#I did draw the flag and added the final touches but that's beside the point!!

[bear-cubs-art-things]

AYY!!!

ITS DONE!!!

The Bi-Colored Bowgarts holding the Bi Flag!!! This was super fun!!

Thank you @plushii-gutz and @h4zardousch3micals for doing this collab with me! A wonderful pride collab for pride month!!

[thebountyfucker]

In Control

Cad Bane X F!Reader - NSFW, 18+ ONLY Tags: Domination, cock warming, public sex, spanking, PiV sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, Cad Bane's ridiculous accent

(I'm bad at titles leave me alone lol.)

“I don’ like dat one.”

You lowered the dress in your arms with a small frown, before looking it over. You liked this dress quite a bit - the cut flattered you, hugging your curves in all the right ways. The color made you glow, according to your friend. But as you met Cad’s gaze, you realized he wasn’t bluffing. He chewed on his toothpick with a small frown.

“Why not?”

“I just don’ like it.” He kicked his boots up on the foot rest, and gestured toward your closet noncommittally. “Try again.”

You shook your head and hung the dress back up in the closet, before pawing through the other dresses. Cad watched, his head cocked, trying to catch glimpses of the dresses as you pushed them aside. Your hand touched one, and he grunted.

“Dat one.”

You pulled it out from the sea of dresses, and looked it over. Calling it a dress was… generous. Rather, it was a collection of straps that -though it looked fantastic on you- hardly covered the more private parts of your body. You had only worn it once in public and that was a mistake. You looked at the ‘dress’ and then at Cad.

“Are you sure?”

“Are ya questionin’ me?” He cocked a browridge, plucking the toothpick from between his lips. You thought for a moment, wondering if it was wise to defy him, before shaking your head. You had to pick your battles, and this was not one of them.

“No.”

“No…?”

“Sir.” You answered him, and he chuckled.

“Dat’s what I thought.” He leaned back in the chair and waved to you again. “Go ahead. Get dressed.”

You did as he said, slowly shucking off your shirt, aiming to give him a show. You knew that he enjoyed your form, and hoped that the teasing would get him going. You tossed your shirt aside, before pulling down your pants; his blood-red gaze swept downward, following the curves of your body.

“And de panties too.”

“I can’t advise that.” You replied, and he stiffened a bit. “What I mean is… I need panties with the dress or it shows… more than probably appropriate.”

“I said, no panties.” He drawled, gesturing with his toothpick. “It’s in yer best interest t' listen.”

“Of course.” You pulled your panties off, unceremoniously dropping them to the ground. Cad uncrossed his legs and smirked.

“Dere we go. Look at dat pretty cunt.”

You blushed at this and gathered the dress up in your hands. You slowly worked it on, adjusting the straps so they covered as much as they possibly could. You ran your hands along the fabric, almost shyly.

“Dat one looks good.” Cad complimented. “Don’t it?”

“I guess…” You looked at yourself in the mirror, watching the dress ripple and move. “I thought the point was to not have your rivals staring.”

“I don’ mind dem watchin’... I just don’ want yer eyes strayin’. Ya know who you belong to.” He finally stood, sauntering toward you, a devilish grin on his face. He wrapped a hand around your throat, putting no pressure behind his hold. You watched through the mirror as he leaned in and nipped at your ear. “‘Sides, I want dem t' wish dey were me.”

Cad Bane strutting around like a Pantoran peacock was nothing new; he thought rather highly of himself and his abilities, and would take any chance to show off. Having you as a partner only boosted his image, and he was not opposed to using you in this scheme of his. It’s not as though you minded. You rather enjoyed being his trophy, and you didn’t mind the wayward gazes at all.

“Perfect.” He praised as his grip on your neck tightened - it was just hard enough to make your head spin without causing any bruising. You moaned softly and leaned toward him. “Filthy lil whore… ya look good wit’ my hand ‘round yer neck.”

“Your filthy whore.” You whispered, and he chuckled.

“Mine.” He released his grasp on your neck and instead rested a hand on your hip. “Don’tcha forget it.”

He squeezed your soft flesh, before moving away to paw through your jewelry box. You sat at your desk and started styling your hair.

“Are you dressing up?”

“T’ go t' de Silver Serpent? Ain’t no use in doin’ dat.” He muttered as he pulled out a thick leather collar from your jewelry box and looked it over. He approached, and slipped the collar around your neck; he clasped it in place, before running his hands through your hair. “You’ll be a good girl fer me, right?”

“Of course.” You nodded, though that depended on how he treated you in the bar. You were his submissive, sure, but you wouldn’t take shit you didn’t deserve.

“Good.”

-

You liked the Silver Serpent* - it was always full of interesting people with interesting lives. Sometimes, you came without Cad just to make acquaintances. The drinks were decent, and Sal** always had a story if business was slow. But Cad changed the entire atmosphere of your visit; this wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily, but he demanded much of your attention which left little time to socialize with anyone else. That, and he was the jealous type. He wasn’t about to let you pay attention to someone other than him.

He pushed open the door and gestured for you to enter. You slipped by him, and he grabbed your ass as you went. You rolled your eyes and chuckled, and together you made your way to the bar. Patrons turned their heads as you walked past, mouths agape and eyes wide. Cad made sure to wrap an arm around your waist, telling those who stared that you were his, and his alone.

He led you to the bar and slid up onto the stool - the bar was busy tonight, with most of the booths and bar stools occupied. Cad was sandwiched between a large Trandoshan and a scrawny human man; you stood beside him awkwardly until he patted his lap. You climbed up onto his lap, nestling down against his scrawny thighs. He flagged down Sal, and bought himself a fine, amber whiskey and you, your favorite drink. Sal nodded in understanding, before glancing down at the outfit you were wearing.

“What the hell?” They blinked, before their gaze met Cad’s. They shook their head and went about their business. Cad’s hands went to your waist, digging his knobby fingers into your soft flesh.

“My cock could use some warmin’.” He drawled huskily, and you blushed at the prospect.

“Here?” You glanced around. It was busy enough and loud enough that the people around you might not notice, but you were also sitting shoulder to shoulder with other patrons. One of his hands slid down your hip and slipped up under your dress; you whimpered as his fingers brushed against your pussy.

“Don’ see why not.” His finger probed at your entrance and you whined into your hand.

“Alright.” You nodded, shifting your hips up enough for him to extract his half-hard cock from his pants; he lined the head of his cock up with your pussy, and you sunk down on him, taking him to the hilt. You moaned softly, your cheeks tinged with a soft pink glow, as you fought against rocking your hips and driving his length further into you. No, that was not the objective of this.

He sat there casually, receiving his drink with a nod; Sal slid your drink to you, eyeing you suspiciously, but they didn’t say a word.

Cad slowly hardened in you, stretching your cunt as he did. You bit your lip, trying to contain the moan that threatened to escape. You wriggled against him, reveling in the tiny movements of his cock against your walls. He swallowed his liquor as if he felt nothing - but you knew he could feel it. The heat which radiated from his chest said as much.

Your nipples pebbled against the thin straps containing them, and you were sure you emitted some sort of pheromones because the Trandoshan turned to look at you. He looked you up and down, his long tongue flicking out to wet his maw. Your pussy tightened against Cad’s cock, and you could feel your wetness leaking out around him. Cad’s cock expanded a bit, and he gripped your hips possessively.

“How much for an hour?” The Trandoshan hissed, his gaze trailing down to your pussy. Cad growled in response, and a hand moved to the blaster at his side.

“Ya better watch yer mouth.”

“Easy, easy. Wouldn’t want to cause a scene.” The Trandoshan raised his hands in defeat. Cad’s hand returned to your hip, which he stroked softly with his thumbs.

“Good.” Cad finished his drink and set it aside. You took a shaky sip, trying to hide the fact that you were taking his cock around all these people. Cad leaned down, his hot breath tickling your cheek.

“Yer cunt takes my cock so perfectly.” He whispered, drawing a whine from your lips. Your pussy quivered around him, wanting so desperately for him to start moving. However, you knew that if he did start moving, it would be over for you. You’d cum in front of everyone. “So wet. So wet and tight. Ya wanna cum, don’tcha? You wanna cum, doll?”

You nodded frantically, and he tsked.

“No self-control. Yer a cock-whipped lil' slut, hm? Half de bar can smell yer arousal, doll. Dey know it’s you.” He whispered, and you leaned back against him, whimpering. Your pussy twinged, and he chuckled. “You think dat’s hot, don’tcha? You like makin’ everyone’s cock hard. Filthy lil’ whore.”

Your pussy drooled at this, and you melted back against him. A heat was building in your stomach, and every inch of you was sensitive.

“Cad, please…”

“What was dat, doll? I couldn’t quite hear ya over de music.” He teased, nipping at your ear.

“Cad, please… I need…” You whimpered, trying to avoid the licentious gaze of the Trandoshan beside you. His nostrils flared as he took in your scent. “I need your cock.”

“Ya have it.” He drawled, and you turned to look at him. He was smirking, that smug bastard. How he was able to be in such a teasing mood, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that he was an asshole, and you needed more of him.

“I need you to fuck me!” You whined, a little louder than you wanted to. Cad’s grip on your hips was bruising at this point, and this only added to your arousal.

“So eager.” He hummed as he lifted your hips, and pulled his cock out. Your pussy clenched, painfully empty and dripping wet. Cad eased you off of him, and gestured for you to move out of the way. “Go to de showers. I’ll be right dere.”

You padded through the crowded bar toward a hallway off to the right. A series of bunk rooms and communal showers lined this long hallway, and judging by the number of closed doors, this area of the Silver Serpent was busy too. You slipped into one of the communal shower rooms, noting the roaring of water. You wouldn’t be alone...

You pulled off the strappy dress and gathered it up in your arms. You silently padded toward a private shower stall, slowing down as you passed the public showers. You tried not to stare at the other hunters showering, but their physiques were hard to ignore. That was one of the things you appreciated about bounty hunters - they were fit as hell. And could likely break you over your knee. Gods, your pussy was drooling again…

“What de hell are ya lookin’ at?” Cad growled in your ear, and you jumped, not expecting him to be so near already. You turned, noting that he, too, was naked. More importantly, you noticed the dangerous look in his blood red eyes, and your heart skipped a beat. You struggled to find your tongue. “Dat’s what I thought. Come.”

He led you to a shower cubicle and shoved you inside. You tossed your dress aside, and watched as he dropped his own clothes as well. He approached, his fangs bared.

“Turn 'round.” He commanded, and you faltered.

“W-why?”

“Just do it.” You didn’t, grinning cheekily as he approached you; you gasped as he grabbed your hips and forced you to turn around. He gave you little time to process what was happening before bringing his bony hand down on your ass with enough force to make it sting. You lurched forward, a half-yelp, half-moan escaping your lips. He smacked his hand down on your other asscheek, and you found yourself leaning toward him rather than away. He huffed, and spanked you twice more.

“Ya don’ go lookin’ at others, got it?” He told you through gritted teeth. “Who do ya belong t’?”

“Me.” You answered, pressing your ass toward him. He growled and swatted at your ass again.

“Who?” He asked, gripping your ass cheeks tightly in his hands. “Get it right dis time.”

“You.”

“Good girl.” He purred as he whipped you around so he could look you in the eyes. “Do ya want my cock again?”

“Yes!” You whined and he turned on the shower; the warm water cascaded down your forms as you lifted your leg and wrapped it around his hip. Cad drew his cock up and down, between the sloppy lips of your pussy. You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. “Please, Cad… please!”

He slipped the head of his cock inside and plunged his entire length deep within, until he bottomed out. The air fled your lungs, and you were left leaning against the wall with your eyes wide and your mouth agape. Your eyes slowly fluttered shut.

“Is dat what you want, doll? Is dat it?” He hissed, grinding his hips against yours. Your head lolled back and you arched toward him, succinctly answering his question. He eased out, and then back in, his pointed head and ridged length massaging your sensitive walls. Each drag of his cock in and out of you drew pants from you, and that warmth sparked deep in the well of your belly again. “Fuck, doll…”

“Does my pussy feel good?” You asked, breath hitching as he picked up his pace, slamming his cock into you deep and rough. You felt your orgasm brimming, but you held back. Not yet. He had just started fucking you!

“Yeah, doll, real good.” He admitted as he leaned down to drag his long tongue against your pebbled nipple. You were both soaked to the bone, but Cad didn’t seem to mind. “Yer my perfect cock sheath.”

“Cad, I’m close.” You admitted and he glanced up, his blood red eyes meeting yours. “Can I cum?”

“Not yet.” He drawled. “You know de rules.”

You whined as he drove up into you, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. You traced down his scarred chest, trying to distract yourself from the molten warmth in your belly. It was damn near unbearable but you’d hold on for him. As if trying to tease you, he reached down, pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit; despite trying to stop it, you came undone.

You cried out in pleasure, clamping down around his cock; your legs shook and threatened to give out from beneath you as the molten warmth flowed through your body. Your head was in a different galaxy as you rode the waves of your orgasm.

“I told ya not yet! What are ya, deaf?” He growled as he pulled out and whipped you around; he bent you over, and plunged back into you. “Whaddya have t’ say fer yerself?”

“Sorry, sir.” You whispered, and he brought down his hand on your already sore bottom. You let out a pitiful yelp.

“Fer what?” He asked, spanking your other asscheek.

“For cumming without permission.”

“Louder!”

“I’m sorry, sir!” You cried out. “For cumming without permission!”

“Good girl.” He cooed as he pounded into you, his hands alternating between grabbing your hips and smacking your ass. You grabbed your breasts, desperate to hold onto something; you drew your thumbs over your nipples, whimpering as it sent pleasurable shocks down to your throbbing cunt.

He growled, muttering something likely quite profane in Durese; he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you up flush against him. He drew his fangs along your shoulder, and you squirmed in response. It wouldn’t be much longer before he bit down, his fangs piercing your skin, as he came. You bore many scars from the times he bit you… but you loved it. You loved how he claimed you with every fuck. You were his, and you didn’t want it any other way.

His pace grew erratic and sloppy, and you helped out by rocking your hips; his hand shot down to rub circles along your clit, hoping to hasten your second orgasm. His fangs dragged harder across your shoulder, and then, he bit down, cumming deep inside you. You cried out, orgasming alongside him, your pussy milking his cock for all it was worth. Euphoria coursed through you as he lapped up the blood trickling from his new mark.

“There… there we are.” Cad drawled, pulling out of you and handing you the soap. “Clean up. I got somethin’ t’ attend to.”

“What?” You asked as you watched him mop off with a towel.

“It’s just business, doll. Nothin’ important.” He slowly dressed, casting glances over to you as you cleaned up the cum dripping from your sensitive cunt. “I’ll be back fer ya.”

He ducked out of the shower stall without another word. You shook your head with a small smile. Only he would be so intent to attend to business after fucking.

-

*The Silver Serpent: A bar and bunkhouse owned by the Bounty Hunter's Guild. Bounty hunters are allowed to stay there free while on jobs/between jobs. (I don't know if Cad's a part of the Guild. I don't care. He can use it either way lol)

** Sal is the nonbinary Togrutan bartender who sort of runs the place.

Both Sal and The Silver Serpent were introduced here

[woodsteingirl]

A case in suburbia, domestic dynamics, and a forever home. What could go wrong?

the moment i’ve been waiting for! chapter one is up now! read here or under the cut.

Cas and Dean were searching for a forever house. They had been pretty much since Cas got back from the empty. They were ready to distance themselves from hunting. Dean had always wanted a sort of suburban, white picket fence life, even if he didn’t admit it to anyone. And since he already admitted how he truly felt to Cas, why not throw his need for a domestic lifestyle into the mix. Cas was all for it. Ever since Jack had given up most of his powers to Amara, thus causing her to take his place as God and him almost human, Cas had been hoping for a place to raise him like a normal child. The bunker was great for hunting and a place for Cas, Dean, and Sam, but not so much for raising a 5-year-old kid.

House hunting had been a burden to bear, but they were making out alright. Up till this, they’d looked at about 3 other houses. They were all a no for different reasons. The first one Cas decided was in a school district that wouldn’t be good for Jack, the second didn’t have a big enough garage or backyard, and the third didn’t have enough bedrooms for all of their family to stay. With the whole credit card scam they’d been running for as long as they remember, budget wasn’t really a problem, but they didn’t want something extravagant.

There it was, 538 Chapel Street in Pine River Crossings. It wasn’t too far out of Lawrence, only a few hours' drive, and all the houses looked nice. Very cookie cutter, but that was sort of the appeal. They couldn’t guarantee that they would fit in with the traditional, upper middle-class people, but what the hell, if they could kill god they could take suburbia.

A few days passed, and they were set up to look at the home. They drove the hour and a half to the next medium-sized town with the belief in their minds that this was the one. It had all they needed, a two-car garage, a respectable school district, and two guest bedrooms. They were so caught up in this concept they made the mistake of not checking the news for the nearby areas. Once they arrived, a realtor who showed them around the dwelling greeted them. It was all they could ask for and more practically too good to be true, especially for people like them. The actual presentation of the house went over without too many problems. The person exhibiting the residence commented on how it had been on display for almost a month now, which was the first red flag. A house as nice as this, in a densely populated area, would usually not be on the market for that long in weeks unless there was some hidden con.

They signed on it not a day after seeing the house in person. It was all set up and they could officially start moving stuff in the next week. They officially shared the good news with everyone the day after they signed. Sam was beyond happy for them. Not only would he finally have a space to himself, he was proud of his brother for living the life he’d always wanted. Jack was thrilled that he would get to go to actual school and have friends that were his age and not cosmic entities. In the meantime, Cas did more research into the neighborhood. There was their hidden con. The newspaper Cas had pulled up on his phone said, “Local Couple Murdered in Own Home.”

“Dean, look at this.”

Okay, that was a setback. A murderer on the loose in the neighborhood they were moving into was not exactly what he had planned, but he had delt with worse. “Alright, that could be a problem.”

“I think it’s a little bigger than a problem,” Cas retorted.

“Is it our type of thing or just something local law enforcement could deal with?”

Cas read on in the article, “the couple was stabbed, there was no sign of forced entry, neighbors reported nothing amiss besides lights flickering before the murder. The weapon, as well as the perpetrator, was never found. No official suspects have been labeled, everyone has seemed to have an alibi.”

“It definitely sounds like our thing. Lights flickering, no breaking and entering, and all.”

They decided they could pose as residents, as it seemed perfectly normal for the newcomers to be concerned about the literal murderer on the loose. Since Cas was newly human, and Jack was, well, 5, Dean thought they might need outside help. Being out of practice to spend more time with your husband and child really had its fallbacks. Sam was off the table as backup. He was out of town and Dean didn't want to interrupt his first weekend without him in god knows how long. Plus, they needed someone who wouldn't draw too much attention to their family dynamic.

“Hey, Cas, what do you think about calling in Claire to help us with this one? You think she’d do it?”

“Calling her in for help is a good idea, whether or not shed actually do it is another question.”

“I’ll call and ask, and if she wants to help, and if not then I can think of something else.”

He kept his promise and called Claire not an hour later. He decided it might be best not to tell her it was undercover work, or that it was taking place in a white picket fence neighborhood, as that might turn her off from it almost immediately.

“Hey Claire, its been too long since we’ve talked,” he started.

“Hi Dean. what do you want, there’s no way you’re just calling to catch up if you’re starting with ‘its been too long.’”

“You got me there. I was just wondering if you wanted to come with me and Cas on a hunt. Its not too far from the bunker and we’d have you back home in a week.”

“Sure, that works. When do we start?” She hadnt seen Dean and Cas since they rescued Cas. That was over a month ago, she’d been meaning to visit, but she’d been so busy with hunting, and getting to know Kaia again now that she was finally back. This seemed like a perfect opportunity to reconnect and not miss out on anything too big back at home.

“If you could come down here by Wednesday, that’d be great.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” She was tempted to sign off with an ‘I love you’ but she was never a lovey-dovey person in that way.

On tuesday she promised Jody she’d be extra careful and would be back in under a week. Kaia told her to make sure to call every day and update her on what was happening. Claire agreed, promising to keep in touch. She spent the rest of the day driving down to Kansas.

Back on Dean and Cas’s end, they were trying to get the house set up for 4 people when they had no furniture prior to this. Cas had always loved furniture shopping even before he had a use for it. When he worked at the Gas-and-Sip, he would browse the home improvement magazines in his spare time. Dean was pretty much the opposite. He had never had reason to care for it, so he didn't. Maybe his hatred for Swedish furniture was rooted in his deep-seated commitment issues. It didn't matter much why he hated it, he just left most of the choices up to Cas. there was then the issue of appliances and such you couldn't find in a furniture store. That was left up to him. Cas sent him out to Walmart to get things for the kitchen. That was something he could do. He picked out a mixer, some silverware, and a pioneer woman kitchenware set. It came with pots and pans, mixing bowls, and a few normal sized plates. That was enough for him to consider it an absolute steal. He brought his finds home to the bunker, setting them on the table designated for things that were to go in the new house. Jack was sitting on Cas’s lap, pointing at things on the computer.

“What’re you guys finding?” Dean asked, hovering behind Cas’s shoulder.

“Djungelskog!” Jack exclaimed, showing Dean a photo of a large stuffed brown bear.

“I thought you were looking for furniture?” Dean directed the question more at Cas, but he was still looking at Jack.

“We are. Jack just got us a bit sidetracked. We found the majority of what we need. Among other things not of as grave importance.”

Dean looked over the shopping cart and then gave the go ahead. Not before adding the stuffed bear to the cart, though.

The next day Claire arrived. Everyone was thrilled to see her. Jack ran up and threw himself around one of her legs and Cas gave her an awkward dad side hug. Dean wondered when he would tell her what the hunt would actually consist of, but he didn't want to interrupt the moment.

A few hours later, Dean fixed everyone a real dinner and had them sit down at the kitchen table. The realization dawned on him that this was going to be his last sit down meal officially living in the bunker. Everyone sort of just sat in silence for a beat. Perhaps reflecting on their own lasts of officially living there. “Claire, I sorta forgot to add this when I called you, but the case is a lot of undercover work. Also its in a suburban area.”

“And why didn't you tell me this sooner?”

“Well to speak freely, I wanted you on this case and I was worried it would make you not want to come.”

“It almost does, but i'm already here now, and i wouldn't want to waste a days driving on something i'm not actually going to do.” She guessed this would probably take longer than a week. “And i'm guessing this isn't just something you decided to do out of the goodness of your hearts?”

“We bought a house in the area, and we just wanted to make sure it was safe,” Cas explained.

“Hang on, you bought a house for real and you didnt even think to tell me? You didn't think that that was valuable information?”

“It didn't come up in our phone call,” Dean said.

“And? That’s no excuse to leave your daughter out of major life events!” The ‘daughter’ part just sort of came out without her noticing, but seconds after she said it she regretted it. God, how embarrassing.

“You’re right. We should’ve told you sooner. It was kind of a recent decision, though, so you haven’t been out of the loop for too long,” Cas said.

The next day was moving day. Dean loaded the appliances into the back of Claire’s car, since the back of the Impala was already full. Claire took her own car, while Dean, Cas, and Jack rode in Baby. Their real furniture was being delivered as they spoke. Cas offered to ride with Claire, but she assured him she’d be fine by herself. The drive wasn’t even that long, especially compared to the distance she drove yesterday.

Dean was silently nervous. He wouldn’t admit it out loud but it was written all over his face. His first real stable house, with the man he loved, and his two kids, he could only hope that he didn’t mess it up. Cas put a hand on his shoulder showing he saw how Dean was feeling.

They turned onto Chapel Street and pulled up into the driveway of the house. It somehow looked bigger and more daunting than it had during the walkthrough. Claire arrived almost ten minutes later. Everyone just sort of paused in front of the house for a minute, reveling in the stability most of them had never had.

[justmypartner]

Make it Work: Chapter 9

Summary: When offered a permanent position with the FBI, Hailey agrees to take it under one condition: Jay comes too. As their personal lives and work lives begin to change, the two partners find it increasingly difficult to navigate their complex relationship and manage their feelings for one another.

Writer’s Note: Just want to say this is the second to last chapter of this fic, and it feels bittersweet. This has been a fun multi-chapter to write (my first ever!), and I’m already getting way too excited for the next. Thank you, thank you, thank you for all of the support. It really makes me smile to see the reactions and kind comments after uploading each chapter, I really appreciate it so much. Happy penultimate chapter with our special agent babes & happy reading :))

TW//: brief and vague mentions of assault and sexual harassment 

Tagging: @angelsjedi , @brookerz122493 , @cpdfan2014 , @the–carousel , @maya-asturias , @itsdesiree86 , @tvshowsaremyhappyplace , @stephanie708​

Read on AO3 or below​

Jay wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, or even how long he was out before his eyes slowly blinked open to a dimmed light peeking in through Hailey’s window. It still seemed to be daytime, and it still seemed to be raining, but other than that he had no clue how much time had passed. He promptly became conscious of the way she charmingly snored into his chest, the way her leg was tangled up with his, and the way it felt so natural to be laid up like that with her. It was all almost enough to make him forget how they had gotten in that position in the first place. Almost enough to make up for all of the bad stuff, but not quite. The more he came out of his groggy state, the more he remembered the details of everything she had revealed to him. With that came a resurgence of anger, and the strongest urge to climb out from her grasp and go after the man who had hurt her.

He couldn’t count how many times he had dreamed of waking up next to her. It was too many times throughout the years that he allowed his mind to drift, imagining a world where he’d wake up with her cuddled in his arms, her golden locks sprawled out across his pillows, and the smell of her shampoo fresh in his nose. He would wonder what it would be like to kiss her, to have her fingers in his hair, her touch on his skin, and he would wonder what it was like to be loved by her. Yet, in all of those fantasies, he never imagined things would happen the way they did. That their first kiss would come after she dished out the details of a trauma, that it would come after he blurted out the words I love you, or that he would blurt them out in the middle of her apartment in rain-soaked clothes. He also never imagined their first time sharing a bed would end with a desperate desire to flee it, but there he was.

The stillness of her body and the evenness of her breath told him she was still sleeping. He knew she needed it after the night she had. So, he suppressed that urge to leave and settled his mind into staying right where he was. He looked down, running his fingers lightly across her bruised hands, taking in every break of the skin and every discoloration that lined her knuckles and fingers. It was a visible representation of her strength, the fighter in her, but it was also a symbol of the trauma she endured. The perfect bittersweet metaphor for his emotions in that very moment.

“You know, poking and prodding at a girl’s wounds isn’t the best way to wake her up,” she mumbled as he did so, exhaustion evident in her voice.

“Sorry, just checking that you’re alive,” he said playfully, assuaged by the lightness in her voice and their ability to joke with one another after everything that transpired. She laughed softly before bringing a finger up to draw invisible patterns against his chest.

“You know, you make a great pillow,” she said, raising her head up to flash him a smile. He smiled back, but it quickly faded when he noticed the split on her lip and the bruises that loomed behind the curls covering her chest. He brought a hand up, tenderly tracing over the cut on her lip with his thumb.

“He’s going to pay for what he did,” he said to her, trying to maintain an even tone. She swallowed, crossing her arms on his chest and letting her head fall against her elbow.

“This is my battle, let me handle it,” she told him straightly.

“Hailey, please. I’m your partner, let me be there for you,” he requested, earnestness in his voice. She was quiet, eyeing him as she bit the inside of her cheek. If either of them had learned anything after four years of partnership, it was that no matter how much one of them tried to push away, the other would always be on the other side, more than prepared to push right back. It was a losing argument she was starting, and they both knew that. Her eyes stared blankly behind him as she thought it over, and slowly reconnected their gaze as she responded. 

“Fine, but follow my lead? I want to do things my way,” she finally settled. He wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that, but a wide smile crept across his face.

“I’ll follow you anywhere,” he said. He knew they had probably reached a point when saying that had become cheesy, but it was their thing, and it felt like a fitting time to remind her of it. She gave him a soft grin, dipping her head in agreement before pushing herself off of him, making him instantly miss her warmth against his body.

“For the record, I don’t think partners kiss each other and share a bed while one of them is half-naked,” she said as she climbed out from the duvet, clutching at her ribs as she did so. It hurt him to see her in pain, but he found it in him to smile at her words. She exited the room, and he raised his voice slightly so she could hear him.

“For the record, you kissed me first,” he chaffed. She reentered the room with a bashful grin, his clothes from before in hand as she came to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. He sat up against the headboard and she set his clothes down beside her. Then she looked at him and the grin fell from her lips, she inhaled sharply before speaking.

