#I have a sneaking suspicion that if I were to have dug deeper into some of the examples we were given that a lot of those

[andthebeanstalk]

My first time watching Glass Onion it was obvious that Miles' speeches were bullshit, but I still searched for any hidden meaning there might be.

The second time is a different experience though because every time my brain starts to search for meaning, I feel like Benoit Blanc discovering that no, there is absolutely no hidden meaning.

It's bullshit it's all nothing nothing nothing! It is just how you end up talking when everyone reacts to your self-aggrandizing word vomit like it is actually wisdom.

Also, legit, when Miles gave his stupid bullshit speech about what the word 'disruptor' means to him, I shit you not I was like holy shit am I back in business school right now?!

Miles must have given speeches like that at 100 business school graduations, goddamn.

Like, the motherfuckers really do sound like this. We didn't have any billionaires come, but we had a lot of millionaire guest speakers in my classes, and they fucking talk like that.

They all think they're rugged capitalists, but they're just glass onions!

[waka-chan-out]

Mine - June 6

minors dni

post-timeskip, obviously.

word count: 2.3k

content warnings: fem!reader (they/them pronouns used), dom!kindaichi, implied past relationships with mattsun and makki, oral (f. receiving), exhibitionism, hair pulling, lots of dirty talk, praise, some teasing, lots of pet names, “good girl,” one (1) spank, masturbation, not really edging but brief orgasm control if you want to call it that(??), finger sucking, cream pie, technically cum play?

welcome to project gemini, where we’re celebrating the birthdays of our lovely haikyuu boys born between may 20th and june 21st. first up is kindaichi yūtarō, whose hair and demeanor have completely changed since high school. your former classmates have decided to share you for one night.

another shoutout to my darling @kitastowel for the banners because oh my god i love them

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kindaichi asked, stroking his thumb over your cheek. You raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“I’m not gonna back out now.” You inhaled heavily as his fingers trailed down to your throat, lightly squeezing. There was an intense possessiveness in his eyes, one you would have never expected to see from him.

“Are you two sure?” he asked, lifting his gaze from you to the men lounging on chairs against the wall. Hanamaki shrugged and Matsukawa rolled his eyes. Their faces were settled in a neutral expression, almost bored. Like their former underclassman wasn’t about to have his way with their best friend.

It was honestly a joke at first. Makki had asked Kindaichi if he was still a virgin, and the poor boy had turned bright red, the same way he did back in high school. He wasn’t able to answer before Matsukawa cackled and offered you to him.

“They’re good in bed. You’d have a great time.” You smacked him, but the subtle, almost hungry expression on Kindaichi’s face made you want to take him up on the offer. You had the sneaking suspicion that he was a completely different person than he had been in high school.

“Just get on with it,” Matsukawa said. Kindaichi leaned closer to you, grip shifting to your jaw.

“Let me know if you need me to be gentler,” he said. Hanamaki and Matsukawa burst out laughing.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll need to. Come on, Kindaichi, we’ve got shit to do.”

Kindaichi didn’t seem to even hear them, leaning in and pressing a firm kiss to your lips. You were surprised by the aggression. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, moving like he already knew everything you wanted and needed. Without thinking, your hands fisted in the front of his shirt and you pulled him down on top of you. He followed you easily, bracing one arm over your head and wrapping the other around your waist. He nipped at your lower lip and you gasped. He swallowed the breath and deepened the kiss. Heat rushed through your body and you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting him as close as he could possibly get.

It was . . . good. So good. You could feel the kiss in every inch of your body, coursing through you like electricity. You couldn’t believe this was the man that had stumbled over his words every time you offered to toss for him during late night practices and barely looked at you when he took water bottles from you during games.

“Man, I’m glad I invited you in here, Kindaichi. Are you just gonna kiss them the whole time?”

You broke the kiss and glared at Matsukawa.

“Are you gonna shut up? You set this up.”

“Geez, you’re defensive. He’s that good, huh? Better than me?”

“Miles.” Matsukawa rolled his eyes. Kindaichi chuckled and leaned down, moving his lips to your neck. You gasped as he left open mouth kisses along your jawline and stopped right under your chin, sucking harshly. You tugged on his hair and he hummed, nipping lightly at your neck.

“Kindaichi, let’s go,” Makki snapped. Kindaichi lifted a middle finger at the men and tugged at your pants. You helped him work them and your underwear down and he readjusted, pushing your knees apart with firm hands.

“Kindaichi, you don’t—“

You lost your train of thought as he buried his face between your legs and closed his eyes. He pushed your leg up and wrapped his arm around it, lapping and sucking at your clit with the aggression of a man starved. Your back arched and you buried a hand in his hair. The feeling was overwhelming, coursing through your entire body in the same way his kisses did. You couldn’t sit still, legs shifting and head tipping back as he hummed in satisfaction.

“Fuck, Yūtarō,” you breathed, carding your fingers through his hair. You felt him smile against you and he glanced up, hungrily meeting your eyes. The sight made you smile, letting out a shaky breath as you tipped your head back and leaned into the feeling. You were already close. You could feel your heart racing and your breathing picking up.

There was laughter coming from the other side of the room. Matsukawa and Makki were talking quietly, only offering you two the occasional glance. You rolled your eyes. This was their idea, so what the hell was the deal.

Kindaichi’s tongue circled your clit and his arms gripped you tighter. His mouth somehow knew exactly where you needed him, chasing your release with every movement of his mouth. Something about the way he glanced up at you, the way he hummed in pleasure at seeing you falling apart on his tongue, the way his lips moved even more enthusiastically, it all combined to send you over, back arching and legs shaking as you exhaled a groan. You could feel Kindaichi smiling against you as he rode it out, not slowing until your hand was jerking at his hair. He sucked on your clit one last time before sitting up and leaning close to your face.

“If they aren’t going to pay attention, I’m just going to fuck you now.” You smiled and he pushed up your shirt, warm hands sending shivers down your spine. As you scrambled to get it the rest of the way off, he shrugged off his. He leaned back down the kiss you and you fumbled with his belt, eventually getting his pants undone and palming him through his briefs. He captured your lips in a heated kiss and ground down against your hand. You whimpered and grasped at his clothes, trying to pull them down. He huffed a laugh and stilled your hands with his own.

“Shh,” he muttered. “Good girls are patient, right? You want to show them you’re a good girl?” You swallowed and nodded. He smiled, tugging his waistband down. “Good. Now let me take care of you.” You wrapped your legs tight around him once more and tried to pull him close to you, but he grabbed one knee and pushed it back against the bed. He glanced between his legs and dragged his cock against you, making you whimper. A sadistic smile crept onto his face.

“Louder, sweetheart,” he said. You looked up at him in surprise before he sunk into you. Your head tipped back and you let out a breathy moan. His smile grew. “That’s my girl.” He gripped your hips and rolled his forward, drawing another noise from your throat. You could see him glance over at Makki and Matsukawa, who were still whispering.

“I thought you guys wanted to watch me fuck them?” Kindaichi said. Matsukawa laughed.

“Well, you aren’t making much of a scene, are you?”

Kindaichi huffed in annoyance and looked down at you, still slowly shifting his hips. The look in your eyes seemed to make him smile, so he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. He whispered in your ear, quiet enough that only you could hear.

“Flip over for me, love.” He withdrew from you quickly and you sighed at the loss. You readjusted quickly, settling face down on the bed. Kindaichi shifted behind you so he was facing your two former classmates and patted your ass, seemingly encouraging you to do the same. You moved and looked up at the men, who raised their eyebrows at the new position. Kindaichi’s grip was gentle, but the movements asserted a dominance you wouldn’t have ever expected from him—at least, not before you had kissed him for the first time.

The pads of Kindaichi’s fingers sunk deeper into your skin as he sheathed himself inside of you again. He groaned and you buried your face in the mattress, bracing yourself from the sensitivity. You were still coming down from your previous orgasm, body humming with heat. He was so deep inside of you, so close to where you needed him that you couldn’t resist tipping back onto him a bit. He hissed and landed a sharp slap on your ass.

“What did I say about being patient?” You huffed a breath and dug your hands into the sheets. “Tell me what I said.”

“Good girls are patient.” Your voice came out much weaker than you wanted it to.

“Are you a good girl?”

You nodded.

“Then act like one.”

You looked back at him and saw his eyes were deadly serious. He held you flush against his hips with a bruising grip.

“Do you want my cock or not?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Please,” you begged. Kindaichi tugged on your hair, pulling you back against his chest.

“Don’t ask the ground. Let them see,” he said, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up. Matsukawa and Makki seemed bored earlier, but the look in their eyes was nothing like that now. There was surprise, arousal, and a little bit of unease. They weren’t expecting this. None of you were.

“There you go.” Kindaichi’s mouth was right against your ear. You could feel every syllable to the tips of your toes. “Now ask nicely.”

“Please fuck me.” The words sounded pathetic coming from your lips. Your voice was strained and the very sound of it made the other two men sit up straighter. You felt Kindaichi smile.

“Good girl.”

He ground his cock into you, pressing against a spot inside you that made a sob leave your lips. It hurt, and felt so good, and you couldn’t believe that it was him, the little first year that Makki and Mattsun had teased for being shy.

“Look at them. See how hard they are?” You glanced down at their laps and, sure enough, Kindaichi was right. Each had a noticeable bulge in their pants and looked almost dizzy from the lack of stimulation. Kindaichi smiled against your ear. “You want them to stroke their cocks for you? Want them to get off watching you get fucked?”

You choked out a groan and nodded.

“Ask nicely,” he snapped. You swallowed and fixed your gaze on the other men.

“Please,” you said, voice unsteady. “Wanna watch you come.”

Matsukawa let out a shaky breath and Makki was undoing his pants before you finished your sentence. As quickly as you had spoken they had their hands wrapped around themselves, pumping at the same pace Kindaichi’s hips were snapping.

“There we go. Look at that. Three men getting off because of you. How’s it feel?”

Before you could respond, Kindaichi reached around you and began circling your still over-sensitive clit. You let out a strangled sound and your head tipped back against his. His breath came heavy and hot in your ear, harder now with the desperate sounds he was pulling from you.

“God, what a good girl. You’re gonna make me come. Do you wanna come with me?”

You nodded and Kindaichi immediately stopped moving, holding you close. You whined, but he shoved two fingers in your mouth and pressed down on your tongue.

“Use your words.”

You shook your head and closed your lips around his fingers. He shoved them deeper into your mouth, making your eyes water.

“Use. Your words.”

“Please. Please make me come.” The words were slurred and sloppy, almost embarrassingly so. Kindaichi laughed and slowly rolled his hips again, keeping his fingers hooked in your mouth.

“You asked so nicely,” he muttered. You could see him turn to the other men from the corner of your eye. “I want them to watch me come inside you. Do you want that?”

His thrusts found a new, steady pace, dragging all the breath from your lungs. You moaned around his fingers and attempted to nod.

“Yes,” you stammered, eyes closing as his other hand returned to your clit.

“Come here,” Kindaichi said. Your brows furrowed, but you heard shifting fabric and a handful of footsteps before Kindaichi’s fingers withdrew from your mouth. You opened your eyes to find Makki and Matsukawa standing over you, cocks in hand. They continued stroking themselves, looking tired and out of breath. Matsukawa reached out to run a hand through your hair, but Kindaichi smacked him away.

“No,” he said. “They’re mine. You can watch.”

“Are you serious?”

“Who’s the one with their hand around their dick and who’s fucking them?”

Matsukawa’s lips pinched together, but not before he let out a quiet groan.

“Fuck,” Kindaichi breathed, burying his face against your neck. “I’m gonna come. Ask me to come inside of you.”

“Please,” you whimpered. “Please come inside of me. I’ll be good.”

“You are good, aren’t you? My good girl. You’re gonna let them come on you too, right?”

You nodded furiously and bucked against Kindaichi’s hand. The hand on your clit was too much, but just enough at the same time. You were close, so close. You were sure when he came off push you right over, leave you shaking, make you—

“Oh, fuck,” Kindaichi groaned, arm wrapping tight around your chest as his hips stuttered and he spilled inside of you. He was hot and felt dizzyingly good, and it made you follow right after him, moaning in a way you didn’t realize you could. Your eyes squeezed shut and your hands flew to his arm, trying your best to steady yourself. Matsukawa came next, and Makki close behind, spilling over your face and chest, strained groans ringing in your ears.

When your body relaxed, Kindaichi’s grip softened and he withdrew from you, hissing a bit as he did. The only sound in the room was panting and you opened your eyes to see Kindaichi holding your shoulders, gazing carefully at your face.

“You okay?” he asked. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, through the mess the other men had made, and slipped the finger between your lips. You wanna tongue over the digit as you nodded, gazing at him with watery eyes. He smiled and withdrew his hand, pressing a firm, affectionate kiss to your lips. When he broke the kiss he glanced up at Matsukawa and Makki, whose chests were still heaving. A grin spread across his face as he absentmindedly stroked a hand through your hair.

“Virgin, my ass.”

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tag list: @ohno-otome @curapiikt @antiqueremains @stationery-store @tanzaniiite @imbearlythere @kitastowel @vminelove (it wouldn’t let me tag you darling :( i think you need to change something in your settings) @yougivemeglobalwarming

want to be added? send me an ask!

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 9k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: medical play, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, multiple orgasms, fingering, dirty talk, bondage, ruined orgasm, unprotected sex, squirting, oral (m receiving), cum eating (not yoongi for once), this was meant to be a light palate cleanser after the intensity of day ten but i got lost in my feelings in the first half and then got horny over doctor jeon in the second half i apologise

banner designer @jamaisjoons​ | thank you my darling SFHS babies ! i love you

DAY ELEVEN

“I think you should be a little more concerned, PD.”

Sejin flattens the two men - oldest and youngest of the house - an unimpressed look. Jungkook tries not to wilt under his gaze. “And why is that?”

Jin clears his throat, staring right back unabashedly. “Tae’s been involved in a terrible accident and you’re just waiting here. You should be rushing over to the house to save him.”

“A terrible accident?” Sejin questions monotonously, before turning in his chair to angle his monitor so that both boys can see. On the screen is a freeze frame of a very familiar scene - Taehyung crouching on the bottom of the stairs, Jin and Jungkook huddled around him.

Ah, Jungkook realises with sinking disappointment, the cameras. Once the producer clicks play on the recording, Jungkook is faced with the HD version of himself gesture excitedly, patting Taehyung on the back and pointing to the banisters.

Cheeks flushing, the youngest member of the house watches in dread as Sejin plays back the evidence of Taehyung willingly forcing his head through two banisters, ears popping out the other side as he glances up with a beam at Jin.

Having seen enough, Sejin pauses the video, and switches back to the realtime feed. “An accident, was it?” Sejin repeats rhetorically as the Taehyung on the security camera drums his fingers lazily against the wood posts, letting out a lionlike yawn. “I’m not an idiot, you know.”

Jungkook bites down hard on his tongue. This wasn’t how things were meant to go at all. Behind Sejin’s desk, the majority of the production van is filled with all the mess of a regular office. Stacks of paper, scribbled sticky notes on various surfaces, a large whiteboard with roughly handwritten schedules and a small game of naughts and crosses in the bottom right corner. Jungkook tries not to let his eyes dwell on the whiteboard too long. Don’t raise anymore suspicion.

Beside him, Jin shamelessly shrugs with a smile. “He put his head through the bars on purpose, sure, but he got stuck on accident.” The oldest - though still younger than Sejin himself - emphasises this distinction with a single outstretched finger and an arch of his eyebrows. “So you should go help him.”

Sejin slips his glasses off and lets them clatter to the table, pinching his brow with two fingers. “Am I gonna get there and have Taehyung ask me for the latest issue of Chinese Vogue?”

Jin stiffens, his mask temporarily shattered. “I requested that in confidence.”

The production manager throws his hands in the air in defeat. “How was I supposed to know which of your bogus requests was confidential? Just half an hour ago I got a call from my superior asking why #getjinanXL was trending. You tweeted that you wanted me to buy you extra large condoms because you ‘ran out.’”

“Well, that was obviously a joke,” Jin rebuffs easily. “You know I use Magnum.”

“How would I-?” With a huff of desperation, Sejin shakes his head to clear his mind. “No, okay, back to…”

Zoning out, Jungkook’s eyes are caught by the sight on the screen as another figure walks out into the foyer. Yoongi rushes forward once he sees Taehyung, crouching on the other side of the bars as he delicately prods around Taehyung’s face and neck. The younger man waves him away in frustration, pushing at Yoongi’s chest until he gives up and leaves reluctantly. Jungkook bites his lip and looks away.

Whoops. Staring right at him are the producer and the therapist, each as expectant as the other. “Huh?”

