ready to jump into action if he ordered it.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” his voice was still soft, his finger hovering near my shoulder.

I straightened my spine and met his eyes with quiet steel of my own. “No, it looks worse than it actually is,” only a tiny lie, I was stiffer than I wanted to admit.

“I want the report on my desk in an hour,” and that was it. He strode back to his office, barking orders to get back to work.

I didn’t meet any of the eyes that were still staring at me, I didn’t want to see the pity that might be there. I didn’t deserve it.

“I rescind my texts about the hot date,” Lucien appeared at my right, taking in my appearance. “Why didn’t you call me?”

I blew out a breath, “Because I’m a proud bitch and didn’t want to bother you. Like I said, it looks worse than it is,” I made the brush past him, but his hand lashed out and gripped my elbow. I winced at the force and then inwardly cursed at the show of pain.

“Liar,” he hissed, pissed that I would try to pull the wool over his eyes. He was always too good at telling when someone was lying. Great for being a detective but shit when you needed to hide things from your friend.

I shot a glare at him and he let my elbow go. I hadn’t fooled him, but we had other matters to attend to right now. His answering glare meant that I was going to get hell from him later.

I settled into my chair and started pulling up files. On top of the Veritas Crime Syndicate, I had my usual cases of homicide, burglaries, hit and runs, and other assorted goodies. I put the file on Veritas to the side, not even wanting to think about them at the moment, even with more information to chew on now.

Might as well fill out my attack report for the captain now. The basic form was an easy way to settle into the workday and allowed me to get my story straight before any more pressing questions came my way.

I went to a bar that was a few blocks from my house, got a drink, and when I exited, there were three men that I wasn’t able to make out that jumped me and beat me. The lie was believable enough because my apartment was in a seedier part of town, the best I could afford on a detective’s salary while also feeding my painting habit.

I could feel Lucien’s eyes burning a hole in my forehead, but I diligently ignored him, focusing on the screen in front of me.

When it was done and believably passable, I printed it off and knocked on Helion’s doorframe.

“Captain?”

He motioned for me to come in and place the paper on his desk. I remained standing, waiting for his dismissal.

He looked over the form, frowning at what was probably my lack of caution and inability to identify the men. Cases like these were becoming more common. Darkness made men bold, making it easy for them to cower behind its cover. Gang and criminal activity seemed to be on the rise, frustrating precincts all over the city and forcing the police to start pulling more overtime shifts to compensate.

Maybe this is because of Amarantha setting her eyes on my city. Icy rage began to sluice through my body at the thought. I would have to ask Rhys if her presence also encouraged more criminal activity.

The captain looked up, again taking in my injuries and how I held myself. One sleek eyebrow raised, starting to not believe my lie about not needing the hospital.

“And you’re sure you didn’t see their faces?” he asked.

“No, sir. It was too dark, and they were too quick. I…,” shit, might as well, “I may have had more than one drink, sir,” wincing at the words.

He only nodded, maybe a slight amount of judgment peeking through. “Very well, investigate as you see necessary.” He looked down at the reports on his desk, a clear dismissal.

Now to pass the next hurdle. Lucien will not be as easy to convince.

Once at my desk again, I started sifting through the new cases on my desk, sorting them by importance, and marking any that might be a lead into Veritas by pure habit. Lucien was doing the same at his desk across from me, making a point to ignore me.

“Sorry I couldn’t grab you a white mocha,” I tested out, looking for a way to break the tension. His amber eyes met mine. Cool anger regarded me for a moment, as if he was deciding to either let it go or press on.

I guess my bruised state gave him an inch of pity and a small smile slipped through his mask. “It’s tragic but I think I’ll live.” I returned his smile, glad that he wasn’t completely upset with my lie.

My phone buzzed, drawing my attention away from Lucien’s forgiveness.

Prick: Should I assume your bloody shirt is forfeit and throw it away or do you want it back?

My jaw tightened at the message that flashed on my screen, causing more pain to ripple through my face. I just wasn’t learning my lesson about that, was I?

Darling: What. The fuck.

Prick: Personally, I would like to keep it as a reminder of the time you showed up on my doorstep begging for my help.

Darling: First of all, I wasn’t begging. Second of all, how the fuck did your number end up in my phone.

Prick: I put it in when you were passed out on my couch. Thought it might be useful for instances like this.

Prick: I guess you’re right that you weren’t begging, that came later ;)

I am going to kill him the next time I see him, the thought burned through my mind. I schooled my features into forced neutrality. I was already up shit creek and didn’t need Lucien asking about who I was texting that was making me see red.