“Listen, about what you said earlier…” her voice dropped slowly as the words came out. She didn’t have to specify what she was referring to because he already knew. She stammered, and her eyes circled the room nervously before he stopped her. It was clear she wasn’t ready to say it back, and he was okay with that.

“Look, Hailey. We don’t have to figure this out right now. Today was heavy and emotional, and I’m sure this thing with-“ he almost said his name but he stopped himself. “Taking care of what happened is more important than anything right now. I meant what I said, but I didn’t say it with any expectations. I’ve been wanting to tell you that for longer than you know, and quite honestly, I'm surprised I finally got the guts to. For now, I’m going to be by your side in any way you’ll have me. We can figure out the rest later,” he told her, reaching out to grab her hand. She smiled, bringing her other hand to cover his.

“While we’re adding things to the record,” he started, jabbing at her tease from before. “I really enjoyed kissing my partner and would happily share a bed with her again… while half-naked,” he teased with a wink. She rolled her eyes and pressed her lips together into a smothered grin before taking his clothes and shoving them into his chest.

“Get dressed, Halstead,” she commanded before rising from the bed. He watched as she made her way out of the room, his eyes traveling with her.

“Hey,” she said, stopping in the doorway as he picked up his still damp clothes to put on. He looked up at her as she pursed her lips to the side, almost like she was debating whether or not to say what she was intending to say.

“I really enjoyed it too,” she said quietly before turning and disappearing into the other room.

He blushed as a large grin erupted across his face, and he was glad she didn’t stick around to see how smitten he was just by those simple words.

One of his biggest fears about finally confessing his feelings was that she wouldn’t feel the same way. That he would leave those feelings in the air, to not only be rejected, but ruin the great thing they had as partners and best friends. While she didn’t say it back, everything that took place after his confession gave him more assurance than any words could have. She didn’t need to say anything for him to know she had feelings for him, and he knew they needed to figure out whatever there was to be figured out with Walker before they made any major changes in their relationship.

He put on his slightly soggy clothes and she changed into something more presentable before exiting her apartment back to headquarters. He flagged them a cab when they made it to the street so that they could avoid having to trek through the rain. Jay’s eyes followed the rain droplets racing down the side of the window of the cab, and when he looked over Hailey was doing the same. He smiled to himself as he looked at her, and diffidently looked away when she caught him. Except this time he wasn’t nearly as embarrassed as all of the previous times when she had caught him stealing a glance. This time it was amusing more than anything, especially when his eyes cut over and he caught her doing the same. It was a light moment that effectively distracted them from what was to come.

In the elevator, the way her fingers fidgeted with the ends of her coat sleeves told him how nervous she was. She had a good poker face, an impressive way of appearing calm in the face of fear. Looking at the stone-faced expression on her face, you would think every part of her was fearless, invincible. It was a skill he saw her use so many times with offenders three times her size and even with Voight. However, he came to learn that every nerve in her body during those moments rested in her fingers. She either nervously tapped the sides of her thighs, the surface that her fingers rested on, or in this case, pulled at the ends of her sleeves. He reached over, sliding his fingers between hers as the elevator ascended to their floor, causing her to release an alleviated breath. When the elevator reached their floor they quickly pulled apart, and he took a deep breath before stepping out.

Drake was the first to see them, and he sent them a puzzled look.

“Are you two okay?” He asked, a look of concern on his face. Jay looked over at Hailey, waiting for her to respond as he didn’t want to speak for her.

“All good. Um… where’s Burrows? We need to talk to him,” she finally said, maintaining a stolid expression.

“He and Bennett are out right now, what’s going on? I can call them in if it’s urgent,” he offered. Jay opened his mouth to respond, ready to reveal everything to their boss, but she cut him off before he could get a full word out.

“No, it’s okay. We can wait. Sorry for flaking today, I- we had something personal to take care of,” she said, Jay creasing his brow with confusion.

“It’s fine. Let me know if I can do anything,” he said hesitantly. Jay could tell Drake knew she was holding something back, but he didn’t press her for it. Hailey turned to walk away and he followed. She walked down the hall and to the locker room, Jay followed quietly, disoriented by her evasion.

“Why didn’t you tell him what happened?” Jay asked when they reached the concealment of the room.

“Because I want to do this my way. Not some bureaucratic, hoop-jumping way that might not even end in my favor. Trust me, these systems aren’t set up to protect people like me in these situations. They’re just not,“ she shook her head as her words dropped off. She began pacing the floor and Jay sat down on a bench between the lockers, looking up at her as her words took him by surprise.

“Wait, it sounds like… Are you talking from experience? Hailey, has this happened before?” He asked, frowning at the thought. She stopped her pacing, standing before him with a defeated look on her face. She nodded slowly before coming to sit in front of him on the bench.

“Nothing quite as bad as this time,” she said softly, twisting her fingers together in her lap. “When I was on patrol, I had this partner. My original partner had moved up to detective before me, so I had a revolving door of partners until I eventually made it into Robbery-Homicide. This guy was charming, a good cop, except he didn’t understand the concept of boundaries and the word no. It started out as inappropriate compliments and seemingly innocent touches on my shoulder or my forearm... until it was fingers grazing my thigh or hands brushing against my chest. Me telling him no didn’t work, so I ended up reporting him for sexual harassment. He was much older than me, had been on patrol for years before I even graduated the academy, and he had a clean record, so when it made it to the higher-ups, all they did was separate us. He was in the wrong but got to move on while I became known around the precinct as the girl who cried harassment. What happened here was way worse than that, and while I was fortunate enough to fight him off before… anyway, the next girl may not be so lucky. I can’t take that chance. He can’t just get a slap on the wrist and move on, he’s gotta be done,” she said, determination in her voice. Jay wasn’t sure how to react. He had never been in a situation like that, and he never would be. He understood her frustration with the system, but he also thought the only way for Walker to truly pay was for an official allegation to be lodged against him.

“Hails, I’m so sorry that happened to you. I can’t even imagine what that’s like. I just can’t,” he shrugged. “I know you don’t trust the system, rightfully so, but I think things could be different this time around. Drake would back you all the way, and you have me. I’m not going to be satisfied until you get justice for this,” he told her firmly.

“I know, I know, but Jay this isn’t as simple as that. So many things can go wrong if it gets out of Drake’s hands. At that point nobody, not him, not you, not even I would have control over what happened next. If I force him out, threaten to turn him in, make him leave, the power stays in my court and this all goes away with a guarantee,” she reasoned.

“Yeah, but what happens when he gets a little too drunk with his coworker at his next job? It may not be in the bureau, but that doesn’t change the fact that someone still becomes a victim. We need to do this right. Not only does he need permanent termination from the bureau, but he needs to be disciplined for what he did. Plus, as bad of a thought as it is, realistically, you aren’t his first. Are we just supposed to deprive potential others of their justice?” He fought back.

“I-“ she began. He cut her off.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but let me just say this one thing. We took this job because we knew we could make a difference here. And we have. We’ve taken the worst of the worst off the streets and saved innocent people from so many horrible situations. But, how much of a difference can we say we’ve made if we aren’t addressing the problems that exist within? Do you remember what you told me when I was nervous before our first day? You said we put ‘em in check, and they sort the rest out themselves. Well, that’s what we can do here. We can make sure the system protects those who need protecting in these situations, and we can make sure everyone knows that. The change starts with us, Hailey, and they sort out the rest. Look, I’ll back you with whatever you decide, I just needed you to hear my two cents,” he finished, tilting his head down as he waited for her response. She let out a sigh before raising her eyes from the floor.

“You really think Drake will have my back?” She asked him, a hopeful look in her eyes.

“If he doesn’t, I will,” he admitted firmly. She bobbed her head lightly, and they stood.

“Fine, but let me tell him. I can do it alone,” she told him just before they exited the locker room. He agreed, waiting outside of his office as she told him. When she came out, her eyes were red with tears, but she bore a look of relief that told him the conversation went well. When Walker and Daisy finally returned from the field, Drake emerged from his office immediately.

“Agent Burrows,” he called out, stopping the man in his tracks. A look of fear overcame him as he paused before the agent in charge.

“As of today, you are stripped of your authority and duties as a Special Agent of the FBI, pending investigation by the internal review board and the Department of Justice. Badge and gun,” he said to him, his jaw set tightly as he addressed the man.

Jay looked over at Hailey who carried an impassive expression as she watched the ordeal. His eyes surveyed the room, taking in every reaction to the scene before them. Most carried a frown, others carried a very indifferent expression, but nobody appeared to look on with surprise. Daisy’s expression was the most telling. As his partner, you’d expect her to come to his defense, to be utterly astounded by what was happening. Instead, she watched with a knowing look, like it was something she had half-expected for years.

After Walker handed the boss his badge and gun, he shook his head aggressively, eyes circling the room to find Hailey. When they did, he began to approach her. Jay stepped forward, a protective stance ready to give the man what he had coming. Instead, Hailey held out an arm, pushing him back as the man approached. He reluctantly stepped back, but he maintained a steady glare at the man. He let his mind fantasize about laying him out right there, but he restrained himself, giving Hailey the control she deserved. She was toe-to-toe with him, looking up as he towered over her, maintaining a plucky look on her face despite the way he was trying to intimidate her.

“You played me,” he said. A disgusted scoff escaped from her mouth. “You’ve been leading me on since you got here. Now you want to ruin my life because you changed your mind?” he griped.

“Leading you on?” she repeated with a laugh. “If you mistook me being friendly with you, a coworker, as me leading you on then that’s your problem. I’m not the one ruining your life, you did that all on your own,” she spat at him.

“You’re going to be sorry for this,” he bit back.

“The only thing I’ll be sorry for is ever treating you with any ounce of decency. Drunk or not, you’re a prick for what you did, and you’re never going to get a chance to do it to another girl ever again,” she returned. He stepped forward as if he were going to unleash his anger on her, but Jay quickly stepped in, pushing aggressively against the man’s chest.

“You better get out of here before I put you on your ass. Believe me, I would like nothing more than to add to those bruises she already put on your sorry face,” Jay told him through gritted teeth. The man huffed and stormed out, escorted by two agents following close behind. The second he was gone, Hailey let out a sigh of relief as if she were holding her breath throughout the entire interaction. He brought a reassuring hand to her shoulder and Daisy approached from the other side of the room.

“Jesus, Hailey. Are you okay?” She asked, eyeing the visible evidence of Walker’s actions across her body. Hailey nodded softly, and a sad look filled Daisy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. I thought all of his, whatever it all was… I thought he was harmless. I probably should’ve known,” she confessed, her voice trailing off.

“None of this is on you. He was somewhat harmless... until he was drunk. You know what they say though, true personalities come out when people are drunk,” she shook her head with her words. Daisy just nodded in response.

“Let me know if I can do anything for you, please,” she said.

“Thank you. Really, I appreciate you, Dais,” Hailey told her, bringing a hand to the woman’s forearm briefly.

After everything, they stuck around the office for a while. Jay watched as several others approached Hailey, checking to make sure she was okay, voicing their support for her. They didn’t announce what actually happened, what led to Walker being stripped of his badge, but based on the confrontation in the middle of the bullpen and the bruises on each of their faces, everyone must have put the pieces together. As he watched, he hoped she’d felt a sense of support she didn’t feel all those years ago when the department turned their back on her. He hoped that it comforted her, made her realize she made the right decision to turn him in. When things started to die down, Drake instructed Hailey, Daisy, and Jay to go home. He knew they all needed to decompress, and he also knew they would’ve stayed for the rest of the shift if he didn’t say anything.

“Ready to go?” Hailey asked Jay as she approached him at his desk. He nodded, rising from his chair and grabbing his jacket from the seatback. He had a brief flashback in his mind to earlier that day when he did the same thing. That moment felt like a lifetime ago, but he was consciously aware of the juxtaposition of those two moments. Earlier that day he was grabbing his coat, worried out of his mind about Hailey, but at that moment he was grabbing it with a sense of peace that everything would be okay.

They rode the elevator to the lobby in silence. They stood shoulder to shoulder in the small space, both eyeing the digital glow of the numbers beside the door as it counted down to one. The silence continued as they walked down the street. It was nighttime by then, and the rain had finally stopped, leaving the familiar petrichor emanating from the sidewalk. The day began with a rainstorm, a horrible mess completely out of their control, but it was ending with that smell of rain like everything had been washed clean and they were getting a fresh start.

Before he realized it, they were reaching the street corner. The corner where she’d turn to walk home to her apartment, and he’d turn the other direction to walk home to his. He wasn’t sure where they stood. He told her he loved her. She kissed him. They shared a bed together. Then, they had to leave that small blissful bubble they created to confront the man who attacked her. He knew that night wasn’t the proper time to have that conversation, to figure out what things would mean for them. He didn’t know when that would be, but he did know that in the low light of the streetlamp above them, she looked so beautiful. She looked up at him with a what now look in her eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her and tell her a million times over how much he loved her. But he didn’t. She was the one who just went through something unimaginable, the one who was probably still reeling from having so many world-shaking things happen to her in the past 24 hours, so he was letting her write the rules. She eventually broke their silent gaze with her quiet voice.

“Thank you… for everything. I don’t want to even think about what would have happened today if you weren’t around,” she confessed, looking up at him with slightly glossy eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me. You don’t ever have to thank me. You know I’m always going to be there for you,” he returned.

Because I love you, was what he wanted to add, but he didn’t because he didn’t know where her head was. Yet, something in the look on her face told him she knew it even if he didn’t say it. She inhaled, shifting her weight to one leg as her head cocked up at him.

“I know you said earlier that you’ll be by my side in any way I’ll have you,” she began, causing him to hold the breath he had just taken. “I need just a little more time to figure that out. This entire day has been incredibly long and exhausting, and I really don’t trust myself or my feelings right now,” she choked, the heaviness of the day written across her face. As much as he understood, the words hurt, and he hung his head low with a nod to conceal the splintered expression that overcame his face. She reached out, grabbing his hand in hers.

“I’m not saying no. I’m not saying I don’t feel the same because trust me, I-“ she cut herself off. “I just need time,” she requested. With that, he forced himself to lift his spirit, raising his head back up with an affirming nod and sending her that soft and reassuring look that seemed to come so naturally with her.

“Of course. Take all the time you need,” he said, squeezing her hand back gently. With that she nodded, pulling away before making her way past him, headed down the street to her apartment. He watched as she walked away. He didn’t know how much time she’d need, but he couldn’t wait until the moment when she was walking back to him. He knew the wait would be agony, but he also knew for her he would wait forever. He inhaled deeply, that smell of rain filling his senses, giving him hope that their fresh start would be well worth the wait.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

When Our Hands Next Meet

Series summary: Soulmates are given memories of their past lives when their hands touch. For Virgil and Logan, each memory is happier than the last.

This series was created for @analogicalweek and made in collaboration with the lovely @birdsongisland! Please go look at the wonderful drawing that pairs with this work and support them with reblogs so their work can be seen!

Credit to birdsongisland for beta reading this as well, it came out a lot better because of them!

Chapter 5: We’ll Meet in the Middle

Chapter Summary: Virgil didn’t know what he had been expecting when he asked for a tutor to help with his studies, but it definitely wasn’t who could kick flip a skateboard without even looking down and also happened to be his soulmate. 

Day 5 Prompt: Vocab Card/Skateboard

Warnings: none. If there are others please let me know!

WC: 1539

AO3 link

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi @logans-library @im-an-anxious-wreck @edupunkn00b

Virgil huffed as he cupped his chin aggressively in his hand, staring down the road to wait for his tutor to show up. Not to get the wrong idea- he was very grateful to the person who had agreed to help him with his vocabulary; he just...wasn’t the best with people. He was socially awkward and very obviously had a vague emo style- wavy purple hair with white streaks fell messily over shadowed eyes and cheeks that would burn in five minutes outside despite his tanned complexion. His black nail  polish was chipping from the constant picking and he was never seen anywhere without his favorite purple hoodie hugging him like a portable blanket. But he was falling a bit behind in class because he couldn’t seem to remember the constant influx of new terminology thrown at him each week. Asking the professor about extra practice had landed him a phone number that he had agonized over for too many hours before finally biting the bullet and calling.

The voice on the other end alone was enough to make his stomach flip, light and lilting even when talking about something as boring as scheduling. Virgil knew it then and he was stewing over it now- he was absolutely done for. No one had that kind of voice without being kind and patient and while those were things he definitely needed if he was going to learn anything he was sure he’d get distracted anyway. Forming a squish from a voice- that had to be the worst joke played on him yet.

Looking up however nearly made him want to cry at the irony. That had to be him, the only person on campus at the moment standing tall on a skateboard while gripping a dark blue messenger bag. From what Virgil could see he had blue hair that was pulled to one side with the other shaved, immediately piquing Virgil’s interest with the unique look. He tried his hardest not to stare as he came closer and his jacket came into view; a leather one spiked at the shoulders and sporting pride flags at the chest. Virgil felt his own chest constrict as he stored that away for later, the pintrovert system coming in handy for what felt like the first time in his life.

Just as he was getting his crutches situated to stand up he noticed the other man riding straight for the sidewalk seemingly not paying attention to where he was going. Scrambling to his feet he lurched forward to yell out.

“Hey watch ou-” The warning died on his lips as his tutor executed a perfect lick flip onto the sidewalk, letting the momentum carry him a couple more feet before stopping and tucking the skateboard under his arms. Virgil was sure he looked like an absolute idiot as he approached him, trying his hardest not to gape while practically feeling his eyes sparkling while looking at the punk with wide eyes. 

“Hello, I’m Logan. And you’re Virgil right? The person I’m supposed to help with his medical terms?” He waited for Virgil to nod before continuing. “Excellent. Is the library fine?”

Realizing He’d been silent too long, he managed to squeak out a “Yeah,” as he reached down to swing his bag over his shoulder. Logan started towards the doors with him, shuffling things around in his bag to pull out notecards and stuff the skateboard into it. How it fit Virgil had no idea but taking in the aesthetic he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it involved some sort of fae magic. 

They settled down at the table and Logan looked over at him, making his heart once again skip a beat as he took in the beautiful shade of brown. Shaking his head slightly he tried to focus on what Logan was currently talking about while organizing several colored pens in front of them.

“-that way you’ll be able to separate the terms better and your brain will be better equipped to compartmentalize the terms you need to remember in half the time. Does that make sense?”

It didn’t. It really, really didn’t. He had a soulmate somewhere that he hadn’t found yet and most likely wouldn’t for a long time to come, and yet here he was trying desperately to hide a blush because this person was just- he was so cool. His voice and eyes were pretty and he was obviously smart if he had been the first person his teacher had recommended to tutor him…

“Are you feeling alright? You look flushed.” Hearing this Virgil snapped back to reality and gave a thumbs up, ducking his head while trying to resist the urge to slam it into the wood. 

“Fine, yeah! Just you’re- it’s hot! Hot in the hoodie.” Praying he had saved that sentence quickly enough he dared to peak back at Logan through his bangs, who was just smiling slightly with an arm draped over the back of his chair.

“You can take that off then, if you want.” Logan pointed to the hoodie. “Since you’re hot.”

Virgil decided then, somehow managing to keep a straight face through his panic, that it was quite homophobic of the floor to not simply open and swallow him whole. Try as he might to calm himself he could still feel the remnants of the harsh flush in his cheeks as he saw Logan simply look at him with that smile, making him idly wonder if the sly bastard was really flirting with him or was actually just that oblivious.

Virgil sputtered as he wrapped the hoodie tighter around himself, shaking his head slightly. “Nah, I’m fine actually! You were saying about colors?”

“Just that color coding can help you study better. I’m here to give you tips as well so please pay attention.” Leaning forward again, Logan started explaining how to separate the different concepts and how to decide what was important and what wasn’t; honestly Virgil was genuinely surprised at how much he retained, forgetting his panic in favor of actually learning, for which he was very grateful. By the time an hour had passed he had a pretty good grasp on what he was meant to be learning and how to go about it. He stacked his much improved notecards together and shoved them in his pocket for later, shifting around in his seat to look at Logan properly.

“Thank you honestly, I feel a lot better about the class now.”

“It was no trouble, I’m grateful I was able to help. And if you’re in need of further assistance before next week, call me?” Logan smiled crookedly. “I use the library’s phone for tutor scheduling, this is for my actual phone..”

Virgil gaped at the slip of paper offered to him with a wink, fully cementing the idea that Logan had, in fact, been flirting with him and Virgil had been too infatuated with his style to actually notice. Purple nail polish caught his eye as his hand moved closer and he had the vague thought of that being his favorite color and how did he keep them from chipping? Before his thoughts could wonder further he was taking the paper and smiling, just aware enough of their fingers brushing as he remembered  being with this person, his soulmate, time and time again. Every time was better than the last as their souls grew accustomed to one another and grew over eternity, strengthening their bond with every word exchanged.

Virgil looked at his soulmate's dazed expression, the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen gracing his lips and eyes watering with emotion at having found him again. So many words stuck in his throat as he struggled with the perfect thing to say, something that would capture how happy he was to finally be together again and how excited he was to explore this lifetime together. Something that would make Logan understand just how much he meant to him.

“I think this is the coolest form you’ve ever taken.” He blurted, immediately covering his mouth and cursing himself twice over.

His heart sank as Logan barked out a laugh, snorting into his own hand and taking a minute to compose himself before laying a gentle hand on his cheek. 

“And I think this is the loveliest I’ve seen you.” 

He laughed softly as Virgil went completely red, fingers twitching with indecision over whether to flap his hand or slap the idiot beside him. Deciding on a combination of both he frantically beat a hand against his shoulder while sleeping his other over his mouth, mumbling profanities under his breath. Whipping around as his hand was caught he couldn’t help but grin at Logan’s own brilliant smile, even if his face felt like he had dipped it in a vat of boiling water.

“It’s getting late, I could walk you home?”

“Yeah,” Virgil managed. “I’d like that.”

Walking home and still slightly wishing the floor had opened up beneath him, he couldn’t help but feel lucky that he had found Logan so soon. They had an eternity to catch up on and if it had to start with fixing his bad study habits, he supposed he couldn’t complain.

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[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Nowhere to Run by  GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Or on FF

Tagging: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx

Chapter 8: The Plan

Emma woke as the sunlight reached her face. She snuggled down into her blankets, enjoying the warmth they provided to her. The blankets were plush and soft against her skin, something she did not have the luxury of having the last ten years. Henry and Emma had been afforded a single woolen blanket that they shared on their old mattress in the basement or whatever room he would trap them in for the moment. Many times, in the winter, they had huddled together using her body to keep her son warm.

Looking over she watched with gratitude as Henry was curled into the comforter, Rogers nuzzling against his chest, a smile on the boy’s face.

She heard a noise echoing through the house, the clang of metal in the distance. She sat up, yawning before stretching her feet to the floor and wandering into the bathroom. She found a brush in the bottom drawer, one she recognized as hers, and ran the bristles through her hair. Killian had left two new toothbrushes on the sink for her and Henry.

When she finished getting ready, she slipped quietly out of the room, Rogers following at her heels. She found Killian in the kitchen, hunched over the stove while he stirred a pan of scrambled eggs. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants, and nothing else. Emma stood in the door frame, admiring the man in front of her, she had forgotten what it was like to desire someone.

She had determined that even ten years later, he was still the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on. His body had changed in the years since she had been with him, but he had stayed in excellent shape, his back was firm and taut, even though she could tell he had gained weight since they were together, but it made him even more attractive to her. By the time she realized her gaze was lingering over his firm backside, Rogers betrayed her by drawing his attention toward her.

“Morning, Emma. Hope I didn’t wake you. I thought you and Henry might want some breakfast before we met with David.”

He turned, leaning against the stove, crossing his arms in front of his chest. She mentally reminded herself to keep her eyes on his face, not to trail down his body or spend time wondering if he still went commando when wearing sweatpants.

“Emma?”

She flinched, realizing she had been stuck in her head, staring at him. “Sorry, still sleepy.” She laughed. “Um, breakfast sounds great. I’ll get Henry up.”

She retreated quickly to the bedroom, waking her son to ensure they had time to eat and make it to the station before 8am.

By the time they pulled up to the station, they were ten minutes late, and had missed multiple calls from David who was clearly concerned about Killian making good on his promise to return Emma first thing in the morning.

“Sorry, I’m not used to getting a kid out the door in enough time to get across town.” Killian replied honestly as Robin glared at him as soon as they reached his desk.

“Hello again, Emma.” Robin smiled, looking over at Killian with concern. “Captain has a guest in his office, he wants to see you both. I can watch Master Henry.”

Emma followed Killian nervously through the building toward the Captain’s office. The blinds were closed, and they knocked before entering the room. When Emma stepped inside, she recognized the woman sitting across from David at his desk. She had met her twice in the hospital after more than one brutal attack she had received from Neal.

“Jones, Emma. This is Mary Margaret; she works over at Harbor View Medical Center.”

The woman looked up and stared at Emma. “I remember you.” She said softly.

“I remember you too, Emma. I’m so happy to finally see you again.” The woman stood from her seat.

“Emma, we would like to be able to use your hospital records as evidence.” David declared.

“I didn’t use my real name.” She said with a frown.

“I actually flagged them after trying to report your injuries, I figured it wasn’t your real name and you were always gone before I could alert security, but I hoped that one day I would see you again. Your injuries were especially memorable, and no one should have to continue to live with that.”

Emma glanced at Killian nervously, swallowing before speaking. “Can I…can I talk to you privately?”

Mary Margaret looked at David, and he nodded, “We’ll just be outside. Take your time.”

Killian lightly grazed her shoulder and she turned toward him with a nod, offering him a shy smile before he followed David out the door.

“How are you doing, Emma?” The woman asked taking a seat and offering her a chair beside her.

“I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for me in the past. I know you tried to help, and I wasn’t very cooperative.”

“Emma, you did what you had to do to survive. No one faults you for that.”

“I had to protect my son. Neal never let him come with me to the hospital. He always kept us separate so that I wouldn’t do anything.”

“That must have been terrifying.” She said softly, reaching out to take her hand. “How are you coping with being away from him?”

“I’m…” She sighed, guilt overcoming her as she turned her eyes to the floor. “I feel like I’ve done something wrong. By leaving him. How fucked up is that?”

“Emma, you were with this man for ten years. He conditioned you to be afraid of him, to want to please him. It’s natural to be scared or feel that you’ve disappointed him in some way.”

“How long am I going to be like this?”

“I can’t answer that unfortunately, I can recommend you a good therapist. Dr. Hopper is the best around.”

“Therapists are for weak people.” She grunted.

“Therapy is to help you talk about how you’re feeling and the way those feelings cause you to interact with others. It will help you resolve what happened to you. It doesn’t make you weak. You are a very strong woman to have withstood the violence and emotional abuse you suffered.”

“Will I always be afraid of being close to another person?”

“How do you mean?”

“Killian, he’s my…my husband.” The woman looked confused for a moment before the realization of her words were met with understanding.

“I’m sorry, Captain Nolan didn’t tell me you were married.”

“It was complicated.” She said with a light snort. “But now, every time he touches me, I flinch.”

“It’s going to take time for you to react normally. The important part is for you to know that you are in a safe environment. He’ll need to be patient, take things slow. Try the little things until you feel like you are ready to move to the next thing. Start with something small, like holding his hand, or a hug. It may be easier if you initiate contact with others for a while, until you get used to someone else showing you affection. But there is no right or wrong way to heal, Emma. Neal broke your self-esteem, took away your ability to trust and violated your will to choose, only you can take back what he stole from you.”

She smiled at her, looking down at her hands, feeling comforted by another person.

“I’ll leave Dr. Hopper’s card with David.”

“Thank you for talking to me. I don’t know what to say to Captain Nolan or Killian.”

“They both seem to care a great deal about you, I have a feeling they will let you take all the time you need to come to them.” She paused. “How is Henry handling things?”

“I’m not sure. He doesn’t trust a lot of people. He seems to like Killian, but I know this isn’t easy on him.”

“Dr. Hopper sees kids too; it might be a good idea for both of you to have someone else to talk to.”

“Thank you, I will look into it.”

She was happy to have had the opportunity to speak to the woman. Not that she felt better, it was just nice to know that what she was experiencing was normal behavior. Emma laughed to herself, it wasn’t like anything going on around her was normal.

When they stepped out of the room, David and Killian were huddled in the corner with Robin. A man and woman, she thought were named Belle and Will who had been their back up the night they got Henry out of the house was sitting with her son, who was currently laughing loudly at something the man had said to them.

Neal’s picture was displayed on the wall at the back of the room, her own photo was below it, she cringed when she realized that it pointed toward Officer Perry. She made her way to the men in the corner, taking note of the way that Killian stared at her with concern in his eyes as she approached.