Sejin huffs. “Why would Taehyung intentionally stick his head through the bars of a staircase banister?”

“Tell him, Jungkookie,” Jin adds with a bump of his shoulder.

“Uh…” With a hard swallow, Jungkook’s mind whirls. “He… We were… measuring,” he finishes awkwardly. “Me-measuring Tae’s head.”

“You were measuring Taehyung’s head?” Sejin repeats flatly. “With the stair banister?”

Jungkook shrugs with what he hopes is a ‘what can you do?’ expression, laughing nervously. “We couldn’t find a ruler.”

Sejin blinks once. “Then how would you know how wide the gap between posts was? Without a ruler?”

“Oh.” Jungkook stares in barely subdued panic at Jin, who widens his eyes meaningfully, urging him to turn back to the awaiting producer. “We, um, we didn’t think that far. We’ll know for next time?”

“If you want to stay on this show, there will be no next time,” Sejin warns.

Jungkook ducks his head in shame. “Sorry, dad.”

“Y- what?” Jungkook hears Sejin cough lightly, flustered. “Please, Jungkook, that’s not appropriate.”

The youngest gives a little bow. “I apologise, Father.”

Sejin clicks his tongue. “Okay, that’s even worse.”

Jungkook glances up, brows knitting and head tilting in confusion. “...whoopsies, daddy?”

Sejin buries his face in his hands, fingers tugging at the hairline. Jungkook spots several grey strands.

Clearing his throat, Jin steps forward slightly. “Taehyung is still stuck, PD.”

“Okay, fine! Fine,” Sejin announces, pushing his chair away from the desk and standing up. “But if there is a single other incident like this, I’m calling in child protective services and getting them to baby-proof this place. No more funny business. Understood?”

“No more. Promise,” Jungkook assures sweetly, heart soaring as Sejin slips past them, hurrying out of the production van and towards the front door of the villa.

The moment he’s well out of earshot, Jin claps his hands once with a victorious grin. “It was a bit touch-and-go there,” he admits, “but that’s bought us time. Quick; get the whiteboard, I’ll grab some pens.”

Jungkook grins. Like secret agents, hyung and him were. Moving quickly, the two of them manage to sneak out the whiteboard from the van, trundling it noisily across the gravel, around the back of the house.

---

“I’ll be honest,” Jimin drawls, “I don’t understand why we couldn’t have just chatted about this. Is the whiteboard really necessary?”

Taehyung deflates immediately, one hand still rubbing at the red marks on his jaw and ears. “What do you mean? I suffered for this whiteboard, Minnie.”

It’s crowded; five people huddled inside the confessional booth. But apart from the bathrooms and the rec room, this was the only place without live security cameras - purely because the only camera needed was the one for the confessionals themselves - and Jin and Jungkook doubted they’d be able to smuggle a very noisy whiteboard into the rec room when Sejin was directly outside it lubing up Taehyung’s neck with aloe vera gel.

While Producer Shin had been lured away by Jin with the promise of a homecooked meal, the four youngest men in the house were bundled into the garden shed, staring at a whiteboard that had barely fit through the door.

Jimin, still unconvinced, shrugs. From his spot perched delicately on Namjoon’s lap he watches the two younger men take a picture of what’s written on the whiteboard, then rub it all out. The man of the hour, Namjoon had been given the right to sit on the only proper chair in the room, the one the producer would normally sit in. Beside it, the wooden stool sits unoccupied. Jimin told the others that he was sitting on Namjoon’s lap because the stool was too uncomfortable, but Jungkook thinks there’s something deeper in the way he relaxes onto Namjoon’s chest, the academic alert but not tense underneath him.

Or perhaps being on this show has made Jungkook more suspicious.

“The whiteboard was vital, hyung,” he defends adamantly, grabbing one of the pens Jin-hyung had handed him, yanking off the cap with a satisfying click. Immediately the alcoholic smell of ink tingles his nostrils, but he ignores it, turning to the others. “What if Namjoon-hyung was a visual learner?”

From behind Jimin’s back, Namjoon adjusts the bridge of his glasses. “I- actually I learn best through listening.” His hand drops, hovers over the space both him and Jimin share, then rests awkwardly on the armchair. “But I appreciate the thought.”

Namjoon-hyung is so cute. “It’s okay,” Jungkook assures, suppressing the endeared grin that tugs at his lips, “We can brainstorm out loud, and Tae and I will just take notes.”

With Taehyung in his Sunday best (well, a button-up shirt so baggy it looked like he hat batwing sleeves) and Jungkook having dug out his glasses to look extra smart, the two of them were prepared to make this as academic as possible for Namjoon. Even after getting laid for the first time, academics were his comfort zone, and the two youngest were happy to oblige.

“First things first; what was it you had to do? Honeymoon?”

Jimin leans back on Namjoon’s shoulder so the taller man can see past. Namjoon shakes his head lightly, his purple hair in serious need of a touch-up; the natural brunette frames his face now, emphasising his brow. Jungkook wonders if he’d let him dye it a new colour, just for something fresh.

“Just husband and wife,” the academic corrects, “It didn’t specify, uh, anything else.” His voice is still quiet, as if speaking on it is taboo. One day he’ll get used to discussing sex openly, but until then, the others will meet him halfway.

“Okay, so, Y/n is your wife,” Jungkook states with a nod, “do y’all have kids? Is it a newlyweds situation? We need  backstory here.”

The squeaking of a pen catches Jungkook’s attention before he even finishes speaking. To his right, Taehyung writes in sharp strokes across the board.

Y/N PREGNANT

“It’s the nineteen thirties,” Taehyung announces in a smooth voice, eyes finding each member in the room, “war is imminent, and worldwide men are preparing to be conscripted. Every moment spent with their loved ones is precious, and for General Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung pauses to draw a gangly stick figure giving a salute, “him and his wife Y/n-” this time a female stick figure joins the scene, a cartoonishly round stomach off to one side, “-have only one goal. To knock Y/n up before he goes to battle, so that even if he never returns they ha-”

“Wait, wait!” Jimin cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed. “Isn’t this too dark? Too elaborate? They’re fucking, not going for best screenplay at the Oscars.”

Taehyung deflates a second time, the hand holding the pen dropping limply to his side. “You don’t like it?”

Face stricken, Jimin waves his hands frantically. “No, no, I love it! Honestly! I just- I feel like Namjoon probably wants something a little simpler? Perhaps not so bleak?” The blue-haired man swivels around on Namjoon’s lap, his hand resting inconspicuously on the back of his neck, playing with the longer hairs there.

Namjoon swallows. “Uh, yeah, simple is probably good. Honestly, I feel a little unsure about all of this. What if I, I don’t know, drop character or get shy? Won’t it be awkward?”

Taehyung scratches at his chin as he thinks, the beginnings of beard scruff shadowing his jaw. “If we help you brainstorm, you can just memorise a basic script.”

“I guess so,” Namjoon muses, eyes fluttering unconsciously as Jimin continues to trace the nape of his neck with his fingertips. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I know you have your own scenes to worry about.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Two birds with one stone, we can help each other. You know; I suck your dick, you suck mine.”

“That isn’t the quote,” Namjoon protests automatically, “but- I get your point. Anyone have any advice on how I even go about this?”

Taehyung pouts. “You’re the smart one,” he points out, “I did try to help but clearly my services weren’t appreciated.”

“Oh, honey,” Jimin coos, “I always appreciate your services.” The double entendre is clear in the silk of his voice and the arch of his brows, sent with a sweet smile, and Taehyung flushes in response.

Jungkook winces, ignoring the spike of - of something green and ugly in his chest. “Okay, enough from the lovebirds, this is about Namjoon. Joonie-hyung, I would just offer to help out and join with yours but I was gonna do mine this afternoon, and I don’t think a husband would fit very well into it.”

“That’s okay,” Namjoon assures, shifting under the weight of the man in his lap. His fingers flex on the arm of the chair behind Jimin’s back, unsure. “Taehyung? Yours might work, I guess.”

Unaware of Namjoon’s indecision, Jimin suddenly stands up off his lap entirely, stalking over to Taehyung with a bemused grin. “You think our well-trained Taehyungie could be the family dog?”

Taehyung, though keening under Jimin’s sudden attention, seems hesitant. “I- I don’t know, Minnie, I haven’t really…” He trails off helplessly, casting Namjoon an apologetic stare.

“It’s okay,” Namjoon rushes out, scooting forward to the edge of the armchair. “You don’t have to, I could just do it by myself.”

It’s strange, watching Jimin so visibly caught in indecision. He hovers in the centre of the small shed, torso towards Taehyung but head twisted back to stare at Namjoon. Wanting to support Namjoon, but wanting to protect Taehyung.

Jungkook feels like an outsider invading in on a precious equilibrium. Namjoon shifts, gaze dropping. Taehyung can’t keep his fingers still as they fiddle with the buttons of his shirt. Jimin’s so still the thin silver threads of his earrings don’t even shift in the air, but his eyes flood with emotion, bottom lip twitching just slightly as he seeks for something to say.

Jimin isn’t as mean as he’d like people to think, Jungkook muses. Saving the uncomfortable decision, Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly, diverting the attention of the other three. “We could always practice? Jimin, you’re pretty. Pretend to be Y/n and give Joon-hyung some tips.”

The effect of his words are instantaneous. Jimin perks up, turning on his heel to grin down at his elder, who gasps almost imperceptibly. Taehyung’s eyes dull with something akin to disappointment. At himself or at the situation, Jungkook can’t say, but the sight of him turning to the whiteboard and swirling sullen circles of ink on the glossy surface has Jungkook’s heart breaking.

Leaving the other two to talk - Jimin resting gracefully on one of the arms of the chair, his feet dangling between Namjoon’s - Jungkook hurries forward, wrapping his fingers around Tae’s to catch his attention.

“What’s up?” he asks softly, low enough to give the two some privacy.

Sucking on the inside of his cheek, Taehyung shrugs. “Nothing.”

Jungkook isn’t deterred by the shortness of his tone, but changes tacts nonetheless. “It’s a bit weird,” he offers up, “it’s like each of us is the wingman to the other guys, but we’re all going for the same girl.”

With Jungkook’s hand still on top, Taehyung begins to swipe the pen across the board again. This time, what looks like a flower with long, pointed petals takes shape in thick black lines. Taehyung himself stays focused for a few moments of silence, until he’s ready to speak.

“But it’s not just that,” he explains in a low timbre, “it’s not just her.”

Jungkook lets his hand be maneuvered by the deft movements of the masseuse. Every part of Taehyung was so elegant, like he’d been sculpted from marble. From those slender fingers, to the slope of his nose. Lashes that brushed against his brow bone as he focused, teeth pressing just slightly into his lip, a dusky pink. “No, it’s not,” Jungkook agrees after a moment.

Taehyung lets his hand fall, Jungkook’s slipping off. With eyes hidden behind dark curls, the elder sneaks a look at Jimin and Namjoon, the two smiling and laughing, Jimin’s fingers playing with the strap of the watch on the other’s wrist lazily.

“I never know who to be jealous of,” Taehyung admits with a weak chuckle, capping the pen. “Anyways; that doesn’t matter. We’re here to help Namjoon.”

Jungkook spares a glance at the lovebirds on the armchair. “I think he’s doing just fine.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung answers shortly, eyes locked on the way Jimin curls onto Namjoon’s shoulder, the two locked onto Namjoon’s phone as he types in notes. “He’ll do fine.” Letting out a deep sigh, Taehyung scrunches his eyes shut and shakes his head, like he’s clearing the funk away. “It doesn’t matter, we’re all in this together.”

Jungkook cocks his head. “But- Well, no, this is still a competition. Technically we should be against each other, not together.”

The air leaves Taehyung’s lungs in a rushed breath. “Fuck, you’re right. I should, like, hate you, right?”

Jungkook hums with a raised brow. “I guess.”

“I should be trying to cockblock you and tell Y/n you have syphilis, yet here I am wanting to suck the dicks of everyone in this room. But also maybe hold the hands of everyone in this room. You can imagine my confusion.”

Jungkook feels his stress slip away at the genuine smile that tugs at Taehyung’s lips. Even if his eyes are still muted with sorrow, he doesn’t seem so despairing over it. The youngest reaches out to grip onto Taehyung’s upper arm reassuringly. “We could have hate sex if it’d make you feel better?” he offers up in a soft voice.

The blue depths in Taehyung’s gaze recede a little more as his smile brightens. “I’d like that.”

The two manage to hold this Hallmark moment for a little longer before Taehyung’s shoulders begin to shake with suppressed laughter. In seconds, the two are dissolving into chuckles and snickers, Jungkook throwing his head back and Taehyung hunching over with the force of it.

Across from them, Namjoon and Jimin pause their excited conversation to stare at them in bewilderment.

“What did we miss?” Namjoon asks, brow knitted but eyes wide.

“Never mind,” Jungkook deflects, heart feeling strangely warm as Taehyung grins under his lashes at him, like the two of them have an inside joke. “We should probably pack up, though, unless we want Producer Shin coming back in the middle of our top secret team meeting.”

Jimin clicks his tongue in agreement and stands up off Namjoon’s lap. Lithe like a cat, his arms come up over his head and his back arches into a stretch, eyes fluttering shut. Jungkook knows his eyes aren’t the only pair watching the way his shirt lifts to display a band of pale golden skin.

“Alright,” the porn star lets out with a relaxed sigh, arms dropping and shirt falling again, “let’s head out, then. Joonie’s sorted.”

Namjoon stands up behind him, nodding shyly. “Thank you, guys. I feel a lot better about it now.”

Jungkook and Taehyung share a look. “To be fair,” Jungkook says with a light cough, “I don’t think Tae and I really helped at all.”

Jimin sends the two of them a broad smile, eyes crinkling in good humour. “You did provide the whiteboard,” he points out. “Though I imagine your efforts to steal it without Sejin realising were in vain.”

Taehyung frowns, hand automatically lifting to rub at his jaw. “What do you mean?”

“There aren’t any cameras in here,” Jungkook offers to Jimin, “he wouldn’t have seen it!”

Jimin blinks. “Where do you think Sejin went after helping Tae out of the staircase?”

Jungkook feels the odd pressure of dawning realisation that hasn’t quite materialised. “His office,” he answers slowly, “why?”

Behind Jimin, Namjoon ducks out with a sympathetic smile. “He probably noticed the giant whiteboard missing, Jungkookie.”

The camboy opens his mouth, waits for words to come, and closes it again. “Mm,” he replies eloquently.

“Oh, we’re gonna get in big trouble, huh?” Taehyung mumbles, fiddling with the pen in his hands.

“Wait,” Namjoon offers, “I’ll tell him it was me.”

Jungkook frowns. “How does that help?”

“Sejin won’t get mad at me, he loves me. I’ll just tell him I was getting a head start on my work for next semester.”

“When did he tell you he loved you?” Jungkook asks with a pout. “He never says it back to me.”

“I didn’t- What?” Namjoon frowns. “I was just chatting to him for advice one night and he told me I remind him of his son.”

“He doesn’t have any kids,” Jimin says with a lilt of confusion.

“I think he was talking about his cat,” Namjoon admits with a pained look, “but he loves his cat, so he must love me. Anyways, I’ll tell him I was using it for study and I don’t think he’ll mind. Just clear off the board and one of you can help me wheel it back.”

Jungkook sighs a breath of relief, turning back to the board. Beside it, Taehyung is frozen with his head bent and his mouth dropped open, staring at the pen. Neither Jin nor him thought to bring a duster, so Jungkook balls up his sleeve in his palm and wipes off the-

And wipes off the-

“Why isn’t it coming off?” Jungkook asks frantically, scrubbing over the shiny lines of black. “It’s not even smudging!”

“Um, Jungkookie,” Taehyung utters lowly, curls shifting as he slowly looks up. “This is a permanent marker.”

Jungkook’s hand freezes. He steps back, eyes wide as they stare at the image drawn in thick black.

The blooming form of what looked like a lily on the bottom corner, that was fine, but the giant all-caps Y/N PREGNANT followed by a very evocative drawing of a heavily pregnant woman beside a patriotic Namjoon was going to be harder to explain.

Slowly, Jungkook swivels on his heel, coming face-to-face with Namjoon, whose eyes are almost open wider than his mouth. “Hey, hyung,” the youngest offers up with a tentative smile, “how much d’you reckon Sejin loves that cat?”

--

It’s late afternoon by the time Jungkook has done his penance with the whiteboard and Sejin himself, but luckily it means that Yoongi is definitely in his room when Jungkook goes knocking.

More content with his own company, the second oldest tended to retire to his bedroom early to “entertain” himself. Jungkook had assumed this was a euphemism for masturbating, but Taehyung had informed him that the doctor was making his way through an impressive collection of the Slam Dunk manga these days.