I decided to ignore his flirting, already resolved to never make that mistake again.

Darling: Burn it, I don’t need any reminders from last night.

A bit harsh but I needed to get it through his thick handsome skull that last night was never going to happen again.

Prick: I think I’ll keep it then, if you care so little for it.

Darling: Fine.

I thought that was the end of the conversation, about to toss my phone in my bag and try to salvage the rest of my workday. Another text came through just before I tucked it away.

Prick: The actual reason I’m texting is that I wanted to invite you to dinner. If you’re going to help me stop Amarantha, I need you to meet the rest of my family.

The message caused me to pause, a war igniting in my mind. He was right about me needing to meet the others, they could be useful assets. But I also didn’t want to have any contact that was more than necessary.

Prick: Feel free to say no, but I think you’ll hurt Mor’s feelings.

I typed out several messages, each longer than the last and filled with questions before settling for short and simple. The time for questions would be later.

Darling: When and where? Not public.

Prick: My place, tomorrow night, 7:30

Darling: I’ll be there.

And just because I couldn’t resist, damn him.

Darling: I’m not changing your name in my phone.

Prick: I wouldn’t have it any other way.

For a minute after that text, his bubbles popped up and down, like he was debating if he wanted to send a follow-up. I inwardly smirked at his indecision; it was nice to know that he wasn’t completely infallible.

Prick: Do you want to know what your name is in mine?

This was getting dangerously close to flirting territory, damn him twice.

Darling: Detective? Bitch? Feyre?

His response wasn’t immediate, and I had almost given up and gone back to work when it popped up.

Prick: Darling

I stifled a groan and finally tossed my phone away, done with hearing his midnight voice in my head. He can interpret my lack of response any way he wants to, I have actual work to do.

[vannminner]

-

Where Magic Flows (II)

-

 A03

FanFiction

-

Part Two: Of the Earth

- 

Elsa was roused from sleep. The brush of a tail stroked beneath her chin. She swatted it away, irritated, and rolled onto her back. Her head buried into the pillow, hoping to hide from her intruder. Nevertheless, the disturbance came again. Small feet scurried up her stomach, and settled against her chest. 

When Elsa opened her eyes, she found two more looking down on her. They were wide; curious even. Elsa blinked, and the eyes blinked back. 

She laughed. Her finger lightly scratched along salamander’s side. “What are you doing in here?” She asked, and emitted a small yawn.

Bruni leapt down onto the floor as Elsa sat up. She stretched her hands overhead, and Bruni stopped to stare. His tongue held impatiently outside of his mouth. He waited. When Elsa moved again, Bruni bounced towards her excitedly. Elsa hadn’t quite made it up from the bed before Bruni forced his way back into her lap. He settled there, smiling, and begging for more scratches. 

“Okay,” Elsa sang. “-but only for a minute.”

Bruni grumbled happily. His eyes blinked slow, and began to close as Elsa softly stroked his skin. 

“It seems you have trapped me here.” She giggled. “You planned this, didn’t you? How can I possibly move now?”

Craning into her touch, Bruni purred. She caressed him, watching his legs kick as a gentle flurry began over Bruni's head.

“How frightening you are.” Elsa teased. 

Bruni responded by turning onto his back.  He blinked at her again, grinning goofily. Feet swatted at the snowflakes, and his tale whipped playfully; much like a cat would do.

“Don’t tell the others, but sometimes you are my favorite.”

A quick rap of fingers suddenly sounded at her door. Elsa was startled silent, and her spine pulled straight. 

She cleared her throat. “Come in.”

Elsa shook out her hair and straightened the fabric of her nightgown as Honeymaren entered her hut. 

The woman smiled cheekily. She had a knowing look on her face. Her eyes gleamed, and Elsa knew that her silly, one-sided banter had been overheard. 

“So, we are having early morning chats now, are we?” Honeymaren pulled the door closed behind her. She brushed her hair behind her ears and stepped into the dim light of the small bedroom. 

Elsa turned onto her side as best as she could manage. Spinning the dial on her lantern, the glow brightened. Bruni protested her movements by curling into her stomach, and Elsa laughed. 

“We were.” She hummed. “I woke up to find that I had a visitor, and now it appears, I have two.” 

With her shoulders tight, Honeymaren nodded. “I hope you don’t mind my intrusion.”

“Not at all. Please, have a seat.”