“So, what’s the plan?” She said shyly as she approached.

David turned around, “Ah you’re done, let me see Mary Margaret out, Killian and Robin can fill you in.”

“We’re gonna have you call Neal from a phone in the building, tell him that you got picked up while you were shopping. Just tell him that the officer told you they have Henry. It’s going to be really important for him to believe you are desperate to get him back.”

Emma nodded. “Ok, he’ll believe all that, he’s not exactly smart. But how is that going to get him to you?”

Robin pointed at the map on the wall. “We want you to tell him to pick you up on the docks, here.” He said as he pointed toward the map. “Will he come get you? Or will he expect you to come to him?”

“I’ll tell him I need him, that always gets him to do what I want.”

Killian’s jaw tensed beside her but he nodded his head. “Ok then we take you to the docks. He shows up, we take him down.”

David walked up behind them. “And she needs to wear a wire, we want to get him to talk about the bank job. Get him to say that he killed Officer Perry.”

“No way, too dangerous, he’s not an idiot. He’ll check her for a wire.” Killian argued.

“He’s right, Neal doesn’t trust anyone and if he knows I’ve been with the cops for a whole day without contacting him, he’ll suspect something.” She added.

“That’s the conditions. She wears a wire, or they want her back in lock up.”

“That’s a fucking death sentence.” Killian screamed and she jumped. “There is no way we do this. I’m not sending her out there so he can fucking kill her.”

“We’ll be safe, he won’t find the wire. I get that this is risky, so it’s Emma’s call.” David looked up at her apologetically.

She turned toward Killian, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. “If we don’t get Neal off the streets, he’s a danger to all of us. He won’t stop until he’s killed you, me, and Henry. I have to protect him.”

“Emma…” He choked out, his thumb caressing the top of her knuckles.

“I can do this, and I know you’ll be there to back me up.”

He ran his hand through his hair, an exasperated groan leaving his throat. “Fine, but if things go wrong, I’m putting a bullet in his head.”

“Don’t make me pull you off this, Jones. I need you thinking straight.” David warned.

“He’ll be fine.” Robin added, stepping up to tap him on the shoulder and sending him a warning glance.

“Ok let’s make the call.”

Emma felt her nerves rising as they dialed the phone, Killian listening on another line from his desk.

“Hello?”

“Neal, it’s Emma.”

“Where the fuck have you been, bitch?” He growled into the receiver.

“I got picked up from the grocery store, some dumb cop recognized my face from the robbery footage they’ve been blasting all over the tv.” Her heart was pounding in her chest. “Neal, they took Henry.”

“Who has Henry?”

“The cops, when they arrested me they told me they have him, how did that happen, you said he would be safe at the house.”

“Where is he?”

“They didn’t tell me, they just released me.”

“What do you mean they released you?”

“The video isn’t clear, they don’t have the gun, I told you I dumped it.”

“That’s my good girl.” He cooed and Emma wretched, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she recognized the look of anger shading Killian’s face from the desk on the other side of the room.

“I need you to come get me, I’m heading out of here right away, you told me to never stay near a station, so I’m going to the dock, Pier 50 where all that construction is going on.”

“Ok give me a couple hours. I want to make sure you weren’t followed. If you see any signs of trouble, you call me back ok? We’ll get Henry back. Everything will turn out exactly how it’s supposed to be, you’ll see sweetheart.”

“Ok I’ll see you then.”

“Emma…” She could hear the warning in the throaty growl, she tried to ignore it. “Baby I want to hear you say it.”

She looked up nervously, her face red with anger. Not here, not now. “I’ll say it when I see you.”

“Goddamn Emma, say it.”

She flinched as he raised his voice. “I love you.” She said in a hoarse whisper. Tears sliding down her cheek as the phone left her ear. She could barely hear his voice as she put the phone on the receiver, the words that made her feel dirty, worthless, and terrified.

“I love you too, baby.”

She dropped down into the chair behind her, tears falling slowly into her lap. “Mom, it’s gonna be ok.”

She reached out and pulled Henry into her lap, hugging him for dear life. She needed Neal to pay for everything he had done to them.

“You did good, Emma.” Killian’s voice was soft as he approached her. “Let’s get you ready.”

Henry looked up at her. “You can do this Mom. I believe in you.”

She stood and walked with the men toward the Captain’s office to set her up with a wire. Once the door closed David approached her, holding the wire in his hands.

“Cap, perhaps we should have Belle do this?” He glanced at Emma and then back at David who paused.

“Yeah good idea, I’ll go get her.”

Once they were alone, Killian turned toward her. “Are you alright, love?”

“I will be once this is all over. Thanks for, um…suggesting Belle.”

“Figured that might be a bit more comfortable for you.”

The door opened and Belle walked in, Killian nodded to her, passing the bundle of wires into her hand. “Make sure a pat down won’t find them.” He turned back to Emma, smiled, and left the room.

“So, tell me, this Neal, is he a nervous man, distrustful? Do you think he’ll try and search you?”

“He’ll definitely check my shirt. He’s not an idiot, but he’s not the most brilliant criminal either.”

“Ok so we’ll go with the legs.” Emma nodded and turned around, unbuckling her jeans, and pulling them down her legs. “Ok stand over here.” She pointed in front of her, and Emma closed her eyes, sighed, and then opened them with a new resolve.

“Those are much slimmer than I remember.” She remarked, the mic pack and wires that didn’t resemble the clunky ones they practiced with in the police academy.

“It’s been ten years dear; a lot has changed.” She said apologetically. “Ok, I’m gonna touch your leg. I’m going to try and run this up the inside of your thigh, I’m going to keep the mic pack low on your hip. That way if he searches you, he’s most likely to go for the small of your back.”

“Ok.”

“I met you once before, do you remember that?” Emma looked at the girl, trying to remember her. “It was really quick; you were graduating when I started the academy. You know people talked about you all the time. First female to have the highest score on the shooting range. You beat all the guys in your class.”

Emma laughed, it seemed so long ago that she earned her place among the men in her ranks. She knew she was a good shot, better than anyone else in her class, but proving it had meant more to her than she had realized.

“You were a hero to all us women that came after you. Only female in your class.” Belle continued.

“It wasn’t easy, but I’m sure you know that. Looks like you made your own way, Detective.”

“Damn straight.” She patted her leg. “All done.”

Emma looked down at the wire, traveling up her leg and onto her hip. “Thanks.”

“Just remember, you’re stronger than him.” She patted her on the shoulder and walked out the door, “I’ll get the Captain.”

The ride to the docks made her feel like she was stuck in a wind tunnel, everything was spinning by her at 60 mph, but she was frozen in place. The car stopped moving, and both Killian and Robin turned to face her.

“Ok Emma, you’re going to walk to the end of the pier, then wait. I’ll be stationed behind the row of shipping containers on the right, Robin will be on the left. Belle and Will are flanking the entrance. As soon as Neal is on the way, we’ll know it. Just get him to come in, get him to say whatever you can and then we’ll get you out of there.”

“Ok.”

They opened the door and Emma nervously stepped onto the pier. Killian leaned against the car, watching her. Emma nervously approached him, turning around to lean against the door. “Don’t get jumpy and shoot over my shoulder.” She teased.

“Hey that only happened once.”

“What if he doesn’t show up? What if he does show up but he finds the wire? What if…”

“Emma, nothing ever goes the way it’s planned. If something goes wrong, I’ll figure it out.”

Emma leaned against his shoulder, sliding her hand down, her fingers tentatively reaching out and slipping into his. “I know you will, you’ve got my back.”

[awanderingdeal]

Summer camp AU - Chapter 2 - Sirius

Hello, hello, welcome back to Gryffindor. This chapter finds us with Sirius. This one is a bit angsty again, but there’s also lots of happy points. I promise we will have some fun camp type stuff next chapter!

CW: Sirius does misgender Reg for most of this chapter in his internal monologue as he does not know that Regulus has changed his pronouns. It is not intentional and Sirius does switch pronouns both verbally and mentally as soon as he is aware. Just in case that makes anybody uncomfy. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you to my wonderful betas for catching all my 3am mistakes (and also, just my complete inability to grammar).

And finally, thank you to @lumosinlove for the creation of the sweater weather universe. It honestly is a light in my life. 

Fic Rating: T

For previous and future chapters see masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius was pulled from the depth of his thoughts by two short vibrations pulsing through his hands. He glanced down at his phone and felt the corner of his mouth pull up at the name, Mon Loup. Remus was always checking up on him. 

Are you okay? Is he there?

Sirius didn’t know how to answer the first question. He didn’t know how he was feeling. The last thing he had expected when they had gotten in the car that morning was to be seeing his brother's name next to his on the room allocations. His mind had spun through a rollercoaster of emotions: anger, guilt, joy, anger, confusion. Luckily, Remus had been there to notice the impending meltdown and had wrapped his arms around him and told him that it was going to be fine. And somehow Sirius had believed him. 

He took a minute to compose his reply, knowing that trying to lie to Remus about his mental state was futile.

I’m...coping. No, he’s not. No bags either. 

Sirius wished that Remus could be here with him. However, his boyfriend had just graduated with his BSN and was now a paid member of staff on the nursing team. Along with the extra responsibility came his own cabin. Sirius had insisted he went and settled in there. His phone buzzed again.

I told you, he’s probably just as worried about seeing you. He’s here, isn’t he? He’s more than just a product of your parents. 

Sirius hated when Remus was logical like that. He was right though, something must have changed. There was no way that his biological parents would approve of Regulus’ coming here. “Merde!” Sirius groaned, flopping backwards onto the bed. He’d been through this a thousand times with his therapist. He’d tried to take Regulus with him. Regulus hadn’t wanted to come. Besides, he was still a minor and there was no way he could have gotten the evidence to get Regulus out of there legally. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn't his fault. 

It’s not your fault, baby. You know that.

How did Remus always know? Sirius glanced at the time on his phone, 12.05. He worried about where Regulus was and if he wasn’t staying in this cabin, then had he found somewhere else to sleep? The big brother in him would never completely go. The backpack on the floor caught his eye. I might as well start unpacking, Sirius thought. 

The time passed quickly and soon the alarm that he'd set for 12.50 was sounding. He had managed to get all of his clothes into the drawers under the bed and pinned the photo of him and Remus to the wall. He’d tucked his drawing pad under the pillow. There was only one thing missing. 

Sirius took a deep breath, grabbing his smaller daypack and headed back to the main stage where they had been gathered before Dumo had dismissed them all. He was scanning the slowly forming crowd for the familiar features of his brother when a body barrelled into his back.

“Dude! I just saw your twin, I swear.” 

The voice belonged to James Potter. They had only met last year - at this very camp - but Sirius already felt like he had known him a lifetime. 

“Jeez, Potter. My ears,” Sirius moaned, shoving his friend lightly. “Attends...What did you just say?”

“Jeez,” James mocked Sirius’ acquisition of his boyfriend’s mannerisms. “There’s somebody here who looks exactly like you.” 

“Regulus.” Sirius gasped, his eyes darting over the crowd again.

“Who’s Reg-” James started and then his hand was hitting Sirius’ arm as realisation dawned on him. “Your brother.”

Sirius could only give a slow nod. 

“Do you need...I can tell him to stay away from you if you want?” James’ eyebrows knitted into a frown. 

This time Sirus shook his head quickly, “Non. No, I want to see him. I need to see him.” Sirius hadn’t even realised himself that was what he wanted until that moment. 

“Oh,” James said and turned abruptly to face the ever growing group of people. “He was just there, I swear. We can go find him.”

Sirius opened his mouth to reply when Dumo’s voice cut through the noise of the crowd, “Hello everyone, thank you for being back on time.” 

James gave a distressed noise and Sirius squeezed his arm reassuringly. He loved that his friend hadn’t even questioned his desire to find Regulus.  Sirius had wanted something and James was ready to make it happen. 

Sirius tuned back into Dumo’s instructions, “ - lunch until 14.00 and then we will begin with some icebreakers. Finally, this evening we will have an in depth tour of the camp followed by a game of capture the flag. Only so that you know how to play for when the campers come, of course. We won’t have a campfire tonight, I know many of you have travelled from afar and will want to get to bed early. But be prepared because I want all of you ready with your singing voices, tomorrow.”

James had apparently forgotten about his troubles because he was excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

“Come on,” Sirius said, “Let’s go and eat. It’s not as if Regulus is going anywhere.”

The lunch hall was a chaos of noise and Sirius allowed himself to be swept up in it. The empty table that they found was soon filled. Lily arrived first pressing a kiss first to James' forehead and then Sirius'.

"Lily! I missed you so much. How did you find us?" James grinned.

Lily rolled her eyes, "darling, it has only been two hours since I last saw you. And how many other people have tie dyed their t-shirts?" 

James looked down at the purple, black and white swirls on his t-shirt proudly, causing Sirius to smile fondly. 

“Who are you sharing your cabin with?” Sirius asked, using his hands to compress the monstrosity of a sandwich that he had created before dipping it into his chicken soup. 

“That is so gross,” Lily grimaced at the action. “Now your lettuce is all soggy. And to answer your question, it’s Natalie. You know, Darcy. Tall, blonde, formidable. She’ll be over in a minute. Think she was just waiting for her boyfriend.”

As if on cue, Natalie appeared, placing her tray down next to Lily before rounding the table and wrapping her arms around Sirius and kissing his earlobe. He would have been startled had it been anybody else but he regularly received semi-threatening texts from her telling him to have Remus check his voicemails. “That is from your boyfriend. He said he misses you. Which is gross but I was bribed with cake.” Natalie said, gesturing to the two slices of cake on her tray. 

“Who’s the rookie?” James asked through a mouthful of food, looking at the red headed boy who had just sat down next to Kasey, Natalie’s boyfriend. 

The boy waved casually at the table, seeming very relaxed for a new counsellor, “I’m Alex. And technically, I’m not a rookie. Done a few camps down in Tampa, but I thought I’d join my brother, Finn, here at Queer camp this summer.” 

“Oh, I think I sa-" James began, but was interrupted by Lily’s squeal of excitement. 

"Marl! Dory!" Lily called across the hall attracting the attention of two girls. They made their way over seeing Lily’s wave, followed closely by two other counsellors. 

"Everybody, this is Marlene and her girlfriend, Dorcas. Marl was my little sister at college." Lily introduced them to the table. 

They both flashed a smile and Marlene titled her head towards the two timid looking boys behind them, "We said Ollie and Timmy here could sit with us. It’s their first year too." 

They all found a seat and the usual round of questions began. Despite Sirius' attempts to listen to where everybody was working in the camp, his mind was drifting to thoughts of his brother. 

He felt James' hand gently touch his wrist and when Sirius turned to look at him, James mouthed, " You okay?" 

Sirius nodded, "I'm fine." He realised that he had reached the end of his soup and the fact he was now trying to spoon air into his mouth was probably what had attracted James' concern. "Oh. In my own world, I guess," he said quietly. 

Sirius pulled himself upright, "I'm just going to get a fork," he added more loudly and climbed off the bench. He could have eaten the cake with a spoon, but he wanted a minute to text Remus without being chirped by his friends. Crossing the busy hall with his head down was always going to be a mistake and he found himself colliding with another body as he approached the cutlery trays. 

“I’m so sorry!” Sirius apologised, cringing at the sensation of warm soup seeping through his t-shirt. “I was just -” he started, but as he lifted his head he was met with hauntingly familiar grey eyes.

“Reggie,” Sirius breathed, the nickname slipping out of his mouth. 

He received no reply.

“Regulus? Are you okay?” a tall blond boy that Sirius didn’t recognise asked.

Regulus didn’t get to answer this time even if he had wanted to as an older man, maybe in his 40’s appeared and said gruffly, “Is all alright here?” 

“Yes, yes, we are fine thank you,” Sirius answered. “It was my fault, I wasn’t looking.” 

“Be more careful, Black,” the man said. Sirius managed to pull his eyes away from his brother to look at the name tag. Sergei. 

“Be nice to the kids please, Sergei,” Dumo spoke lightly, a small smile resting on his lips. Sirius swore that the man had appeared out of nowhere.

“You always play favourites, Dumasha,” Sergei grumbled. “He is making a mess of my -”

“Could I just talk to my brother, please!” Sirius snapped. 

“Not your brother,” Regulus said, the sound barely audible.

“Reggie, please. Just let me...” Sirius began. He just wanted a chance to explain how he tried to take Regulus with him, but it hadn’t been possible. To explain that Sirius had needed to get free himself before he could help Regulus and then by the time he was set up, Regulus had been the one to reject him.

“I don’t think they are objecting to talking to you,” the blond boy interrupted. “I think they mean that they are your sibling. Not your brother. Is that correct, Reg?” 

Regulus nodded slowly, fingers clenched tightly around the empty tray in his hands.

“Not my bro-” Sirius’s eyes caught the nametag clipped to Regulus’ t-shirt. He hadn’t looked at it before. They/Them. “Oh. Ohh. I’m sorry, Reggie. I didn’t mean to…”

Regulus cut him off. “It’s okay, you didn’t know,” they said. 

“Still, I’m sorry,” Sirius sighed. “Look, Regulus. Could we talk? Preferably without all these other people?” he asked, his voice hopeful. Sirius turned his gaze to the boy that he didn't recognize, “Who are you anyway?” 

“Leo Knut. Regulus’ roommate. I’ll leave you two to talk if that is what Regulus wants?”

Sirius wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch the guy or hug him for protecting his sibling. 

Regulus gave another nod, more sure than the one they gave earlier. “Go and eat, Leo. Sirius and I should talk. It was always going to have to happen at some point if I stay, eh?”

Sirius took the opportunity to look at Regulus properly. They looked almost identical to when Sirius had last seen them. Only taller. And they held themselves differently. Somehow it was meekier and yet more sure of themselves. Just as Sirius was about to spiral into a mess of thoughts about what he’d left Regulus to face by themself, Dumo cleared his throat. 

“Okay, me and Sergei will clean up this mess. Sirius, I think you should get a clean t-shirt. Regulus, go and make yourself another sandwich. Then we’ll find you somewhere quiet to talk.”

Regulus smiled, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Sirius let out a breath that he hadn’t realised he was holding, “Yeah, me too.”

[professor-fanalia]

Call Of The Wild Charity - Event 1 Part 2 - Event 2

Romaine chuckled, as Icarus flew back to her arm for one last sunflower seed before flying off whence, he came, disappearing where a staff member seemed to be waiting for him to take him away. Facing back to the seats, Romaine continued. “Taillows are may be the Flying type that relies on agility and numbers to out mauver enemies or attract mates much like its other smaller flying type friends, but it’s the speed and power that most flying types much prefer. Consider Blaise here as one good example.”

Like a strong gust of wind, a shadow flew over their heads as it showered embers from the gaps in its feathers as it soars through the sky. Circling like a bird of prey, eyeing down at them as it flew around the amphitheatre “Living mostly along mountain ranges, river valleys, coastlines, and increasingly in cities in the Kalos Region. Blaise’s Talonflame brethren are truly speedsters of the sky, reaching speeds of up to 310 miles per hour, its tough wings even don't allow fire to pass through them.” Romaine spoke in awe as she smiled at the large flying type that would be standing at her shoulder height.

“Talonflames are elegant when flying to an extent, due to which how they soar with long wings held at a dihedral, which is an upward angle from horizontal in a fixed-wing aircraft or bird wing from root to tip. And their long two forked tail twisting as it changes direction, but as you can see here Blaise is a rather different. Normally Talonflames have long black tailfeathers marked with three yellow V-shapes, where the tail ends in two points and has another feather sticking out of the base on each side, resembling of the fletching on the end of an arrow and show off their beautiful brightly flame like colours. But as you can see Blaise is grayer in colour, this is because Blaise is a North eastern Variant, despite a change in colour she remains a Flying and Fire Type.”

A black hooded plumage covered Blaise’s head, wings, and most of her chest and back before tapering off into a flame pattern that was blue-black in shade. Her underside and hindquarters were creamy white which was finely barred from the breast to the tail. The tips of her long, tapered pointed wings were black giving off a straight trailing edge in flight. While black spots speckle her underside. Large yellow talons extend from the shaggy feathers on her legs.

She still had a pointed crest atop her head, but it was slightly curled forwards. White-and-blue replaced the black-and-yellow mask-like markings around her eyes. However, her black beak remained hooked with a yellow cere. Unlike the long black tail feathers that were marked with three yellow V-shapes, Blaise’s tail was longer and much more pointed with three white V-shapes. Before her tail ended in two points and had another feather sticking out of the base on each side, resembling of the fletching on the end of an arrow.

“Blaise’s colouration is due to the environment she had to adapt to in colder climates and a change in diet, Blaise’s beautiful colours mostly adapted into melanism which causes Flying types or other Pokémon to have an excess of dark pigmentation and is generally caused by a genetic mutation, but can also be a result of certain diets. Some species have a naturally occurring melanic form or ‘morph’, such as Blaise here.” Romaine explained as she watched Blaise glide.

“Professor Fanalia, care to help me with this next part?”

The red-head professor nodded her head as walked over to stand next to one of the railings among the seats. “Alright! Now, its common knowledge that Pokémon trainers work hard to get that small flying buddies up to speed in strength however; people tend to forget even Pokémon can get sick of doing the same thing over and over again, so its always best to think of new ways to entertain and train your Pokémon friend and to ensure your buddy can bond with other types.” Romaine chuckled as she playfully lifted her hand as if to whisper to the crowd, “This is also a good way to spice up their training with a few games and tricks that they can play with their fellow Pokémon! Like capture the flag, or a ring relay!” Romaine stated with a gesture, “But today we’re going do air Volley, which is Blaise’s favourite game, because it hones her accuracy and dodging.” During most of the event, Romaine explained the rules as she tossed a light volleyball into the audience, where Fanalia proceeded to catch it while gaining Blaise’s attention.

It was basic game where Blaise could choose to be on the catching or dodging team, as the ball was thrown between the members of the Rehabilitation Centre – even Lucario and Gallade took turns in catching it; though it ended in a bit of laughter due to Kryspyn earning a red nose from an unexpected toss from Blaise who cooed in amusement at Kryspyn who merely laughed it off. From then on Romaine said goodbye to Blaise who took her favourite toy with glee, and continued on with the show – introducing many Flying types, from Chatot and Swanna who sung together, an Red Eastern Noctowl who had a very comedic personality, to a battle between a Staraptor and a Honchkrow and a beautiful dance done by Beautifly, Vivillion and Masquerain.  

“Thanks, you guys that dance was beautiful!” Romaine clapped as the flying bug types chirped happily, waving at the audience as they left the amphitheatre. Turning back to the audience Romaine gave a sadden smile, “Unfortunately we are nearly the end of our show, but we will end this with one final bang. As you may know a new region has finally opened its borders, and what better way to welcome the region than to show one of its wonderful Pokémon to the world.” Romaine began.

“It was a long process and with requiring a permit, we were given permission to study the behaviours and Rehabilitate any Pokémon that are in need from the Galar region! We still have so much to learn about our fellow companions, and there are still new Pokémon to meet and befriend! So, for a special day like today we like you to meet a special guest.”

Turning her head to the skies, Romaine grinned. “Everyone, meet Oath from the Galar Region.”

Like a cascading shadow, large avian Pokémon resembling a raven glided down onto the stage with a large flap of its metal wings it landed beside Romaine. Letting out a mighty screech, before settling down calmly as it towered over the green-haired groundskeeper. Its red pupils scanning the audience as he stood on stage. “Oath is a Corviknight, their feathers are tempered with steel. Its mantle, breast, belly, flanks, and scapular feathers are smooth and resemble plate armour. Corviknight's talons, head, and upper beak are similarly armoured.” Romaine gestured to the parts of the Steel and Flying Type, “It is said to be the strongest bird Pokémon in the Galar region, being able to scare off any Pokémon that tries to challenge it. Due to its intelligence and flying skills, Corviknight serves a company called Galar Taxi, where it transports people from one location to another.” Romaine lightly patted Oath’s side who cooed, preening under her touch, “Though one of the fascinating things we discovered about Corviknights, is that they mate for life. A mated pair usually constructs a nest by improving a crevice by dropping sticks into it; it is then built on top of the platform formed.” As she spoke, she pulled out a berry from her pouch and fed it to the large avian.

“So, who would like to come down and meet Oath?” Smiling brightly, as she instructed those who wanted to come and meet Oath to rise from their seats and come up on stage to greet the large Steel and flying Type.

-----

With greetings and goodbyes to the Corviknight signalling the end of the show. You – @ask-pokemonranger-rai, @prof-bramble, @prof-peach, @themadprxfessor, @professor-hemlock-headcanons, @a-pokemon-daycare, @breederpatmos were all guided to leave the amphitheater, back towards a building just across the Guest House. Made mainly of glass panes, it’s a decent sized building that keeps in a regulated temperature and humidity for the cultivation of delicate or out-of-season plants/herbs/berries. Before Fanalia stopped in front of the Greenhouse, “Before we go inside the greenhouse, I am here to tell you there is a little game you all have to play as you walk through the building. These Booklets that my co-workers are giving you now have zoomed in images with small riddles.” Fanalia explained as each of you were handed a booklet.

“This is a game of Pokémon Bingo, figure out the riddle of who it is with the zoomed in too close photo and proceed to one of the six locations in the Green house.” Fanalia gestured to the building.

“With each Pokémon you discover and meet they will give you stamp that you fill at the back of the booklet. There two Pokémon for the six areas, so twelve stamps in total!” Kryspyn added on grinning happily. “Once you have all twelve stamps, deliver those booklets to Romaine who will be waiting at the door with a special treat.” Kryspyn finished gesturing to Romaine and Florges who nodded their heads.

“So work with your Pokémon companions and let’s draw numbers to see where you will be heading to first!”

-----

Ready for a Game of Pokemon Bingo? Pick a number from either 1 to 6 and I shall message you a description of the area and who you will encounter! Can you guess with only a clue? 

How would your proceed with this game? Did you pat Oath or watch from Afar? What was you favorite part of the show? What did you Pokemon do?  Re-blog your Responses whether it be written or Drawn - What are your Reactions? What do you do? Thoughts and feelings?

[brain-rott]

Holiday Heroes

Pairing: BNHA X Reader 

Characters:  Midoriya, Bakugo, Todoroki, Kirishima, Kaminari

Description: The Holidays are upon you and with it comes celebrations. Headcannons on how everyone spends their time preparing for the season.

Rating: PG

Midoriya 

It was christmas eve and he had the brilliant idea to make gingerbread houses after having overheard you talking about it a few days prior. He had slipped away from you the next day to run into town and get a few of those kits and a few extras for your soon to be built town. Walking out into the kitchen you were surprised to see Midoriya standing there with the biggest grin on his face clearly hiding something behind his back. Giving him a confused look he side steps to reveal a neatly laid out counter of gingerbread house materials. Little bowls of gumdrops and sprinkles, tiny gummy reindeer to populate your town and far too many bags of icing. Your excitement was soon overwhelming as you both got right to work constructing. Having had years of practice under your belt you were already decorating your first house with gumdrops and candy canes when you looked over to see Midoriya… struggling more or less. 

“Izuku your gingerbread house looks more like a… gingerbread pile.” you commented, trying to hold back your laughter as the walls of his house collapsed as soon as he took his hands off. 

“I-It's just not working for me.” Midoriya huffed clearly a bit embarrassed. Stepping back from your station you walked around the counter to join Midoriya as you carefully disassembled his pile and wiped the pieces clean so you could start anew. 

“Less is more when it comes to icing.” You explain as you carefully draw a line of white frosting down the side of one of the walls before firmly planting it onto the cardboard base. “See!” You announced joyfully as the long standing wall. Deku smiled and laughed as you both set to work on your house. Midoriya focused mainly on the decoration while you did the construction lining the shingles of the roof with icing before paving a walkway which he promptly covered in cookie crumbs and sprinkles. 

You two spent the rest of the afternoon adding the final touches before setting them out on display in the commons on a side table. You and Izuku had stepped back to take in all your hard work when Kirishima and Denki swooped in and immediately decapitated your gingerbread family that had been innocently posed outside. You couldn’t help but laugh at the situation as the two boys gave you a guilty look Midoryia sighing in defeat.

Bakugo 

As soon as it was suggested that the dorm hold a party for the holidays Bakugo was immediately up in arms about the whole thing. Despite your pleading he wouldn’t budge on the issue even going as far to question you as to why you would be so excited to hang out with a bunch of ‘extras’. There was only an hour left before the part and you were all dressed and ready to go. You purposefully planned to leave early in an attempt to go and speak to Bakugo one last time hoping he had changed his mind. You made your way up to his room stopping before his door. Straightening out your Santa outfit you pulled on your hat to make sure it was snugly in place before knocking on the blonde’s door. A loud “Go away!” was his oh so charming reply. With a sigh you knock again though with a bit more force this time. A moment passed and there was no response. 