As expected, Yoongi opens the door to Jungkook on his third knock, ushering him in with a look of confusion.

“Hyung,” Jungkook begins in an entreating tone, “you have a first aid kid in your room, don’t you?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, back straightening in alarm. “Is someone hurt?”

“No, no, it’s sex reasons,” Jungkook explains quickly, eyes wandering around the room, eying up the open closet in the back of his room. “Do you have a white coat?”

“I- what? No, I don’t have a white coat,” Yoongi stutters out, face scrunched up in confusion. “What is this about?”

Jungkook hums, brushing back hair out of his face absentmindedly as he delves deeper into Yoongi’s room, checking in the drawers of the small nightstand. “I can make do without the white coat,” Jungkook murmurs to himself, before turning on his heel to face the older man again. “Do you have stirrups?”

“Stirrups?” Yoongi asks incredulously. His arms are folded over his chest tightly, though the brown loose-knit sweater loses the intimidation factor. “Why would I bring stirrups? They’re attached to the chair anyway, I can’t just pack them away in my suitcase.”

Dammit. Jungkook collapses onto Yoongi’s bed back-first, staring blankly up at the ceiling. “You need to help me, hyung. I’m determined to win fan favourite this week, so I need to go all out.”

A sigh of realization comes from the other side of the room. “Your prompt,” Yoongi remarks flatly. “What is it; nurse and patient?”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open as he sits up. “Doctor and patient,” he declares proudly. “I asked if Sejin could promote me to neurosurgeon but he said it wasn’t relevant.” The thought dampens Jungkook’s spirits a bit. Even just regular surgeon would have been nice. “But anyway,” he continues, “whatever props you have would be greatly appreciated. I already googled a list of medical terms, so I’m feeling pretty good.”

Yoongi sighs again, but he shuffles over to his closet and pulls out a sizeable, bright green first aid kit, laying it on the bed. Jungkook gasps in excitement and makes room for him, but Yoongi just tuts. “First of all,” he explains while unzipping it, “these aren’t props, they’re medical-grade supplies. And you can’t have them all. I don’t trust you with most of the things in here.”

Jungkook frowns, but shrugs off the disappointment. Something is still better than nothing. “Okay, hyung,” he allows in a small voice, “thank you.”

Yoongi fails to hide the quirk of a fond smile as he takes out some of the stuff in the kit. “You owe me,” he says instead.

--

You have to give it to Jungkook; the dedication to his craft is impressive.

After he sent you a vague and rather concerning message about needing to see you in the gym for ‘health reasons’, you were greeted by a hand-written DO NOT DISTURB (unless you’re y/n) sign taped to the door.

Inside, the indoor gym had been transformed. Most of the larger equipment had been shifted to one side, leaving the other half open. In the middle of the open area is a weightlifting bench covered in a white sheet which you’re certain was off his bed. A comically out-of-place office chair is beside a table which Jungkook is using like a desk. The desk is pushed up against the mirror which fills one whole wall of the gym, and you can’t help but laugh at the infographics and charts he’s printed out on A4 sheets of paper and taped to the mirror.

There’s a fuzzy x-ray of some ribs taped next to a heart rate line, frozen mid-pulse like he took a screenshot off a video, which is next to a chart filled with increasingly smaller letters, like one you’d see in an optometrist’s office. Though everything is mismatched, the effort he’s put it really warms your heart.

The desk is where you find Jungkook. He sits with his back to you, typing away obnoxiously loudly at a laptop on the desk. On the screen, gibberish keysmashes fill up an otherwise empty Word document. Rather than a lab coat, Jungkook looks more sharply dressed than you’ve ever seen him in a ironed button-up shirt, pale blue. The back of the fabric is taut against his skin, clearly borrowed from a slightly smaller, or at least less jacked man. But it provides a streamlined view of the muscles in his back and shoulders, tucked into belted black pants to highlight the surprisingly narrow waist.

Kitschy or not, you’re grateful that Jungkook got some kind of cheesy medical roleplay if it meant you finally got to see him in fitted clothing.

Even though he must have heard you open the door and lock it behind you, he remains tapping away at the keys. His head tips slightly to the side, expectant.

“Jungkook,” you call out, disappointed and a little confused when he doesn’t respond. But you quickly realise your mistake. “Oh, uh. Doctor Jeon?”

Like clockwork, he spins around magnanimously on the chair, hands splayed out in a welcoming gesture. “Ah, my favourite patient. Do come in.”

So we already know each other then, you surmise. Remembering all these details was an unexpected, though not entirely unwelcome part of this week’s theme. Developing a backstory, information on the scene, almost felt like constructing a scaffold to continue. There was something equally reassuring and exciting about it. A bolt of arousal shooting between your legs, you step in to the middle of the open area, sitting awkwardly on the covered bench.

“Take a seat,” Jungkook adds redundantly, like he’s following a script. “Let me just bring your file up. Name?”

You pause as he wheels back around to the laptop, pulling up what looks like an Excel spreadsheet. “I thought I was your favourite patient,” you quip with a smirk, but unable to suppress your fondness at how much thought he’s clearly put into it.

Jungkook’s shoulders drop, but he doesn’t falter. “Of course, I’m just going through the motions. I’ve been in the field for so long, you know.” He shrugs demurely. “I was actually a neurosurgeon before this.”

A disbelieving laugh bubbles out of your throat before you can catch it. “You went from neurosurgeon to doctor? Isn’t that backwards?”

Jungkook’s eyes waver, biting his lip. “I prefer the simple life,” he offers as an explanation. He shakes himself out of it, and turns back to the computer once more with a warm sigh. “Alrighty then, I’ve got your file here. It’s been a while since your last visit,” he remarks, cursor hovering over a watermarked image of a clock. “I better check your vitals again.”

You watch in bemusement as he readies himself, first sanitising his hands using a small travel-size bottle that’s in the shape of a cartoon shark, then pulls on a pair of latex gloves that had been lying on his desk. Even in the strangely comedic atmosphere, the sound of him snapping the glove against his wrist makes you gasp soundlessly, thighs pressing together in need.

Jungkook notices it, eyes darting down as he rolls his chair over. He unbuttons each cuff off his shirt and rolls them up to expose his forearms. His hair is getting thicker as it grows, and even though it’s pushed back, a few locks slip forward to frame the smirk on his face.

You swallow, neck craning as he gets closer. The bench you’re sat on clearly isn’t intended as an examination table because it’s just as low to the ground as the chair, and there’s something inside you that runs electric when he comes close, looking down at you from it. With spread knees, he places them on either side of yours and pins you there, making you gasp.

The feeling of the cold gloves on your cheekbones, pressing to keep you steady is dizzying, more so when he looks intensely into your eyes, searching with a cool professionalism that you’d never seen from him before. Though it’s new, you recognise the shift in the tension of the room signifying the true start of the scene.

In your peripheral vision, you spot his tongue darting out to wet his lips, but you’re locked onto his gaze. Jungkook smiles softly. “Eyes are healthy,” he remarks, “good to know you’ll be able to see everything properly.”

The gloves catch on your skin, one sliding down to tighten on your chin, tipping your neck back even more. You’re barely breathing, waiting for his move.

“Open up and say ahh,” he instructs huskily, and you’re responding without thought, letting your lips part and your tongue relax. Jungkook frowns. “Wider.” You feel the corners of your mouth pang as you lower your jaw as much as you can in his grasp. “Keep it like that,” he demands sternly, and your heart thuds.

To your surprise, he doesn’t just look inside. You jerk instinctively in his grip as two gloved fingers slide down your tongue, but his rebuking glare has you settling again, trying to breathe through your nose as he delves deeper, smirking at the way you squirm, legs trapped between his and eyes lidded as you feel the length of his fingers heavy on your tongue.

Quicker than you can put your head around, his fingers plunge deeper, far enough down your throat to make you gag, tears springing to his eyes. His fingers leave as you let out a little cough, blinking wetly at him in betrayal.

Jungkook smirks, not bothering to wipe the shine of your saliva off his glove. “Gag reflex intact and responding well,” he notes smugly.

“How is that a vital?” you question, voice slightly hoarse.

“It’s vital for what I’m about to do to you,” he quips with a lecherous grin, and you bite down hard on your tongue to fight the urge to tremble.

“And what is that, Doctor?” you ask instead, blinking owlishly up at him.

His lip quirks. “Don’t play coy, now,  Y/n, I’ve seen the way you look at me during our appointments. Tell me; why is it that you came here today?”

You swallow, eyes heavy on him. “I’ve been suffering a strange sensation, Doctor,” you make out, your voice quieter than you intended. “Can you make me feel better?”

Jungkook exhales harshly, hands dropping to rest on your knees. “And where does it hurt, hm? Here?”

You suck in a breath as his legs spread further, coming close enough that your knees press against his crotch, the hardness undeniable. A single hand shifts up to lay against your forehead, questioning, and you shake your head. His hand skims lower, pressing firmly against your sternum where you feel your heart race against it.

“Here?” he questions, and continues on when he receives a negative. Next he veers off to the side, cupping a breast and brushing a thumb over your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. “Does it ache here?”

You whimper, arching into his hand. “A little bit,” you offer up weakly, glad you opted out of wearing a bra in anticipation of the scene.

The answer seems to amuse Jungkook, and you shiver when you feel his other hand playing with the hem of your shirt, the gloves tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach. “I better check it out then, hm?”

You feel so exposed, the air conditioner chilling the air and the mirror reflecting Jungkook’s back as he leans in close, breath tickling your bare shoulder as his hands cup your breasts.

Without further preamble, he begins to roll your nipples simultaneously between his fingers, enough pressure to make you shiver as he studies your reactions closely. The feeling of being touched so intimately with the barrier of latex gloves feels both taboo and exciting, and without even realising you find your hands clenched in the fabric of his shirt, gripping at his biceps as they flex with every movement.

“Does it hurt when I do this?” Jungkook asks lowly, humming in response when you shake your head. “What about this?” Suddenly, he’s tugging, pinching them harshly enough to make your back arch to ease the pressure.

You squeal, fingers digging in deeper to the corded muscle of his forearms. “Yeah,” you gasp out shakily, “h-hurts.”

Jungkook doesn’t stop. “But you like it, don’t you?” he accuses as he continues his rough treatment. “Coming into my office, begging me to touch you like this. Fucking filthy.”

A moan slips out as you rock your hips against the bench, seeking friction for the heat between your legs. “Please, Ju- Doctor Jeon, it hurts,” you cry out, gaze imploring as you blink up at him.

All of a sudden, he pulls back entirely, hands falling back onto his own knees as he watches you. “Show me,” he instructs, eyes hazy.

You shiver, the cool air shifting over your naked torso as his stare burns molten hot. “Show you what?”

Carding a hand through his hair to push it back, Jungkook wets his lips. “Show me where it aches the most,” he explains, voice like crushed velvet.

This was a side of him you’d never seen before; neither the competitive dom nor the obedient sub. His sexual versatility never fails to surprise you, and you find yourself hopelessly lost in the calm dominant air he exudes. Shakily, you part your legs.

He scoffs lightly. “That isn’t much help if I can’t see it. Undress.”

A rushed exhale leaves you at his shortness, but you stand up and push off your leggings and panties, kicking them to the side. It’s far harder to bare yourself to him this time, and as you sit, you can’t help but hesitate.

Jungkook raises a brow at your pause, leaning back like he’s disappointed. “I’m a very busy man, Y/n,” he chastises, “these appointment slots aren’t long and if you don’t want the next patient coming in while you’re choking on my cock, I suggest you do as I say, when I say it.”

Your legs fly apart the moment his voice lowers into a growl, clenching automatically at the open air at your most vulnerable place. “Please help me, Doctor,” you plead lowly.

Jungkook curses under his breath and comes forward again, placing a single gloved hand over your core. You jerk instinctively but keep your legs open at his warning glare. Even through the gloves, he has to feel how wet you are, slicking up the latex without him moving it. “It hurts here, hm? Lie down on your back and I’ll take a look.”

Your breath picks up as you turn and lower yourself onto the white sheet, legs dangling over the end. To your surprise, Jungkook doesn’t come around but returns to the desk, rolling his chair away and rifling through what looks like a first aid kit. You crane your head to watch him, narrowing your eyes in confusion as he returns with what looks like two rolled up lengths of gauze bandage.

“This isn’t the usual gyno office,” he explains, unravelling one slowly, “so we don’t have stirrups. But don’t worry; I’ll make sure to keep you nice and open for me.”

Like he’s done this a million times before - though the rational part of your brain knows he’s probably making this up as he goes along - he begins using the bandage material to bind your ankles to the legs of the bench, wide enough that you have to shuffle right to the edge, spread wide. He doesn’t say a thing when he ties them, mumbling to himself like he’s recalling instructions, and slips in his fingers to test how tight they are.

He’s kneeled between your open legs now, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch as he runs his fingertips over your sopping folds, eyes lidded with arousal. “Does it hurt here, Y/n?”

You shake your head, fighting the urge to scoot even closer. “Inside,” you explain, sighing in relief when two fingers plunge inside your walls, scissoring to stretch you out.

Jungkook has one hand on your thigh to hold you steady as he rocks his fingers back and forth like he’s seeking something, and the feeling of the latex, so slick with your juices, has you trembling immediately. “It’s important in this line of work,” Jungkook breathes out as his fingers widen even more inside you, “to be thorough, so just relax for me, let me in.”

The moment you try and unclench, his fingers curl and press up against your g-spot, and it’s like a line of electricity connecting all your nerves together lights up. Your legs instinctively flex in an attempt to close around his hand, but the taut bonds keep them spread, and you sob at the reminder, arms giving out so that you end up flat on your back again.

Jungkook chuckles. “Looks like we found the problem,” he remarks cheerily. His fingers continue their assault, targeted now as you writhe beneath him, and the wet sounds of the latex as he increases to three digits echo obscenely in the large room. “That’s it.”

The joints of your fingers ache as you cling onto the edges of the table for dear life, unable to stop the rising wave of pleasure that threatens to crash. It’s so close you feel it in your teeth, eyes rolling back and babbling nonsense to try and get him to go faster, harder.

Faintly, you hear the sound of him humming in amusement, and your mind conjures the mental image of him, sleeves rolled up and gloves dripping with your arousal, hair falling in his eyes and teeth glinting as he grins and brings you to orgasm. It’s that thought that finally begins to tip you over the edge, and just before the wave crests, you feel his fingers slip out.

“Looks like it doesn’t hurt anymore,” he remarks cheekily.

“No, no, no, don’t stop,” you blabber mindlessly, but it’s too late, and your orgasm washes through you as he sits back and watches the unsatisfying roll of pleasure take your body.

Irrationally, you feel tears prick at your eyes with the cruelness of his actions. “It sti- It still hurts, Doctor,” you sob, reaching a hand down to cup yourself, wanting more even as you hiss with the sensitivity.

Jungkook tuts in fake sympathy. “My fingers can’t reach any further, Y/n, if I couldn’t reach where it hurts, I don’t know how I can help you.”

Your bottom lip trembles as you blink your eyes open again, struggling to focus on him. “Use your cock, Doctor, please, I’ll do anything.”

“Is that so?” You could just about cry in relief when you hear a belt buckle jingling, and Jungkook kneeling over you, lining himself up. You can feel the tip pressed against your entrance, just enough pressure to tease you. “Too impatient for me to even put a condom on, naughty girl.”

“Fuck, I don’t care, just fuck me, Doctor,” you whine, your sentence punctuated by a strangled cry as Jungkook snaps his hips forward, bottoming out in a single thrust.

Somehow you’d forgotten just how long Jungkook was - while he wasn’t the thickest or overall largest, and even the thought of mentally cataloguing the guys’ dicks was strange - there was a graceful rising curve to his length that felt like it pierced right through you, and as he starts a punishing rhythm, you feel the air punched right out of your lungs.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jungkook growls. “Acting innocent when you just wanted my cock to fuck you stupid, hm?”

With every thrust, your body is rocked back and forth on the bench, and you feel the bandages that bind your ankles to the legs of the table loosen, a little bit at first and then enough that they slip off completely. It feels odd to no longer be tied down, and Jungkook notices how your body is suddenly shifting far more than it was before.

His pace slows down and you feel a gloved hand wrap around one of your ankles. “Do you want them back on? I don’t think I tied them so well,” Jungkook notes hesitantly, and if you weren’t wildly chasing your orgasm, you might have cooed at his character dropping away to reveal the Jungkook you’re more used to.

As it is, your mind can only care about one thing. “I don’ need them, just fuck me!” you plead, and Jungkook exhales sharply, lifting your ankle until it rests on his shoulder, holding down your hips to fuck into you once more.