Elsa lifted Bruni to her shoulder as she moved over on the cot. She patted the space beside her, motioning for Honeymaren to join. Honeymaren, with her lips pursed and hands clenched, slowly crossed to Elsa’s side. She sat. Her legs crossed, and their eyes came together when Honeymaren offered Elsa a tiny grin.

“Thank you,” She whispered. “I apologize if I disrupted your morning.”

“It’s quite alright. We aren’t bothered.” Elsa turned her head to find Bruni with his neck stretched high. 

He looked between her and Honeymaren. His tail twitched as his eyes wandered. 

“Anyway,” Elsa’s attention sheepishly returned. “How can we help you?”

“Oh, of course!” She batted her hand. Honeymaren shifted as she dug through her coat pocket. “I have this for you; from down by the river.” 

She withdrew a small sack of burlap, displaying it at the center of her palm. Honeymaren held it out to Elsa, and watched her take it into her hands. 

“What is it?” She mused. Elsa undid the ties. 

As the fabric unfolded, a bit of dark red powder appeared. It looked soft to the touch, like sand; though it's grainy discoloration most resembled crushed stone. 

Elsa’s brow narrowed. She replaced the ties and turned back to Honeymaren.

“During the taming of the giants, Ryder and I noticed this powder all over our clothes. It stretched all along the bank of the river. We weren’t sure what to make of it. It is unlike any natural element we have seen in the forest before. So, I made the decision to bring what we could salvage back to the elders for them to assess.” 

With a slow nod, Elsa replaced the sack at her bedside. “Interesting…” She mused. 

“Are you upset with me?” 

Honeymaren’s nose had pulled to the side of her face. Her lips pursed, and her forehead wrinkled. Elsa watched as she wrung out her hands. 

“No.” She breathed, feeling more than surprised. “Why would I be?” 

“I should have told you sooner.” A sigh of relief escaped her chest. “You were busy, and I was worried that by turning the powder over to the elders before taking the time to explain... I thought I might have offended you.”

Elsa shook her head. “There is no need to worry. I am not offended!”

She patted her hand against Honeymaren’s knee before quickly shying away.

“Fears aside,” She cleared her throat. “What did the elders have to say?”

“They sent Hlif down to the river to investigate.” Honeymaren began. “He found what he believed were faint markings, just north of the falls. It was as if the powder had been used in some sort of foreign ritual. At least, that is what he has come to assume, anyway. I am afraid have not seen the markings for myself yet.”

Bruni leapt from Elsa’s shoulder when she suddenly went rigid. “Even more interesting…” She sang.

Displeased, and even more tired, Bruni crept from her lap and onto Honeymaren’s. He settled there with his head warm against her thigh. She smiled, feeling honored, and began to stroke his head. 

As a child, Honeymaren had heard tales about the spirits; and how they lived alongside their ancestors. Despite this, she had never experienced the magic for herself before. Now, with Bruni trusting her well enough to sleep against her leg, Honeymaren felt blessed beyond measure.  

Elsa, however, was distracted by her new knowledge. She hadn’t noticed her friend’s excitement, and was now standing on her feet. Elsa dropped her mother’s shall onto the corner chair, and stood before a small mirror. 

“Oh! I should leave you!” Honeymaren began to fidget as she attempted to stand. 

Bruni remained heavy in her lap, however. He burrowed into her, seemingly pleading for her to stay still. 

“It is fine.” Elsa soothed. 

In the blink of an eye, and with a quick flash of hands, her nightgown had transformed. Gone were the tangles of maroon fabric. In its place, her white-patterned dress had reappeared. 

Honeymaren giggled at the display. “I always forget you can do that.”

“I can dress you up a bit, too. If you would like? Anna always enjoyed when I added my flair to her wardrobe.” 

She blushed at Elsa’s teasing fingers. Honeymaren’s attention diverted. “Perhaps another time...” 

Seeing her friend’s cheeks aflame, Elsa briefly wondered what she had said to make Honeymaren uncomfortable. The curiosity had her hands suddenly very warm, and her heart reeling in her chest. Elsa brushed her palms over her legs before hiding them at her back. 

“Suit yourself.” She scaled her eyes and hid her ears into her shoulders. “So,” Elsa continued. “Shall we be going, then?” 

“We are going somewhere?” 

Honeymaren replaced Bruni against the bed. He spun twice until he settled amongst the blankets, and feigned an irritated yawn.  

“We are. You and I are going to investigate those markings.” Elsa redrew her mother’s shall around her neck. 