“Bakugo, please come with me to the party. You don't have to stay long just come and hang out for a few minutes?” You asked the sadness at having to spend the holidays alone evident in your tone. You were just about to turn and give up when the door flew open and there stood Bakugo in some track pants and a t-shirt giving you a once over before snorting loudly. 

“Ten minutes then I'm coming back to my room.” He announced as you smiled up at him over joyed. Taking his hand you practically skipped to the elevator the white poof on the end of your hat bouncing with each step. 

You both settled in quickly as things started to kick off. Food and presents were exchanged all with minimal outbursts from the blonde who was content to just sit beside you and offer an occasional remark on whatever you were conversing about at the time. You couldn’t do anything to hide the smile on your face with how he threw his arm over the couch behind your shoulders. ‘Tis the season’ you thought merrily as Bakugo began to berate you for having a goofy smile on your face again. 

Todoroki 

With the party happening so soon you were given the duty of collecting decorations for the others to put up in the commons. After asking around the school you were eventually pointed in the direction of the storage closets in the basement of the dorms. Being a hero you really should not have been so off put by such a simple task but taking one look into the black eerie abyss that was the dormitory basement you immediately gathered the courage to leave and return with back up. Thankfully as you were walking inside you caught Todoroki on his way inside as well. You called out to him as you approached waving your arm in an attempt to flag him down. He greeted you with a smile as you laughed awkwardly knowing what you were about to say maybe a little embarrassing. 

“If your not busy right now Todoroki would you mind coming with me to get ornaments out of the basement? It’s really dark and I don't want to go down alone…” you admitted unable to look him in the eyes as you rushed out the last part. You felt your cheeks flush as he laughed looking down at you clearly amused. 

“How can you be scared of the dark if you're going to be a hero?” Todoroki questioned

“Look It is scary down there I can show you!” You quickly retorted as you grabbed his hand and lead him off towards the basement entrance. Once there you flung open the door and pointed accusatorily at the dark hall before you both. Todoroki didn't hesitate as he walked forward into the darkness pulling out his phone as he went the light illuminating the long hall. 

“Do you know which room has the ornaments?”

“Fourth door on the left.” You instructed following Todorokis lead closely silently worried something might sneak up behind you in the dark. Todoroki stopped suddenly and being so focused on watching behind you for monsters you walked right into him. Before you could mutter out an apology Todoroki pulled open the door and walked in leaving you to scramble after him. 

“Look for the box that says holiday on it. It should be about yay big.” You explained motioning the size with your arms as you began to rummage through the countless boxes and bins. You felt like an eternity had passed before Todoroki let out a loud “A-ha!” Holding a fairly large sized bin aloft. 

“Great work!” You smiled as he handed off his phone to you as he hefted the box up into his arms. 

“It’s heavy so I’ll carry it. You just focus on not scaring yourself as you lead us out of here.” You frowned as he smirked down at you stomping out of the room grumbling about how it's perfectly normal to not like the dark. You safely escaped the dark throws of the basement slamming the door shut with a confident finality as you both made your way back upstairs to the common room where the others had already started setting up decorations and props and even a small gingerbread town. 

“Thanks for helping Todoroki i’ll let Uraraka know where the ornaments are for tomorrow.”

“You know you are going to have to put them back in the basement when your done with them right?” At this dawning realization your face blanched realizing that was the bleak truth. 

“Text me and I’ll go with you again wouldn’t want you to get scared after all.” He said softly and genuinely. You laughed, mostly at yourself, as you smiled up at him. 

“Or protect me from monsters.” You joked overjoyed when he let out a small chuckle 

“Or protect you from monsters.” he agreed before you were whisked away to begin helping the kitchen prep food. 

Kirishima

You had some things to take care of that morning so you left the job of decorating your room for the holidays in the hands of your best friend and crush Kirishima. He had been sending you update photos through class as he worked on unpacking your box of decorations and slowly placing them around your room and hanging them about. You were on your way back from class to your dorm to see how he had done when you got a picture of him smiling while sitting on your bed with the caption ‘I have a surprise for you when you get here.’. Now that was an easy way to make you worry as to what he had gotten into or up to. Hurrying up to your dorm you had to shout out a quick apology as you almost ran over Todoroki on his way into the dorms beside you. Storming up the stairs to your room you all but kicked the door open to see Kirishima standing there smiling at your innocently. 

“Are you ready for your surprise.” Kirishima said his smile never faltering as he stepped side and proudly presented a tiny Christmas tree in the corner of your room decorated in your bracelets and a few watches that where clearly his own. Though what really caught your eye where the various stones surrounding the bottom of the tree. 

“You did great on the room Kirishima but when Brenda Lee said rock around the Christmas tree she didn’t mean literally.” You snorted walking over to pick up one of the stones and confirmed that it was indeed a whole ass rock. 

“I thought it looked rustic…” Kirishima said with a soft sigh of defeat. You couldn't help but laugh as you set the stone back onto your floor and shook your head. 

“They can stay for now, Though the only rock I was hoping to have for Christmas was you.” At this comment Kirishima immediately returned to his overly exuberant and happy self as he almost tackled you as he pulled you into a hug. 

Kaminari 

With the Christmas party only hours away you had received a few frantic texts asking you to put up the lights while everyone else made a last minute run to get some things they had forgotten. Being the good friend you are you of course agreed to help out. Though you certainly weren’t going to be able to accomplish this task alone so you looked to Kaminari for help who was busying himself with videos while you struggled to untangle strands of lights. 

“Kaminari if you aren’t busy right now could you please help me? We gotta get this done before everyone gets back-” 

“I don't think I remember Uraraka asking me to put the lights up though.” He teased still engrossed in his game to even look back at you. 

“Denki please It’ll only take a second to untangle these then you can go back to your game.” You explained feeling a little desperate for help as you didn't want to disappoint your friends. Though Kaminari’s indifference to your suffering was getting very grating on your already strained nerves. 

“Kaminari-” Again you were cut short when he promptly shot up from his seat exclaiming in excitement as he won his round and was immediately booted to the next. Entirely fed up and feeling emotional exhausted you huffed. 

“Fine! I’ll put up the lights all by MYSELF.” You snapped roughly grabbing the box of lights and stomping to the other side of the room, fuming. ‘Who does he think he is? Freeloading off of everyone else's hard work…’ you grumbled internally as you aggressively ripped at the strands of lights no longer caring if they may break or not. 

Kaminari immediately took notice in your change of mood and felt awful knowing he was the cause of it. What he had meant as harmless teasing turned into something much worse. Switching off his game he slowly walked over to join you cautiously picking up a discarded strand of lights and joining you in your decoration effort. 

You had yet to notice him as you raged on tossing the strands of lights about as you had actually managed to fish out and untangle two hole strands when you felt his hand on your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you before, do you want me to hang them up while you untangle them?” Kaminari offered quickly realizing you were much better at this than him as the strand in his hand was far worse now than when he had picked it up. “At least then we can still have this done in time for everyone else.”

You took a deep breath letting your shoulders slump before turning to answer him. 

“Sure that sounds like a good idea.” You said offering him a small smile. Confidence now returned to him from your improving mood Kaminari snatched the box of tacks from the bin and made off with the first strand of lights. Before you knew it, you were already working on the last strand of lights. This last one was of course being extremely difficult for you and Kaminari quickly took note as he returned to fetch another strand of lights. Picking up the plug end of one of the strands of lights Kaminari smirked as an idea popped into his head. 

“Hey, wanna see something cool?” Kaminari asked as he came to stand beside you smiling. 

“Sure Kaminari.” You answer watching him expectantly. Kaminari laughed as he placed the end of the plug in his mouth and then proceeded to flicker the lights on and off presumably with his tongue. You couldn't help but laugh as he attempted to hum a song around the plug in his mouth the lights flashing in rhythm. 

“No one is gonna want to touch that now that you’ve had your mouth on it.” You offered as he chuckled to himself. 

“No one but you probably.” At that you flushed horribly returning to the last strand of lights as you attempted to hide your flushed appearance. ‘Stupid Denki and his stupid flirty was and his stupid good looks.’ you pouted.

This is my first time writing for BNHA so thank you for reading <3 

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead (7)

A/N: y’all ., ., .,,. . ..  we’re finally getting to the Good Shit. my hand was literally Over the “post” button and then i remembered “oh shit this is supposed to be touchstarved roman”, so, uh, that’s not reflected in this chapter at ALL. but it’s still filled to the brim with angst. but like, hurt comfort angst. i think i can call this a hurt comfort, right? right

WARNINGS: cursing, arguments, yelling, like a lot of yelling, Complex Emotions, self-hatred (implied) — if I missed anything, please let me know!!! <3 <3

Words: 6575 

Pairings: im proud to say that this has some Logicality. only 20,000 words into the story and we’re finally getting small tastes of ships. still DLAMP endgame but by god. 

Part 1 (chivalry is dead) — Part 2 (i’m wishing) — Part 3 (the bells of notre dame) — Part 4 (honor to us all) — Part 5 (i’ve got no strings) — Part 6 (god help the outcasts) — Part 7 (go the distance)

AO3 link!

@starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda@askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil

i hope y’all like this one!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 

______(tumblr’s not letting me put a line so ive manually created it)______

It seemed that, without Roman’s focus, the Imagination sustained a regular day/night cycle. Logan made a mental note about it as they watched the sun go down behind the forest hills, perfectly in tune with his internal clock’s knowledge of the real world’s time. The sky, however, was darkening more rapidly than it would normally. While walking through the forest, he hadn’t noticed any incline changes, so perhaps the forests were thicker than he’d originally thought. The map didn’t indicate that, anyway.

It was a fascinating place, the Imagination. It seemed semi-sentient — at least, based on how the Playwright described it and from what they’d seen so far. Logan regretted not asking to see more of it when Roman was….

No. He’d ask Roman to show him once Roman had returned. His chest hurt a tiny bit to think of it. Nothing was out of reach.

He faced forward again, marching silently. Patton was humming, had been for the whole trip, humming Disney songs.

The Child was staring at Logan still. It was unnerving, for many reasons (A child? Roman was a fucking child? Why was he staring so much? How much less formed were each of the Romans? How did they select what they looked like? Who was the Child based upon? What did he believe?) so he looked away.

“Stop,” the Child patted Patton’s back, “Stop here.”

“Ooookay,” Patton stopped, and Logan stopped behind him.

They’d been walking towards the castle this whole time, away from the sunset. It was clearly huge now, with multiple large spires with red and glittering gold flags. Patton thought it looked straight out of a medieval movie, almost too grand to just be based on Disney alone, though it did bear some resemblances to the castle in Disneyland. It was incredibly pretty.

Oh, sure, he’d seen the Imagination before. Patton and Roman had sat at the window in his room and Patton would listen to Roman as he talked about the various worlds he created. Sometimes it was a balcony with seats and a tea set, but he liked the window sofa more, since he and Roman could sit in each others’ laps and bundle up beneath a pile of blankets. Patton could recognize this castle from a distance. He’d seen this setting before, with the forest and large lake and glittering dual rivers that Roman’d named and then renamed and named again, though Patton couldn’t remember what names he finally chose.

Logan seemed surprised by it all, though, and Patton didn’t want to make it seem like he was rubbing his friendship with Roman in his face. Plus, he’d never been inside. Things were a lot bigger up close.

Yeah, he could see how Logan kept frowning around the world. How he’d been glaring at the Child for the whole walk. Patton’d made a pun — “This sure is a magic kingdom, eh?” — and he hadn’t even groaned!

Patton shifted his weight on his feet, casting Logan a worried look as the logical side inspected the building before them. Whatever was eating at him, he hoped it’d settle soon, because Patton knew they’d need Logan thinking properly to get Roman put together.

“We’ve gotta go in here,” the Child pointed to the building.

It was an unassuming door with two steps leading up to it, attached to a building that looked exactly the same as the others. Besides the door was a wooden sign, fixed to the stone wall, that read “Art Museum (Ages 3–6)”. It was a fairly unassuming building, similar to the other stone buildings to the left, right, and other side of the road.

“Okay,” Patton reached out and touched the door’s handle, just to be interrupted by the Child waving his arms up.

“No! No, no, not yet!” he put his hands out.

“Not yet? Well, what’re we waitin’ for?” Patton put his hands on his hips, watching the Child with a small smile.

“The sun is lowering. It will be night soon,” Logan added, giving the sky a quick glance again.

“But the Artist can’t know that you’re Dad and Mister Logic,” the Child said, mirroring Patton’s hands-on-hips position.

Logan, on the other hand, crossed his arms in thought. “Why can’t he know? Is he a danger?”

“Nah,” the Child shook his head and pointed a finger at Logan. “The Artist doesn’t like you most.”

Logan exhaled sharply. His brow furrowed, nose scrunched, as he processed THAT. Of course,the Playwright supporting him meant there was a counter. Of course Roman didn’t harbor only positive feelings towards him. Logan knew his and Roman’s opinions differed on a multitude of topics, often resulting in unpleasant quarrels. He knew. And, yet, it hurt. “Come again?”

“The Artist doesn’t like you. Don’t worry, he doesn’t like Mister Anxiety either. Or Mister Deceit. He kinda sorta likes Dad?” the Child made a so-so motion with his hands, before letting his shoulders drop with an exaggerated groan. “Not really. He doesn’t like Dad. It’s okay, he barely likes Thomas!”

Logan looked toward Patton with a frown, now thoroughly confused, and was greeted with a similar confused pout. There was a part of Roman who just didn’t like any of them. Not even Thomas. That upset Patton fairly well, but Logan….was almost relieved.

The Child waved his hands again, sticking them up in between the two adult Sides. “Hey! Like I said, that’s okay! We just gotta walk around him and he probably won’t notice you.”

“Do you think he won’t notice that three people have entered his house? Especially two adults. Two full Sides,” Logan couldn’t keep the disbelief from his voice.

If the Child noticed, he didn’t let on. “Yep! He barely looks up from the whatevers he’s working on, anyway,” he bounced on the balls of his feet, “Maybe….hm.”

He looked up at the sky and rubbed his hands together. Above them was a thick cloud. It would probably rain that night; they were still looking for him, anyway.

The Artist was probably getting worried. Right? Curfew was coming up soon and if Child got caught, Thief and Bard would be upset, and so Artist would be upset, too, right?

“We have to go in. If he asks, uh,” an idea popped into the Child’s head, and he snapped his fingers. “You can say you’re Dad guy and Teacher guy!”

Logan’s eye twitched. “Do you mean the characters from Thomas’ short videos?”

The last semblances of seriousness Logan held inside himself was shattered by the Child’s enthusiastic nodding. “Yeppers! They’re really nice! Teach is really good at making Dad laugh, and since this all happened, they’ve been—”

“The Shorts characters are alive inside the Imagination,” Logan wasn’t even trying to hide his disdain anymore.

He’d been half angry, half curious as they marched through the sleepy town. He could accept magic, sure, he could suspend his disbelief. It made sense that the Dominoes guy was in here. That was backed by science. But what in the name of Newton did the Shorts characters—

“Logan,” Patton held his hand and gave it a quick squeeze, “This is the Imagination.”

—okay, really, why the FUCK were the Shorts characters real in here?! — and the Child was now just rambling on about characters who were actually fictional. Characters who were characters. Scratch his curiosity from earlier, the Imagination followed no reason and he wanted out. Immediately.

Patton squeezed Logan’s hand again, in a rhythm, one two three four, tight, and raised his other hand toward the Child, who was still talking.

“Hey, kiddo,” the Child immediately quieted, looking up at Patton, “This all sounds fun, but can we talk more about it when we’re inside?”

Patton immediately regretted interrupting him. The Child’s lip curled inward, eyes growing wider as he nodded silently. He looked at Logan, who was scowling at the door, and wilted.

“Yeah. Not important. Okay,” the Child took the door handle and flung it open.

Before Patton could respond, he darted in. Logan looked at Patton, scowl replaced with a confused raised eyebrow, oblivious to the quiet tension he’d missed while internally monologuing.

Patton just slouched. The Child was more skittish than he’d anticipated.

The museum was dark and dusty, though not unintelligible. Patton entered first. There were drawings everywhere, some on actual pieces of paper, some on torn-out notebook pages, some on the wall itself. All of which were children’s drawings, of course, scribbles and splotches of paint. In the halls were also some sculptures on pedestals, most seemingly made of Playdough.

He stopped by a drawing of a house, two windows and a door, and read the placard beside it. Patton was pretty sure he had the same drawing in his room, tucked away in an old photo album.

“Thomas and Roman Sanders. House 41, 1994. Crayon on cardstock.”

Patton felt tears coming to his eyes. Thomas was only five, oh those were good times, learning about the world around him! Such a soft era. And Thomas’ grown so much since then, too.

This was an interesting place for someone to live, but considering his name was Artist, it made sense for him to live amongst his work. Patton turned around, a bright smile on his face, and motioned Logan to join him. “Logan! Come look at the art!”

Logan was standing just inside the door, which was closed behind him, eyes examining the exhibit. It was disorganized and clearly unkempt. Roman must not have visited in a while. Or maybe he didn’t have a curator for this museum. Before he could respond to Patton’s call, the Child’s voice echoed from down the hall.

“Are you coming?”

Logan and Patton shared a look, one disgruntled and one sheepish, and hurried down the hall lined with childish artwork. There were more houses, some family drawings, a fun looking self portrait with bright colors.

“Hurried” is an overstatement. Logan had to pull Patton away from a drawing on more than one occasion.

“Down here,” the Child’s whispers bounced along the walls.

They entered a room, still lined with drawings, and found the Child standing in front of one of the artworks. He held out a hand to them. “C’mon, we’re going in,” he said.

Logan squinted at the painting in question. Yes, painting, done in “Crayola Washable Paint on Cardboard,” according to the placard beside it. “Thomas and Roman Sanders. House 118.”

He looked at Patton for support that this was absolutely ridiculous, but was only met with another shrug. “It’s the Imagination,” he said, as though that explained everything, “Don’t think too hard, or you’ll get a headache.”

Too late for that, Logan thought, though he stopped himself from pondering. Instead, he grit his teeth and held Patton’s arm, determined to get to the bottom of this figurative rabbit hole. Patton himself took the Child’s hand.

The Child gripped Patton’s hand and leaned toward the painting. He pinched the painted door’s handle, tugged.

They all felt a pulling sensation, the Child pulling Patton who pulled Logan.

And then there was a door before them.

It was as though someone poured white paint all over their surroundings, from every angle, wiping away the museum they’d come from and leaving a blank emptiness behind them, all within less than a second.

Logan stared at the door. Then he turned, slow and steady, overlooking the blank white expanse. Like an empty page.

Something wasn’t computing. It’s the Imagination, he repeated in his mind, like Patton’d said earlier.

Directly behind them was the only piece of “world” they could see other than the door. It was another painting, of the museum, of the room that they’d just left, hanging in the middle of nothing.

Social realism, Logan thought. The painting’s placard read “Roman Sanders. The Art Museum repaint, 2019. Oil on canvas.” A reverse portal, created recently. Logan almost wanted to touch it and see how dry the paint was.

“C’mon, we gotta go inside,” the Child whispered, giving Patton’s hand a tug.

Patton, in turn, tugged Logan, who turned back around. “Sorry, this is just….” fascinating? Interesting? Enchanting? Something I would like to experiment with Roman on further? “Different.”

Patton watched the Child as he watched Logan. Roman was clearly still in there, Patton thought, and he didn’t want to be. And, to be frank, Patton understood that feeling. There were many days where he wanted to curl up into his hoodie and be young again, if only to hear a good joke once more. Those were the two-cookie kinds of days!

Maybe Logan couldn’t see what Patton was seeing? The Child’s big wide eyes, staring at Logan and Patton as though searching for approval. Or how he tried so hard to ignore Logan’s obvious contempt for the situation. It was obvious that the Child was actively trying to ignore it, but Patton didn’t miss how he flinched at Logan’s tone. The Child wasn’t naïve, not entirely — in certain turns of phrase and side-glances, the Child revealed his thirty years of life experiences.

But the Child also didn’t seem to notice that Logan wasn’t angry about the world. No, Patton thought as Logan turned back to the museum painting quickly, he was more upset at himself for not being able to understand it.

“Different,” Logan repeated, brow furrowed. It didn’t feel like the right word. He wasn’t usually one to have vocabulary troubles, but he couldn’t find a more adequate word.

It satiated the Child. Or, rather, the Child was thinking of something else. His hand was stiff on the doorknob. Patton leaned in, letting go of Logan finally to put both hands on the Child’s shoulders. “Go ahead,” he whispered. He hoped the Child could feel how much Patton loved him.

Perhaps he did, because the Child calmed down. Enough for him to open the door.

The most notable thing was the mess. There were a lot of things inside that door. Canvases, sketchbooks, pens, pencils, paint sets, notebooks, cups of water, all in piles or scattered about the floor. Some canvases were hung on the walls, too, and some were laid flat on the ground. Others were stacked atop each other or leaned in bunches against the walls. There was a clear path through the mess on the floor, that branched to the stairs on the left and then into the kitchen on the right. Logan could see a drawing tablet over there, too, propped against the wall. Where the laptop was, he couldn’t tell. Patton could see that most of the paintings were unfinished. Whether it be sketch lines still showing or just clearly half-painted, half-white canvases, not a single finished piece was in this clutter.

The second most notable thing was the person painting.

Another Roman — the Artist, most likely — was sitting on a stool in front of a painting on an easel. It was also only an assumption that he was another Roman, because he absolutely did not look it, clad in a white hoodie covered in paint splotches and red sweatpants, hood pulled up and covering his hair. The only thing that indicated his Roman status was the golden waves adorning his sleeves, the same as the waves on Roman’s crest.

He held a large painting palette in his right hand and a brush in his left, dabbing oil paint against the half-finished canvas in front of him. Another work in progress, it seemed.

The clutter and the painting didn’t bother the Child. He closed the door behind himself, being careful to not slam it, and cleared his throat.

The other Roman didn’t move nor speak. Just kept painting, dabbing his brush on the palette and swiping it along the canvas. The painting was unfinished, but it looked so far like an impressionist piece, Logan thought.

The Child coughed again, yet the other Roman didn’t flinch.

“I’m back, Arty,” he said.

“I heard you,” came the impatient reply, snappy and fast, the Artist not turning to speak to them, “Who’s with you?”

“Dad. And Teach. Dragon was mean today,” the Child was playing with the hem of his shirt

“Mhm.”

“It’s curfew. They couldn’t go back to their houses.”

“Mhm.”

“So they’re gonna sleep here. I’ll keep them in my room.”

“Mhm.”

The Child took Logan and Patton’s hands into his own again and pulled them toward the stairs. “Good luck with your painting,” his voice teetered off into silence as the Artist failed to turn again.

Patton opened his mouth, but the Child squeezed his hand and shook his head. Logan took a little more tugging, as he stood by the bottom of the stairs, trying to look at all the paintings. Some were paintings — oil impressionist, pop art, surrealism and cubism, even some De Stijl paintings — some were simple figure drawings on lightly-crumpled paper, some even….was that a painting of Virgil?

The Child tugged harder and Logan stumbled after him.

They made it to the top of the stairs. The Child let go of Patton and opened the door, ushering both of them in before slamming the door shut behind himself.

This was probably the most regular room they’d seen so far in the Imagination. A small twin bed sat in the corner, with a big canopy and fairy lights overtop. There were streamers and drawings and posters hanging all around the walls, even some stickers and some drawings done directly onto the wall. A wardrobe sat in the corner farthest from the bed, a desk and vanity mirror besides that, and five bean bags were arranged in a circle around a circle rug in the middle of the room.

There was an air of magic around the room, too. The fairy lights bobbed up and down slowly, despite being hung on wires, and the clouds painted onto the ceiling seemed to move. The ceiling was fairly low, too; Patton reached up, eyes stuck on a cloud in the shape of a heart, and found that he could actually touch them. The heart swirled around his hand, glowing light blue before dissipating entirely.

“Sorry about him,” Patton and Logan looked down at the Child — he’d gone to the wardrobe and was taking off his cloak, revealing a plain white shirt with the crest’s sun emblazoned across his back. “Artist’s, uh, not a people person.”

“So we saw. His work, however….it’s breathtaking,” Logan stepped aside as Patton went for one of the beanbags, “I didn’t realize Roman was that much of an artist.”

The Child snorted. He sat down on one of the other beanbags and started untying his shoes, chubby fingers unlacing them down a few notches. “Yeah, well. You never seemed interested. No one was. Arty doesn’t like leaving his art all alone, so ever since we formed he’s been in here with it.”

“Yeah, you said somethin’ like that.” Patton crossed his legs on the bean bag, leaning forward on his elbows toward the Child. “The Playwright also said something about everyone having different thoughts on what’s best for Roman.”

“Playwright!” the Child tossed his shoes into the corner behind the door and laid back in the bean bag, spread out with his arms open. “Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen him in a while, is he okay?”

Logan let his shoulders loosen and slouch. It….did feel good to unwind, after the events of the day. Maybe the adrenaline and shock were wearing off finally. He sat down on another bean bag, bending his knees as though he were in a normal chair. “Yes, he is fine. He is, ah, backstage, as he called it.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Artist doesn’t like Playwright at all,” Logan and Patton shared another confused glance at that, “Thief says it’s ‘cause he doesn’t like mister Logic, but I think he doesn’t like you ‘cause he doesn’t like Playwright.”

“Why doesn’t he like the Playwright? That seems counterintuitive, to not like yourself,” As soon as the words left Logan’s mouth, he realized how hypocritical it sounded. And how obvious the explanation was.

Patton seemed to notice as well, because he grimaced, putting a hand on top of Logan’s knee. The Child, however, just shrugged. “Well, I don’t like all of me, you know? I wanted to figure out what parts of me I could live without, but every part of me has an opinion about what part’s important.”

“I?” Logan asked, softer now.

The Child nodded. “Roman. I,” he made a gesture up at the air, and it reminded Patton a little of the hand flip Roman typically did when rising. “I’m Roman but I’m not Roman.”

“How does that work, kiddo?” Patton coaxed him.

“It’s like….” he trailed off, resting his hand on his chin as he thought. After a few quiet moments, he continued.

“Okay,” The Child sat up and patted his own chest. “Me. I’m the Child. AND I’m Roman. I’m all….”

He flopped backward again onto the bean bag, making vague gestures with his hands as he wrestled to find the words, only to find that there were none. No words truly.

The Child let his hands fall onto his stomach with a groan, staring upwards. Patton and Logan shared a nervous glance. It was clear something was bothering the Child, something integral to this Hunger Games of Romans situation.

“Take your time, kiddo,” Patton tried to comfort him, but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

The Child was just looking up at the sky ceiling. After another few seconds, he heaved a sigh.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The sky?” Logan and Patton both looked up as well.

“With all the clouds that look like pretty things. And even if they don’t look like things, they look soft and fluffy and wonderful. And then, when there aren’t clouds, it’s the most beautiful shade of blue or a dazzling red, like how a nice summer night makes you feel?” The ceiling had been full of fluffy white clouds, meandering across the painted blue expanse, but as soon as the Child mentioned “dazzling red” the clouds began to glow pink as the ceiling’s paint color changed to red. He clapped.

“Or, or! Even better, sometimes, when it’s really, really late, and there are stars out? And every star is like a gem on a glittering cloak that the world’s putting on you?” the ceiling changed once more, painted black as the clouds vanished. One by one, twinkling stars seemed to glow from nothing against the ceiling backdrop. In actual constellations, no less.

“It’s all so….” the Child exhaled, “Beautiful.”

Silence followed. All three of them were now laying on the bean bags, looking up at the twinkling stars and the occasional barely visible line that connected them. They just starred, Logan and Patton unsure of how to break the silence, until the Child continued himself.

“That’s what I want Roman to remember,” Patton looked at the Child, who was watching the stars. He spoke with a strong determination, voice set. “That’s what I want to see. The beauty.”

He faltered, closing his open mouth and gritting his teeth. Logan looked away from the sky now, too, and watched the Child as he closed his eyes. Wiser than he seemed. “But that makes me really childish, doesn’t it? If we just see the beauty, then that means we’re ignoring all the bad stuff. And if we’re too childish, we don’t get taken seriously, and we really need to be taken seriously. I mean….”