With the new angle, you can just about feel him in your guts, and your mouth drops open soundlessly, the only noises escaping your lips are gasped breaths as you feel a deeper orgasm begin to build.

“Oh fuck, I’m close,” you manage to slur out, a raw scream bouncing off the walls as he lowers a hand to rub at your clit, the slippery glove only making him thumb it faster. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking-ah!”

Your sentence is cut off violently as an orgasm rips through you as suddenly and overwhelmingly as an electric shock. If you’re making any noise, you can’t hear it, your mind like white static as you sit there and let it take you. Every inch of you is singing, down to your toes, and as Jungkook continues to fuck you into oversensitivity, you feel another release, one that makes you shudder and Jungkook swear violently, spilling inside you as he grips at the flesh of your hip.

It takes a while for the blur in your mind to clear, vision swirling in hazy technicolour and whole body trembling. Jungkook must have taken the gloves off at some point, because you feel the softness of his hands as they seek out yours, gently squeezing to rouse you more.

“Y/n,” you hear him say, voice still distant. The fog dissipates more with the calling of your name, and you feel yourself tune in again, once more becoming aware of the cool breeze of the aircon on your heated skin. Jungkook leans over you, eyes bright with enthusiasm. “Y/n. Have you ever done that before?”

You knit your brows in confusion. “Huh?”

Jungkook lets out a light chuckle, sitting back. He’s still inside you, barely softening, and you groan at the sensitivity of him shifting. “Look,” he guides, and you glance down to see your stomach and thighs, shiny with wetness, too thin to be cum. The liquid soaks his shirt, too, leaving dark patches. “That was fucking hot,” Jungkook gushes, his doctor persona well and truly evaporated by now.

You laugh weakly, an exhausted smile stretching at your lips. “I don’t think so? Fuck, that was a lot.”

“You were amazing,” Jungkook praises, squeezing your hands one last time before letting them go. He begins to pull out, then, and you shudder at the emptiness, remnants of his cum dripping out of you as he lowers your leg to the ground again. You sit up carefully, still lightheaded, and watch as he quickly rushes over to the desk, returning with a gauze pad damp with water from a bottle.

He uses it to clean you up in comfortable silence, though you can’t help but bite your lip when you notice he’s still hard. Just as he finishes wiping away the last of the wetness from your thighs and begins to wipe himself off, you reach out a hand to halt him.

“Doctor,” you coo teasingly, “won’t you let me clean you up? I wanna repay you for making the ache go away.”

His chest heaves as he shudders out a breath. “Really?”

You blink up at him as he stands in front of you, his cock right in front of you, glossy with your combined cum. “Don’t you wanna test my vitals one more time, doctor? Just to make sure?”

He gulps as you lean closer and lick a single stripe up the underside of his cock. It’s only slightly bitter, and well worth it for the look on his face and the feeling of his hands carding through your hair.

“I’ve got some filing to do,” Jungkook offers up, chest puffing as he slips back into his role, “if you’re going to clean me up like a good little girl, you can do it while I get back to work. I’m a busy man.”

You bite your lip as he cups the back of your neck and urges you to stand, leading you towards the desk. It’s just tall enough that you can sit on your knees below it, mouthing at his cock as he sits back in the office chair.

Giving a guy head isn’t your favourite hobby, but there’s something weirdly erotic about licking your own cum off of him as he types away, all but ignoring you. As you clean him up dutifully, you realise it’s a challenge, of sorts, to suck him off so well that he breaks concentration.

His jaunty clicks of the mouse and punching of keys continues away as he sighs lowly, feeling your lips wrap around his tip. You tongue the slit, keeping yourself steady by gripping the meat of his inner thighs and let your eyes slip shut so that you can fully focus on the minute sounds he lets out.

As you take him deeper and deeper into your mouth, testing your limits, you begin to learn the rhythm of his typing, recognising what makes it falter. His tip is sensitive, particularly where it meets the shaft, but it’s when you lap at the skin below his base and suck his balls into your mouth, tonguing at them languidly, that makes him break concentration fully.

“Hngh, fuck,” you hear him make out in a strangled voice, a hand coming down to stroke at his own length.

You bat it away immediately. “I thought you needed to work, Doctor,” you tease, “just let me take care of it.”

Jungkook groans but doesn’t protest when you wrap a hand around him and jerk him off, fingers tight around him as you suck at his perineum, making him moan prettily, the tapping of keys sparse and uncoordinated.

“Fuck, gonna- gonna cum again,” he warns, thighs tensing with the urge to thrust up into your grip.

You switch positions to suck his length into your mouth, rolling his balls in your hand and bobbing your head. Jungkook’s falling apart so beautifully, gasping out little ah, ah, ahs with every breath.

The moment you feel him stiffen up even more, you suck in a breath through your nose and swallow him down to the back of your throat, tearing up as your gag reflex kicks in.

He cums with a cry, shooting ropes of cum down your throat, and you wring out every last drop until he’s hissing and pulling away.

Jungkook helps you up from under the table with shaky hands and tucks himself away, panting. “Holy shit,” he says with a exhausted laugh, “I should have gone to medical school.”

--

The two of you spend the late afternoon showering and then returning the gym to its former glory. It’s not until even dinner has passed before you recall the rule of the Bangasm Bomb - a different bed every night.

You’d slept in Jungkook’s bed on the Monday night, and so you’d have to seek shelter elsewhere.

After getting into pajamas, you step out into the second-floor hallway, glancing around to see if anyone’s door is open. Jin’s is open - he’s still downstairs having a beer with Yoongi - but you’ve used his bed before. The only other one that’s ajar is the bunkroom.

Inside, Namjoon has his nose inside a book by a Japanese author you’ve vaguely heard of, and Hoseok folds a pile of laundry on his bed.

“Room for one?” you call out hopefully. The two of them have each chosen a separate bunk so they can see each other, but while Namjoon has a bottom bunk, Hoseok’s hair just about brushes the ceiling on the third and highest bed. The two of them glance up in unison, matching grins as they wave you inside.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Hoseok chimes out cheerfully.

“I was wondering if I could stay in a bed here tonight. I can’t room with Jungkook again.”

Hoseok’s eyes warm in recollection of the scene the three of you shared on Monday. “Well, we’ve got plenty of space. Pick a bed; any bed.”

It makes the most sense to choose the third stack of beds, on the far wall from the door. With only two beds instead of three, it’s easy enough to choose the top one, a perfect halfway point between Namjoon and Hoseok. “It’s not so bad in here,” you remark, tugging up the sheets so you can slip under.

“As far as punishments go, it does seem pretty tame,” Namjoon notes, adjusting a pair of thick reading glasses that balance precariously on his nose. “Though I do feel like it’s the equivalent of a naughty corner. Even if it’s comfortable, it’s the social factor that makes it undesirable.”

“It’s basically a sleepover for losers,” Hoseok surmises.

Namjoon pauses and nods. “Well said.”

You chuckle. “You two seem to be getting along well. Doing a lot of bonding in here, are we?”

“Not a whole lot else to do,” Hoseok points out. “We’ve been chatting away the boredom. Did you know Namjoon thought he could speak to crabs when he was a kid?”

Namjoon lets out a wounded noise, carefully marking his page with a bookmark before tossing the novel to the side. “I never said that! I said I thought they were trying to speak to me, okay?” The academic pokes his head out to look up at you. “Hobi-hyung is scared of Big Bird from Sesame Street!”

Instead of defending himself, Hoseok nods with an indignant pout. “Yeah, I fuckin’ am.”

You let out a peal of laughter. “Wow, you’ve only been in here three nights and you’re already sharing childhood trauma? Jin’s gonna be devastated he missed it.”

“Jin had the chance to come join me and he chose not to,” Hoseok declares. “As far as I’m concerned, Namjoon is the only man in this house I respect.”

Namjoon beams, eyes crinkling behind thick frames. “Thanks, hyung. I respect you, too.”

Hoseok’s chest puffs up in pride. “You better after all the things I’ve taught you.”

Namjoon’s blush is telling. You lean forward in interest, glancing back and forth between the two. “Wait; what did you teach him?”

“Well, we’re not gonna tell you,” the dom responds petulantly, turning his nose up, “it’s a surprise for your scene together.”

You pout, leaning back onto the pillow on your bed. “That’s no fun.”

“Oh, it’ll be fun when you get to experience it firsthand, trust me.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh at Hoseok’s teasing, slipping his glasses off and placing them on the nightstand beside the bunks. “Don’t hype it up too much, hyung, I’m not that good yet.”

“You’ll get there, young grasshopper.”

You frown at the uncertain look on Namjoon’s face. “I can go ask one of the others to room with them if you wanna, uh, practice some more.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No, it’s okay. This can be my rest day.”

Hoseok sighs sweetly, rubbing his eyes. “Actually, rest does sound pretty nice. We can pick it up tomorrow. Night, Joonie. Night, Y/n.”

You and Namjoon chime out a simultaneous reply as Hoseok climbs down the stairs to deposit his pile of folded laundry on the empty bed below, returns to the top bunk, and tucks himself in.

Namjoon seems equally relieved to be able to go to bed early, curling up with a pillow cuddled to his chest. “Sweet dreams,” his low timbre calls out.

You smile fondly at your two boys, snuggled up with peaceful faces as they drift away. “Sleep well,” you offer up, before getting comfortable and letting your own eyes slip closed.

[hxwks-gf]

ㅡ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀ, ᴘᴀʀᴛ 𝟻 [ғɪɴᴀʟ]

ʜᴀᴡᴋs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ, ғʟᴜғғ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʟ sᴍᴜᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ sᴏᴍᴇ sᴜᴘᴇʀ sᴜɢɢᴇsᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ sᴏᴍᴇ sᴡᴇᴀʀ ᴡᴏʀᴅs.

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɴᴀʟᴇ! ɪᴛ's ᴀʟsᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏɴɢᴇsᴛ ᴏɴᴇ, ᴡɪᴛʜ 𝟺ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅs. ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏs ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴀs ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀs ɪ ᴅᴏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ: ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ♡ 

ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ғᴏᴜʀ

“Let me go, I’m going to be late for work,” you murmured against Hawks’ mouth. 

He sighed and took your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently but firmly. “I’ll tell Endeavor you got caught up doing….secretary stuff.” His hands roamed over your hips and squeezed them. 

“Don’t do this,” you said, biting back a moan as he tightened his grip. “It’s my first day back. I still need to pick up his coffee.” 

Hawks freed you and sat back against the headboard, watching you walk around the apartment naked, picking out your clothes for the day. “What kind of coffee does Endeavor like? I’ve always wondered.” 

“Black,” you lied, peeking out from the closet. “He’s boring.” 

Hawks laughed. “Sounds about right.” 

A few minutes later you were dressed and putting your hair up. “You can stay here as long as you want, okay? Unless you planned on paying your agency a visit and actually doing work.” You shoved your tablet into your bag and slung it over your shoulder. “Will I see you later tonight?” 

Hawks gave a sly smile and shrugged. “You just can’t get enough of me, can you?” 

You playfully swatted his exposed thigh and leaned over him. He gazed up at you with half-lidded golden eyes, still alight with lust and desire for you. Part of you would’ve given an arm and a leg to stay there with him, but your leave of absence was up. Endeavor would be expecting you. 

“Maybe I’ll swing by the office and pay you a visit,” Hawks murmured, tilting his chin up for a kiss. 

You happily obliged, loving the way his mouth molded perfectly with yours. As a tease, you pushed your tongue deeper. He groaned beneath you and his hands found your body again, fingers digging into your clothed hips. 

“If I don’t see you there, you better be here waiting for me,” you said against his mouth, feeling his smile through the kiss. 

“Anything you want,” he breathed. 

You leaned back with a satisfied smile. “You’re all I want.” 

“It’s nice to have you back in the office, [Y/N],” Endeavor greeted you as you slipped through the mahogany doors. He was seated at his desk, a passive expression of stoicism on his face. “How are you feeling?” 

It was almost impossible to hide the glow that illuminated your cheeks from your little stay-cation with Hawks, but you simply shrugged. “I’m feeling much better, thank you. I brought your coffee.” 

He visibly perked up as you neared his desk and placed his cup in front of him. 

“One caramel iced coffee with an extra shot of vanilla and extra whipped cream,” you announced, pushing it towards him. “Just as you like it. I also convinced them to give me an order of that ichigo daifuku you love.” As you spoke, you handed him the wrapped dessert with a smile. 

“T-thank you,” he said uncomfortably, taking the coffee and the dessert bag. 

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” you said, rolling your eyes and turning away from him. 

“What secret?” 

“That you, the intimidating and formidable #1 Pro Hero, is secretly obsessed with sweets. The press would have a field day with that little tidbit.” 

“Tch,” he grunted, unable to hide the embarrassment flushing his cheeks. “Who cares what kind of coffee I drink? Is that what the media finds interesting these days? Is this the new low that journalism has stooped to?” 

“Alright, alright—no need to stoke your flames,” you said, moving over to take a seat at your desk. “You of all people should know that the media doesn’t care about real issues.” Your computer powered on and you began to sort through the daily onslaught of reports, paperwork, scheduling, sipping your own cup of coffee quietly as you worked. Every few minutes Endeavor would answer his phone, but aside from that, the office was quiet and peaceful. 

That is, until the double mahogany doors slammed open with a flurry of brilliant crimson feathers, knocking against the elegant walls and making you jump in surprise. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Endeavor snapped, getting to his feet. 

“I was in the area and I thought I’d swing by to pay you another visit, big guy.” 

Your stomach did flip after flip as Hawks’ voice filtered through the room with its playful, taunting lilt. You couldn’t hide the blush that crept in your cheeks as you watched him saunter over to Endeavor’s desk from over the top of your computer screen, trying to keep your composure calm. The memories of his hands running over every inch of you slipped into your mind, and you shifted awkwardly in your seat. 

His golden eyes flickered over to you. “Glad to see you’re back in the office, [Y/N].”��

“T-thank you,” you said, swallowing your nervousness. 

“What do you want, Hawks?” Endeavor crossed his arms and glared at him. “You can’t keep showing up in my office unannounced. It’s unprofessional and annoying.” 

Hawks placed a hand over his chest and puffed out his bottom lip. “You wound me, Endeavor.” He dropped his hand and grinned. “Actually, I’m not here for you. I’m here for your secretary.” 

“I’m not his secretary,” you called from your desk. “I’m his assistant.” 

“Right, right,” Hawks replied, waving his hand dismissively. “Well, whatever you are, I need you for something. Do you mind if I borrow ‘em for a bit, big guy?” 

“Don’t call me that,” Endeavor growled, but seated himself. He looked to you, as if silently waiting for your input. 

“Oh, uh—sure,” you said, scrambling out of your chair and walking towards the door. Hawks gave Endeavor a mock salute and guided you out of the office. 

“Don’t be too long,” the flame hero ordered from his desk as the door was closing. 

Hawks chuckled. “[Y/N] will be back before you know it.” With that, the mahogany doors clicked shut and he turned to face you, wearing a grin that stretched from ear to ear. 

“What are you doing?” you asked him, crossing your arms. “You know I have to work.” 

“I know,” he said, and he gestured for you to walk with him down the long stretch of hallway. “You ‘re employed at a hero agency. And now you’re meeting with—” He pointed at himself with two thumbs with mock surprise, “—wow, a pro-hero. Sounds to me like you’re doing your job perfectly.” 

You stared at him, taking in his handsome face and golden eyes, windswept hair and magnificent wings—you wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with him. But reality set in, and you knew his little charade of doing work would end soon, and you would have to return to your desk. “Did you come to rescue me from paperwork?” 

“Something like that.” His arm shot out and wrapped around your waist. Before you could open your mouth to remind him that you were at work and this was wildly inappropriate, he was pulling you into one of the supply closets that lined the hallway. It was dimly lit and the smell of cleaning solutions clouded your nostrils, but all of that was momentarily forgotten after he roughly pushed you against the shelves stocked with various supplies and shoved his tongue inside your mouth. 

You moaned against his lips and slid your hands up his chest to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. The cold metal of the shelf dug into your back. His own fingers were snaked tightly around your waist as he kissed you fervently and passionately, little grunts and sighs escaping him every few seconds. 

“This is what you call work?” you mumbled into his mouth, and he responded with a sinful chuckle, his grip around your waist pulling you tighter against him. 

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re executing a mutually beneficial transaction with a fellow pro-hero for the agency,” Hawks murmured, dipping his head into the crook of your neck and peppering you with kisses. You tipped your head back and let it rest against the shelf as he marked you with his teeth. 