“You want me to come with you?” Honeymaren tried not to balk. 

“Of course.” Elsa pointed. “I have yet to understand as much about this forest as you do, and besides, this was your discovery. You want to see it through to the end, don’t you?”

Her hands twitched at her waist. “And what of the giants?” Honeymaren asked. 

“What about them? The giants have been tamed, and there is no indication that whatever happened yesterday will ever happen again.” 

Honeymaren slowly nodded. “If you are certain.” 

Elsa smiled. “I am! Now, come along! We are wasting daylight here.”

They started for the exit, and Elsa quickly opened the door to her hut. A passing calf was startled by their appearance. It panicked, and rammed the door closed with its head. Elsa toppled backwards, falling into Honeymaren's arms. She caught her and had Elsa back on her feet in the blink of an eye. Embarrassment coursed through both women. Elsa swiftly pulled free from the hands at her back. She brushed the fallen hairs from her face, as a heated blush took to her cheeks. 

“One thing remains one hundred percent certain, though. Mornings in Northuldra are much different than they were back in Arendelle.” 

“I can only imagine.” Honeymaren laughed, and trying again, Elsa held the door for her. 

“I will have to show you sometime.” Elsa whispered, and she turned away as Honeymaren passed her by.

- It was the same time in Arendelle. Daylight had barely begun to greet the small village. Birds were now awake. The bakery had opened, and Queen Anna, once again, was headed across the square. 

This time, Kristoff was stationed at her side. His hand was warm on her back. He paid no mind to the people and their stares as he led Anna straight through the masses. 

The two passed by the flower stall. They accepted the polite nod in greeting from the blacksmith and his wife. Even still, no one approached them; not even the children who hid at their parents’ backs. The villagers gave their space, and anxiously watched as their queen and her prince consort make their way toward the clinic. 

There, the physician awaited them at the door. 

“Your majesty,” He bowed, and allowed the couple to pass through.

“Doctor,” Anna turned to him. The door behind them closed. 

They continued through to a small study at the rear of the clinic. The dimly-lit room was littered with old textbooks and mugs of stale tea. Anna settled in a corner chair, and Kristoff came to a halt behind her shoulder.

“What more do you have for us this morning?” She asked calmly. 

Doctor Laugen, a young man in his early thirties, drew a hand along the back of his neck. Despite his young age, on this particular morning, the doctor appeared much older than he was. He had dark bags under his green eyes. His yellow hair was mused from lost sleep, and there was the fatigue; which had left him discolored. 

In comparison, Anna assumed that she had looked about the same. 

“We had another child come in during the night.” He began. “-a young boy this time; a six year old. I am afraid I cannot yet say how long this one will have left, before he, too, is taken.”

Anna’s blood ran cold, yet her composure maintained. “And you still believe this to be some type of influenza?” 

His eyes fell away. “It is too early to know, but as with the girl from last night... this illness moves fast, much faster than any flu I have ever seen before.” 

“Something troubles you?” Kristoff guessed, recognizing how the doctor’s thoughts moved behind his eyes. 

He stepped forward, and Anna tensed in her chair. 

Kristoff decidedly ignored her. “Doctor Laugen, if you know something, you must tell us.” 

Laugen’s gaze returned. His eyes flickered amongst the lantern light. 

“I know nothing,” He whispered. “-nothing at all. However, that is what frightens me most. Arendelle does not need another epidemic on its hands. Forty years ago, when the last illness spread, Arendelle lost more than a third of its population. With a summer as hot as this one, the people won’t stand a chance. If the illness doesn't take them, dehydration will.”

“An epidemic?” Anna’s eyes turned wide. 

She glanced at Kristoff who mirrored her expression. 

“We must learn whatever we can about this sickness.” Anna directed her words to the doctor. “Hearing rumor of an epidemic will send the village into a frenzy. I need something factual; something real to tell them. A hypothesis won’t do.”

“I will do what I can,” Doctor Laugen nodded. “-for the Kingdom of Arendelle, and for you, your majesty.” 

 -

“I appreciate you coming with me, by the way.” Elsa turned to Honeymaren. “I did not mean to make it sound like you had no say in the matter, of course.”

The two were headed back south. Elsa stationed atop of Nokk, and Honeymaren held at her side by horseback. The day was coming to a close, and the summer sun had begun to fade from the sky. 

“It is not a problem.” Honeymaren assured her. “I am just sorry there was nothing left to find.”

Elsa’s shoulders pulled into her ears. 