The Child glanced over at Patton, and he could have sworn that the Child had tears in his eyes. Oh, he hoped he wasn’t crying. Patton reached out, offering his hand to maybe comfort him, but the Child just shrugged, unwilling to look at him anymore.

“We see how you get treated, Dad,” Patton’s brow furrowed in confusion, hand retracting a little, as though the Child’s words hurt. “No one takes you serious and you always have to prove yourself. We don’t take you serious, either, a lot of the time. ‘Cause if you’re childish, then you don’t deserve to be taken seriously. That’s what Roman tells himself. Tells me. But it’s wrong.”

Now the silence was just awkward. Patton lowered his hand into his lap as the Child looked back up at the sky. There was no denying now, now that the Child’s quiet breathing hitched and stuttered, that he was crying.

“It has to be wrong,” he whispered between gasps.

Slowly, the Child pulled his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes and sniffing into his hands. Patton was going to start crying himself, watching the Child cry. He turned to Logan with a bitten lip. He knew, deep down, that the others didn’t always take his opinion seriously. Heck, it was a running theme! Patton the childish, the inner child, the baby. But Jesus, that was point blank.

“You’re correct, Roman. I don’t always understand you both, but the things I don’t understand aren’t…they aren’t unimportant. Occasional immaturity does not equal insignificant. We….” Logan faltered and looked up at Patton, who was staring at him now, tears dotting his eyes.

They really did walk on him, didn’t they? Logan considered the times he had helped elevate Patton’s concerns, and the situations in which Patton’s concerns were elevated. No one took the puppet suggestion seriously, until it was proven successful, and Thomas himself had to step in to get them to even consider it as an option. Along with that, Deceit was able to mimic Patton by, what? Literally saying he was a fan of cartoons and was silly? It was so easy to character Patton into a caricature of immature glee that he, Roman, and Virgil barely noticed.

That was the insult, wasn’t it. Childish. Not to be taken seriously. Silly and immature. Was that what he thought of Patton?

Patton wiped his tears and looked away. “I….guess that’s true. But hey! That’s what comes with being Thomas’ inner child, isn’t it?” there he went, voice heightening in pitch as he tried to make it sound as though he weren’t so upset with Logan’s silence and the Child’s assessment. “Your dorky ol’ Dad can be a lil’ goofball a lot of the time.”

“Your goofball-ness is welcome, often appreciated. We….do have a lot to learn, about having fun and seeing things anew.”

Patton looked over at Logan, who was watching him with determination. The Child, too, was watching Logan with both eyebrows raised, having grabbed a pillow from his side to press his face into. His eyes were two large spotlights.

“I do not understand the Imagination. I cannot claim to. But there IS immense beauty in this world you’ve created, and I see that it would be a waste to focus on making logical sense of it rather than take in the world around as a work of art. It might be childish, but sometimes….a little childishness is what we need to maintain a healthy lifestyle and a healthy headspace. Your input is appreciated.”

If Roman was having these sorts of concerns, about being perceived as childish or not, then Logan knew it was likely Patton had similar concerns. He chided himself mentally for letting this self-consciousness fester but a direct approach was always the most efficient.

And it was all worth it to see Patton smile and remove his glasses, wiping the tears from his downcast eyes.

“Thank you for sharing your concerns with us, kiddo,” the Child smiled at the nickname and rubbed the back of his neck, turning away for a bit. Patton smiled at him, then at Logan, beaming like the sun. “Logan put it real well.”

Logan fixed his glasses, pleased with himself, and the Child patted his arm. “Thank you, Logan,” he said.

They sat in silence, eyes flicking with new brief understanding between each other, until there was banging from below the floor. Patton squeaked and Logan stiffened, but the Child just groaned into his pillow.

“WHAT’RE YOU TALKING ABOUT UP THERE?!” the Artist’s voice boomed from below.

“JUST TALKIN’ ABOUT THE OTHER SIDES WITH TEACH,” the Child shouted back, voice muffled by the pillow.

“WELL, SHUT UP ‘BOUT THEM! THE DRAGON BITCH’LL HEAR YOU!”

“YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

“YOU BRATTY LITTLE—DON’T MAKE ME COME UP THERE!”

The Child leaned his back, groaning loud and angrily. “FINE! SORRY!”

Logan and Patton exchanged worried glances. Had the Artist heard that whole conversation? They looked to the Child for any thoughts or input, but he just shook his head.

“He won’t come upstairs. Ugh, I was doing real good at not saying your names,” he rubbed his face, rubbing the tears into his skin to hide them, “It’s–It’s like the taboo system. Dragon, he put a curse on your names so all of us can hear it when someone says them. The others aren’t really scared of that, they–they….Artist doesn’t want anyone finding this house. He heard me say your name, mister Logic.”

Before either of the adults could respond, however, there was another crash from downstairs. The Child frowned and climbed off the bean bag, kneeling on the ground with an ear pressed to the rug.

“What—” Patton was cut off by the Child shushing him harshly.

They weren’t confused for long, though, as the voices grew more raised and angry.

“—TOLD YOU—FUCK OUT!” they heard the Artist shout.

“I WILL ONCE YOU STOP TALKING SHIT ABOUT THE OTHERS! THEY’RE IN OUR REALM NOW, THEY COULD HEAR YOU!”

Patton raised his eyebrows. He looked at Logan, who was frowning at nothing. When he noticed Patton, Logan mouthed “Playwright.” He didn’t seem like the type to be so….explosive.

“WELL TOUGH, PLAYWRONG. I DONT GIVE A FUCK IF THEY HEAR ME! I JUST DON’T WANT DRAGON SHOWING UP, THOSE UNGRATEFUL CRITICAL ASSHOLES—”

“THEY’RE MUCH MORE THAN THAT, THEY’RE BETTER THAN ALL OF US COMBINED, YOU STARVING STEREOTYPE—”

The Child stood up slowly, stepping carefully on the rug and sliding his feet along the wooden floor. He slid all the way to the door. As slow as he could, he clicked the lock in place, and let out a breath. The yelling died down immediately to a whisper, as though locking the door disconnected the room from the whole house.

“That’ll keep them out. They’re probably not gonna come up here, can’t get into my room now, but if they find you then we’re all fucked,” he mumbled.

“Language,” Patton mumbled, and the Child giggled at him. “No swear words when there’re children present, you know that!”

“Yeah, yeah—” the Child cut himself off with a yawn, shoulders hiking up slowly.

He shuffled back to the bean bags and collapsed into the one he’d been sitting in. He curled into a ball, huffing a small sigh. Patton yawned, too, and smacked his lips. Logan had to stifle a yawn himself. They were contagious.

It had been a long day. They were due for a sleep, especially after the arduous experiences they’d had throughout the day.

“Y’know, I didn’t think the Playwright’d let y’all in,” the Child’s words jumbled over each other, and he covered his mouth as he yawned again.

“What makes you say that?” Logan pressed.

Despite the tiredness, he knew there was something wrong with his initial read of the Playwright, and this situation didn’t leave space for those kinds of errors. The Child shrugged. “I….from what I know, he’s more….he likes things done his way. He really wants all of you approve of him. Mostly mister Logic, but all of you. And he really, really, really doesn’t like Princey. Him an’ Dragon an’—an’—” the Child yawned again, mumbling the rest of his sentence incoherently, but Logan didn’t process that.

There was another mention of this “Dragon” character. Logan rubbed his cheek, arms crossed on his knees as he ran the new information through his mind. The Playwright was volatile — he scoffed quietly, of COURSE Roman, with his boisterousness and exuberance, wouldn’t be able to contain his energetic nature into something reserved and quiet. He had his quiet moments, but he couldn’t maintain stoicism forever. They would have to assess him again, it seemed.

“I thought….” Patton whispered, and Logan looked up at him.

Patton’s eyes were downcast at the ground, brow furrowed in anguish. He’d thought they’d gotten at least one part of Roman, one bit to understand that they were accepted. That Roman was LOVED, damnit, because that’s what it was! He was loved, Roman was loved, and by God it felt like he’d failed if one of his friends doubted that so much that he couldn’t believe that.

“I’m gonna sleep. Just right here. Y’all can take the bed if y’all want,” the Child’s voice slurred together, halfway asleep already and cutting into both adults’ trains of thought.

Patton sighed. He slowly switched into Dad Mode as he pushed himself up and rolled his shoulders. “Nope. You’re a growing boy, kiddo, you’re goin’ in the bed.”

He stooped down and picked the Child up, chuckling quietly as he groaned in dramatic despair. Still, the Child wrapped his arms around Patton’s neck lazily, snuggling against him once more. Logan crossed his legs on the bean bag and watched as Patton sat on the bed, rubbing the Child’s back, and tried to pry him off.

“You need to get in bed, kiddo,” Patton whispered gently, “You’ve gotta sleep. A prince needs his beauty sleep, right?”

The Child giggled. “I’m not a–a–a,” he yawned again, “A prince! I’m a child!”

“But you’re gonna grow up to be one! You’re gonna grow up to be a great prince, ruling over all the Imagination,” Patton was whisper shouting, putting on a grandiose voice full of gusto.

He mimicked blowing a trumpet with one hand and the Child laughed, patting Patton’s hand down.

“Nuh uh!” he hummed between tired giggles.

Logan stood up behind Patton and gently took the Child’s hands. The Child looked up at him, squeezing Logan’s hands sleepily and giggling.

“You will be a valiant prince,” he lifted the Child’s hands away from Patton, and he took the cue to start tucking the Child into bed, “You will be a prince, lion-hearted and loved. But tonight, you must sleep.”

The Child squeezed his left hand, then his right, and laid down in the bed he’d been placed in. He looked so comforted as Patton pulled the blanket up higher around his face, big brown eyes questioning as he looked up at Logan from beneath the edge of the blanket.

“Will they listen to me?” his voice was thick as he teetered between unconsciousness and lucidity, “Will–Will they care, when I’m a prince?”

Logan nodded at him, and Patton nodded too. They were both sure, sure as the sky is blue. “Yes,” Patton whispered, “Everyone will hear you. And you’ll live happily ever after, my Prince.”

The Child giggled quietly. Slowly, he snuggled into the bed, and his hold on Logan’s hands relinquished, now gripping the blanket as he curled into a ball. Within mere seconds, he was snoring softly.

Patton stepped back and stretched. He looked up at Logan, who was removing his glasses in preparation for sleep.

“Wanna sleep on the floor?” Patton asked, “Or should we stack the beanbags in a square and use those as a bed?”

Logan considered the bean bags for a moment, actually, before deciding the morning back pain wouldn’t be worth it. “I think we can suffer the floor for a night,” he said, taking his coat off and spreading it out on the ground.

Patton followed suit, throwing his cat cloak down and spreading it out like a bed mat. They both slowly climbed to the ground beside each other, fitting themselves into the space that was to be their sleeping mat, grabbing some of the pillows and stuffed animals strewn about. At least the carpet was soft, adding extra padding. They both laid down, heads resting on some of the Child’s pillows, staring up at the stars on the ceiling.

Though they were both tired, Patton wanted to clear one thing up before letting himself drift off.

“....Lo,” Patton asked, voice soft. “Lo, are you awake?”

Logan sniffed. He was actually partway asleep already. “Yes, Pa—er. Patt.”

Patton giggled. It wasn’t always that he got to hear Logan call him by a nickname. He sobered up fast, though. “Did you mean what you said? About…about appreciating the childish things.”

Ah. Logan opened an eye. Patton smiled sheepishly at him.

He still had his glasses on. Logan turned to his side, facing Patton, reaching a hand out and taking his glasses off carefully. He slowly folded them and set them aside on the ground, with his.

“Of course I did. You provide important opinions and insight, often noticing details I….overlook,” Logan rested his hand on Patton’s shoulder, “You are appreciated.”

Patton beamed with a wobbly lip, more tears threatening to spill over. He slowly took Logan’s hand and pressed it to his lips. Not in a kiss, per se, but more to hold him close. To show that he was so thankful, so grateful for this acknowledgement. Plus, he was afraid that the tears would spill if he opened his mouth.

Logan didn’t seem to mind, though his face did turn a brighter shade of crimson, just barely visible in the starlight.

After a few seconds, Patton regained his stability. “Thanks,” he whispered. “We...we’re gonna get Roman back.”

Logan nodded, discombobulated. Patton’s breath on the back of his hand was comfortingly warm. There was that feeling in his chest. What was that?

He let go of Logan’s hand and rolled back onto his back, letting out a sign of contentedness. Their little prince was fast asleep and the next day would bring more trials. They had to find Virgil and Deceit and hopefully the Roman who’d been on the roof. They had to talk to the Artist. They had to confront the Playwright. They had to find the OTHERS and talk to THEM.

And Patton knew they’d be able to face it all head-on. He knew it in his heart. “Goodnight, Lo’. I love you.”

Logan exhaled beside him. Perhaps….things would be okay. He looked over at Patton, whose eyes were already closed, legs crossed and hands interlaced on his chest in a peaceful manner.

There was that feeling again. The data points — he was too tired to be thinking coherently, look at him, applying statistics knowledge to emotions of all things — indicated that he felt warm and fluttery near his lungs whenever he considered the other Sides. It felt as though his lungs were clenching, breathing constricting and carbon dioxide exhalation warming. That couldn’t be literal, though, or else he’d be ill. On this particular adventure, in this particular day, it’d happened a few times.

Perhaps he was just tired. It had been a long day, all of this just in one day. Logan would consider this issue more in the morning. However, he would indulge in the working hypothesis just once, whilst muddled in this warm-chested comforting confusion. “....I love you, too, Patt. Sleep well.”

It may have been a trick of the light or his mind, but Logan thought, just before he closed his eyes, that he’d seen Patton smile at him.

[chyrstis]

Just roll with it

This was really just an excuse to draft up an odd occurrence in-game (How many ways can a hostage van rescue go wrong? Many), and to have Sharky continue to be his lovely self. It was also time to write some Faith, and everything fell into place from there.

Rating: T Word Count: 5.9K

Link to AO3!

___

The plan was to hit Boshaw Manor before heading north. Grab some supplies, a working car, and figure it out from there. Sadly, her plans never seem to survive the first draft.

____________________

Her truck was toast.

Hana had known that riding in, and now with Sharky with her, the two were faced with a new dilemma; needing some serious wheels to get from point A to point B.

With most of his supplies back at his place, it meant backtracking there first before heading further north. Sharky’s own truck had gone up in a fireball a day before she’d found him, but it hadn’t phased him at all. It’d been his third that week, mostly due to cultists constantly patrolling the open roads, and he kept on trading them up as they became available. …While the others were reduced to flaming wrecks.

Neither she nor Sharky had actually been able to keep their hands on a working vehicle for longer than a week so far in Hope County. At least not since things had well and truly gone to hell in a handbasket. She wondered what that said about the two of them.

The fight back at Moonflower had been hell on both of them, and even if he wasn’t anywhere near as wiped as she was, she did see some of his energy starting to flag. Having to lug around his flamethrower plus the fuel for it without having a place to stash it otherwise was a full-on endurance sport.

That did not stop his ability to talk her ear off, however. It was strange not being the one to fill the silence for once, listening to him tell her about anything and everything that caught his fancy.

How down by a creek he’d found a cool lizard that had given him a rash on his junk for a week after he’d hid it in his pants so he could show it off to his classmates. How another had a killer area for skinny dipping – and he’d nearly froze his ass off after cannonballing into it. Or how this other time he’d burned his eyebrows off for nearly a month after dropping a match into a pile of dry brush. The lighter fluid hadn’t been needed, but did amp it all up to eleven, while also torching part of a nearby corn crop.

All stories were told with his hands, framing each expression that crossed his face, along with a series of mimicked sounds and added commentary. It was tough not to watch him, and every time he scored a laugh, or a “no frigging way” from her, she got a pleased smile from him in return before he dove into another tale.

She hadn’t been left alone with herself for once. Left with her thoughts buzzing, questioning everything, and it’d been…nice. Really damn nice, actually.

Lord knew she’d done enough of that since getting here. But a moment where she didn’t have to think about Joseph or how the arrest had gone to shit on her watch was a reprieve she’d gladly take.

“We aren’t there yet, are we?” she asked, fiddling with the strap of her bag.

“We’re about two shakes out. Could probably find a quicker way if we ambush any of the Peggies waiting around, but you’ve got to deal with their shit taste in music first.”

“Oh, amen to that,” she muttered. “Before I came out here I was stuck on John’s playlist from hell. At least Faith’s is kinda soothing if you listen to it long enough. John’s is really…self-focused.”

It was only the one song that was, actually, but when his people wanted to blast it, it was everywhere. And for someone so determined to remind everyone that he was the face of Eden’s Gate, he’d gone above and beyond the call of duty in that department, with every sign, note, and broadcast.

With every yes, which he was set on staking his claim on.

God, even now she was still bitching about John. It was probably time for a break, all things considered.

“John? What with that whole cleansing shit? Some beefed up swirly from hell? I’ve had better times out back getting the old spray and pray with the firehose. All without someone really pushing for me to get into it. Like really into it.” He thought it over a bit. “Fucking Peggies, man.”

Okay, scratch that. Cheap shots were totally still on the table. “Yeah, I think he’s going to need to do a real spin-cycle on me before that’ll take. He was kinda pissed during mine.”

Sharky nudged her. “I heard the Pastor totally blew the whole thing sky high getting people out of there. That was you too?”

“I wished I’d done half of the shit he’d been able to. John had-“

A chill rolled over her at the memory of the water, how cold it’d felt as he’d held her down, and she floundered for a second.

“…Dammit. Sorry, the uh, motherfucker was really persistent when it came to loading the few of us up and into a van, so my hands were literally tied when Jerome found us. It was a Die Hard-level type of intervention and I’d never been more jealous in my life.”

He gave an approving nod. “Dude’s a total badass.”

“No joke.”

The high-pitched whine of an engine approached, and the two ducked into the nearby brush to avoid it. Traveling along any of the roads was a risk, so they tried to stick to the smaller paths Sharky was more familiar with once they had cleared the trailer park. That didn’t stop those opting for ATVs, however.

One ambled up and over a nearby hill, with only a single rider, and the man swore loudly as the vehicle’s wheels rolled into a muddy patch. A few loud revs tried to get it to budge, but it wasn’t doing it, and after nearly a minute of fighting it he cut the power to the engine.

She traded a look with Sharky. “It’s not the most roomy of rides, but-“

“I can sardine it up, no problem. You can fit five people on one of those things if you try hard enough.”

“Sure, man,” Hana said, lining up the shot with her rifle. “Good thing we’re just sticking to two.”

She pulled the trigger. The man pitched forward, falling over the handlebars to the ground below. They both hurried over after that, keeping an eye out for anyone that might’ve been tailing him.

Slinging her rifle over to her side, the two got to work shifting the ATV out of the hole it’d made. They hefted it over to the side, clear of the mud it had kicked up, and once it was free she popped onto the driver’s seat, and patted the seat behind her.

Sharky had just settled in when she revved it, and he swore loudly as the ATV shot forward, both of his hands flying around her waist. The shift made her yelp, and when she responded by hitting the brakes his weight hit her squarely in the back, nearly bowling her over as well.

“You want to ease up on that, Dep?” he wheezed. “You want both of us to make it over there in one piece, right?”

Her face burned as she took her hands off of the controls, and took in a deep breath before touching them again. “Goddammit. I’ve driven all of one of these before, and forgot how bad they kick.”

“Sure you don’t want me up front?”

She actually kinda did, but the thought of hugging two cylinders of propane as they sped along just screamed, ‘bad idea’. “Nah, I’ve got it, hon. Just give me a second.”

His grip was tight on her, a fact that wasn’t lost on her one bit as she revved the ATV gently, hoping the damn thing wouldn’t try to boot them again. This time they were able to stay on, but it took more than one controlled turn for him to finally ease up and sit back.

Soon enough, they rolled up to their destination. Boshaw Manor – as Sharky affectionately referred to it – was a single-story house that was remarkably intact considering who the owner was. Surrounded by just enough trees to give it cover, the property was littered with items that were either for burning, or had been in the process of being burnt.

Even from where she was standing she could see propane tanks stacked along the outside wall of the house, and as the two tucked themselves behind a nearby tree, she checked for any signs the cult had been there.

A large SUV was parked out front, and it was the furthest from what she’d imagine a guy like Sharky would drive. Still, it was worth asking.

“Does that look pretty much as you’d left it?”

Sharky studied the area, and shook his head. “Hell, no. I left with the only truck I had, and what’s left of it’s back at the trailer park.”

“I was afraid you’d say that. Watch my back while I check it out?” She handed him her rifle, and started creeping forward.

Drawing her handgun, Hana slowly approached the vehicle. Circling around it, she noted the word “SINNER” painted along its side, the letters all in stark white. The windshield had been blown out, and when she moved around the open driver’s side door she winced at what was resting on the ground beside it.

The woman wasn’t wearing any of the clothes favored by the cult, and had likely been just about to duck into the house ahead for shelter or help. Too many people in the county had been left like this, curled up and afraid just before the cultists got to them, and anger began to curl in every inch of her body as she kept on moving towards the front door.

A flash of white sprung up on her left. Bright lights weren’t dancing on the edges of her vision like before, but as she saw someone dart around the corner of the house, she rubbed at her eyes just to see if the image faded.

That was the only way to explain-

“You see any Peggies?”

Every hair stood on end as she whirled around to find Sharky behind her. “Fuck, man! I told you to hang back!” she hissed.

“I didn’t see anything back there, and wanted to check with you.” His voice traveled even in a whisper, and she held up a finger to her lips. “Uh, yeah, working on that.”

He was still louder than needed, but she chalked it up to the pitch of his voice. That, and the excitement that seemed to spring up whenever trouble was waiting. She gave him a small pat on the shoulder and gestured towards the door.

He stuck with her this time as they approached, tucking close to the wall. She inched down the way, passing the signs nailed by the entrance, each of which mentioned propane or fire in some fashion, and she remembered both the propane canisters…and the flamethrower on Sharky’s back.

Someone loved to live dangerously. But at least he put up the signs?

She nudged the door open, wincing at the creak. When she didn’t see anyone waiting in the doorway, she crept inside. Between the two of them, they quickly went through the small house, poking in every corner, even giving the other half of the yard outside a once-over before meeting back by the doors.

“It’s looking pretty damn clear,” she said after a minute, still crouched down low. “Uh, unless you can think of any other places a Peggie might want to hide out here?”

“Most of my stuff’s in the bunker below. Gasoline, enough antifreeze to float a fucking boat, and a bunch of other shit that…”

He paused, worry suddenly crossing his face, then broke away to head outside, his run turning into a sprint.

“Sharky, what the hell?”

“Gotta check on this real quick, chica!”

She watched him stop right next to a spot outside, one she’d missed completely. Brushing a bunch of leaves and twigs away from it with his hands, he reached down and popped a hidden hatch open. He was gone a second later, sliding down the ladder to check out whatever waited below.

Hana stood there, holding the door to his house open as she stared after him. Curiosity soon got the better of her, however, and she approached the hatch, couching down next to it. Below she couldn’t see or hear much, but when it didn’t look like any Peggies were really waiting to ambush the two, she called out to him.

“Hey, Boshaw! Didn’t fall in down there, did you?”

His voice didn’t carry all the way to her, but he did appear at the bottom of the stairs a moment later. He’d set his flamethrower down, but was sporting a shotgun instead.

“Nah, just had to make sure none of the Peggies have been nosing around in my shit. A man’s stash is a special thing, and having them come over here with their fake-ass paperwork only to claim it just ain’t right.”

“So, everything’s still good?” she asked as he climbed back up to join her.

“Nothing’s moved, still got all of the antifreeze, though it’s looking like it’ll go soon so I’d better get on using it for something. …I was looking to get on crossing off things on my bucket list anyway, and no time like the present.”

She didn’t ask for any extra explanation, but figured if he wanted to, he’d tell her. “So, what do we want to try and shove in that SUV over there if it’s still running?”

He rubbed his hands together. “Depends on just how high you want to blow up ol’ Joe. And the sky’s the fucking limit.”

That really came down to how comfortable they’d feel driving out on the open road one accident away from a violent explosion. He could work with it. Her, not as much, even when she tried to tap into the same brand of gusto he’d come at the idea with.

Still, they didn’t need to have a river of propane and propane-type products to do a ton of damage, and when she talked him into dialing it back to whatever they could fit in the trunk, he pouted a little, but said that Hurk could pick up the slack from there.

Lucky for them both, the SUV had its keys in the ignition, and when it did start, they quickly cleared the rest of the vehicle out, removing the shattered glass and the debris in the back. She followed his lead after that, grabbing anything he rattled off to her off of his mental checklist, and they loaded it up fast.

He spent some time securing the place as well, hiding the hatch to his ‘stash’, and setting up parting gifts for anyone that came poking around. Every spot he marked, she made damn sure to note. She would be the one to accidentally blow her own foot off for being careless, and really didn’t need to raise her chances by playing an impromptu game of minesweeper later on in Sharky’s yard.

From this spot out front they could also keep an eye on the road. It’d been quiet so far – almost too quiet, and Hana tried not to let her nerves have a field day with that one – but she couldn’t help the deep breath that left her the moment they were able to climb in and hit the road.

She handed her map off to Sharky and immediately turned on the radio. Static filled the vehicle at first, but once she found the right station, she was greeted by the sound of a guitar.

“Hell yeah,” he replied, bopping his head once the music came on. “Crank it while you’ve got it. Now, Hurk and Hurk are all the way up by Wishbone Lake.”

“Hurk and Hurk?”

“Yeah, his dad didn’t gamble like mine did. So, Hurk Sr. and Jr. it was.” He drew a line out on the map with his finger that she tried to follow, and held the map up so she could get a better look. “Huge lake, great if you like fishing, better if you’ve got some moonshine and a boat full of dynamite. But we’ve got to drive by the Marina first, and that would be one kickass detour.”

“Why’s that?”

“That’s where my Aunt is. You’ve gotta meet her. Aunty Addie’s just…” He struggled with his words for a few seconds, and Hana raised an eyebrow. “You know how the Pastor’s a badass? Well, she’s certified.”

She grinned. “Sounds like one hell of a lady. Think she’d love to take a potshot at-” Her next few words died in her mouth as she saw Peggie trucks ahead.

The two formed a small blockade, both trucks turned to keep anyone from cutting around them, and when they spotted the SUV coming up on them, they pointed towards them in surprise.

“Aw, fuck.” She eyed the road up ahead, noticing how it sharply curved, leading to a drop off that likely meant their imminent demise. “This is not great.”

“We bailing or making this the biggest improvised fireball I’ve ever seen?”

“We’re improvising, that’s for damn sure!” Pressing her foot on the gas, she pushed her bag towards him. “Molotov!”

He quickly dug for one, and proceeded to light it. “You’re pretty fucking cool for a cop, you know that?”

The Molotov flew, Sharky’s aim on point even as she turned the wheel to skid off of the road, and both cultists immediately had a lot more to worry about than the dark blue SUV bearing down on them.

She hit the brakes, throwing out an arm to grab for Sharky’s hoodie when she saw him lurch forward, and once they skidded to a stop, she grabbed for the first weapon she could get and aimed it out of the driver’s side window.

The two Peggies had separated, one overwhelmed by the flames, the other ducking behind the truck, and she took a few shots to see if she could tag him. All they did was make him tuck further behind it, and she barely ducked to avoid the spray of bullets that tore into the driver’s side of the cabin.

Curling her arms over her head, she looked to her right at the vacant spot next to her.

A loud whistle cut across the gunfire. “Yo, dipshit! Over here’s a real party!”

Hana shot up from her hiding spot in record time.

With a middle finger held high, Sharky dropped it to quickly ready his shotgun, firing twice. Both shots went through the truck’s side windows, any scatter leaving fiery holes in the seats in their wake, and she swore under her breath.

Her gun was in her hand and shooting at the cultist before she could think to do anything else, and she didn’t stop once until they hit the pavement.

“Now that’s fucking teamwork,” he said, his feet shifting into the loosest interpretation of the moonwalk she’d ever seen.

He was still dancing when she walked up beside him and both surveyed the flaming wreck. The fire had crawled up and over the top of one of the white trucks, smoke climbing up towards the sky. It didn’t look like it was going to get to the engine, but she wasn’t keen on sticking around to find out.

A horn went off. The noise came from behind her, and continued to sound off as it closed in.

She turned, and spotted a white van in the distance, quickly closing in. The same make and model as the one used that night by the lake to cart her and countless others off.

That realization set her next decision in stone as anger welled in her chest.

They weren’t slowing down. No, they were speeding up, and she started firing, aiming for the driver as she planted herself directly in the middle of their path on the road, set on getting as many shots off as possible.