Your fingers traveled up and tangled themselves in his hair, trying to keep as quiet as you possibly could. “Easy,” you hissed, “I can’t go back with hickies, alright?” 

He responded by sinking his teeth into your shoulder with a growl. “Stop bossing me around.” 

Oh. Oh. You felt the earth beneath your feet give way at his words, and you clung to him for dear life. The unbearable pressure between your thighs was growing stronger and stronger with every kiss, every bite, every groan—you were this close to saying ‘fuck it’ and let him have his way with you right there in the supply closet. You pushed your knee into the bulge growing in his pants and he shuddered. 

“Careful, kid,” he groaned, leaning back to look at you with glinting eyes. “Or we’ll find ourselves in some hot water.” 

“You can’t just come into my office and push me into a supply closet to make out with me, and not have me begging for more,” you whined, pouting your lip. 

Hawks grinned and traced your puffed lip with the tip of his finger. “Trust me, songbird—there’s nothing I’d want more than to rut you like a beast right here on the concrete floor.” 

You took a shaky breath. “I sense a ‘but’ coming.” 

“But,” he said, winking at you, “I have a sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself, and the whole building will hear you screaming my name.” 

You rolled your eyes at his cockiness and placed a hand in the center of his chest, gently pushing him away. “You speak very highly of yourself.” 

“I seem to recall you getting quite loud the past few nights,” he said, making a show of tapping his finger to his chin. “Unless, of course, you don’t like it when I shove my face between your thighs.” He teased the outside of your dress pants with the tip of his middle finger, earning a pained moan from you. “Or when I pressed you up against the wall of your shower. You seemed to like that very much.” 

“So did you,” you shot back with a glare. 

“Touché,” he replied. Hawks leaned forward and kissed you again, but this time it was slower. Sweeter. He cradled your cheeks in his hands, as if you were a fragile and delicate little flower that would fall apart with even the slightest amount of force. But he still left you dizzy and aching for more when he pulled away. “You should probably get back to your desk, before someone comes looking for you.” 

“Right,” you murmured. The taste of him lingered in your mouth. “Did you even have any real business here today?” 

“I’d call this business,” he grinned, reaching out to fix your shirt that had fallen askew. His fingertips left a trail of fire in their wake across your bare skin. “And, as always, it’s been a pleasure doing it with you.” 

You playfully smacked him on the shoulder and pushed him out of the supply closet. After a split second, you decided to grab a handful of bleach bottles, as not to draw attention to the two of you coming out together. Once out in the hallway, you quickly scanned up and down and breathed a sigh of relief when you saw no one around. 

“Nice cover,” he commented, nodding to the bottles in your arms. 

“Shut up,” you said, sticking your tongue out at him. “I hope you realize that if we had been caught, I would’ve been fired. And you would’ve made the front page of the news.” 

“Not the first time,” Hawks said as he shrugged nonchalantly, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

You nearly dropped the bleach as you stared at him. “Excuse me?” God, how could you have been so stupid? He was the #2 hero, for fuck’s sake, he probably had a whole line of girls waiting for him. “You mean to tell me this is something you normally do? Are there any other doe-eyed assistants that you take into dark supply closets and—and—”

“Hey, whoa!” He placed his hands on your shoulders to steady you. “Take it easy, kid. I didn’t mean it like that—I meant it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made the front page at all. That’s it.” 

“Oh,” you said softly, blushing furiously. “I’m—I’m sorry. That was….really rude of me to get angry like that, we’re not even...”

“Not even what?” 

You looked up at him and frowned. Were you about to have this conversation already? “I mean—are we...are we like—a thing?” You kept your voice low, but you couldn’t help fear that someone, somewhere, was listening. 

Hawks’ expression softened and he smiled. “I would pull you in for a kiss right now, but we’ve lost the safety of our supply closet. I guess I owe you one later.” He stared down at his feet. “I really want to keep seeing you, [Y/N]. I like you—you’re genuine, kind, and you’re able to deal with Endeavor. That’s a feat in and of itself.” 

“I sense another ‘but’ coming,” you quietly replied. 

“But,” he chidingly said, tapping a finger to the center of your forehead, “there’s a few things we need to talk about before we take that next step. And trust me—I really, really want to take that step with you.” 

You swallowed nervously. “That...doesn’t make me feel any better.” 

He glanced around the empty hallway and noticed a blinking camera hidden away in the corner. Hawks effortlessly lifted his wings up like he was stretching them, a seemingly innocent act. However, once the camera’s view was blocked, his head swooped in and placed a quick, sweet kiss to your lips. Before you had time to react, he was already pulling away and retracting his wings, making a show of rolling his shoulders like he really was just stretching them. 

“I’ll be at your place later,” he murmured, blinking his golden eyes lazily. “And we’ll talk.” 

There was a heaviness in the air as you walked back to your apartment after work. While there were still various people milling about, you kept a tight clutch on some pepper spray hidden in your pocket. 

You had no idea why you were so nervous to see Hawks again—it wasn’t like he left the office earlier on sour terms. He had been incredibly sweet and understanding—maybe that’s why you were so anxious. They’re always super nice right before they break your heart. 

You unlocked your front door and dropped your keys and bag on the kitchen table. The living room was empty, and so was the bathroom after you poked your head inside. It was early in the evening, the sun was still setting—maybe when he said “later”, he meant really later. As you milled around the apartment, you wondered how late he usually got off work. Would this be a normal thing, waiting for him to come home to you? 

You sighed and shook your head. You really needed to get a grip—you had only just started seeing him, you couldn’t be thinking about living together already. 

A clatter arose outside on the patio, startling you. It sounded suspiciously like one of your terracotta planters cracking open on the ground. 

You made your way to the terrace and pushed the glass door open. Sure enough, the patio was covered in soil and the remnants of one of your precious plants—and Hawks, standing over it, looking absolutely horrified. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” he cried, kneeling down and pushing the soil into a pile with his hands. He feebly picked up one of the stems, only for it to fall limply to the side. He looked up at you with pleading eyes. “I’ll replace it for you, okay? I’m so sorry—” 

“Hey, it’s alright,” you reassured him, getting down on your knees to match him. You reached out and stopped his hands from making even more of a mess. “You think this is the first time a plant has been knocked over? It happens all the time.” 

“You’re not mad?” 

“Why would I be mad? You didn’t do it on purpose.” 

“I flew in too fast,” he sheepishly admitted, wiping the dirt from his palms. “I really should slow down.” 

“C’mere,” you said, getting to your feet and holding a hand out to him. He took it and followed you into the living room. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

“Right,” he murmured as he shimmied out of his coat and took his boots off by the door. You seated yourself on the couch and watched him carefully, the way he started pacing the floor and rubbing the back of his neck. After a few minutes of silence, he got up and closed the patio door. “Where’s your cellphone?” 

“What?” 

“Your cellphone,” he repeated, holding out his hand. 

You fished it out of your pocket and placed it in his outstretched hand with an eyebrow cocked. “What do you need it for?” 

He studied it for a moment before promptly wrapping it up in a blanket and putting it in the bathroom, mindfully closing the door behind him. “Just to be safe. What I’m about to tell you can never leave this room. Do you understand me?” 

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Hawks...you’re scaring me. What’s going on?” 

“Do you understand me?” 

“Y-yes,” you whispered, wringing your hands in your lap. “I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise.” 

Hawks knelt in front of you on the floor and shifted his wings to make room. His eyes were dark as he looked up at you, and then he suddenly rested his head in your lap. Instinctively, you began to run your hands through his hair, and a soft, pleased noise began emanating from his chest. 

“My real name is Keigo. Keigo Takami.” 

Your hands stilled in his hair. “What?” 

“I work for the Hero Public Safety Commission.” 

“The HPSC? I work with them all the time. Why is this such a big secret?” Your fingers resumed stroking his hair. 

“Along with hero work, I also...work undercover for them.” 

“Like a spy?” 

Hawks sighed into your lap, and you could feel how tense his jaw was. “More or less. I’m at their beck and call to do their dirty work. I have been ever since I was a kid.” 

“Are you serious?” Your hands stopped moving again. “That’s why no one knows your name. Is that also why you shot up the charts so quickly?” 

“Yeah,” he replied, voice muffled by your lap. “I wanted to try and get out, and I figured starting up my own agency would free me from them. But it didn’t.” 

“I see why you warned me at first,” you murmured. “But...this doesn’t change the way I feel about you. Not in the slightest.” 

Hawks picked up his head and looked at you with those golden eyes, now shining with tears threatening to spill. He looked so scared. Vulnerable. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. If the wrong people got their hands on this—you’ll be in danger. And if the Commission ever found out I jeopardized my cover….they’ll be much worse.” 

“So why me?” you found yourself asking. “Why did you pick me, out of everyone else?” 

He blinked, and the tears fell over his cheeks. “Because you hit me in the face with a door.” 

That was not the answer you were expecting. Your confusion must have been evident on your face because Hawks propped himself up on his elbows and slid his hands along your thighs, a ghost of a smile on his face. “That day in Endeavor’s office, after the door had hit me and I looked into your eyes—I knew. It was like everything clicked, and something deep in my mind screamed at me: ‘that’s the one’.” He stopped and rested his forehead on your lap again, his fingers digging into your thighs. “I think it’s because of my Quirk. I’m prone to animalistic habits, and I’m able to pick up on things certain people can’t. I’ve never felt so strongly about someone before in my life.” 

You were at a loss for words. But deep down...you knew exactly what he was talking about. Animal quirk or no, you felt the same way he did. It was primal. It was written so deep inside of you, it was almost forgotten—but that one chance encounter with him had catalyzed it. Everything made sense. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” you softly asked him, your hand gently urging him to look up at you again. Your thumbs wiped away the stray tears that lingered on his cheeks. 

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life,” Keigo whispered. “But I need to know if you want to do this.” 

You slid down off of the couch and knelt in front of him, your knees touching his. You held his face in your hands and pulled him to your lips, kissing him slow and sweet and gentle. He trembled under your touch, but his hands wrapped around your waist and he kissed you back, gasping into your mouth and shuddering as he pulled away. 

“I’m sure,” you said firmly, and he wasted no more time pulling your lips back to his. 

Three months later

“Hey, hey—you know you have to chew your food before you swallow it, right?” you chastised, pointing your fork at your boyfriend. “Do you want to choke?” 

“I know, I know,” Keigo said through a mouthful of chicken. “But I gotta hurry and get back to the office, I’ve got a new round of interns to train.” 

“Lucky them,” you teased, resuming your lunch. 

The two of you sat together in your office, enjoying each other’s company and watching the flurries of snowflakes fall over the winter city. He had brought a bucket of fresh fried chicken—his favorite—along with a steaming cup of tea, just for you. 

“Alright, I gotta fly,” he said as he wiped his mouth and got to his feet. “I won’t be too long tonight. Leave the back door unlocked for me, yeah?” 

“Always,” you murmured with a lazy smile, tilting your face up towards him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and ruffled the top of your head. “Be careful in the snow. The forecast says it’ll storm again later.” 

“You worry too much, baby bird,” Keigo chuckled, endearingly tapping the center of your forehead. “I love you.” 

Despite the cold outside, you felt warmth spread throughout your entire body. “I love you, Kei. More than anything.” 

You guided him to the glass doors that lead out to your office’s own private terrace, where he was able to fly in and out as he pleased. Your office. You had been promoted by Endeavor himself, and as a gift, he gave you your own space that was linked to his. 

The frigid air swept through the room as Keigo opened the door, little snowflakes already getting trapped in his unruly hair. He turned around and kissed you one more time before climbing up over the balcony and launching himself over the edge. A few moments later he came swooping back up with an excited whoop, his beautiful crimson wings a stark contrast to the white snow covering the buildings. He gave you a little wave, and disappeared into the clouds. 

You held your cup of tea tightly to warm your hands as you stood by the window, staring after him. He was the light of your life it seemed, for the last few months. You both had understood the risks of your relationship and still opted to keep it a secret, but that didn’t stop you from stealing kisses and eating lunches in your office together, or surprising him with “paperwork” at his agency. Everything felt right, and you knew that no matter what life threw at you—as long as you had Keigo, everything would always feel right. 

You smiled at the thought and turned back into your office, seating yourself at your desk again and resuming your work. 

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @hyperfixation1 @a-monsters-love @heydae20​ @witchxlove​ @brownskinnedgirll @amethyst-rose-17​ @saqqhire-xo​ @olsenholic​ @cowward​ @hauntedclaudio @biscuitbean22 @insecurepirate​ 

[captain-cerrillo]

x

Eva swallowed his weak protest. Their mouths met, lips touching and hanging open, as she sank onto him slowly before settling herself comfortably with her knees on either side of him at the edge of their bed.

Some part of him registered the way her eyes fluttered before she forced them open to take in the way the feel of her body consumed him as they joined. His eyes stayed open, too desperate to dare to miss any part of her.

He managed to contain his noises until the heat of the fire inside of her combined with the wet sounds and the feel of her slick walls stretching around him ripped a helpless whine out of him and he strained to resist the urge to buck his hips up to meet her as she took her time easing down over his shaft. The shudder that ran through his body when she sheathed herself around him shook them both.

She gasped when he throbbed, his body protesting of its own accord, when they finally rested against each other without any rush for completion. She grinned and squeezed herself around him.

“Eva.”

She closed her eyes and smiled at the thick honey in his voice, but her hips kept moving. His fingers dug in and he called her name again.

“Eva. Eva, please.” He gasped at the loss of her wet heat when she raised up on her knees to thread her fingers through his hair, pressing herself into his chest as she stretched to kiss him, with only the tip of his impossibly hard cock still inside her.

He never ceased to be amazed at the fact that he preferred waterboarding to being so close and yet so far away from Eva Novakov when it came to torture methods. His moans said as much when she bit his lip and giggled, pulling away from his searching kiss to sink herself back onto him with a sigh.

“Yes, sir?”

“God.” He choked on another feral moan - a sound ripped straight from his chest when she worked her hips over him again. The sounds of her perfect ass clapping against his bare thighs as she bounced on his lap were almost enough to make him snap. Though, he had a sneaking suspicion that was intentional.

“That’s not fair,” he croaked out with his eyes squeezed shut. The weight of his hands increased as he tried to slow her eager riding. “Eva.” His hips bucked up to meet her every time she pulled away and every breath from his chest was shaky and jagged, peppering his pleading words. “Eva, baby. I can’t.”

“I missed you so fucking much, Isaac.” She gasped against his mouth, and he couldn’t help the way one of his hands threaded in her wet hair. They hadn’t gone anywhere that wasn’t together, but he understood exactly what she meant, and his dick throbbed in agreement. He closed his eyes so she wouldn’t see the way his eyes rolled back as the last of his control slipped through his tired fingers.

“I need you,” was all he could say.

“Come with me.” She moved her hips in slow circles and let her hands pull his hair for leverage. They watched each other, both straining and a heartbeat away from letting everything spill over, for a quick moment before their mouths crashed together.

Isaac finally demolished the last of the metaphorical levies that kept the more primal parts of his desire at bay and Eva squealed, mixed surprise and delight, as his hips lifted her, adjusting his feet against the floor to meet her hungry movements with his own.

“Oh goddess.” Her lithe body finally went lax in his lap. She leaned more of her weight against his chest to counterbalance the force of his desperate thrusts.

He let both of his hands cup her ass and shamelessly spread her, lifting just slightly to adjust their angles so that he could stroke against his favorite spot that made her shudder around him. It was nothing short of a miracle that he lasted until her slick walls gripped him. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she said only, “Inside,” with her cheek pressed tight against his flushed chest as he pounded into her from below.

They shared moans through their rippling orgasms and Isaac held Eva tight to his chest with his mouth buried into her loose hair until his body stopped pumping everything he had into her. He tried not to think about the thought of her pretty pussy with his seed spilling out. He failed and throbbed inside of her again, still hard.

She rubbed what she could reach of his crushing arms while they caught their breath until he released his iron hold with a shy, lopsided grin. “That was…”

“Incredible.” She stretched to kiss his smile. “Amazing.” He kissed her back and she continued picking adjectives. “Superb.” He laughed a low rumble that shook through them. “Life changing.”

Her smile was beaming and though she didn’t seem even remotely unsatisfied, he couldn’t avoid the fact that even with the basest of his desires out of the way, their bodies still had a lot to say. Her smile faltered as she took in the change in emotion written plainly on his face. “It’s okay,” he assured her, tilting his head to plant a tender kiss to the forearm of the hand still holding his shoulder. “Everything is better than okay. But we need to talk.”

Some part of him wondered if it was abnormal that his need for a serious moment did nothing to sap the eager desire of his flesh, still rigid inside of her. He adjusted his arms to wrap around her, lifting her easily to adjust both of their bodies so that he could settle over her in the middle of the bed. She gasped as their bodies parted and he ached at the sudden lack of her warmth, but it was momentary. She arched into him, rubbing her smooth calves over his outer thighs as he lined himself up to join her again.