“Not nothing,” She said, and dangled the sacked-powder between them. “We still have this. The elders can complete their assessment, and perhaps learn something more within its contents.”

Honeymaren fell silent for a time. Her eyes drew up high towards the trees. The warm sun hit her face, and she grinned. 

“May I ask you something?” She finally spoke. 

Honeymaren’s gaze had yet to return from the clouds. That left Elsa with a rare moment to admire her. The way her skin shown like liquid gold in this light, and how her face appeared, as if carved by nature itself. The Northuldra were remarkable people...

“Of course.” Elsa remembered to answer, and she quickly turned away. 

Honeymaren’s attention returned. “Do you feel at home here, Elsa?” 

Elsa blinked. Her jaw wavered. “I- I suspect I do.”

“With me?” Honeymaren continued, her voice holding barely above a whisper. She watched Elsa’s eyes widen in response, and she quickly retracted her statement. “-with all of us, I mean. Do you feel at home with the Northuldra?”

Her mouth hung open. “Oh…” Elsa breathed. Her hands twitched against the reins, and she dropped her gaze to view them. “I suppose I had not taken the time to consider that yet.” 

“You don’t have to now!” Honeymaren assured her, batting her hands for effect. After, though, she settled, and Honeymaren’s face pulled low. “-not now, but..”

“But, what?” Elsa encouraged her. 

With a sigh, Honeymaren fought for Elsa’s eyes. They locked on to hers, and she tried again. “-but I do worry that if you weren’t comfortable here, you wouldn’t feel confident enough to tell me. I know you are content to be our bridge, though, I am concerned you don't trust us. I worry you might be lonely, but have been too afraid to seek us out.”

Elsa couldn’t look away. At some point, Honeymaren had seen through her mask. She had seen through to the parts of Elsa that lay in constant debate between Northuldra, and a home back in Arendelle. Honeymaren saw her conflict, her regret, and her redundant thoughts. She saw her hurt, and now it pained Elsa to think she may have offended her by it.

“I- I don’t know what to say.” Elsa admitted. 

Blushing, Honeymaren shook her head. “No, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I-”

“Ladies!” A top of his reindeer stead, Ryder drove in at their side. His cheeks pulled up in a grin as he looked between them eagerly. “What have you two been up to?”

Both women turned silent. Elsa’s eyes remained diverted, and Honeymaren responded by doing the same. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Ryder questioned, and when Honeymaren’s reply never came; Elsa cleared her throat.

“No, no, of course not.” She quickly assured him. Her poised demeanor returned. “Though, I do have something which requires my attention. So, if you’ll both excuse me. I will talk with you later.”

From there, to gone. Elsa had pulled up on Nokk’s reins and was but a blur out of sight.

They watched her go. She drove through the trees, and Honeymaren visibly tensed.

“No really,” Ryder stressed. “What am I missing? Did I say something stupid again?”

Honeymaren rolled her eyes. “You didn’t say anything.” Her head shook. “It was me who did.”

“What did you say? Was it embarrassing?” Ryder teased. 

“No.” She scolded, and her arms crossed. 

Sensing his sister would say no more, Ryder frowned. “I see… well, gotcha…” His grip tightened against the reindeer’s fur. 

“So, anyway…hey, Mare!” His head pulled into his shoulders. Ryder’s eyes circled high. “I wanted to throw something passed you. I was wondering...what do you think about, maybe, I mean, could you possibly-”

“Out with it, Ry!” Honeymaren called him out.

“Okay, okay.” He sighed, and hid his blush behind an open hand. “I was wondering... what you might think of me... asking... for Elsa’s hand?”

Honeymaren’s horse came to a quick halt. “What?” She balked. 

“I mean, look at it this way. Elsa is single. I am single. She is one of us, which makes it totally cool by elder standards, and she is the only one around here who doesn't know about my training accident!”

“You are out of your mind!” Honeymaren stopped him. 

Quickly, she pulled back on the reins and steered her horse away. 

“What? Why?” Ryder demanded. 

“Elsa is the fifth spirit!” Her words directed over her shoulder. “She walks like a goddess amongst our people. Why would she wed a Northuldra like us?”

“Hey! Someone has to!” He shouted, but Honeymaren had galloped from sight. 

“I could be a god!” He chuffed again, and then a slow grin spread across his cheeks. “Yeah! Ryder, the God of reindeer... I like it! What do you think, Dahl?” 

The reindeer beneath him rolled his eyes. “I think you’re an idiot...”