Twenty feet.

Ten feet.

Five feet.

Almost. Almost…!

Sharky slammed into her, his arms holding onto her as they hit the grass. She yelped, her gun flying off into the boonies, and she was only idly aware of the roar of the van as it passed straight through the spot she’d been standing.

“Jesus H. Christ,” she breathed, her blood pounding. “I had it.”

Sharky, still half on top of her, raised himself up onto his forearms. “Dep, now I like curly fries, but you were looking to be the only hamburger in the county with a badge. That, and uh…” He noticed the stiff way she was holding her hands up, and her pinched expression, then scrambled to get up and off of her as quickly as possible.

“Seriously, I had it!” He offered her a hand to get up, and though she felt her irritation rising, she took it. “I was going to…”

Her head had swung in the direction of the van, watching it scrape by the flaming mess they had made of the roadblock. But once it was past it slowly coasted to a stop, coming to a rest right at the very edge of where the road curved.

It rocked, forward and back as Hana stared at it dumbly. Then she was on her feet, running full-tilt towards it.

“No, no, no, no-“

The rear came down to touch the grass, holding in place for what seemed like eternity. That’s when it pitched forward, the back of the van jutting right into the sky as it fell over the edge, disappearing from sight.

She barely caught herself when she reached the road’s edge, slipping on a patch of dirt as she came to a stop. Below, she hadn’t been sure what to expect, but as she watched the van slide straight to the bottom of the ravine unharmed, she couldn’t even muster a word. Just stunned silence as she stared down at it.

When Sharky joined her, he lifted up his baseball cap to run a hand through his hair. “Now that’s a motherfucking miracle if I’ve ever seen one. You fall like that, and usually you’re ten different kinds of toast.”

“God, you’re that sure they didn’t…” A voice yelled from below, and she gasped. “Holy shit.”

Jumping down the steep decline, she didn’t even think about what a wrong step would mean, only that she needed to get down there. Now.

“Hey! Dep, hold on a sec – shit, don’t fucking boogie down the thing!”

She didn’t chance a look behind her, but figured that Sharky wouldn’t leave her alone for long. Even if that meant skidding like her straight to the bottom.

The white flowers appeared in her path too fast to dodge them. The twinkling hit as everything slowed down, throwing her off for a second, but she didn't lose her footing. Just collided with the van as her vision swam, and she held herself in place as she regained her bearings.

The person inside called out again, of all things reassurances, and she quickly reached for the doors to the back. The fall had mangled the frame of the van, but only enough to wedge the doors out of place, and she struggled with it until Sharky managed to reach her.

With his help, the two pried it open, revealing one very jostled, but grateful man. “Thank you. I’m okay, just…thank you!”

Hana cut the zip-ties binding his wrists, and shook her head. “I, uh, really should be thanking you for being a good sport about that. Sure you don’t need bandages, water, or shit, even a drink?”

“No, no, I’m just thankful not to be going back. Not to any of them.”

She made her way back up the hill to get her canteen regardless, relieved to the bone that things hadn’t gone entirely pear-shaped. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she flashed Sharky a thumbs up, and wanted nothing more than to flop down in the grass for a serious breather.

That’s when she noticed the figure leaning against the side of the van. Clad in the same delicate white dress, Faith’s eyes were closed, a serene expression settled completely over her. This was the second time she’d seen her, only this time the vision hadn’t vanished yet.

She hadn’t touched the bliss in hours, not since the brief brush with it back at the jail.

But the flowers had done the trick in its stead. Messed with her enough to question what was sitting in front of her, and Faith was no exception. She couldn’t have been real, couldn’t have been out here, waiting for them.

Hana approached her, angling her head to get a better look, only for Faith’s hand to dart out. Her fingers wrapped around her wrist, the hold gentle, but firm.

Everything went white.

The next time Hana opened her eyes, she was no longer down in that ravine. She was in a place of sunlight and tall grass, trees stretching towards the sky as the breeze ruffled her hair. There was no place more peaceful than this, and when Faith smiled at her, she couldn’t help but smile back.

Faith took her hands, tugging her into a slow spin as they danced in place. “I’ve been waiting for this,” she said, lights twinkling in her hair. “It felt like ages. Waiting for you to finally find me, but that’s all right.”

Hana let her pull her close, and felt a smile tug at her own lips as Faith did.

“I have so much to show you. Will you let me?”

She nodded, her voice lost, but not missed. She floated here, felt weightless here, and would follow Faith wherever she wished.

“Good.” She let go, and turned away, walking forward with her hands outstretched over the grass. “There are some that will tell you I’m a liar. That I will tell you only what you want to hear, what I want you to know. This isn’t true.”

Hana followed, mirroring her motions, feeling the grass tickle the insides of her palms.

“A young woman was lost once. Alone."

Faith turned again, still backlit with a halo of light, but somber, grounded. She held out her hand, one finger raised, and as she spoke, a butterfly came to rest there. "There was little to ease the pain she felt as she watched others connect, and find comfort.” The butterfly spread its wings, taking flight.“She wanted to escape, to leave behind the abuse she suffered from those she trusted. When she begged for help, they ignored her. So she used. The press of a needle became her comfort. It helped her to forget. To feel something, anything other than what she knew to be true.”

Faith closed her eyes, and placed her hands on Hana’s shoulders as she leaned in, standing up on her toes to whisper in her ear.

“That she was a burden. To both them, and to herself. That life was not worth living, not like this. Not as she was.”

Hana watched as Faith touched her cheek, gentle, but so faint she’d have questioned it if she hadn’t been looking right at her.

“That’s when he found her.”

Faith darted back, her face lit up in joy, and grabbed for Hana’s hand, tugging her into a run.

They ran through the glowing field, past the flowers, through the haze until she could see what was waiting ahead. Their path through the grass came to an end, leading to the edge of their little pocket in the bliss. If she jumped, there was nowhere to fall below. Only wisps of green waited there, hiding the bottom from view.

Faith raised her hand towards the clouds dotting the sky, and with a wave, brushed them aside, revealing what was hidden beneath.

“The Father welcomed her,” she said, gazing up at the statue of Joseph. “He gave her a family, love, and purpose. They didn’t reject her. He didn’t reject her, and promised he would never leave her. And with this promise she found…she didn’t want to die anymore. She wanted to live. But this was not the end.”

The green fog wrapped around Faith, giving way in a flash of light to a set of wings, large and dazzling.

“No, the Father had something to ask of her. A test.”

Faith took her hands again, but this time she flew high, lifting them both.

“If she had faith in him, if she showed that she would do anything, even die for him, he would return that faith. He would return that devotion. All she had to do was take that leap. To show him she believed.”

Hana held on tight, a rush flowing through her as she kept on watching the world below them pass on by. But she looked up, let Faith carry her, and relaxed.

Faith’s smile had eased, however, replaced with one of hesitation. Doubt.

“But she was scared. She wasn’t sure, and when faced with that choice, she hesitated. Anyone would’ve. She wanted to live, had found a reason to after so long. Why give it up now?”

The statue drew closer, and as Faith brought them up alongside it, she gave Hana a warm glance.

“Still, he was patient,” she said, her words soothing. “She saw this, and took a chance. Trusted him, and leapt.”

Faith set her down, Hana’s feet coming to rest on top of the open pages of the book held in stone hands, and Faith slipped away. Her wings caught the sunlight, glinting with each flap as she rose up higher and higher in the sky.

Faith’s voice echoed in her ears, called to her, even as Hana looked right at her.

Follow the path.

Trust in us, and show us your faith. Take the leap.

And after, once you wake, we will welcome you with open arms.

A figure to her right caught her eye, their eyes on Faith as well.

Burke. The fuzzy feeling in her mind, in her bones, struggled to clear as she watched him take one step forward, then two.

Stop.

Each step Hana took was as through cement, dragging them forward one by one. The words caught in her throat, stuck even as she opened and closed her mouth.

He approached the edge of the book, unafraid. “Follow the path,” he repeated, opening his arms wide.

“…B-Burke.” The effort shredded her voice, but she forced herself to keep going, to keep pushing. “Burke, don’t-“ She reached for him, wanting to scream. “Don’t!”

Her fingertips brushed him as he fell, grasped him only for a second, before they curled into her empty fists.

Down he fell, through the fog, down to nothing.

Now it’s your turn.

Hana looked down, down at the curling wisps of the bliss.

Take the leap. Be free.

She rocked forward, feeling her balance give, her breaths coming quick as she felt the ground below her feet give way.

Don’t be afraid.

Her arms flew up in front of her face as the wind whipped at her, the ground rushing up to meet her.

---

A breeze tickled her cheek. Brushed a few strands of her hair across her face, the tickling sensation only growing in intensity as she stared ahead.

The grass moved, the white flowers in front of her twinkling as they swayed, and she drew in a breath.

Real. This was real. Solid ground, the grass underneath her fingertips. Hana gripped onto it tight, increasing the pressure until it tore free from the ground, only then did she let herself collapse back down onto it.

Her eyelids remained heavy as she rested there, her mouth dry as she wet her lips, and she closed her eyes.

“Dep!”

Her body tensed.

“Yo, po-po! I know you’re out there! Holler once if you hear me, and holler twice if you can’t! Or three for Peggies, we’ll figure it out!”

Flipping over, she groaned as she pushed herself up. Sharky. It was Sharky, and she thanked whoever was watching over her above that he hadn’t run off on her.

“Shark? Hey!” That alone put a strain on her, drawing a rough cough, but she yelled again. “Boshaw, over here!”

She could hear him running towards her now. That was a good sign, but still felt sluggish, her eyes adjusting to a world that wasn’t built by the bliss for her. She’d moved on to lightly slapping her own cheek when Sharky sprinted up, looking a mix of shocked and relieved.

“Hey shorty,” he said, crouching down by her side. “Not gonna lie, I thought they’d grabbed you.”

“They did. Kinda?” Hana paused as she looked over at him, the last few flits of light still dancing in front of her, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight before opening them again. “Ugh. It was the bliss. That and Faith. I don’t even know what the hell happened after she reached for me.”

“You were there ‘til you weren’t.” She stared straight at him, and he held up his hands in defense. “I’m not yanking your chain or lying, man. You fucking ninja-vanished, like poof, except with no smoke, no nothing.”

“That doesn’t even begin to make any sense. How the hell did you know to come here then?”

“I, uh, heard humming.”

“Humming.”

“And, uh…” He scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish. “She might’ve pointed me along. Led me through a few of those fucking bramble-bushes too, which’ll stick me when I least want it – probably when taking a piss, but- yeah.“

She blanched. “God, Faith’s everywhere. Or wants us to think that exact thing.”

“At least I got to keep my twenty dollars this time.”

“What?”

Sharky shrugged. “She looked like she needed a beer or something, so I gave her the cash out of my pocket.”

“You gave a walking acid trip twenty dollars?”

“That’s-you don’t just leave someone hanging when they’re in need, and Faith’s just smoking hot, man. You don’t know what it’s like to have those eyes set on you, and if she'd asked, I’d have given her my shirt, shoes, and pants too. No questions asked.”

Hana recalled the touch of Faith’s hand, her soft words. It wasn’t a stretch by any means, and she pinched the skin on the inside of her wrist to keep from slipping back into the haze she was still struggling to shake off.

“Okay. I meant it before, but I really want to put it out there this time. No more bliss. None. Not even a whiff.” She reached behind her head, trying to stretch out the mess that happened to be her cramped muscles, and failed, lying back on the dirt instead. “Say, where’d the truck go?”

“Uh…about that.”

She sat up and aimed a look right at him.

“It might be back there. Alone. Not on fire, but uh, I ran after you all the way here, and now we need to run back all the way there.” He squinted at her for a few seconds, thinking as he looked her over. “Could probably carry you if you want. I’m solid. Laps ain’t nothing with my flamethrower on me, and that's back in the truck, so I got you covered.”

He patted one of his biceps, grinning, and she rolled her eyes. “You do not want to carry me all the way back there.”

“Hey, an amigo in need is an amigo indeed. We shoulder each other’s burdens and shit.”

Okay, so she didn’t want to have to worry about him carrying her, and she made sure to get up before he could see the blush trying to work its way onto her face.

“Come on. We’re walking.”

[char-thenerd]

A Devil in Angel’s clothes

Writing challenge for @bang-tan-bitch

Rating: M (Sexual themes) 

Word count: 2k 

Hoseok x vampire!reader 

“Why did I let you drag me to this?” Y/n asked as the bass began hitting their ears from outside the club.

“Come on y/n you know why we’re here.” Jungkook responded “It’s Halloween, the one day a year where we can feed and no one questions it as anything other than fake blood and a hella good costume. Plus Namjoon is coming and he said he would be down to tag team someone if they were ok with it.” Y/n rolled her eyes, even though Namjoon was only a hundred years older than Jungkook, the younger still looked up to and respected him as if there were centuries difference between the two.  

“When are you just going to decide to fuck him instead of having a sounding board of a human between the two of you?”  Y/n asked right before they walked into the dark club, with lights flashing and costumed bodies dancing to the beat of the music.  

“Who says we haven’t.” He yelled over the thrum of the bass waggling his eyebrows.  “Best orgasm I ever had was when we had one of them tied up and forced him to watch.”

“Good God Kook, I don’t need all the details of how much of an exhibitionist you are.” She faked covering her ears moving further into the club, towards a far booth, their small clan already seated eyes scanning the crowd of people.  She slid down into the booth next to Yoongi while Jungkook took his spot next to Namjoon, the older putting his arm possessively around the younger.  

“Almost thought you guys wouldn’t make it, I was about ready to go find someone to feed on with Tae.” He commented looking at the both of them nodding towards Taehyung already grinding on a girl dressed as an angel out on the dance floor.  

“We would have got here on time Joon but y/n took forever as per usual.”  Jungkook said

“Oh no don’t you dare try and blame this on me, you were the one that changed four times before saying you should have just stuck with the first outfit you put on.”

“Hey, we can argue about this later. The rest of the group Tae’s girl was with all seem to have potential for us.”  The three of them followed his gaze towards a group of guys standing on the edge of the dance floor with matching costumes, one as an angel, two as devils.  The tallest devil had broad shoulders, plump lips, dark hair parted to reveal his forehead with a stern but soft gaze.  The smaller devil had silver hair with plump lips to rival the taller.  Next to the two of them, the angel seemed out of place, his frame between the other two in size with flaming red hair to match the others’ costumes.  He was uncomfortably pulling at the white costume, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was currently.  The four of them looked at each other then back to the small group.  

“Something doesn’t feel right about this.” Y/n voiced warning bells going off in her head “Can we find others?”  

“What are you not up to the challenge?” Namjoon asked looking at her smiling.  

“No, something is just off about them.”  They all turned to look at the three men.  After a minute Yoongi broke the silence that had fallen over them.  “You know I like docile ones so I’ll take the smaller of the devils.”  Y/n tried to get him to wait but he already made up his mind. 

“Go get him cowboy.” Jungkook said smacking his ass as he stood up and made his way over to the smaller one, whispering in his ear before leading him on to the dance floor

“Y/n,” Namjoon said drawing her attention. “If you don’t want to feed tonight, it’s ok you can head home.”

“It’s not that Joon, I just am getting weird vibes off the group.” 

“I just think you’re over reacting” Jungkook told her before turning to Namjoon. “Lets go snag the other devil before someone else does.” Jungkook tried to get up but Namjoon grabbed his sleeve to keep him in place eyes full of worry looking at Y/n. With an exasperated sigh  he spoke again challenging her. “Y/n I’ll give you the big bed for the next century if you manage to get him to dick you down.”  

“Is that a dare?” She asked with him smirking at her and nodding.  She hated the feeling in her gut but couldn’t refuse, the big bed was the most comfortable shit in their house. Gritting her teeth she tried to ignore the feeling that was causing her stomach to do back flips. 

“Watch and learn from the best.”  He added before sliding out of the booth Namjoon in tow.  She watched as they made their way over to the two, the larger quickly being pulled onto the dance floor.  After a few minutes of watching her target turn his back on the dance floor and head over to the bar. She slowly slid out of the booth and made her way over to him.  

“You know, with hair that color I have to think a devil is hiding in angel’s clothing.” She said into his ear making him jump slightly. “Shall we see if my idea is correct?” She asked once he turned to look at her holding out his hand.  

“You know, normally the guy hits on the girl but when the girl is as pretty as you, I have no complaints.”  He responded taking her had as they slowly made their way across the dance floor. She quickly scanned as she walked, looking for her brothers and found them each with their prey.  Taehyung now leaving the floor to exit the club, having started the process much sooner than the others, woman wrapped around his arm trying to continue making hickeys across his neck.  Yoongi and his devil were currently making out, bodies entwining to the point that she couldn’t tell where one started and the other ended.  Namjoon and Jungkook always the boldest of the clan, were also in the process of leading their devil off the floor and out of the club.  Y/n found a good spot to stop and quickly situate herself in front of her angel, back to chest as the found the rhythm together his hands slid around her waist pulling her closer to him so their hips were slowly grinding together.  “My names Hoseok by the way.”  He said into her ear, gently taking the lobe between his teeth. Once he had let go she turned and said into his ear.

“Y/n” repeating the same motion he had done, biting lightly on the lobe, careful enough to not draw out her fangs to pierce the skin before moving down his neck, leaving a hickey or two making him groan beneath her ministrations. Feeling his heart rate pick up made it nearly impossible to keep her fangs at bay, wanting nothing more than to sink into the soft skin and feel the warm blood trickle down her throat, before she could make that a reality she was brought back from her thoughts as he grabbed her face and pulled her into a blazing kiss, tounges fighting for dominance, making her whimper.   As they continued to make out on the floor she quietly slid her hand between their bodies, he visibly gasped and pulled back from the kiss when she found a bulge forming underneath the tight white pants and began fondling it, taking the opportunity to bite his lower lip while smirking.  

“You cut right to the chase.”  He said with a smile, but still gasping while leaning more into her touch.  

“It doesn’t seem like you’re complaining.” She said lips returning to his neck

“I’m not, it’s just..” His sentence faltered as she continued to palm his growing bulge.

“Come on Angel,” She whispered into his ear “be a good boy and finish that sentence.”

“My apartment is empty tonight.” He finally let out as he continued to shudder under her skilled hands. She finally removed her palm from his crotch and responded, before placing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Lead the way angel.” He quickly grabbed her hand and forcefully pulled her off the dance floor and out towards the parking lot. Once they reached what was presumably his car he pulled y/n forward pinning her with his large frame against the door, making her gasp.  He quickly started mouthing at her neck before she felt a strong sharp pain right below his mouth.

“Did you just bite me?” She asked as he murmured a yes against her neck. Realizing the red flags going off in her head were indeed real when the pain in her neck didn’t fade and her vision started to go black around the edges.  “What was that?” She questioned trying to pull out of his grasp.

“You’ll see soon enough y/n” He responded, his voice and demeanor changing completely before her vision faded completely.

As she came to all y/n could feel was a dull pain in her head that was quickly overpowered by the burning around her wrists and ankles.  After trying to rid herself of whatever was burning her she realized she was only in her underwear, shackled with silver and couldn’t escape.  She could hear a familiar whimper beside her, turning to her left to confirm her suspicion, she saw Tae in the exact same state as her, shackled with silver, and stripped to his boxers.  He had broken out in a small sweat, the pain overwhelming, having been there for longer than her.  She turned to her right to see Namjoon and Jungkook in the exact same position but still unconscious and finally on the end there was an empty spot, knowing that it was for Yoongi knowing that all she could do now is pray that they didn’t get him too.  Y/n was drawn from her stupor by the sound of a door.  She turned her head to see Hoseok standing in the doorway, his gaze piercing.  Her gaze shifted to his belt that held varying degrees of weapons and tools, after seeing everything she made the connection to what he was and started laughing.  

“You must be in a lot of pain to be laughing as hard as you are.” He commented his silken voice full of sarcasm.

“Oh yes I'm in pain, but I’m laughing at myself for not realizing what you are sooner.” She responded trying to not let the burn affect the way she spoke to him.

“Oh come on Angel,” He said using her name from the night before “it was easy to miss. I mean us hunters don’t make grand displays of who we are.” He moved closer to her brandishing a knife which she could only assume was silver.  He slowly ran the smooth part of the knife across her bare stomach leaving a burn in its wake, causing her to suck in a breath and squirm, causing the shackles to burn her wrists and ankles even more.  He began chuckling.  “See angel what you didn’t know is that this is how tonight would have always turned out, you writhing under my touch but unfortunately for you, it won’t be pleasurable for you.” He was about to begin cutting a small spot right under her left breast when the woman who was with Tae from the club entered with a smile on her face.

“Everything alright Jisoo?” Hoseok asked

“everything is perfect, Jimin just showed up with the final clan member, Jin is helping get him from the car.”

“Wonderful, we’ll be able to get started.” He responded looking down at y/n. “You did get one thing right this evening y/n.  For your kind, I’m a Devil in angel’s clothing.”  

[reformedkingsmanagent]

Out of Practice.

A/N: alright, this is gonna be nsfw. I’m sure that was expected. But still, you’ve been warned.

It was too good to be true. That’s what you kept telling yourself. The rent was too low. The fact that anyone was renting at all on that street just threw up red flags all over the place. It just didn’t make sense.

Posted deep in the annals of the online classifieds was a simple request for a quiet roommate, normal sleeping schedule, and no loud gatherings. There were no accompanying photos of the property, just an address and an email, no other information.

Normally you’d have skipped it due to suspicions that a murderer would be waiting on the other side of the door, but you were growing desperate. With your ex giving you 30 days to find a new place, ripping all stability out from under you, you’d gone all over the city trying to find something reasonable.

So you dove in head-first despite all the warning signs.

Emails back and forth had been quick and to the point. You got responses back in minutes as opposed to hours. You didn’t know his name as he signed off his emails with a simple

-ch

After arranging a meeting at the property through a quick flurry of ‘what time works for you?’ and ‘My schedule is open, so you give me a time you’d like to stop by,’ You finally settled on that afternoon. After lunch but before dinner, at least for you.

So here you were, standing outside the door after knocking twice, growing more and more worried about what would be on the other side.

You shot a quick text off to a friend in case you actually were murdered, just covering all the bases.

The door opened and your head snapped up, your immediate reaction being that you were at the wrong house.

The man standing in the doorway was...attractive. He had bright, piercing blue eyes, full lips that you immediately wanted to touch, extremely pronounced cheekbones to match, and a strong, angular nose that perfectly suited his face. It was almost too much to look at.

At least you’d possibly have a super hot neighbor.

“I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong address,” you trailed off, noticing that beneath the scruff along his jaw was a thin piece of metal pressed against his throat, the purpose of which you couldn’t begin to guess.

He realized what you were looking at and quickly zipped up the high-collared athletic jacket to cover it. You looked down, a bit embarrassed at being caught. “I’m sorry, I’ll just go.” You turned around to make your way down the steps, back to the sidewalk.

“No, wait.” You turned back around. He looked you over, his eyebrows drawn inwards, before opening the door wider. “Are you here about the ad?” You felt a fluttery feeling as you realized instead of a hot neighbor you might have a hot roommate.

“Yes,” you answered, pulling out your phone as if you were going to show proof of your email exchanges.

“Right, sorry, come on in.” He opened the door wider, giving you enough space to pass over the threshold.

The front door opened into a long hallway with doorways leading off to other rooms, as well as a staircase going up along the right side. The decoration was sparse, with dark wood floors providing a strong contrast with the walls that were painted white.

Despite the bare appearance, the fixtures and craftsmanship screamed money. The ceilings were high, and from the outside you could see that there were at least two floors. It was lovely.

You stepped in, offering him a shy smile and a quiet ‘thank you’ as he shut the door behind you. As soon as the door shut you could smell something that made your stomach growl.

“Sorry, I’m in the middle of cooking—”

“It’s okay, I can come back another day,” you offered, following him into the kitchen. It was the nicest kitchen you’d ever been in.

“Oh, no, that’s alright. It’s got to sit anyway.” He checked on what was on the stove before approaching you, his left hand outstretched, the other stuffed into his pocket. “Hi, sorry, I’m Charlie.”

You took his hand with your left, shaking it before introducing yourself.

“Right, well, I can give you a tour, I suppose?”

“Sure, that would be nice,” you agreed.

You followed him around the ground floor, spending more time in the living room inspecting a bookshelf while he answered a call a few feet away. He was reserved as he showed off his home, though you were still dumbfounded at how someone could even afford a place like this. You felt foolish for even being there.

“Sorry about that. I can show you the upstairs if you want?” You were captivated by his apologetic smile as he pocketed his phone.

“Sure,” you accepted, walking out into the foyer after he insisted you pass through ahead of him. Polite.

As you climbed the stairs, a beautiful German Shepherd approached the top, sitting obediently. You heard a soft chuckle from behind you.

“This is Zoe. She won’t bite. She’s practically useless as a guard dog. But I don’t need her for that…” It was a cryptic way for him to say he could take care of himself, but if he was worried about you being wary around dogs, he definitely didn’t need to be.

“She’s beautiful,” you grinned, hesitant to reach out to her until Charlie gave you the okay.

“It’s alright,” he confirmed as something icy cold touched the back of your hand to push it towards the pup.

You glanced down and saw the metal fingers. Before you could process anything else, he quickly withdrew the hand, clearing his throat.

“Zoe,” he scolded, causing her to get up and move back, allowing you to reach the top of the stairs. You held out a hand for her and earned a lick, lingering a bit longer to give her some attention. Charlie’s left hand joined in to scratch behind her ear, a smile on his face as you turned to look at him.

“She’s very sweet,” you commented, standing up. You watched as she padded ahead calmly, heading for the last door on the left and squeezing through it. “I’m assuming that’s yours?” You asked.

“Yes. It is.” With his dog out of sight it seemed like his mood had dropped a bit. Or perhaps it was what you saw moments earlier. A prosthetic hand? Of metal? A remarkably good one, too. It made sense. The money it would cost for it to be that gentle, that functional…

“You would be in here,” he interrupted your thoughts, pushing open the door at the start of the hallway, across from a decently large bathroom. The room itself was bare with the exception of a brand new bed frame and mattress, all still wrapped with padding and plastic, never used.

”You can have this, if you want,” he clarified before you could ask about needing to bring your bed. “I realize this isn’t a well-put together agreement, and I can have my lawyer draw something up if you want something concrete, but if you want it, you seem nice enough…”

It was without a doubt the strangest way you’d ever agreed to rent from someone, and possibly the quickest, but the fact that it was even on the table still stunned you. Sure, the living room and kitchen and other rooms on the ground floor would be shared, but only with one other person.

That person being him.

“I...I don’t have a problem with that,” you agreed with a smile, feeling tons of weight fall off your shoulders. You wanted to hug him, to thank him profusely, but you somehow managed to resist the urge. Your search was over.

“Want to stay for dinner?”

*******

“So I told him what I’d been keeping inside for so long now, and that was it. He didn’t blow up on me, he just told me to leave.”

“But this is after he got caught…” Charlie pointed out, taking a sip from his wine glass, the metal fingers shining in the light from overhead. It wasn’t as abnormal as you expected it to seem. “I think he was scared you’d be the one blowing up on him— and why didn’t you?”

You shrugged, pushing around the remnants of the food on your plate. Delicious was an understatement. “He wasn’t worth it? That’s the only thing I can think of.”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” he agreed, raising his eyebrows as he took another sip, his plate cleared.

“I…” you started, not sure how to say it.

“Hmm?” he looked up.

“...Thanks, I guess. This is...this is kind of a lifesaver, for me,” you confessed. “I really appreciate it.”

“Honestly, this helps me. I’m away most of the time. This way, Zoe can stay home, as long as you don’t mind?” He watched you to gauge your reaction.

“Of course not. She’s incredibly well-behaved.”

He glanced down at his side, where she was laying calmly. “She had a good trainer,” he agreed. “Just think of this as being a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

His eyes met yours again and they were filled with something, not quite matching up with the smile he wore.

“Mutually beneficial. Right.”

*********

“Can you hold that for a second?” You asked, taking a few steps back, slightly out of breath.

“Is it level now?” he asked, looking to you, hands holding the mirror straight against the wall.

“It looks level,” you nodded, returning to lessen his load.

His arm was free today, a plain cotton shirt leaving much of it exposed, as well as the device on his throat. He was helping you get things up and unpacked, as apparently his schedule left him pretty free when he wasn’t travelling.

You still didn’t know what he did for a living, if he did anything at all. Maybe he just had a vault tucked away that meant he could do literally whatever he wanted. With this house? At his age? That seemed more and more likely. But you couldn’t be sure. There was something so guarded about him that told you otherwise.