He settled over her on his forearms, soaking in the way her beautiful blue eyes studied his face. “I understand this isn’t the most ideal timing, but I’ve been processing a lot and there are some things that I need to say. Things that I need you to hear.” He faltered and she smoothed a small hand over his furrowed brow. Her painted nails traced the defined wrinkles on his forehead, deeper as he considered his words. “I hope the sex part doesn’t diminish my intent.”

“Sex with you doesn’t diminish anything.” She pressed a kiss to his temple, and he leaned into it, hoping they could keep this magic forever.

“Eva.” He backed off only enough to hold her gaze. Careful brown met sparking blue. “Eva, I want you to know that I’m in love with you. I think I have been since I met you.” He paused, watching her carefully as he quickly considered his next words.

“This war can’t last forever, but I hope we do. And I just. I just need to be very clear about that.” He smiled, taking in the swirl of emotion in her eyes. She locked her legs around them. “My intentions with you, Ms. Novakov, are to be yours forever.”

[trashy-slashy]

Entity Displeased - Part 1(?)(DoctorxReader)

[AN: This is writing practice for an idea I had, which I will probably continue at some point soon. I’m also trying to flesh out my idea of how I want to write Herman as he’s one of my favourites at the moment and I wasn’t happy with my previous headcanons.]

The first time you wandered from the campfire you got lost. Of course navigating through the dense forest would prove troublesome, the ever-lingering fog twirling around your ankles as your shoes glistened with dew from a morning that never came. Your coat didn’t provide any tangible relief from the cold, your breath matching the mist around you. The feeling in your fingers dissipated as the temperature continued to drop, tiny specks of snow joining the broken twigs nestled in your hair.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you saw the flickering lights ahead of you. Lery’s. Your shoulders sagged as you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The sub-zero temperature began to seep into your skin through your already damp clothes. You despised the map and its warden. Malicious echoes of static teased at your ankles as you remembered succumbing to the madness time and time again.

The fluorescent lights ahead flickered welcomingly, luring you in with promises of warmth. You considered turning back, glancing over your shoulder at the woods behind. Had they always been that dark? Jake once claimed that he’d visited Autohaven and the Wraith was nowhere to be seen. Of course Nancy had argued that he had probably been invisible, but Jake stood firm. He’d been there a good while, ransacking his fair share of flashlights and toolboxes and that any killer was sure to intervene when their home was invaded. The survivors quickly piped down after that, mulling over his words.

Tentatively, you passed through the institutes doors, stuffing your hands under your armpits in an attempt to ward off the cold. Your heart began accelerating as you delved deeper withing its halls, each step ringing obnoxiously in your ears. Sensation seeped back into your fingers as you glanced around, listening for any other sounds of life. It seemed that the crows that normally nested within the realm weren’t present when outside of a trial. Your ears could only pick up the hum from the lights overhead and the distance crackle of distorted TV screens. Pressing on, you wandered into the nearest room, searching for some sort of supplies you could bring back to your allies, blissfully unaware of the camera above the doorway.

After looting a couple of rooms, you began to relax a little, seeing no signs of the Doctor wandering his lair. Your backpack began to weigh you down as you stuffed another med-kit into it, the zip protesting as you tugged it back into place. The warm light from the office peaked through the window to your left. You had left that part of the institute untouched, winding your way through the outer rooms. Shouldering your bag, you pushed yourself up over the frame, eyes darting around wildly as you sneaked into the room. 

You’d never been able to get a good look inside of here during trials, the looming threat of the killer keeping you focused on finding your escape. But now, alone, you noticed the sheer amount of books lining the walls. You ran your finger over the dusty tomes, unsurprised when you noticed that all of them seemed to cover the human psyche. A few small stacks sat on top of the desk, even on top of a CRT monitor that didn’t seem to be working. These books were more recently used it seemed, missing the layer of filth the others wore. A solitary book laid open in front of the armchair. Curious, you peered at the open pages, struggling to read the chicken scratched ink.

‘The bond between the entities trophies seems impenetrable. As soon as one falls, they swarm like lambs to slaughter. They persevere through torment and agony for one another, despite my many attempts. A new treatment is needed’ 

The rest of the page was illegible, despite how much you squinted, turning the paper in your hands. 

“That’s not yours now, is it?” You screamed in fright, the book slipping from your hands. Your foot caught on the edge of the desk, sending you stumbling backwards. Dread oozed through your body as your back failed to connect with the bookcase. The Doctor’s unnerving laugh filled the air as you collided with him, your legs tensing immediately to push yourself away from him. Survivor instincts kicking in, you tried to made a break for the window, crying out in despair as he grabbed hold of your shoulder, pulling you backwards. You fell backwards into the soft cushion of the chair, yelping when the contents of your bag dug into your back. 

“Come now, I merely would like to discuss with you.” The killer loomed over you, leaning casually against the desk, his arms folded. His voice was monotone, a taunting hint on the end of it. You glared up into his distorted face, the mere sight making you feel sick to your stomach. Despite the way his lips were restrained, every word was perfectly pronounced. You weren’t sure if he was speaking aloud or not. It wasn’t very often survivors heard killers talk, and usually it was one of the members of Legion or Freddy. Between all of you, The Doctor had maybe uttered 10 or so words. Your leg began to twitch of its own volition as anxiety welled inside of you.

“Go to hell.” You spat, trying to get up from your comprised position. The Doctor responded with a tut, unfolding an arm to produce a few charged sparks between his digits.

“I wouldn’t recommend that.” His single red eye was trained on the wandering arcs, seemingly disinterested in your actions, though his comment seemed trained towards keeping you seated. You gulped, settling back down as he requested, adjusting the backpack so it wasn’t digging into you. The Doctor closed his fist, turning his attention to you. “I haven’t tried to hurt you after all.”

“You do normally.” He chuckled, the sound unnerving you further. 

“This is no trial, I do not have to hurt you.” His words didn’t serve to comfort you.

“But you still could.”

“Of course.” The killer retrieved the notebook you had been reading from the desk, thumbing his way through the pages.

“What do you want?” You mumbled meekly, watching as he scanned the pages. He took a moment to respond, the snap of the book closing making you jump.

“There is no need to sneak around my institute hoarding supplies.” The Doctor gestured towards your overstuffed bag. “I will gladly assist with any medical needs. Equipment that is.” He added when your expression darkened. “I don’t think you’d much appreciate my personal expertise.” You shuddered.

“What? Why-”

“I have no need for them.” He continued. “Quite frankly, I enjoy the extra challenge.” You assumed the suspicion on your face was evident.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Of course, I would be concerned if you did.” He leveraged himself off the desk, stepping around it to give you a clear exit through the door. “Go. I will provide resources when you next return.” You eased yourself out of the seat, every nerve in your body ready to flee. His gaze made you feel queasy as you walked past.

“And if I don’t come back?” You turned your gaze over your shoulder, watching the Doctor settle at his desk. 

“Then I guess you’re as ignorant as the rest of them.” 

~

Everyone was elated when you returned with a sackful of supplies, especially Claudette. 

“Where did you get so much? How?” She stacked all the various boxes neatly by the campfire, beaming at you.

“The Asylum.” You didn’t trust the Doctor and the last thing you wanted was for him to try and get his claws into your friends. 

“How? The Nurse always catches me the second I appear.” David seemed dumbfounded. You shrugged in return.

“Guess she was having an off day.” Satisfied, he went back to his seat, though you were vaguely aware of Tapp eyeing you up from the other side of the flames.There was no need to tell them about your encounter with the Doctor. It’s not like you were going to go back there anyway. Right?

[honeyxmonkey]

So... Aliens, huh?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812786

^last chapter, or you can read it here

Of all things, Hugo wasn’t expecting to be abducted by an alien. Now, the alien was cute, don’t get him wrong. As a matter of fact it looked almost human, but there were just the subtlest of differences that you wouldn’t notice unless you were paying very close attention.

There was the slightest, bright, luminous, almost ethereal sheen to the alien’s skin, giving it a heavenly glow. It’s pitch black hair only had a shock of bright blue going through it. The freckles dusting it’s cheeks were arranged in a way that looked almost like constellations. And it’s eyes… Hugo had never seen a color more beautiful. The beautiful moon blues were almost unearthly, the way they sparkled and shone under the bar lights. They were even more breathtaking outside, underneath the glow of the moon.

Hugo had met who he assumed to be a normal person at a bar that night. They’d talked and laughed and seemed to be warming up to eachother. The blond had been delighted when halfway through the night the boy had grabbed his hand and pulled him outside, behind the bar. The teen seemed no older than him, maybe nineteen at the oldest. Hugo himself was twenty and had no problems with making out with a beautiful stranger in the alley behind a bar well past midnight. And as the boy drew closer to him, a beautiful yet intriguing smile on his face, hands on his hips as he pushed Hugo against the wall, he leaned close and tenderly kissed him. Hugo was immediately addicted to this feeling. Sure he’d kissed plenty of people before but this was somehow different, it felt genuine, passionate even in its softness. 

But he pulled away all too soon and Hugo felt a wooziness come over him. Confusion settled in as the boy in front of him dropped his happy facade and a more pained, even scared expression took the place of his smile. He cupped Hugo’s cheeks as the world blurred away.

“I need your help.” He whispered and his shining blue eyes were the last things Hugo saw before he blacked out.

_______

When he woke the first thing he noticed was the blinding white walls of an over-sterile medbay. Groggy and dazed, he sat up, looking around in confusion. What happened to him? The last thing he remembered was… that cute boy kissing him, then he passed out. Where was he? Did the other teen bring him to the hospital?

A door sliding open to his right caught his attention and the boy walked in, dressed very differently from earlier. He’d traded his vest and black jeans for a simple white t-shirt and sweatpants that pooled around his bare feet. Hugo would’ve been pissed at the boy for apparently kidnapping him if he didn’t look so cute like that.

Hugo noticed that he was also wearing something very similar and his cheeks flushed at the thought that this very cute stranger had supposedly changed his clothes for him.

Cutie smiled softly at him and now under the bright fluorescent lights, his eyes definitely seemed to be glowing.

“Are you okay?” He asked walking closer to the hospital bed Hugo was seated on. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Hugo stared at him for a few seconds in absolute and utter confusion. “Uh… n-no. No, I’m fine.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and his smile grew a bit more. “That’s good.” He laughed nervously. “I was scared I had. I-I can’t control it that well.”

“Control… control what?” Hugo was intrigued now. 

Cutie blushed and cleared his throat. “N-never mind.” He ran a hand through his hair and Hugo watched, completely mesmerized by the action. “Let’s get you some food.”

______

They walked down the halls, the cute stranger leading the way. Their bare feet padded across the metal halls and Hugo had a sneaking suspicion of where exactly they were.

One glance out the windows told him he was right.

Hugo stopped in shock, gaping at the millions of stars scattered throughout the sky, twinkling back at him. “We’re… we’re in space.”

Cutie turned around and seemed almost apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to get you on board.”

Hugo tore his eyes away from the beauty outside the window to look at the beauty inside the ship. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I couldn't exactly go up to you and say, ‘hey I’m an alien and I need your help to save my planet’, now could I?” 

Hugo stared at him some more, trying to wrap his head around the idea that he was in a spaceship, in space, and he’d been abducted by a very cute and very sassy alien. “No… I-I guess you couldn’t have.”

He gave the blond an adorable smile and kept walking. “By the way I never got your name.”

Hugo jogged for a moment to catch up. “Well you never asked and usually I prefer to be on a first name basis before I get abducted by a cute alien.”

He laughed and oh lord was it the most beautiful laugh Hugo had ever heard in all his life.

“So?” He prodded once more, giving Hugo a glance over his shoulder.

“Hugo. My name is Hugo.”

Another smile and Hugo felt like he would melt soon from that soft and warm expression in his blue eyes. 

“Mine’s Varian.”

_______________________________________________

After getting some food, Varian led him to the cock-pit and Hugo was rather impressed with the engineering.

Varian took a seat in the captain’s chair and Hugo watched him with fascination. Anybody else would’ve said he looked lovestruck but Hugo would deny that.

He watched Varian cruise the ship with skill and practiced precision. A few minutes went by of this silence and Varian never took his eyes off the stars.

“What did you say you couldn’t control?” Hugo blurted out suddenly.

Varian went rigid. “Uh- I… I-” he sighed. “My… species can do things to people when we kiss them.” He chewed his lip anxiously. “We can give them false emotions, bend them to our will… make them pass out.”

“Oh.”

Varian looked up at him. “I won’t do any of that to you.”

Hugo smiled cheekily. “Except for the alley?”

Varian giggled. “Right, except for the alley.”

Hugo let the silence grow for a moment before he spoke again. “Why do you need my help?”

Varian sighed again. “My planet is dying. We’ve been… monitoring earth for a while, looking for someone to help.”

“So why me?”

Varian tightened his grip on the steering for a split second before he relaxed again. “Because you’re different. You’re special.” He looked up at him. “I know you can help us.”

“What if I can’t?”

Varian looked back at the stars. “Then I don’t know.” He whispered.

Hugo wanted so desperately to wipe his tears away, comfort him, distract him, anything.

“Why don’t you teach me to steer?” He asked, smiling.

Varian looked at him with shock before smiling too. “Okay.”

He got up and let Hugo in his place. Gently he guided Hugo’s hands to the steering and Hugo felt warmth spread up his chest and butterflies in his stomach.

“It’s a little bit testy, so don’t go too far to the left or right.” Varian’s voice was low and right next to his ear. His hands were still over Hugo’s. “That’s perfect.”

Hugo could tell he was blushing but he ignored it. “It feels nice.” He heard Varian’s breath hitch and he quickly corrected himself. “The ship! I mean the ship!”

Varian laughed, sliding his hands up Hugo’s arms and resting them on his chest. Stars, why did this feel so natural, so right?

“Don’t get flustered over me.” Varian teased. “I saw you shamelessly flirting with everything in that bar that moved.”

“That was different.” Hugo said, finally getting a feel for how the ship moved. “I don’t usually plan on getting to know the people I flirt with, and usually nothing goes further than-” he stopped himself, unsure if Varian knew about most human customs, like one-night stands.

“Further than a one-night stand?” Varian asked. “Yeah, I know.” His fingers dug a bit into Hugo’s shirt. “Then what makes me so different?”

Hugo snorted. “What doesn’t? You fascinate me, Varian. You’re smart, and gorgeous, and so… new. I like new.” 

“So… not many smart and gorgeous humans on earth, I take it?”

Hugo shrugged. “That’s not what I meant. I felt drawn to you. And when you kissed me? It felt so different. It was… it felt right.”

Varian slowly uncurled his fingers. “Don’t say that. What you felt? That wasn’t some sort of ‘love at first sight’, that was me. I told you I can’t control it.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” Hugo looked at him. “I still want to kiss you, Varian.”

Varian’s cheeks flushed. “No you don’t.”

Hugo stood, gently cupping Varian’s cheek. “Kiss me now, then. Don’t use your power, just kiss me.”

Varian still looked unsure. “And what if you’re wrong?”

Hugo leaned forward. “I’m not.” His lips brushed against Varian’s. “What do you say, Baby Blue?”

Varian leaned up, his breath mixing with Hugo’s. “I want you to kiss me too.”

Without another word, their lips met in a much deeper kiss than the first time. Immediately Hugo felt it again. That genuine passion that made him want to deepen it, so he did. He held Varian closer against him, taking in how it felt, why Varian’s lips against his felt so different than any other time he’d kissed someone. Whatever this was, Hugo didn’t want it to stop.

[whispersafterdusk]

Lost in Time - ch 18

Getting around in Portia was pretty dang easy, all things considered.  It was a peaceful town; no one really expected theft or violence.

If she was an actual thief this would have been a dream playground.

But she wasn't.  She was far more than a thief -- even thinking of herself in that manner was insulting.  She was here for information...even the smallest detail could be important back home, and she was exceptionally good at picking out the right kind of details. ((Continued below cut))

With the simple locks on all the doors here in town it was ridiculously easy to go poking around for information; she'd always walked with a quiet and careful step and had spent her childhood accidentally "sneaking" up on people, which had drawn the attention of Duvos's allies within Lucien.  Between her mother's tips and tricks and some rigorous training within Duvos's armed forces she'd been a talented snoop even before she'd stolen her mother's scouting suit. This Portia job was considerably easier than any assignment she'd been given before and even without the suit on she could read everyone's mail, eavesdrop on whoever she wanted, she'd planted the Uplifter manual in a box in the neighboring clinic to uphold the illusion that it had been misplaced rather than stolen and carefully memorized, and Dr. Xu's desk always had up to date information regarding the upcoming construction effort to expand the clinic into a school and install the All Source AI here.