Ryder sighed and crossed his arms. “Who asked you anyway?”

- -M.

[severelyimpossiblecrown]

Tricked, No Treat.

Today, I have emotion sickness. I’ve injected too much expectation again.  I thought I had learned some lessons from occasions past where I’m supposed to have no expectations at all.  It was my birthday weekend, and I just wanted to have fun. To feel special and wanted. Instead, I let one of the women I’ve obsessed over for years ruin another Halloween.

I’ve known her forever.  For the sake of this fun-and-not-at-all exercise in catharsis, we’ll call her Anna.  We’ve had our ups and downs.  I often wonder if she actually likes me and sees me as a person. After last night, I feel like she doesn’t.

We had planned to hang out on Halloween, which is the day after my birthday.

I thought this would be a sexy evening eventually.  I made those intentions plain.  I’m 36 now; I can’t mince words anymore.

We texted back and forth about how we were looking forward to the night. Anna said she was “excited to see me.”

To the millions of women reading this, why do y’all do this to us?  Gas us up when you don’t seem to like us that much?  Is attention and validation of making us crawl through the dirt worth burning the genuine people in your life?

I wore my orange skeleton Morphsuit to have a costume on despite the cold.  We were going to hop around the city with a couple of friends of hers. Graciously, my close friend decided to come along.

So we at least had a ride to get around Brooklyn.  We’ll call him Grant.  Thank god for him deciding to come along. Without him, I might’ve gone crazy or came out of my face to these people.  We met up with them at a bar in Bushwick. It was just Anna and one male friend.  My heart sank.  I knew what that meant from past experience.  This guy was probably one of her lovers and she had fronted on me about it because she didn’t want me to get upset.   

This friend of hers was a man she told me earlier in the week I didn’t have to “worry about because he’s gay” when I asked if I would be the third wheel. We’ll call him Jason.  I spent a fair amount of the night watching them visibly make out on the coke I ended up sharing with them.   

There were supposed to be more of her friends coming, but they stayed in the city at some secret Gothic Renaissance party.  So it was Grant driving, Anna, Jason, and me.  

We got a drink at the bar outside of which there was a cool mariachi band playing covers and hits.  Jason knew someone in the band, which is how he knew about the show.  Seeing live music took a bit of the edge of the rapidly growing and gnawing anxiety in my stomach about how the evening was going to go.

“Just stay calm. Getting mad isn’t going to work.”  I said to myself for the first of many times that night.   

Something that will come up a lot in this confessional story-thing is: I wish she would’ve told me several vital things well in advance like “you’re not fucking me on Halloween” and “I’m going to meet up with someone else after I chill with you.” You know, some real communication from some who say they see me and “adores” me.  I always find it funny how the ones who show the least love are always telling you how much they love you.  

I know what many of you are thinking.  “Anna doesn’t owe you her body, her time, or her love.”  Y’all are absolutely right.  Again, I’m the one who plunged the needle into my neck and shot all that juicy expectation into myself.  I read more into the signals I thought I was receiving. I’m the one who spent his own birthday running around to get the drugs for Halloween SO WE COULD ALL HAVE FUN.

All she had to say to me is, “you’re not fucking me on Halloween.”.

So the night progresses.  We leave the first bar in Bushwick and walk back to Grant’s car that was parked nearby.  On the way to the car Jason is all over Anna as they remark on the beautiful moon and sloppily make out.  I clenched my fists and remember Anna’s text about how I didn’t have to worry about Jason.  Of course I didn’t.  He was obviously one of her lovers and I came to a hard realization that I’m just a friend/source of attention to Anna and I always will be.  My anger rose sharply as I tried not to stare too jealously at the pair.    

We get into Grant’s truck to go a metal bar in southern Brooklyn.  I pulled out the cocaine I had on me to regain some confidence in myself and in the rest of the evening.  I share with the happy couple in the back and we have some small talk ranging from Grant and I’s experience in security, to my referencing how Anna used to treat me like garbage in our twenties, to tales of Jason’s sluttiness and how even though he fucked men, he loved fucking Russian girls like Anna.    My heart dropped even further into my stomach.  This was going to be a long night for me.         

After what seemed like a very long car ride to southern BK, we arrive at Lucky 13 Saloon and hang for a bit but didn’t stay long.  The vibe there was one of impatience, like folks were just here to figure out what was going on elsewhere as they got drinks.  We got a drink and largely stayed to ourselves talking.