He took the pencil from between his teeth and dragged it along the top of the glass before setting the mirror down against the wall. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbled, off to find whatever tools he’d need.

You didn’t expect him to be so handy either, or hands-on in helping you move in. You expected silence, to be left to your own devices. But you greatly appreciated it, and you couldn’t have done this on your own.

Besides the mirror, everything else was mostly situated. You still had some clothes to unpack and hang, a computer to plug in, and odds and ends that needed homes, but other than that you were almost ready for a nap, which sounded amazing.

The doorbell rang and you abandoned your thoughts to quickly head down the stairs. You knew it couldn’t be for you, but you didn’t know where Charlie had gone off to. You could at least let them know he would be out in a bit.

You opened the door slightly and came face-to-face with a pizza delivery guy. “Oh,” you mumbled, not realizing he’d ordered anything. Zoe padded up silently and sat beside you, as if on guard. Already close enough to you to know instinctively that you weren’t an ‘other’ and belonged there. “I’ll be right back, okay?” You quickly shut the door and turned to face the inside of the house.

“Charlie? There’s a pizza here, did you order some?” You heard footsteps and he walked in from one of the rooms further down the hall, the laundry room, drill in hand.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he smiled. He passed the drill and screws to you before opening the door, offering a friendly greeting.

“Ah, cool arm man,” the guy complimented. Charlie took the box without a word and shut the door. He didn’t look pleased as he headed for the kitchen. You had a strong feeling it was because of the arm. You still hadn’t asked about it and based on his reaction, that was the right choice. It wasn’t your business to know anyway.

“I figured this would be easier with everything going on,” he explained, growing a bit flustered as he set the box on the counter.

“No, that’s perfect. Thank you, Charlie.”

He took the drill and screws from you with a small smile before heading back upstairs. Before you could head up to see if he needed help, you heard the drill. After a few minutes he came back down, putting the drill away before reaching the kitchen. He had on a loose jacket now, only the hand exposed.

“Help yourself,” he offered. You felt horrible that he was so self-conscious about the arm. You wished you could make him more comfortable, but you felt like you’d be crossing a line and honestly end up pissing him off. So you didn’t say anything about the exchange.

************

“Show’s on!” you called out from the living room, hand passing over Zoe’s head which was resting in your lap. An affirmative grunt was sent your way and you heard quick steps up the stairs. He soon returned, a large blanket in his hands.

You forced yourself to avoid staring at his chest. He looked tired, clad in a soft grey tank and loose, thin pajama pants. You doubted he’d stay awake the whole episode, but you’d be able to explain it to him tomorrow when he inevitably asked about what he missed.

As he sat beside you, you found yourself focused on the attachment site for his arm, noticing it looked a bit red, irritated. “Have you been…”

He glanced at the arm and then you, before releasing a deep sigh. “Yeah. It’s fine,” he promised. He draped the blanket over himself and then you, a sound coming from Zoe as she was forced to lift her head. He smiled down at her, an amused chuckle coming from his throat. “Hey, I know she’s sweet and all, but I’m better,” he argued. Your face grew warm at the compliment. Zoe merely returned her head to its former place in your lap, this time on top of the blanket.

“Maybe she’s picked up on my stress lately. Work has been...insane,” you briefly explained.

“Yeah, she’s been sleeping at your door at night. I thought maybe she was just picking favorites,” he joked.

“She loves you,” you argued.

“I know,” he agreed, placing a cold, reassuring hand over yours. You felt your stomach do a few flips in response.

Maybe he just didn’t understand what his small touches did to you, and you absolutely weren’t about to tell him, but he seemed to do it pretty often, for various reasons. If he was home.

You reaching up for something in one of the cabinets meant he might come over and press the metal hand against your lower back before reaching above you to get the item. Or there would be an apologetic, soft touch on your arm before he got up to answer his phone in another room. A reassuring touch on your shoulder if you got to the door first and it was for him. The softest of touches on your shoulder if you were wearing headphones, so as to not scare the life out of you.

You waited in mild panic as his hand continued to rest against yours, growing heavier and heavier with each passing second, pinning you to the couch mentally.

He finally moved his hand away and you could’ve sighed aloud in relief. He rotated his shoulder and hissed, reaching for the irritated skin. You knew he needed the remedy he was trying so hard to avoid. Why, you couldn’t guess.

After the second time he rubbed at the skin you got up, heading for the cabinet in the kitchen where you kept medicines and herbal teas, pulling out a jar with a handwritten label across the lid.

“It’s fine, I promise,” he assured you.

You sat beside him, a little closer this time. He watched you open the jar and scoop out a bit of the salve inside.

“Your body,” you started, fingers cautiously smoothing the substance into his skin, “is rejecting the foreign material.”

He watched you, speechless, eyes tracking your every move, lips still, no complaints coming from him as you massaged the affected area, making an effort to be as gentle as possible. You heard him sigh, noticed his lips parting. He began to relax.

“See? Doesn’t that feel better?” Even after you could feel that most of the salve had absorbed into his skin, you continued massaging his shoulder. The bionic arm rested in your lap as you tended to him, though now he turned it over, the fingers smoothing over your bare leg. You pretended not to notice.

Your eyes moved from the lightly freckled skin at his shoulder to the bit of his chest that you could see. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to distract yourself from what it must feel like to run your fingers through the hair across his muscular, tanned, freckled, firm, hot skin—

You moved over, fingers slipping beneath the fabric at his shoulder, inching closer and closer to where you wanted to be, not thinking about the consequences.

A sharp gasp and a tight grip on your ankle—

A knock on the door disturbed the two of you. Zoe sat up, ears pricked towards the door, picking up on things neither of you would’ve been able to hear. She left the couch and padded away, a low rumble echoing in the foyer as she waited by the door. Charlie risked a glance at you before removing his hand from your leg. “Stay here.”

You were more than willing to listen, as the thought of someone stopping by at ten in the evening didn’t seem like something you wanted to become involved in. Still, your face was burning and you rubbed your hands together, the tingling an after-effect of the medicated ointment. Or from touching him.

You heard the front door open and picked up the remote to pause the show, trying to listen in.

The hall was immediately filled with a raised voice. Your curiosity won out and you got off the couch, walking over slowly to make sure Charlie was okay.

You could see a sliver of the person on the other side of the door and you groaned.

“You need to leave,” you interjected, pushing past Charlie and stepping outside. You pressed a hand into the visitor’s chest to force him back away from the door. He pushed your hand down and took a few steps back away from the door. Charlie reached for your shoulder but you brushed his hand away, standing in front of him as if protecting him from the man who’d so rudely interrupted your evening. “How did you even find me here?”

“You thought you could just shack up with someone else as if I wouldn’t find out?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling underdressed in the evening’s low temperatures. “It’s been months, James, almost a year. What I do is absolutely none of your business.”

“I bet I know how you’re paying this rent,” he spat, pointing to Charlie who was waiting inside the doorway. “Much too expensive for you. Sweetening the deal, eh?” He stumbled a bit as he retreated further towards the road.

“Are you drunk?” you asked, horrified. “Go home, please,” you begged. You were mortified. Not only did you never want to see his face again, his accusations were going to force an air of awkwardness around Charlie for you. You didn’t know how to brush something like that off. Especially when you wouldn’t mind if it were true…

“That’s the look of a guilty man,” James laughed from the street. You almost turned to look at Charlie’s expression but scolded yourself immediately. He was just trying to get a reaction. “I get it, man. That’s a nice little arrangement you’ve got. But she’s not worth it. You’ll get bored after a bit. Too vanilla.”

You scoffed, bending over to pick up a pebble from the planter beside the door, hurling it in his direction. He ducked to avoid it and it clattered into the road behind him. “Get out of here, and don’t come back!” you said firmly. You would’ve yelled but were sure Charlie’s neighbors wouldn’t appreciate the disturbance. And the last thing you wanted to do was draw attention to the scumbag in the street.

He laughed, looking from you to Charlie. “Fine pair, you two. What, with him being half a man and you needing to fix people and all. Can’t wait to see it all fall apart.”

You stepped out towards the street to watch and make sure he actually left, head hanging down once he was around the corner and out of sight. Apologies were waiting on the tip of your tongue but you didn’t have the energy to voice them.

“Come inside. You’ll catch a cold out here,” Charlie spoke softly, his left hand going to wrap around your shoulder, fingers gripping gently to turn you around.

You were so angry you could cry. He seemed to sense that. You were just thankful he wasn’t holding the unwelcome visit against you. You wouldn’t blame him if he did.

You walked with Charlie back inside before gently removing his hand with an apologetic smile and heading up the stairs, no longer in the mood to focus on anything but your own frustrating problems.

***********

The next few days were spent in willful isolation. You were doing your best to avoid Charlie, hoping you didn’t have to discuss James’ drunken accusations. You didn’t know if you could have that conversation, especially after openly slipping up and crossing a ton of boundaries with your wandering hands.

Your attraction to him was obvious, but you hadn’t dreamed of acting on it. Okay, perhaps there had been a few dreams, but you couldn’t. Besides, it was absolutely foolish to think he’d even be receptive to anything like that.

A knock on your door brought you out of your inappropriate thoughts and a heavy sense of dread settled over you. The object of your mental roadblock waited on the other side of the door.

You got up and walked over to the door, pulling it open slowly, his piercing eyes meeting yours immediately. So blue.

“I just wanted to tell you I’ve got to leave for a little bit. I should be back next week.” He was fully dressed, keys in hand.

Was he trying to avoid this conversation too?

“You’re leaving right now?”

“Yeah, it’s sudden, I know, but I’ll be back.”

“No, yeah, it’s not my business,” you confirmed, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll look after things here, no problem.” You moved to shut the door but his hand caught it, the metal fingers curved around the wood, the keys trapped between both, clattering a bit. It took him a moment to speak, as if he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to say.

“Listen, don’t worry about him—”

“I’m fine, I promise. He’s irrelevant,” you stated, looking away from him as the words came up on their own. “I never said I was sorry for what he said, he’s an ass and an even bigger idiot, please don’t let him bother you, I promise he won’t be back.”

“He doesn’t bother me. He’s nothing. I just want to make sure you’re alright. You’ve been quiet.” His warm fingers reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You looked up at him, suddenly feeling quite ill.

Before you could even think, the both of you came together like magnets, lips pressing urgently against the other’s. His keys were dropped to the floor with a barely perceptible thunk as the metal met your other cheek.

Your hands gripped his shirt, mouth open under his, heart high in your chest as your head spun a little. His beard scratched at your skin a bit but it just made you want more of it.

As soon as his mouth left yours you were muttering apologies, a wave of cold washing over you as you realized what you’d just done.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I shouldn’t have. I’m a mess.’

The words were burning in your throat and you couldn’t help but feel ashamed at your behavior. What must he think of you?

“Don’t be,” he breathed, fingers softly falling from your cheeks. “I’m sorry…” He seemed nervous, like he might be just as uncertain as you. “I...I have to go, but we can...we can talk about things when I get back.” He bent down and collected his keys. He risked a glance at you and quickly looked away, his cheeks pink, his lips vividly red.

“I’ll be back,” he repeated, retreating down the stairs, eyes clouded over with concern.

You stood in the doorway for a few minutes before finally giving up on making any sense of what happened and collapsing into bed.

***************

“You sound incredibly wound up. Why don’t you go out, find someone to unload your stress on?”

“I’m not exactly in the mood to go out anywhere…” you explained, stretched out across the couch, phone tucked against your ear. You couldn’t be asked to get up and do anything. And there was really only one person you were thinking about. And you shouldn’t be.

“Well, then there’s only one thing to do, babe.” Her sing-song response made you laugh.

“Maybe there’s something to that,” you agreed.

“I promise. You’ll feel a thousand times better. Just...give this whole thing some thought. It doesn’t mean he’s not interested, he just may have wanted to give it to you properly, and his work doesn’t wait.”

“I…” There was no point in arguing otherwise. She wasn’t going to let you think he wasn’t interested. Even if he truly wasn’t. “Maybe.”

“Just take a bath, shower, whatever, treat yourself a bit...try to relax.”

“Right.” As if you could.

***************

It felt like a huge risk. You knew he’d be gone, there wasn’t any reason to worry, but you couldn’t help but stay on high alert, listening for any sound, any sign that he was back early.

Naturally your paranoia did nothing but pull you out of it.

“Relax. Just relax,” you urged, squeezing your eyes shut.

Back to it. You were on the couch again, on that night, before being so rudely interrupted. His shoulder was very successfully treated, and now he was treating you, one of your legs slung over the back of the couch, the other firmly in his grasp, held out of the way so he could get to that swollen, aching, wet heat—

You imagined feeling the soft buzzed hair beneath your hands as you held him there, writhing beneath his mouth, the metal fingers digging into the couch—

“Charlie,” you sighed, his name tumbling from your lips as that familiar tension increased.

“Hmm?” He hummed, peeking in.

“Charlie?!” You very nearly screamed, pulling the covers up over your lower half. He was wide eyed and bright red, frozen in the doorway.

“What the—what the fuck are you doing here?!” Your ‘relaxation time’ had just exploded into the single worst moment of your entire life, the shock of it replaying over and over again in your head, reminding you that yes, it was absolutely worse than you could imagine.

“I-I thought you—I got someone else to handle it, I came home, I...I’m gonna go,” he rambled, avoiding looking at you.

“I’m so, so sorry,” you hid your burning face in the blankets, your mind suggesting that the most reasonable course of action would be to pack up and move out the next day.

“You don’t need to be sorry, I’m just a fucking idiot—”

“I left the door open, I can’t believe I—”

“I’m going to go for a drive. You do...whatever you need to do, and just text me when you’re...done.”

“No!” He paused, eyebrows raised. “No, I’m fine, I’ll just go take a walk or something, you go to bed, get some rest.”

“Like hell you’re taking a walk at this hour.”

“What does it matter to you?”

“You’re not.”

“Charlie—”

He stepped into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. You sat up, your questions dying in your throat as he pulled off the shirt he was wearing, dropping it somewhere on your floor.

“Charlie, what the fuck are you doing?”

“What was I doing to you five minutes ago?” You felt sick.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“I fucking heard you. I thought I was incorrect, I couldn’t possibly have heard the most lustful moan I’ve heard in my life, your voice saying my name, but look at you—”

“I said I was sorry—”

“You don’t need to be sorry.”

You couldn’t look at him anymore, shame covering every inch of you. You were sorry, you wished now that you’d just done anything else but this.

He waited for you to look up at him before resting his hand on your leg, over the covers. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

He watched you closely as he slowly moved his hand down to the edge of the blanket, fingers slipping beneath it and brushing over your calf, sending jolts up your thighs with each gentle touch.

His fingers slid behind your knee, a smile on his face as he encountered a good amount of sweat there, proof of your efforts before his interruption.

You weren’t used to him being so direct, or physical. He was always so calm, reserved. He kept to himself. Maybe he’d just been doing a good job of hiding this from you. Or maybe despite living with him for almost a year now, you didn’t actually know him.

You probably looked terrified.

You weren’t sure how to react. Your body was, but you stubbornly attempted to hide it, to ignore it until you got a handle on what was happening. What a ridiculous idea.

His fingers slid up the inside of your thigh and you slammed your hand down on his, trapping him there and preventing him from moving any further up, though you still ached as if your body expected that any second he’d break free.

“Where were you? Where were we?” He asked, thumb rubbing against your skin. “Talk to me. Tell me, I want to help you.” He sounded like the devil on your shoulder, a terrible influence.

The metal fingers reached up, pulling at your chin to get you to look at him. “You weren’t supposed to be here,” you explained. “I didn’t mean for you to—

“Don’t,” he begged. “Just relax.”

“That’s the hard part,” you confessed.

He almost looked sad. “Trust me. I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered. He gripped your thigh tightly to emphasize his point.

You slowly released the pressure you were applying to his hand on your thigh and he flexed his fingers for a moment. A soft smile flashed briefly before he licked his lips and renewed his grip on your skin. “What were you thinking about?” he asked quietly. “Tell me what you want.”

He leaned in, his nose brushing softly across your cheek, near your temple. “I-it was on the couch, that night…”

“Oh, god how I wanted you to keep touching me like that,” he confessed, pressing a kiss to your hair. You didn’t think your face could get any hotter. Was your blood boiling yet?

He reached down for your hand and placed it on his shoulder. “Touch me,” he begged.

You complied.

You were slow, cautious. It wasn’t needed as his lip was firmly stuck between his teeth before you even did anything. You added your other hand, leaning away from him a little so you could reach, eyes focused on the skin beneath your fingers.

You were hesitant to move lower, fingers hovering around his collarbone and neck. He reached up with the metal hand, gently pulling your wrist down, your fingers dragging over his chest, through the hair there and even lower, to his abdomen.

His own fingers slowly moved higher up, towards the apex of your thighs.

You thought you were lost in this, but he looked absolutely sinful, his eyes falling closed, his mouth open, full lips shiny and inviting, just waiting for your next move.

Wish fulfillment? Did he need this too? When was the last time someone touched him like this? Did he even let anyone get close?

“What are you doing? This is supposed to be about you,” he moaned, hips bucking against your hand.

“It still is,” you whispered, a choked cry leaving your throat as his fingers finally slid all the way up, his touch light and gentle as he pressed the side of his face against yours. His fingers slid over you easily, some of his work already done for him before the interruption.

“Lie down for me, sweetheart,” he whispered into your ear. You were reluctant, as time spent with you as the focus would only make you more aware of just how important this was. The ramifications, the consequences, all of it. It was easier to just stay lost.

You grabbed his chin, pulling his jaw towards you, kissing him as firmly as you dared. If you could have recorded the sound he made, you would have.

You were forced to your back, the pillows keeping you from lying completely flat. That seemed to be enough for him. With your lower half already bare, save for the blankets, he pulled away to reach for the hem of your shirt.

You got there first, pulling the shirt back down. He made eye contact, his breathing labored. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Just nerves,” you explained. “Just nerves.” You released your hold on it and did your best to relax, trying to guess what he was thinking about as he leaned over you. He pulled the shirt off over your head, leaving you completely bare in front of him. The blanket was pushed away and he sat back on his haunches, studying you.

“Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

You felt a slight bit of unease, but you obeyed, eyes falling shut, focusing on the sounds around you. You felt his weight leave the bed, heard his pants hit the floor before he returned, his knees on either side of one of your legs.

“What was I doing to you on the couch? How did I get you in such a...vulnerable state? So willing…” His hand ghosted over the top of one of your thighs and your eyes flickered open as a reflex, wanting to see him, what he was doing to you next.

“Ah—no, love. That’s not the game. Keep them closed.” You closed them again, eyebrows drawn in as you did your best to focus on what you could hear, what you could feel, for any indication of what was coming next.

His fingers gripped your hips tightly, pulling your body down away from the headboard so you were flat. Your legs came to a rest on either side of one of his thighs.

“Was I using my mouth or my fingers?”

You were reluctant to answer. He moved back, hands wrapping around your ankles, forcing your legs open wider. You were brought back to the way you’d imagined his grip on your leg, holding you open under him. This was better.

“I need an answer,” he urged.

“Mouth,” you finally confessed.

“Attagirl,” he whispered, breath hot near your ear. You hadn’t even realized how close he got until he was there. Mind already playing tricks on you.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek before his mouth moved lower, teeth nipping at your chest, tongue making an appearance as your hands reached out to caress the back of his head as encouragement. His body weight settled on you for a moment, his cheek pressing against your abdomen before he moved lower, hands gently pushing your legs further apart, his nose rubbing along the inside of a thigh before he backed off. If not for his hands holding you open, you’d have thought he left you there.

“Forgive me as I’m a bit out of practice, love,” he apologized.

“What?” You had seconds to process what he said before his tongue dove deep, forcing a surprised cry from you. Your hands went to the sheets on either side, gripping them tightly in your fists. You felt him smile. You could imagine just how good he probably looked.

You could feel him straining to keep your legs open as he lapped at you softly, jolts causing your legs to jump in his grip each time. You reached down for his head, his short hair preventing you the satisfaction of a strong grip, of any sense of control.

You were weak, hands sliding away from the back of his head as he applied pressure to your clit, stimulating you in ways you couldn’t have imagined or mimicked on your own. You were extremely close. You could feel it building as he angled his head a bit differently, his intent made clear.

Out of practice? Yeah, right—

“Oh, fuck—” All breathing stopped for a few seconds as you tensed beneath him, each tremor more satisfying than the last. You couldn’t escape his grip. The waves finally passed and you were left a weak, sweaty mess. He continued even after you were done and you had to pull at his face to get him to stop, too sensitive for an immediate round two.

He licked at the side of his mouth, his hand coming up to wipe away the rest of you. His blue eyes snapped up to yours, a satisfied smirk teasing at the corners of his lips.

“Feel better?”

You couldn’t respond. Not coherently, anyway.

He moved up your body, leaving kisses along the way, hands soothing every inch until he reached your jaw. He turned your head and just watched you, body nestled close against yours as you fought to catch your breath.

“I’ve thought about this, about being with you. I look at you when you’re looking somewhere else and I think to myself, this beautiful woman, she’s not interested in me, not like that. But here we are… What’s so different now? Is it that we gave in to temptation with that kiss? What we got a little taste of? Because I’ve become insatiable.”

You couldn’t say anything to equal that so you pulled his face up to yours, tongue offered to him as he deepened the kiss, his arms keeping you pulled in against his chest.

Without warning you were lifted as he sat up, set back down on your knees over his lap. He glanced down for a moment before taking in a deep breath. You couldn’t think. Already swollen and slick, it took nothing for him to slide into you, his touch desperate as he began a slow, cautious pace.

“Kiss me again,” he begged, eyebrows knitted together, need plain on his face as he looked up at you. “Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,” he mumbled into your cheek as you very nearly lost your mind. You turned your head a bit, lips brushing over his. He caught you before you turned too far, mouth hungry, nose pressing into your cheek as he angled his head and practically devoured you.

You wrapped your arms over his shoulders, fingers digging into his back as his hands went to your face to hold you in place for his mouth.

He rocked up into you, moaning into your mouth, eyes closed. You could feel his fingertips pressing hard against your chin, and you released him to pull his hands down away from your face. They made their way to your hips instead, where the pressure was welcome.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, nose tucked beneath your chin as his swollen lips pulled at your skin there. The scruff covering his jaw scraped against your collarbone with each thrust upwards, the effect magnified with the layer of sweat across your skin.

Your fingers scratched at his jaw, his soft sighs music to your ears as you struggled to stay aware.

He finally set you back down on the bed, continuing to rock against you, his pace only increasing as he watched you react. It was too much to take. With the metal hand holding you down and his other hand diving low, rubbing at your already-sensitive clit, you were done for. You tightening around him seemed to catch him by surprise, his low moans signaling his retreat, warmth hitting your skin as he came. 

The mess left behind stuck to both of you as he settled on top of you, his heart beating out of his chest.

He picked up his head and you saw that his face, neck and chest were vividly red because of the exertion. His eyes passed over your chest before rising to meet yours, a vulnerability there that you weren’t expecting to see.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, rolling off of you and onto his back, his own eyes falling closed before he got an answer. You leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, waiting for him to open his eyes.

He didn’t.

“Charlie?”

“Yes, love?” He opened an eye, looking up at you leaning over him. “Right, right, I’ll be right back.” He left the bed before you could grab onto him, opening your door and walking sluggishly into the bathroom across the hall.

You laid back against the pillows, shivering as the air hit the sweat still on your skin. Just as you let your eyes fall closed, a warm, wet cloth passed over you for a quick wipe-down, followed by a towel.

The lights were turned off, but the door was left open. He approached the side of the bed and crawled in, pulling the covers up over the two of you. He pulled you in close, his breathing much more steady now than it had been earlier. He gave off so much body heat and you got as close as possible, tucking yourself in along his body as much as you could. You left a hand free, playing with the hair on his chest.

You had so many questions for him, but didn’t know where to start. You didn’t think he’d stay awake for long enough to answer them anyway. But one was on the tip of your tongue, demanding an answer.

“Why the ad?” He ran the metal fingers over your shoulder and down your arm to the top of the hand on his chest as he gathered his thoughts.

“I was lonely, to be honest. I still have moments where I forget about all the things I’ve experienced. I’ll be walking down the stairs expecting to see my parents, and it’s no one. I...That’s why I put the ad out. You were the first to answer.” He avoided your eyes. “But I’m grateful it was you. I needed it to be you.”

He pulled your hand into his grip. You turned your wrist and threaded your fingers through the steel ones, earning a surprised glance from him. You brought the hand to your lips and kissed the cold metal.

“I have so much to tell you,” he confessed. You were sure. Between the device in his throat and his arm, as well as where he was constantly disappearing off to, the mysterious loss of his entire family...

“Go to sleep. You can tell me everything tomorrow,” you promised. He nodded, relaxing, a lazy smile spreading over his face.

“Goodnight, love,” he whispered. His soft lips pressed against your forehead.

“Goodnight, Charlie.” You studied the metal fingers threaded through yours as his chest rose and fell beneath your linked hands. It didn’t take long for you to fall into a relaxed sleep yourself.

[sapphireswimming]

Aces: Chapter 1 (a Gundam 00 fic)

For this Gundam 00 week, I’m hoping to post several oneshots set in the same, still-unnamed, slightly-AU universe. Since they need to come at least roughly chronologically to make sense, but are getting written all out of order, I’ll do my best to post some stuff here this week and then put everything up properly on ffn once it’s done

But here is set-up chapter for Day 1 of @g00week since the AEU council felt Trap(ped) after the debacle that was episode 1

2k of political posturing, no warnings, no spoilers

 The meeting room’s harsh artificial lighting bloomed against the marble walls, added to as the looping footage of the white Gundam flickered brightly across the faces of the board members who couldn’t seem to look away from the central screen.

“It was our latest model,” the man in the subdued green suit said again, still hardly able to believe over it seven hours later, “and it was defeated so easily.”

The mustached man beside him crossed his arms. “We’ll just have to halt developments of the Enact…” he offered defeatedly. “Go back to the drawing board and see if we can come up with something better. The technology obviously exists,” he said, tilting his head toward the screen as the recording showed the Gundam hacking apart the suit they had been so proud of that morning before taking off of the ground and flying away, backed by a science that had only been theorized about in their developer’s wildest dreams. 

“It’s going to be as simple as that,” the woman with harshly cropped blonde hair sighed. “This has gone public. It was broadcast live across the world,” she said, gesturing to the screen. “Now, everyone knows that we had more military forces stationed in the elevator than the treaty allows. They all want to know why and to what extent. They’re asking us to disclose everything,” she stressed and the other board members fell silent.

“If we do, they’ll demand that we cease and desist, and put constraints on us to ensure that we do. If we don’t… well… there’s a chance they’ll put a stop to everything pending a full scale inquiry.”

“They wouldn’t be able to halt everything, though, surely?” the green suited man said. “I mean, not at a Bloc-wide level…” he said, looking around the room for reassurance and finding none on the hard faces surrounding him.

“Don’t be so sure,” the mustached man said. “The elevators are barely ten years old. The Solar Energy Wars haven’t faded out of the public consciousness yet. This is the first treaty made under the reorganization and I can guarantee you that the other Blocs won’t take this sitting down. And with our own people against us?” he shook his head. “Don’t underestimate the power of a world united against us. Not with so much on the line.”

The tanned man with normally perfectly manicured hair put a hand to his temples as he studied the fine wood grain of the table. “We have reports that this may have been a plot by the HRL or the Union to intentionally reveal that we were breaking the treaty. I mean, to have developed such an advanced mobile suit in secret would require the scientific knowledge of a highly developed nation, not to mention the funds of someone like…”

“…the Union?” the mustached man ventured. “Their Ace did barge into the unveiling ceremony without a ticket.”

“Yes, but the Flag is still a new model itself,” the woman replied, shaking her head. “And can you imagine the Union developing something like this and not showing it off right away?”

“The HRL, then? The Tierens are ten years overdue for an upgrade. Maybe this was it.”

“Yes, but still. You’d think if they had the technology to take off again from the ground, they’d have stopped using their mobile suits like paratrooper units,” the tanned man said, expressively gesturing across the table with both hands so that the buttons on the sleeves of his white suit clinked against the surface.

The hawk-nosed British Prime Minister interrupted their postulating. “The only thing we know for sure is that this… Celestial Being, whoever they may be, has a very capable mobile suit that is more powerful than the Enact.”

“And if that’s the case,” the green-suited man followed, “we can’t afford to halt developments. In fact, we should be doubling our efforts at making new suits.”

“New or better?” the woman muttered out of the side of her mouth.