Everything she could feasibly find pertinent to her mission here was all within easy reach.

Dr. Xu's desk also held something far more interesting than the construction information too: she'd accidentally stumbled on some counseling records on one Elizabeth Summers...the folder that held them was dog-eared and worn -- they'd looked more used than the others there and that had drawn her attention.  Reading through those had been... To think that someone could have survived inside a fancy, high-tech tank for three hundred years. It seemed impossible and yet at the same time she had to marvel at what mankind had been capable of creating in ancient times, and she felt a sharp pang of jealousy and loss when she considered just how much they'd lost in the Calamity.

All that knowledge that woman must be carrying...first-hand information regarding the Old World -- advanced medical knowledge AND technical knowledge! That would make Duvos unstoppable if they had that in their grasp, and if only she'd known sooner about Summers then they could have planned to snatch her as well when they made their move for the AI.

Oh well.  If not now then in the future -- Duvos was going to eventually win.  They had to - their worldwide plans for humanity were too important to let sit unimagined: gathering everyone under ONE banner, ONE leadership, and everyone taken care of so there'd be no more fighting over dwindling Old World resources as mankind dug itself out of the crater the Calamity had left them in (a crater that now seemed leagues deeper after what she'd read in the counseling notes).

Granted, she could readily admit that Duvos's methods of getting everyone under one empire were a bit heavy-handed; it was understandable that the wider world wanted nothing to do with a nation they saw as violent warmongers.  But that opinion only made sense if people didn't bother to look beyond the outermost layer of the empire -- no one ever dug deeper to truly understand how Duvos was striving to take care of its citizens. One thing Lily appreciated about Duvos's claim to technology was everything they discovered or learned was immediately turned toward the empire's benefit, and its citizens reaped the rewards with more and higher paying jobs, higher crop yields of ever increasing quality, and the feeling of security knowing that THEY, at least, had nothing to fear from other nations daring to come in and take it all away.

Duvos would get the world back on track to becoming that utopia it had once been in ages past, and that would be so much easier if the city states and neighboring nations would just join together and stand shoulder to shoulder beneath the empire's banner.

It was an inevitable future that she wished the rest of the continent would see the sense in, and if they'd all just pick the easy route...

She'd spotted Evangeline walking down the road toward the harbor a few days ago and while she hadn't seen her since, nor had she seen Marcus, if she was here then he was too and it was good to know they had arrived and would be ready to move when the time came.  

There would be more than them, of course; as a security measure Lily didn't know who to expect (Marcus and Evangeline WOULD, though) but knew there'd be at least two more because Xan's original plan had been simple and to the point: once the All Source AI had been moved to the clinic they would break in, disable it, and take it and all its attached computer parts out to the open desert where a plane would be landing to take them all back to Duvos.  It had some inherent risk to it (all plans of that nature would) but they'd all been satisfied with it and everyone knew exactly what part they would have to play to make it happen.

NOW, however, with what amounted to a body double of the doctor that ran that clinic, they could step back and go a bit slower at it...carefully take things apart, pack them separately and carry it all out a little bit at a time over the course of a few hours instead of a mad rush with all of it on them at one time.  She was certain whoever else was sent along to help wouldn't mind the change in the plan, especially since Xan himself approved of it.

And they'd have Harrison on hand to help dispel any suspicion -- Lily didn't believe in any gods or anything like fate but the coincidence of the two men sounding so much alike AND there being a machine that could alter one to look like the other was almost enough to make her consider offering a "thank you" to the cosmos.  Harrison wasn't exactly the heroic type either and all he'd have to do is do as he was told to get his family and teacher back safe and sound - she couldn't see him being bold enough to try anything and risk someone getting killed so she didn't feel even the slightest hint of guilt over it!

Speaking of doing what she was supposed to do... Lily shook herself out of her thoughts and glanced behind her at the path she was leaving in the field as she walked.  The mud beneath her feet sucked at her boots but it did make it incredibly easy to push in the little colored row markers Sophie had given her; the farm had a multi-bladed plow contraption that was hauled along behind a sturdy draft horse and the old woman liked to have these markers out before the plowing started so not only would the rows be simple to keep evenly spaced but also so it was clear what seed was going where in the fields when planting time came (she'd tried explaining something about crop rotations and whatnot but Lily had honestly tuned her out halfway through her rambling).  

White for wheat (there was a LOT of white markers), yellow for cornballs (also quite numerous), various shades of green for peas, leafy greens, peppers, bamboo papaya, bright orange for potato fruit, purple for pumpkins, and bright blue for layered carrots.  She'd already marked out a small plot up near the farmhouse for herbs as well...she'd had the passing thought of asking for a plot to plant some flowers just so there'd be something here she'd actually enjoy tending to but there wouldn't be much point in that being as she'd be leaving soon anyway.  

Maybe when it was all said and done and Duvos had united everyone Lily could switch careers and get into some manner of horticulture.  It would be harder work than spying but it was hard to ignore how much she loved seeing  and caring for brightly colored blooms.

It was good to have goals, no matter how far out into the future they seemed.

...maybe they would start construction soon while the ground was soft, and all her goals would shift forward a bit in time.

--------------------------------------

Between training in the mornings, taking on her new patrols and postings in the early afternoon, and training Toby in the late afternoon through early evening, by the time bed time rolled around Eli was only too happy to crawl under the blankets and pass out.  

It felt good to be so active.  It was like being back in...

 Don't-

...no.  She couldn't shut this particular thing out.  That was too big a part of who she was.  She might not be in charge of this "squad" but it was like coming home; maybe it was the only real thing she COULD refer to as "home."  It was a topic she'd discussed with Dr. Xu during their sessions and they'd been carefully untangling her feelings regarding the whole thing: survivor's guilt, mourning what she'd lost, and trying not to feel guilty over building a new life that resembled her old one.  If she was going to keep moving forward then she had to stop blocking things out.

So.  Yes.  She could admit to herself it was like being back in her squad.  She NEEDED to admit that to herself, and embrace and understand everything that came with it, no matter how painful.

She'd just stepped through the doorway of her room when she heard pounding feet coming up behind her; as she turned Selene - smudged with oil and red in the face - came into view and the woman broke into a wide smile as she spotted Eli standing there.

"Oh good - I caught you before you fell asleep.  It's done!"

"...which "it" are we talking about here?" Eli prompted after a pause; her tired brain couldn't recall if Selene had mentioned anything nearing completion recently aside from work on cutting through the door.

"The rifle!" Selene laughed.  "Remington managed to find the pieces so I could cast off them and now I've got it all assembled -- I've got some ammo made too."

"Oh.  Well, wasn't expecting that."  Eli rubbed at her eyes and turned to follow as Selene gestured for her to come along; Selene practically jogged back to her factory while Eli followed at a brisk walking pace.  

The factory was still working away at making the components needed for the signal towers so it was as noisy as ever inside the building -- a section of the shelves against the wall that normally held Selene's collection of tools had been cleared away and there were neat rows of pieces and parts all laying together and shining brightly in the overhead lights.  A quick count showed that at least four signal towers' worth of parts was there...slowly but surely they'd have them done, assembled, and installed.

Selene led her over to a workbench against the wall to their left; sitting on a makeshift metal stand was a rifle that, while not quite what Eli had been using three hundred years ago, still looked enough like a rifle that she could immediately pick out all the individual elements in the weapon:

The safety was there above the trigger guard, the chamber was left open (it was a bolt action-style rifle), there was a polished set of iron sights installed on the barrel, and it looked like the butt was a decently thick section of rubber that had been repurposed off something else judging by the rubber remnants sitting in a pile next to a bin full of scrap.  Sitting in a semicircle beneath the rifle stand were nine bullets; they weren't a caliber she was familiar with (she felt it was safe to assume that they didn't measure bullets in the same way anymore). They were larger than the ones that went into the revolver she was carrying but smaller than the ones she utilized three hundred years ago and she was already debating how she wanted to carry them on her.

"I had Ack help me line the sights up - he may be a cook but his eyes work way better than any human's eyes would," Selene said as she carefully lifted the rifle off the stand and held it out to her.  "And, while they weren't exactly thrilled I DID have Merlin and Petra show me some ancient designs.  I based this on one of those old guns but had to use what I'm able to make so it has the uh - the little thingy-"

"It's bolt action," Eli interrupted with a chuckle as Selene gestured at the chamber.  "I know.  Back in my day these were automatic and you just loaded in a magazine that had a lot of rounds in it and they cycled as the trigger was pulled. True bolt actions were usually reserved for marksman competitions."

"Yes, that - the automatic thing I mean" Selene said with a giggle.   "I saw how it worked in that design but I just don't have what's needed to craft something like that reliably. Looking at that old stuff was weird though, since some of them had ammo that was like sand...?"

At the builder's question Eli nodded as she turned the rifle over in her hands; it was heavy, sturdy.  "I'm surprised you had plans or pictures of those still... They were specialized plasma rifles and they didn't use typical ammo.  They were also expensive as hell and broke down rather easily if you didn't keep them immaculately clean.   Basically grains of the ammo would fall into the chamber, and in one split instant would be turned to plasma and ejected -- that's the really, really, REALLY simple explanation.  I don't know enough of the science behind it to tell you exactly how to make one of those.  Heck, I doubt I could tell you enough on how to break down and clean one of them since I've only ever fired one a handful of times on a shooting range."

She picked up a bullet and slotted it into the chamber, then tested how the bolt moved; it was sticking ever so slightly - thinking on it Eli realized Selene probably didn't know how to grease or oil anything like this so before she even thought of test firing she should check the rifle out herself piece by piece.

"Has a bit of a stick to it.  Want to learn where all the grease is supposed to go?"

Selene thought a moment, then nodded.  "Might as well.  I greased and oiled what I thought needed it but I guess I didn't get enough in the right places."

Eli ejected the bullet and placed it back with the others then returned the rifle to the stand.  "It's possible, but it's also possible that whatever you're using might not be the right sort of thing for the job. We can go over that tomorrow though - I'm totally wiped for the night."

"Well why didn't you say something?" Selene huffed.  "It's not like it's going anywhere."

"It's fine," Eli chuckled.  She headed toward the door with Selene following along at her elbow.  "I'm always tired in the evenings lately...I swear, eventually I'll be back in top shape."

"And, then you won't be tired?"

"No, I'll be LESS tired," Eli corrected.

Selene stuck her tongue out at her.  "But still tired and you should mention that the next time I have something to show you so I don't drag you out of the house again."

"Fine fine," Eli grumbled, but smiled afterward.

They headed back inside the house with Eli headed toward her room again; Selene headed into the kitchen and a moment later stuck her head back through the door.

"Oh, by the way - I got more butter."

"Beat me to it, thanks," Eli called back over a shoulder as she again stepped through the doorway to her room and carefully closed the door behind her, and then leaned against the door as she debated grabbing a snack before bed now that she knew butter was back in the house.

Frequenting Martha's for loaves of that raisin bread was becoming a habit -- partly because she and Selene both went through a loaf in about two days (toasted and with a smear of butter was an amazing treat) and also because Eli wanted to try and help Martha offset any miscellaneous costs that might be cropping up because of her training Toby.  She already knew he was going through paper as he made himself reference notes and pictures but when she started in with the physical training aspect there'd be a possible uptick in food costs, and clothes would need replacing if they got torn or stained, boots would wear out quicker...

As she stood there just inside her door she could feel weariness pressing in like a weighted blanket dropped over her head; it was probably too late in the evening for a snack anyway, and if she had a slice of the bread now there wouldn't be enough left for their breakfast.

Pinky was sitting in the middle of her bed again; she rolled the cat over to make enough room to get her legs on the bed and under the covers, then settled in against her pillow.  As usual Pinky took her time getting comfortable and Eli winced a bit as the heavy animal briefly stepped across her knees; her legs were sore from all the walking she'd done today but she couldn't be bothered to get up to take an aspirin at the moment, and she mentally reminded herself she needed to pick up another bottle of it from Dr. Xu when she went in for her next therapy session.

They would be starting the construction on the expansion soon...Selene was nearly through that door.  She WOULD have been through the door yesterday if she hadn't run out of fuel for her cutting torch; it was quicker to order it from Vega 5 and have it shipped here than it was for her to gather up what was needed and try to refine it herself so during this little waiting period she was focusing fully on getting those signal transmitters finished and assembled.

That was going to be...interesting.  Those transmitters were going on top of tall metal towers and it promised to be a heck of a climb to reach the top, and there was the question of how they would haul the transmitter up there with them.  They would weigh about forty pounds each which wasn't TOO heavy, technically, but they'd be bulky and someone would be carrying one up a ladder...they should probably rig up a temporary pulley system to make it easier and safer on everyone involved when the time came to install them.

Well, whatever.  That was a problem for Future-Eli.  Now-Eli just wanted to go to sleep, and for her left calf to stop cramping.

Right as she was dozing off there was a quick knock at her door.

"Hey Eli - sorry to bug you but Asher's wondering if you're still up."

A couple of thoughts immediately raced through her mind: had the spy been caught?  Had the spy hurt someone?  If this wasn't a case of life or death should she strangle Asher now or wait until morning?

"M'awake," she mumbled.  She rolled out of bed (and Pinky immediately reclaimed her spot in the middle of the mattress) and paused long enough to put a bra back on before opening the door and padding barefoot to the living room where Asher was sitting on the sofa.

He was perched on the edge of the cushions, elbows braced on his knees and actually twiddling his thumbs as one heel bounced up and down.  When she came through the door his head jerked up to look at her; his expression was grim and she felt a small jolt of worry shoot through her.

"What's up?"

He opened his mouth to reply then paused to look her up and down.  "-uh."

"Yes, I'm wearing duck-printed pajamas, it's what I pulled out of the drawer tonight.  Why are you here?" Eli asked, trying to keep the hard edge of 'authority' out of her tone -- she was NOT in charge, Asher was NOT her subordinate, and it wasn't fair to be annoyed at him since she doubted he'd be making a social call this late at night.

"It's - well, I was hoping to talk on the way."

"The way where?"

Asher bit his lower lip and then huffed out a sigh.  "Graveyard."

Eli's eyes narrowed and she spun on a heel to rush back to her room and get clothes, boots, and her holster on.  Asher was standing at the door when she came back and she followed him out into the night; he set a quick pace across the yard and waited until they were beyond the gate before he spoke.

"Remington and I were walking to the Corps building from the Round Table, saw a light in the graveyard -- was pretty low to the ground, Remington was worried someone had left a candle lit out there so we went to have a look.  Right as we went through the gate someone took a potshot at us - it was way wide so I'm thinking it was clearly meant to be a warning shot, or a distraction to let whoever it was get away.   Remington went for back up and I kept going, looking and listening and using the stones as cover.  I combed the place over and didn't see anyone or get any more bullets in my direction, but..."

He trailed off as they came to the graveyard's gate, and pulled out a small flashlight and clicked it on; Eli tensed up and scanned the area, marking every shadow and mentally putting herself on high alert for any sort of movement or sound.  Asher seemed cautious but not nearly as cautious as she would have been with an active shooter on the loose; he knew exactly where he was going and about six graves in Eli realized where he was leading her.

Darren's grave was very distinct compared to the ones around it, and in the light of the flashlight she could see a message scorched across the stone:

 Neither Portia nor the world needs you

She felt the bite of her nails against her palms as her fists clenched, and there was the roar of her own blood in her ears as an immediate rage hit her.

"Oh you fucking did not, you bastard," Eli snarled before she could stop herself.  

"...what?" Asher asked after a moment.

...that had come out in Dubeian. Probably good that it had.  "I am not translating that," she replied.  She took a deep breath and slowly relaxed her hands; her palms were still stinging.  "And you didn't see anyone?"

Asher shook his head and quickly panned the flashlight's beam around the grave - the grass was flattened but none of the tracks were clear.   "Nope.  And I'm thinking I know why."

She tore her gaze from the gravestone and looked over to him; he was looking at her with a clear expression of concern on his face.  "You're thinking the spy's figured out who I am and where I came from."

"Duvos likes their technology-"

"-so they're going to make me a target, got it," Eli interrupted.   She reached out and took the flashlight from him and squatted to get a better look at the trampled grass.

As she'd initially determined the tracks weren't clear; they were all muddled together and she couldn't get a feel for the size or type of footwear that had been tramping around here and, for some reason, they simply stopped at the edges of the nearby graves.  She stood and had a look at the next grave over and could see grass and mud smeared across the top, and similar smears were on the base of the grave beyond that.