Eventually, we leave to drop Jason off at the Atlantic Avenue train station as the trains shut down after 1 AM.  They continued to make out and be talkative from the backseat on the cocaine as we drive to the station.  Grant and I are making conversation with them while we exchanged knowing looks of “this night is some bullshit” to each other   We get to the station, and my assumption was that Anna would leave with Jason, given how the night had gone.  But to our surprise, she stayed in the car and asked if she could come to my house. Confused, I got out of the vehicle to switch seats with Jason as he went toward the station.

He turns to me and hugs me, thanks me for the coke, and tells me to “take care of her. I’m trying to FUCK her tomorrow.”

*sigh*

“I’m trying to fuck her tonight,” I said, offering some false confidence.

Giving me a slight smirk, he strolled off into the station.  Still shocked at the fact that Anna didn’t leave with Jason after all the PDA they showed all night, I figured I’d get into the backseat with Anna to start my own pushing up on her. 

The three of us spent the car ride back to my house talking as I rub my Morphsuited hand along her inner thigh and slide my left orange hand around her nice and tight ass.  She didn’t pull away or show any sign of dislike, so I thought maybe, just maybe, the night would go my way. 

WHAT A FUCKING FOOL I WAS.

We get back to my home, and Grant goes to the store for some beers.  I take Anna up to my apartment.  When we get inside, I walk right up to her and grab her by the waist lightly.

“I missed you so much. I’m so glad you came.” I speak, gathering the little bit of nerve I have left, beginning to come in for a kiss.

Anna gives a quizzical face and pulls away.

“Don’t go and start hitting on me now.” She says.

I did my best to conceal my tremendous disappointment and feelings of rejection and raced for something to say to alleviate the awkwardness of getting shut down.

“Aw. We can’t even cuddle?” I say, my heart breaking.

“No, that always leads to things,” she said.

It is here I will repeat yet again, bored reader, all she had to do is tell me, before Hallow-goddamn-ween, my favorite holiday, is “I’m not going to fuck you on Halloween.”

Instead, we were standing in my room awkwardly.

“See, now you hate me,” she says almost flippantly like she hadn’t known me for nearly a decade.

Grant walked back inside just then as my mind raced with questions.

“Why did she come back here then if I wasn’t tonight’s lover? Why not go home with Jason, who was one of her present lovers?  Why even invite me out at all to her adventure, making it seem like she wanted me to be a big part of it?”

Grant sat down, and we start to listen to music videos and drink Jamison. I tried very hard to stay calm and salvage the night.  We managed to have a good time, even having Anna sit closer to me on my couch.  At least things wouldn’t end too bad.  We started in on the remaining fishscale I had left.  My logic at that point was to get good and fucked up so I could at least appear to be having fun.

Part of me felt off about sharing my drugs with Anna, but I always try to be a good and hospitable host to my guests and I knew that I was just feeling petty at that moment.  During this time, I noticed that she was actively texting someone on her phone in between videos when she thought I wasn’t looking.  That was it.  That was why she didn’t go home with Jason.  She had someone else already lined up. 

I then felt the same sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach I had felt all night. The coke now spiraling through my body made my mood and level of annoyance spike, but I managed to maintain my composure.  

Grant is being the best sport in the world about all of this.  He’s heard many stories from me about Anna and was an impartial observer in this subtle game of power that Anna was winning easily.

I again cannot stress enough intrepid and obviously bored reader, that all she had to tell me, a day or even hours before this “date” that “she wasn’t going to fuck me on HALLOWEEN.”

Eventually, Anna tries to shoehorn in her intent to leave.  Saying she found out about another party. Stupidly, I ask if I can come, full well knowing I’m about to get fronted on.

“It’s private.” She says with a sly smile.

It all dawns on me then.  Anna was only killing time here/getting high on my drugs to get ready for the last stop of the night with whatever lover she had been waiting all night to hear from.

And she had heard. She got ready so quickly, eagerly awaiting her Uber, trying to remain jovial even though Grant and I both felt a certain type of way about what had just happened.

Inside my mind, I was screaming.

Outside of it, I was fidgety from all the coke I’d done tryin’ to keep any feelings of upset off my face.  Something I’ve never been good at being an emotional Caribbean-American raised by Puerto Rican women.  At the beginning of the night, my heart was thudding with excitement and was now thudding with cocaine, anger, and anxiety.

During one of my bathroom breaks, Anna leans over to Grant (who told me about this later) saying:

“I think Brian’s mad at me because I said I was going somewhere else. I’m just gonna leave.”