“Both,” he said, glancing to her for a moment. “Did you see how easily that thing took out our forces?”

The tanned man ran a hand through his now disheveled hair and pointed it toward the screen between them without a word. Their Ace pilot was unearthing himself from a smoldering pile of warped, twisted metal, a fortune nearly half a decade in the making.

“And that was only with two of them,” he continued as if he hadn’t seen the obvious but silent gesture. “But there are four, at least, that we know of already.”

“We have no idea how many there are. There could be dozens. Hundreds, even,” the green suited man despaired.

“I doubt it’s that many,” the woman said, turning toward him coldly. “Or they would have come out with a larger show of force.”

“They wouldn’t need to, with such advanced weaponry as that. They had two suits and it was already a show of force,” he said, pointing up toward the screen. None of them needed to look up to see the now well-familiar scene of destruction playing out above their heads. “But that’s what I’m saying. If just two of these new suits can take out all of ours, then we need more to try to counter them. More suits… and better suits.”

“Public opinion is already against us, though,” the mustached man shook his head, finally uncrossing his arms. “The other Blocs might even have been lenient now that they’ve seen the Gundams as well, but with public opinion against us like this…” he waved his upturned hands in an arc in front of him.

“If any of the member nations start withdrawing support,” the tanned man warned, sitting up and staring pointedly at each of the board members seated around the glorified conference table, “Or worse, passing legislation to prevent our military from developing further weaponry…”

“Then we’ll fall behind,” the woman said bluntly. “We’ll be overrun. By the Gundams. And the Union and the HRL.”

“I can guarantee you that they aren’t sitting back on this,” he said, reaching up a hand to loosen the red tie cinched tight around his neck. “By now, they’ve already ramped up their production teams. If this suit doesn’t belong to them, they want to get their hands on that technology just as much as we do,” he said, tapping on the table. “And they don’t have their hands tied behind their backs by this thing with the treaty.”

“So we can’t afford to stop. And we also can’t afford to be stopped. So,” the green suited man asked, steepling his hands in front of his face, “What do we do?”

“If we could drum up enough morale… enough public support, then it wouldn’t matter if we keep going ahead anyway. By the time anyone found out about it, they would also see how necessary they were,” the tanned man pointed out, unbuttoning the top button of his maroon shirt and opening it wide enough that he didn’t feel suffocated by his own clothing.

“So… we only have to find a way to keep them from shutting down production,” the green suited man said, voice lilting at the prospect of an abbreviated task.

From beside him, the mustached man sighed heavily, his voice laden with doubt. “And just how do you propose to singlehandedly turn around the public’s opinion quickly enough to salvage this?”

The green suited man did not have an answer for him.

Neither did anyone else. The board members of the AEU sat in silence as they pondered the fate of their Bloc’s military might and the footage on the screen in front of them rolled from the top once again, trailing the far-off figure of the Gundam during its initial light-filled descent until it touched down into the training ground arena.

“The Gundams,” the Prime Minister said.

“What?” the green suited man turned toward him with drawn brows.

“Capitalize on the Gundams,” he said again.

“The Gundams are new,” the woman said, slowly realizing what he was driving at. ���They’re unknowns. Everyone around the world is clamoring to know more. Where did they come from, who is Celestial Being, and what are they planning to do next?”

“And?” the tanned man asked, propping one arm on the table and resting his head in his hand.

“And… we saw them first. They touched down at the AEU unveiling ceremony. We had a pilot fight one of those things. We had multiple pilots fight those things.”

“And lose. Terribly,” the mustached man pointed out.

The tanned man had sat up again and waved his comment away as he stared at the woman. “We are the only Bloc that has fought them,” he said, looking to her for confirmation that they understood the issue in the same way.

She nodded.  We have footage. We have data. We don’t know what it means yet, of course, but still. We have it.” She stared around the table. “We have something that no one else does. That’s something we can make use of.”

“Sure, but make use of how? What do you propose to do?”

“Broadcast it. Televise it.”

At their unconvinced stares, the tanned man continued, picking up her thread. “If we were to have a television spot, for example,” he said, “interviewing our brave pilots, shot down on a day of celebration, when they were trying to defend the orbital elevator from an unknown mobile suit that commenced hostilities and engaged us unprovoked during an official, peaceful unveiling ceremony…” he drifted off, letting them picture all of the possibilities.

“We can frame the narrative however we want,” the woman said, corner of her mouth twitching up.

He nodded. “Sure,” he agreed easily. “Play up the human interest angle, show how brave our pilots are. How they’ll protect the member nations from this new unknown threat. Get footage from the ceremony – something that never aired on the regular news stations. Its first descent and a close up from when it touched down…”

“People will eat it up,” the mustached man breathed. “Even if they don’t consider it a threat, the fact that we can offer them new glimpses into the Gundams before either of the other Blocs will count for something.”

“The public are fickle,” the tanned man nodded, “But if you know how to cater to them…” he said, spreading out his arms before folding them neatly in front of him.

“I had forgotten you used to be on the other side of the microphone.”

He tilted his head, modestly.

“That might work,” the mustached man said.

“It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

“Who was the pilot at the ceremony?”

“Colasaur, wasn’t it?” the green suited man asked, turning to the woman for confirmation.

“Yes.”

“I’m sure he’d love to supply footage for a television special.”

The mustached man blinked. “Wasn’t he hospitalized?”

“Even better,” the tanned man said. “Get footage of him immediately, before he’s released. Really hit up that angle. The brave young man attacked out of the blue and unawares by these Gundams. I’m sure our people will be able to do something with it.”

“So that’s what we’re doing, then?” the green suited man asked. “Salvaging our reputation with a little television special?”

The woman shrugged. “If you know of a faster way to turn around public opinion in time, I’d be glad to consider it. But I had been under the impression that we were in a hurry to make the tide turn in our favor.” She said, pointedly.

“For now, I believe it may be the best thing we can do,” the Prime Minister said, effectively ending the debate. “We’ll have a better grasp of the situation soon enough.”

The green suited man threw out his hands as he ceded his reservations and bobbed his head in acceptance their marching orders. “Alright, can we contact the same crew we used for the AEU special—”

“Already on it,” the tanned man said, digging into the pocket of his blazer for his terminal and hot pressing a number from memory before switching it to voice only mode and pushing out of his seat.

[heroes-of-our-hearts]

Chapter Eleven: You’ve Got A Friend In Me

“You know…”

One side look had Toshinori pausing. He rubbed the back of his neck like he was unsure. It was so different from the tentative friendship that had been forming prior to the USJ incident.

“I could help,” he finally decided, letting his words linger.

You raised a brow.

“With my relationship problems?”

You’d just spent the past ten minutes complaining to Toshinori how you’d been so stupid to develop a crush. You conveniently left out who the crush was on, but you complained nonetheless.

Toshinori sputtered. “What? No!” He replied hurriedly. “I’m talking about your problem in America.”

Your mouth formed a little ‘o’. You were glad, if you were honest. You had one hell of a feeling that Toshinori would give you shitty relationship advice.

He’d probably give some heartfelt ‘heroes can’t have relationships’ speech.

You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes just thinking about it. You’d always thought that was the biggest cop out.

If someone was willing to accept the risks, why deny the both of you what your heart’s desired?

No. You would never stop a relationship between Shouta and you because of that. The problem was that you had to be in America. You couldn’t abandon your post as the number one hero. Like Japan, America had seen a drastic fall in crime rates since your debut. You were discouraging criminals and villains.

“You can’t help,” you admitted, leaning back in the stadium chair.

The staff were given a pretty great view of the stadium. You were thankful you could watch and cheer on your students, even if you weren’t supposed to have favorites.

“Ah,” he acknowledged, shifting awkwardly. “So what you’d told the students was related.”

You nodded, carefully concealing your anger at the thought of your current situation. You were sure that Toshinori saw right through it, though.

“And what is going on, then?” He decided to ask.

When he did, he wasn’t exactly positive you’d answer. It seemed that you liked to hold things close to your chest.

You contemplated answering, letting the question roll around in your mind for a few moments.

Then:

“What do you know about me?”

He raised a brow.

“You’re the number one hero in America, your agency has a building in all 50 states, your quirk is a little dicey but for the most part it’s elemental manipulation, uh- you have a crush on Aizawa?”

You sputtered.

“Wha-what? I do not!” You seethed, shoving the man away from you.

Despite his frail appearance, you knew the man could take the hit. He chuckled deeply, a rich sound echoing through your embarrassment.

“My point is, you’re not a conventional hero. Your real identity has been hidden for as long as you’ve been a hero, and there was that whole trial thing a year or so ago about your identity?”

You straightened yourself out, willing the blush away.

“Yeah, they found it unethical that my identity was unknown, said I couldn’t be held accountable for any of my actions. I found a loophole though, a system in my agency has all the files on my identity, so if the time ever came where I did something…” you waved vaguely in the air, “They’d be able to find my identity during the agency raids.”

Toshinori nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back. There was some commotion on the field, but the two of you were too deep in conversation to pay it much mind.

“You know, almost all of the money that’d otherwise go to me gets put back into a charity,” you told him. “I’m actually a nurse.”

Toshinori was caught completely off guard.

“What?”

“I decided to enroll in college, get a degree in nursing.” You scratched the back of your neck. “It was difficult, if I’m being honest. I was always training during that time, but at the end I was a fully-fledged hero. It was difficult balancing the work.”

“I know what you mean,” the hero beside you muttered.

He, too, struggled with finding time for the different responsibilities in his life.

“I volunteer wherever I can,” you shrugged, “after I get out of the suit following villain attacks, I head over to the people who need help.”

“That’s amazing,” Toshinori breathed, and you scrunched your nose up at him as you smiled.

You never thought the person you’d looked up to your entire life would say anything so positive about you.

“I’m sure you know from experience, but being a hero in America is very different from here.”

Toshinori inclined his head, humming in agreement.

“They’re like new cogs in the ever-running machine of capitalism,” you described, idly fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket. “The best heroes are the ones who have a brand, that are backed by corporations. There are some who are good, genuinely, but others…”

“So your villain,” Toshi leaned a bit more towards you, leveling his gaze. “Who is he?”

“Do you know who the hero Zephyrus was?” You replied with your own question.

After a brief pause, Toshinori asked, “The Greek hero, right? She was number one there for a while?”

You smiled.

“Yeah, that’s her.” You said proudly. “She came to America to learn from me right after I hit number one. She even taught me some stuff herself. She was one of my best students, and a lifelong friend.”

Your gaze was towards the sky now, watching as the clouds formed around the sun. Zephyrus was a wind hero. The two of you had always trained together, and oftentimes got into some mischief. It was easy, considering gravity only kept you down part of the time.

“She was number 16 in Greece when she came to see me,” you recalled, “after she returned, she became number one.”

Toshinori nodded, obviously not understanding what this had to do with the villain, but knowing that you’d tell him eventually. When you were ready.

Maybe you were just buying time, but honestly, you felt this was an important part of the story that couldn’t be left out.

“Something happened while she was there.” You told him gently, your words hushed.

You felt this wasn’t your story to tell, but this was something Toshinori needed to know. Zeph would forgive you.

“There was a fundraiser gala hosted by Vulcan’s agency. I opted to take Zephyrus as my date, since all of the people I’ve been in relationships with have never known about my hero persona. It was easier, less questions, and she was my best friend. I got swarmed by the media and fellow heroes, you know how it is.”

A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. He did indeed.

“Zeph was used to it so she wandered off on her own. I didn’t see her for the rest of the night, but I figured she must’ve found some attractive lady to run off with.” Lowly, you added. “I was so stupid.”

At the elongated pause, Toshinori placed a hand on your shoulder as a gesture of comfort. You’d always been a physically affectionate person, so you appreciated it.

“She tried to quit the next day, told me she didn’t want to be a hero anymore.” You sighed. “You should’ve saw the look in her eyes, she was so frantic, so scared. To me, she’d always been this unbreakable force, and yet she was crumbling right there.”

You leaned your head on Toshinori’s shoulder. The man in question seemed startled momentarily, but then relaxed. He knew it wasn’t anything more than a friendly gesture by you.

“Once I calmed her down, she told me everything. It was Vulcan, he’d slipped something into her drink and-”

You stopped short, a vile taste on your tongue. You couldn’t finish the sentence. You wouldn’t, for her sake.

“Vulcan?” Toshinori echoed. “But he’s-”

“The number two hero, yes,” you finished for him bitterly. “He’d always been a friend to me, despite our quirks being obviously opposite. A bit hostile when reminded of the rankings, but still a friend. After I found out what he did, I tried to confront him.”

You could see the confrontation in your mind’s eye. You were so fueled by anger and disgust you’d flung insults, physically holding yourself back from going on the attack. He’d stood there, not denying anything, and looking for all the world like nothing could touch him.

“I tried to get justice for her. But, since he’s so high profile, I had to compile the case in secret. I had testaments from over a dozen women. I’d even found one girl who was pregnant with his child. Zeph returned home while I was working, said she wanted to find her peace of mind again.”

There were tears in your eyes that you refused to let fall.

“I don’t know how, but he found out about all the evidence I had. I think I was too naive and believed it really would be that easy. He started killing them, one by one. Each one of them were made to look like suicides or freak accidents. Zeph was the last one he targeted, and the most gruesome.”

You shut your eyes, refusing to look at Toshinori. You could feel an arm wrap around you, pulling you a tad closer. He was trying to comfort you.

“I still tried. With the evidence I had, it would still be enough.”

You paused, your hands clenched into fists. Your fingernails were digging into your palms, drawing the smallest bit of blood.

“I thought if I kept a hard copy of all of the evidence, it’d be safer. That way no flags in the system, no hacking. But, it was the only copy, and it was in my agency building in New York. He knew.”

You puffed out a breath.

“I saved as many people as I could. I thought I saved them all but-”

A sob got caught in your throat.

“There was only one fatality,” Toshinori supplied, his voice a titch softer than normal.

“My baby sister,” you whispered. “She was waiting for me in my office, like she did every single day after school.”

Tears were falling more freely, landing in Toshinori’s lap. He paid them no mind, rubbing small circles on your back.

“I should’ve known, should’ve saved her.”

You couldn’t speak after that. The pain was still so fresh, cutting deep into your heart. Your sister had been your whole world, the entire reason you kept getting up every time you got pushed down. You were her hero first and foremost.

And you failed her.

“You did the right thing, none of this is your fault,” Toshinori soothed, a touch of familiarity in his voice.

You didn’t have to be a genius to guess that he had felt responsible for others’ deaths before too. It was natural.

“We’ll figure something out,” Toshinori promised.

Your heart swelled. The two of you were so alike in so many different ways that friendship seemed natural.

“You know why?” Toshinori asked, a small smile on his face.

You giggled breathily, wiping away the tears in your eyes furiously.

“Because you are here?” You guessed.

To your surprise, the hero shook his head.

“Because you are just as much a Symbol of Peace as I am.”

Your reply died on your tongue as the beginning of the games were signalled. The two of you gave it your full attention, but the air around you was light.

You’d made a friend in Japan’s number one, and you decided that friendship was exactly what you needed right now.

[startswithhope]

Kiss me, I'm Irish ☘

Just a little smutty Friends to Lovers (with no pining!) fun for this holiday, dedicated to @swallowedsong for various reasons. Sláinte! (rated M, 3000 words, AO3)

She almost choked on her green beer as her best friend’s feet came up off the ground as the burly, flanneled lumberjack (well, big guy in flannel shirt) at the bar planted a smacking kiss right on those unsuspecting lips. She’d told Killian what would happen if we wore that shirt, but he didn’t listen. Emma’s laughter is lost in the packed pub filled to the brim with St. Patrick’s Day revelers, but she knows Killian hears it, his telltale eyebrow lifting as Paul Bunyan releases him and gives him a jovial pat on the back.

“You had to know that would happen at some point, lad.”

“Aye, mate...sláinte!”

Emma shakes her head at Killian’s seemingly unflappable facade, watching as he shares a big grin and a toast with his kissing buddy at the end of the bar. But as he makes his way back to her she can see the signs of his mild embarrassment in the red glow of his pointy ears to the sheen of sweat at the hollow of his throat.

“Regretting that shirt yet?”

“Why Swan? That was the best kiss I’ve had all night.”

She scoffs at that, remembering the handsy brunette that had backed him against the wall at the last bar, practically shoving her tongue down his throat as he tried, half-heartedly, to hold her at bay. Emma had told him that shirt would get him laid, even if he wasn’t actually Irish, but with his English accent and those eyes, they both knew it wouldn’t really matter. She never thought of Killian being into guys, but hey, big and burly just might be more his type? Not really, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t going to tease the hell out of him all night.

“Perhaps you should go tell him that? I have a feeling he’d be open to another round.”

Killian smirks and flashes a friendly grin over his shoulder at the lumberjack, but slides back into his stool at Emma’s side.

“Nah, I like to leave them wanting more. Besides, you and me, we are long overdue for some whiskey.”

Emma feels a rush of warmth she can’t really place as Killian flags down the bartender, but she assumes it must just be from the crowd (and the ridiculous amounts of alcohol they’ve already consumed). As she struggles to get out of her leather jacket, she feels familiar fingers brush the back of her neck and smiles as Killian helps her free her arms, his stealth-like gentlemanly abilities a superpower he is inordinately proud of. His hand brushes her knee beneath the bar as he gropes for the hidden hook to hang her jacket and there’s that wave of heat again, this time with an added flip of something deep her in belly.

Two shots of Jameson are dropped on the waxy wood and she finds herself thankful, as drowning whatever was happening with her right now in alcohol seems to be a pretty damn good idea. She can feel Killian’s eyes on her as she slams the shot down her throat, but she just scrunches her nose at him as she shivers at the expected burn.

“Well done, love. Should I order you another?”

Her fingers reach over and cover his on his still full shot glass and he doesn’t resist as she slips it from his grasp.

“Nah, this one’s good.”

What was that voice she just used? And why is she leaning so close? Even more important, why is her best friend looking at her like she’s just offered to do something indecent?

Killian’s mouth has fallen open slightly and his eyes are planted firmly on her lips and she can’t seem to stop herself from poking the tip of her tongue out to lick a drop of whiskey from the rim of the glass.

She is completely flirting with him right now and she has no idea why. Well, it’s probably the alcohol and because flirting is fun, but this is Killian, so that makes things a bit complicated. From the way his adam’s apple is bobbing as he practically swallows his tongue, he doesn’t seem to be entirely averse to the idea.

Before she gets too caught up in that thought she downs the whiskey with closed eyes, feeling the tendrils of the alcohol fill her limbs as heat from an entirely different source creeps up along her neck and deep down between her legs.

Those same familiar fingers, the ones that had helped remove her jacket and had pulled her through the thick crowds at each bar, they are suddenly covering hers on the empty shot glass she’s still holding against her lips. Opening her eyes she sees Killian leaning towards her, just slightly, his gaze moving all over her face as if he’s seeing her for the very first time.

“Hey sexy, can I take you up on that offer?”

The interruption is like a record scratch, in the form of a little black dress and long red hair, and the curve of a hip attempting to fill the limited space between her and Killian. Emma makes a quick decision, one she doesn’t really give herself the chance to regret.

“This one’s taken.”

Killian’s stupid green shirt ends up balled in her fist as she drags him towards her mouth, her lips catching his surprise in a hard kiss. He doesn’t give her a second to pull back though, dropping his hand from hers still clutching the shot glass so he can grip her neck, holding her close as he angles his mouth and slides his tongue along the seam of her lips. She wants to know how he tastes with an urgency that hits her like a freight train. This isn’t something she ever imagined, not really, not often, but now that it’s happening she’s damn sure she isn’t ready for it to stop.

Fisting his shirt a bit harder, she pushes to her feet, missing the contact of his lips immediately. His groan of protest is way louder than it should be considering their surroundings, but she merely grabs her jacket and some cash from her back pocket which she slams on the bar, before dragging her best friend by the shirt through the crowd toward the door. They barely make it five steps around the corner when she stops, turns, lets go of his shirt and leans back against the cool brick exterior of the pub. He’s out of breath, chest heaving and eyes a bit wild and she feels much the same, aroused, slightly confused and did she mention aroused?

He steps towards her, one hand coming up to rest beside her head on the wall as he reaches out with the other, his thumb tracing her swollen bottom lip with a feather-soft touch. It’s so tender and sweet that she feels her heart melt into a puddle at her feet, a confusing but not entirely unwelcome turn of events. His eyes are fixed to hers, his brain undoubtedly full of questions and thoughts that she can only assume mirror the same ones playing a pretty crazy game of racquetball in hers.

She’s never been good at talking things through, action her go-to in times of uncertainty, just hoping things will either feel right or not, giving her clarity as to her next move.

“Killian, kiss me.”

His eyebrows shoot up and his thumb slips to the slight cleft in her chin. Anticipation sets her belly on a roller coaster as he steps closer, his leg coming between hers as he dips his head until his lips are just an inch away.

“But you’re not Irish, love.”

She tips her head up, letting her lips ghost against his as she speaks.

“Neither are you.”

He kisses her then, using the slight pressure of his thumb on her chin to open her mouth for his tongue, which she immediately welcomes with an audible groan. She finally knows his taste, currently whiskey and pretzels, but something else, too - something that has her hands reaching for his neck and pulling him closer. His hand leaves the wall by her head to wrap around her waist, urging her forward against his thigh pressing harder between her legs. It’s a lot, and she’s feeling a bit dizzy, but she’s getting that clarity she’d been hoping for. Whatever this is, be it two friends just enjoying a crazy moment or something more, it feels right. And good, it feels fucking good.

Pushing her hips forward with intent, she turns her fingers until the tips of her short fingernails are pressing lightly against Killian’s scalp, drawing a sharp breath from his lips as he breaks the kiss.

“Remember what I said about that shirt before we left your apartment?”

His hand at her waist slips just a bit beneath the back of her jeans, his warm palm sliding against the satiny green underwear she’d put on as a secret little joke.

“Aye, Swan, something about…”

“You being guaranteed to get lucky.”

His palm squeezes her ass and she drops a hand to his chest, giving him a slight push so she can slip out of his grasp (slightly difficult with his hand down the back of her pants). She’s got her fingers between her lips wolf-whistling for a cab by the time he catches up with her at the curb.

“Emma?”

A yellow taxi screeches to a halt and she has to practically drag Killian inside of it, which makes her laugh so hard her stomach starts to hurt. He has to give the cab driver his address while she clutches at her belly, thankful to hear Killian’s own deep chuckle join her on the other side of the cab. As she finally catches her breath, she turns her head towards him on the cracked vinyl seat, meeting his smile with one of her own. When he reaches for her hand, she lets him take it, and they just look at each other like this for the few blocks it takes the cab to pull up outside of Killian’s building. It’s not awkward, not at all, which should be surprising, but isn’t.

But Killian still stops her with a tug of her hand before they go inside, with a serious look and a tight clench of his jaw.

“Emma, is this a good idea?”

“I have no idea, but it doesn’t feel like a bad one. Does it to you?”

“Absolutely nothing about kissing you has felt bad, quite the opposite, love.”

She gives his hand a gentle tug, bringing him close enough to lift on her toes a bit and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Good.”

That’s it. That’s all she says and it must be all he needed to hear, because in no time at all she’s up against the back of his bedroom door with his hand between her legs, his tongue mimicking the movement of his fingers as she pants against his mouth. She wonders why they waited so long to do this when he drops to his knees, mumbling something about how much he loves her Irish spirit when he tugs the green fabric to the side with his teeth and brings her the rest of the way with his tongue.

With legs still shaky from her orgasm she pushes him towards the bed, kicking her jeans off as she lifts her shirt over her head. He goes to do the same, but she shakes her head no.

“That shirt stays on.”

His huge laugh has his head falling back and she takes advantage of his distraction, her hands moving to work his belt open so she can get to the zipper of his jeans. A fuzzy, comfortable feeling settles deep inside as his hands cover hers, both of them working together to work his jeans down his hips as his lips drop kisses at the corner of her mouth and along her jaw. When her hands close over him beneath his boxer briefs his teeth scrape against her skin, his mouth coming unhinged and eyes falling closed as she acquaints herself with the feel of him with her palm.  

He has to beg her to stop, but she doesn’t catch it as she’s too enthralled watching his face as passion overtakes him. It’s only when she feels his hand at her wrist does she finally let go. He’s flushed and slightly uncoordinated, but he somehow manages to free himself from his pants and dig for his wallet as she slides back on his mattress, anticipation and nerves causing her fingers to tremble as she reaches behind her back to unhook her bra.

“Fuck…”

Looking up, she sees Killian’s hungry stare as he takes in her now completely naked body, the foil wrapper in his hand crumpling as he balls his hand into a fist. She wants to squirm at the intense scrutiny, but he doesn’t give her time. The condom falls to the bed by her hip as he crawls between her legs, lips and stubble working up along the seam of her thigh and over her belly towards her breast. The bottom of his t-shirt collects some of the wetness between her legs as his mouth closes over one of her nipples and begins a mind-numbing torture with his tongue, sending her hips up and off the bed towards him.

“Fuck!”

He releases her nipple with an audible wet pop and he meets her eyes with a knowing smirk.

“That’s what I said.”

“You wanna get on with it?”

Apparently he does. Sitting back on his knees, he makes quick work of getting the condom on and widens her hips with his hands, all the while keeping his eyes locked to hers in a way that makes her feel safe and wanted and oh fuck…

Her eyes flutter closed for a moment as his fingers delve into the heat between her legs, moving deep inside, touching her everywhere he can reach.

“Emma…”

Focusing back on him again she watches as he takes those same fingers and slides them over his cock, using her arousal to coat his length. He leans forward then, finally aligning himself at her entrance as she grabs a fistful of his shirt to drag him towards her mouth. His lips are trembling slightly against hers as she welcomes him inside, her hips falling open even further as the full weight of his body presses her down into the mattress with a satisfied groan. Wanting so many things at once, she lifts her hips up and begins to pull at the bottom of his shirt, needing him to move and remove the damn cotton from letting her feel his chest against her breasts at the same time.

He isn’t helping, with the shirt anyway, instead following her other instruction to move and is currently stealing her breath as his hips pump fast and deep. She bites his lip as he hits that spot deep inside, and he groans, his hand at her hip holding her steady so he can do it again. It’s more than she can take and she abandons his shirt, leaving it bunched up beneath his underarms so she can grab at his ass and encourage him to keep moving.

They don’t really know each other’s rhythms yet, but it doesn’t seem to matter, not with his mouth panting endearments against her lips with increasing urgency to match the snapping of his hips. Giving his ass a squeeze, she quiets his now smiling mouth with a kiss, seeking his tongue as she feels her orgasm begin to crest. Hands smooth up his back as he works her through it, sweat coating her palm until she has his hair between her fingers and she’s crying out into his mouth. His hips continue to move until she feels him tense, his mouth lifting from hers as he bites down on his bottom lip and his hand clenches hard at her hip as he comes. She gives his head a shake with his hands and his eyes pop open, wild and raw as he pulses deep and she crosses her ankles to hold him inside.

They just stare at each other for a good minute, not in embarrassment or confusion (at least not for her) but a bit of awe and a whole lot of hell yeah. He breaks first, releasing her hip so he can shift them to their sides, finally wrenching his shirt over his head so he can ball the tied-off condom in it and toss it off the side of the bed. The whole time, he’d kept one leg wound around hers and just the simple affection of that, it was the perfect thing for him to do. So when he settles back beside and reaches for her her hand, she gives it willingly, flushing slightly as he brings her fingers to his lips and kisses each of her knuckles.

“So, not upset you left with me instead of the lumberjack?”

He stops kissing her knuckles for a moment and cocks his head, quirking his lips as if he’s actually thinking over her ridiculous question.

“Aye, I’m quite happy with the pot of gold I found at the end of your rainbow.”

“Killian, that is by far the stupidest thing you have ever said.”

His fingers find the hair at her temple and gently brush it back away from her face, his eyes now alight with amusement as he tugs her closer with his leg around her knee.

“Oh, I’m sure I can top that before too long, Swan.”

Working her arm between their bodies, she takes that moment to drag her palm from his belly through his happy trail and up to his chest, finally get a good feel of what had been hiding under that stupid shirt. Giving a gentle push, she rolls him onto his back and slides herself over his body, welcoming the flurry of renewed desire as his hands find hers and hold them on either side of his head. Lowering her head, she nips once, twice and a third time at his lips.

“I guess I’ll just need to make sure your mouth is otherwise occupied, then.”

And she does. All night. And maybe once again the next morning.

Next year, they stay home, no shirt (or any other clothes) needed for them both to get lucky.