As she was saying this, I was in my bathroom talking myself down in the mirror from showing anger or extreme emotions toward her because I didn’t want to do what I had done in the past and explode for something not worth exploding over.  Washing my face and hands, I walked back to my bedroom.

We watched a video or two more when her car arrived downstairs.

“Will you walk me out?”  She asked; it almost sounded like a distant echo as the voices in my head started to laugh audibly at me.

I nodded and mutely put on my sneakers over my orange feet.  I didn’t even know why I wore that thing. Why did I do anything for this woman?

She happily says bye to Grant, who had been nothing but a good sport in helping me to entertain Anna as he watched me go through it internally. He accepts her thanks for driving her and Jason around.  We walk out of my place into the hallway, where Anna tries to make small talk about my Morphsuit and my ass as we leave my building.

“Oh, sure. Now you notice me. Like I haven’t been wearing this thing all fucking night.”  I thought, hands clenched.  I don’t remember if she saw them or not.  I imagine my body language wasn’t the best from her viewpoint.

I gave her queries about my suit short and terse answers.  She clearly knew she upset me and tried to do that weird thing some women do to preemptively calm a man down with lighthearted questions like there isn’t a goddamn two-ton elephant in the room.  

I repeat, stalwart reader, all Anna had to do in the WEEK leading up to this awkward ass debacle was say, “I’m not fucking you on Halloween.”

We get outside into the appropriately frigid night as her cab pulls up.  I’m inhaling deep breaths through my nose and out of my mouth to keep warm and also calm.  She saw this and turned to me and repeated the same thing she said earlier:

“See? Now you haaaate mee..don’t hate me!” she cooed in an attempt at soothing me.

“I don’t hate you. I just feel super rejected. You’re going to spend time with someone else you’d rather see.”  I mutter tiny like I hadn’t just turned 36.  

I wanted to ask her why she even bothered to invite me, but there was no time, and I didn’t want to pick a fight, no matter how the night had gone. My experiences with Anna had taught me that there isn’t any point anyway.  She is a free woman, and she was always going to do her.

Pity and impatience perhaps flash in her eyes and she hugs me.

“I’ll spend some personal time with you if you want.” She offered.

“You are always busy with your other lovers..” I said, barely making eye contact, hard lump in my throat , desperately trying to hold onto some last disparate shred of masculinity.

She laughed slightly and offered me a hug and two kisses on the mouth. With her black facemask on.  

If that wasn’t the perfect image to capture the night and our entire relationship, for that matter, I don’t know what is.  

She almost skipped off toward the cab across the street and hopped in, immediately getting on her phone.  Undoubtedly to tell her chosen lover that she’d ditched the loser that was trying to press up on her all night.  At least that is the story that I made up in my brain.

I trudged back up my stairs, gritting my teeth due to the coke and my frayed nerves, walked back into the crib, and immediately began punching myself in the forehead with my orange and black hand a couple of times.

Grant, who had been mainly a combination of amused and saddened for me by the evening and it’s events, interjected sharply.

“We’re NOT going to do that, sir.”

I take a deep breath and stop.  We then spent the next three hours or so breaking the night down so I could at least see if I was tripping for feeling like I had.  I’d go more into it, but it was really just commiseration, cocaine, and our long-running dialogue about why we keep loving women who expect us to dance in a tornado for them when they would never walk through light rain for us.

Lastly, I add a predictable ending, brave, and durable reader: I am aware that I did everything to myself.  Anna again, doesn’t owe me anything and didn’t have to give me anything that night.  I doped myself up with a heady fantasy that was never going to happen.  As Grant so astutely pointed out: 

“You should’ve known what it was as soon as you saw her kissing on ol’ boy”

I agree.  Probably would’ve skipped the the aggravation that came up later.  Precious reader, I am man enough to admit that I fucked up and essentially ran face first into a brick wall repeatedly.  This story comes off like I am mad at Anna, and I was, until I realized that everything that inspired my pissiness on Halloween is my fault.  I let pride and ego walk me right into a night of embarrassment.

I’ve known Anna for 9 years.  She’d done this kind of bait-and-switch thing before.  I was hoping this time, now that we’re older, I’d get some more courtesy or honesty. At least for my goddamn birthday.  Let me go and pull this shit on her birthday, and I’d be a fucking monster.  But I guess she still only sees me as her pet and not a person, which hurts most of all.

Especially when ALL SHE HAD TO DO WAS TELL ME THAT “I’M NOT FUCKING YOU ON HALLOWEEN.”