"...almost looks like our perp jumped from tombstone to tombstone to hide their tracks, except for here because they wouldn't have been able to balance on the bottom of Darren's stone AND do their fucking defacing without burning their own face off," she muttered.  "So what's their damn aim...try and intimidate me into leaving town and grab me off the road?  They picked the wrong bitch to try and scare off, I can tell you that much...  Where's everyone else?"

Asher gestured beyond the fence line.  "Sam went out that way, Arlo took Remington and went to check the ruins down the hill, and Mali is checking 'round the church and along the walls.  I cleared the cafe, commerce guild, and apartments, then got sent to go get you.  Adam's on alert out at the facility."

With a sigh that trailed out into a growl Eli ran a hand through her hair to push it back into place; some goddamn-- could she even blame this on the spy?  That had been both their immediate suspicions, and if Duvos knew about her she supposed it would make sense for them to try and grab her, but what if it wasn't even related to that?  Could be some church crony...Portia got a lot of tourists, ANYONE could slip in pretending to be there for the scenery.

"Have you told Gale yet?"

Asher shook his head.  "Not yet - Arlo wanted to clear the area first since we've got undeniable proof that there's an armed whoever out there.  Can't really let them have the run of the town.  I'm thinking they're long gone though -- no idea where to, but I doubt we're going to find them."

"And if they'd wanted to actually shoot one of you they could have..." Eli said quietly.  "You'd have to be a piss poor shot to miss a target that doesn't even know you're there."

"Yep.  And they could have followed up in the confusion too - we didn't know where it'd come from at first."

Eli panned the flashlight around slowly, marking out where the mud smears and even a few tufts of grass led; it looked like whoever it was had jumped the fence at the back of the graveyard...  She walked over and looked up and down the fenceline and could see where the grass had been disturbed but was quickly recovering from the trampling. With a grunt she vaulted over the fence and headed out, only vaguely aware of Asher calling for her to wait for him; he'd said Sam had gone out this way so maybe she'd found something by now.  

This was part of the tree farm so somewhere out here she'd come across the now well-worn footpath that would lead out to the facility; of course, there were also a lot of ruined buildings out this way that, while they'd been stripped down of anything useful, were still decently intact and could house and hide any number of persons who managed to get inside.  

Those ruins would both take time to clear and be especially dangerous to do so.

So much for sleeping tonight.

------------------------------------------

"At the very least Lee assures me that he knows of no such Church agent within Portia, and frankly he seemed genuinely disgusted and concerned by the idea that someone would fire on an innocent like that - not even enforcers would dare be so reckless."

Asher was only half-listening to the man; he was somewhat distracted by the burning need to find whoever it was that had shot at them AND defaced the gravestone so he could pound them into a fine paste.   Competing with that need was the thought that he couldn't decide if it would be better or worse for this latest development to be unrelated to the spy -- it COULD be someone related to the Church in some way - either a rogue enforcer or some random nobody who heard rumors and came to deal with it themselves: vigilantes weren't common but Asher had run into them enough times to know that if someone got it into their head that only THEIR narrowly defined world view was the right view then they felt justified in doing whatever they felt needed to be done.  And, of course, it COULD in fact be their spy trying to distract them and spread their numbers thin.  They all knew the facility and Stewart were the spy's target but if Duvos knew about Eli too...

"I feel we've little choice - we need to let the townspeople know at the next town meeting that there's an armed and dangerous person somewhere in the region," Arlo spoke up then.  "We can't risk someone getting hurt because they didn't know to be on the lookout."

"But the next meeting isn't for another couple days," Sam said.  "Do we want to risk something happening in the meantime?  Or risk letting whoever this is walk out of town freely?"

Remington shook his head.  "We can't do much about them leaving - we have no idea what this person looks like, and while it's not TOO common we do get folks coming through Portia who carry sidearms on them.  Not every traveler with a gun is going to be the person we're looking for."

That was something Asher agreed with. Guns weren't plentiful but they were still around, and while they tended to be small or have limited range they were still quite dangerous.  Thankfully a lot of them weren't all that accurate and so he'd spent all night (because who in the world could sleep after knowing someone shot at them?) wavering back and forth between believing it had been just a warning shot meant to distract them or if the person had actually intended to hit them but the weapon or their skill was at fault for the wide shot.  He was leaning more toward the warning shot still since, even though he and Remington had ducked for cover immediately, there had been plenty of time for follow up shots that hadn't come...but was he willing to stake lives on that assessment?  Even if THIS had been just a warning there might not be a warning the NEXT time.

"I think we need to tell everyone, immediately," Asher spoke up then.  "And I agree that not everyone with a gun is our troublemaker but if we see anyone armed we should at least keep an eye on them if we can.   Our guy probably came in over the fence from the tree farm, same way they left too - can we close the tree farm to any tourists?  Whoever this is might not be deterred by the need to scale the fence versus walking through the gate but at the very least we'd cut down on the traffic in the area since regular folks would be kept away."

Gale nodded.  "That's an idea -- better to disappoint people than put them in danger or let our culprit have the run of the farm."

Asher saw Eli stir out of the corner of his eye.  "Do many people tour the tree farm?" she asked.

"From early spring to early fall we do get a surprising number of folks wanting to see the apple blossoms and pick the fruit, and Dawa keeps a section of just the fruiting trees for that purpose.  Portia's emergency funds can certainly cover any lost wages that'll come from curtailing traffic to the farm."

"For now that seems like a good idea, and in the near future we're going to have all the signal towers up so that'll help us coordinate keeping an eye on things.  I told Selene about our newest visitor's antics and she's going to pull double duty to get everything made," Eli went on.  "We'll need to borrow some muscle to get them up and installed but then we'll all be in contact with one another no matter where we are in Portia."

Asher watched as she lifted and then waggled the wrist that her Hi-Def was strapped to.  "-that would make life a lot easier," he said into the pause that followed.  "One of us spots something, we ALL know about it immediately."

"Have we heard anything from anyone else?" Remington asked.  He was looking at Mali, and Asher turned his attention to her as well.

"No," Mali replied.  "So far as the Alliance's spies and scouts can tell nothing has changed within Duvos's territory -- no increases in labor, material acquisitions, or troop movements.  They're still occupying the Orzu Ruins and saber rattling at Ethea but nothing has escalated and we've not heard of any secret plans of theirs in the circles our spies have infiltrated.  If this person is working under direct orders from Duvos higher ups they're keeping it very well hidden."

Gale stood up and pressed his hands against his desk, slowly panning his gaze to look at all of them one at a time.  "All right then, it seems we have a tentative plan -- I'll spread word, and I hope you all will as well, that we're to have an emergency town meeting tomorrow night.  I would aim for tonight but I worry that wouldn't be enough time to make sure everyone knows about it -- we'll be cautious, and keep our eyes peeled for any trouble, and I'll go to Dawa immediately after this to instruct him to close the tree farm to everyone except for those there strictly for business purposes."

There was a lot of nodding at that; Gale inhaled and exhaled slowly and then moved out from around his desk only to pause and look toward Eli as she cleared her throat.

"Not to uh...sour the mood further, but what's your protocol on shooting to kill?"

The room went silent; all eyes, Asher's included, moved to Eli.  He supposed he shouldn't be surprised by it (she'd already shot at the spy once) but with the exception of Remington and Mali it seemed everyone else definitely was.

After a moment of no responses Eli shrugged.  "Sorry, but it needs to be made clear right now.  I'm armed, and I've already tried to put a bullet into our visitor once -- I wasn't wanting to kill and I didn't hit them anyway but I was ready to accept whatever consequences would've followed if I had, because I was essentially a private citizen then.   Now I'm part of your law enforcement.  I need to know if I'm allowed to use lethal force if it comes to it."

"IF it comes to that," Arlo said; his tone was a bit strained -- Asher wondered if the man had ever really stopped to think about taking a life.  None of the Civil Corps here seemed to carry a weapon and he doubted they'd ever been placed in a "them or me" situation with anything other than a rogue monster or robot (he knew Remington had seen action in Lucien so that would explain why the man didn't look so shocked at her question).  Cutting down some leftover relic or rampaging beast was a heck of a lot different from having to take down another person.

Eli nodded to him.  "Unfortunately I think it might, now that we know they're armed.  I'll do whatever I can to not let it get to that point but..."

She trailed off; Mali was nodding at her and Arlo noticed it.  For a long moment Arlo looked between Mali and Eli, then sighed and looked to Gale.  "I'd hear your opinion on this."

Gale pressed his lips together.  "Well..." he started, drawing the word out.  "You all know I've seen action myself.  The thought of killing is as abhorrent now as it was then but sometimes, you're not given a choice."  He turned to look to Eli.  "Being as you were formally trained and were a ranking member of your military I imagine you would know when it's time to use lethal force or not, and I feel I can trust you to use your judgement to avoid any unneeded loss of life."

"I appreciate the trust and I won't let you down," Eli replied.  "I'm not about to let this story become a murder mystery."

Arlo, Remington, Sam, and Gale all nodded knowingly; Asher looked to Mali and saw a hint of the same confusion he was feeling at the moment but Gale was ushering them out of his office now so he hurried out ahead of the others.

The sun was just starting to come up - a reminder that they'd all gotten hardly any or, in some cases, no sleep at all.  Asher had a running record of three days without sleep and hoped he wasn't going to be breaking that record in the upcoming days; Mali immediately headed out through Portia's gates to head back to the facility while Gale's steps appeared to be leading him back to his house.

"-any orders for the morning, Arlo?" Asher asked after a moment.

"I'd like you and Eli to comb the area over again, then separate out into your patrol patterns.  Sam - take on Remington's patrols this morning.  Remington - I'll need you with me.  I was supposed to be escorting Selene into the ruins to break down that door and get it ready to be hauled out to the facility to be installed but with her needing to focus on getting the signal transmitters done you and I will have to handle it ourselves.  She's showed me how to disconnect most of the wiring we'd be encountering so our task is to get it detached from the wall however we can and stacked together to be moved out of there.  Mint is taking charge of getting the install site prepped and ready and he'll be leading a team to retrieve the door when they're ready."

Ha, he'd almost forgotten about the plans for that security door; with that installed they wouldn't need constant surveillance for the facility.  That would be one less thing to juggle schedules with and maybe then they could focus on turning over every rock and blade of grass, and check every nook and cranny of the Portian countryside to find whoever their little visitor was and get them out of the picture.

They all began to separate out into their assigned duties; Asher walked side by side with Eli up the hill toward the graveyard again.  He felt a little jolt of anxiety up his spine as he walked through the gate into the graveyard but there weren't any shots fired at him again, nor did there appear to be anyone here.

"I'll take the northern half, you go south?" he asked.

Eli nodded and headed off without complaint -- which he was glad for as he'd purposely given himself the northern area because that's where Darren's defaced tombstone was and he didn't want her to have to face that again.

As he suspected there wasn't anything out of place or different from when they'd checked the area over earlier; the grass had mostly recovered from being walked on and if not for the mud smears on the gravestones you'd be hard pressed to tell that anyone had been through the graveyard recently.  

Still, he and Eli spent a good amount of time examining every stone and the strip of land on either side of the fence; then, with the sun up and his Hi-Def indicating it was going on nine o'clock, they both hopped the fence a final time and headed out into the tree farm.  

"So...if we were back in your time, how would you be handling this?" he asked as they walked.

For a few steps she didn't answer.  "...well, back then we had AI drones.  They could fly and cover a large amount of ground.  And, we had people out on foot searching too with specialized equipment."

"Did you have to do many manhunts like this?"

She shook her head.  "Usually they were rescue missions but sometimes yeah, we had armed people out making trouble."  She paused, then let out a snort.  "What I wouldn't give for my armor kit.  Weighed an absolute ton but it could withstand being shot by most weapons.  Having to do all this, LIKE this...makes me feel pretty damn useless."

"What?  How?"

She waved a hand.  "Nevermind.  Don't really feel like getting into it at the moment."

"Right.  Sorry," he said in a rush.  Once they got to the rear of the tree farm they would need to split off into their patrol routes.  "So, uh..."

"Hmm?"

"We get done - meet up for lunch?"

They continued on in silence for several more steps.  "-maybe.  Depends on what's happened by then."

He let out a sort of helpless chuckle.  "Yeah, true."

Again they walked on in silence and reached the point where their routes went in different directions; Asher walked along his for a few feet then turned around.  "Hey, Eli?" She stopped and looked over a shoulder at him. "What was the story comment about?"

"I'll tell you over lunch."

He grinned and started back along his patrol route.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

I Can’t Eat Love pt 32

Next part is here! There will be two more parts after this, and then 4 side parts (which will continue the main story a little as well). 

Master post linked here

Enjoy!

_________________________

“Miss, do you really think the Queen is in danger?” Lia, sitting across from me in the carriage, looked pale and stressed.

It was the second day of the trip, which had already been very uncomfortable, as I had only allowed minimal breaks, trying to make it back as quickly as possible. I shifted in my seat, feeling sore, and stared out of the window at the passing terrain.

“Hopefully this is just a wasted trip.” I answered softly. “But something is wrong… I just don’t know what it is yet.” 

“What about Prince Nathaniel?” She twisted a handkerchief in her hands. “Do you think he’ll be safe?”

I didn’t know what to say.

I was worried about Nate, my thoughts shifting constantly to what dangers he might be facing. Multiple times I considered turning the carriage around and heading towards the border, but each time resisted the urge. I knew Nate could take care of himself, he would take precautions. But if the Queen was in danger? She would need me. 

Not that this made me feel any better.

“…” I didn’t respond this time, my expression glum. Hallers, sitting at the front of the carriage, cleared his throat meaningfully, causing Lia to flush with embarrassment and apologize.

“I’m sorry, Miss, I shouldn’t be asking such foolish questions and trying to worry you further…” 

“It’s okay.” I rubbed my forehead. “None of this is your fault.”

There was a short silence, which was suddenly broken by the sound of rapid hoofbeats.

“What’s going on…?” Lia started to ask, but I had already stood up, leaning out through the window and looking ahead.

Rig had been scouting ahead of us on horseback, but he was now riding back towards us at full speed, his face pale. 

“GET THE CARRIAGE OFF THE ROAD!” He snapped at the driver on arriving. He turned, seeing my anxious expression and forcing a smile. “We’ll be okay. We need to hide.”

“What’s coming?” I asked, feeling uncertain.

“Men. A lot of them.”

 The driver took us off the road, into the nearest forest, until we were far out of sight of anyone traveling.  Rig, quickly and quietly instructing us to stay hidden, took off on foot. Ignoring Hallers and Lia’s calls to come back, I exited the coach and followed him.

Fortunately I had chosen a simpler dress for travel. It was nowhere near as comfortable as the spying clothing I had worn previously, but this at least wasn’t too restrictive. I followed behind Rig silently, hiding behind a thick area of bushes as we watched the road.

“Why didn’t you stay in the carriage?!” Rig snapped.

 “I’m watching your back.”

 “Who says I need you…?”

“Shush! They’re coming!” We glared at each other for a few moments before turning our attention to the rode. The sounds of horses came closer, interspersed with men talking and laughing. We dug in deeper, looking on silently as they passed by.

Bandits?

About 30 or so men, all dressed in ragged dirty clothing. At first glance they seemed like a large but otherwise typical gang, but the longer I watched, the more things seemed to not make sense.

They were riding in an organized group, the horses all high quality mounts. Their swords and bows seemed well maintained, cleaned and ready for war. They seemed to know and treat each other well. Even as they joked with one another, it was fairly tame, their words fading into silence when the leader turned an eye in their direction.

These were ruleless, directionless bandits? They seemed more like… like… 

Military.

I felt the blood drain from my face, icy cold panic gripping my heart as I recognized the direction they were heading. I wanted to speak out, to yell, to fight. But I could only regulate my breathing, trying to blend into the background as one “bandit” slowed down, pausing near our hiding place. 

“What’s wrong, Sarg?” Another man paused and asked.

He shook his head, pointing at the path. “There are carriage tracks going off the road here.”  Looking up, he stared into the forest. I wanted to hide deeper into the bushes, but knew that any movement would simply draw his attention. I held my breath.

“Who cares? It’s not like we’re actually here to rob travelers!” The second man clapped the first on the back, laughing. 

“But we don’t want witnesses…” The man he had called “Sarg” muttered, still staring.

I gripped my knife from my pocket, ready to fight. Beside me I could feel Rig tensing as well. We wouldn’t let them attack the carriage. Hallers, Lia and the driver were still there. There were too many of them for us two to succeed... but maybe we could hold them off long enough for them to escape.

I tightened my grip, preparing to spring into action.

“GET BACK IN LINE!” The leader shouted. “WE DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!”

“Okay, Captain!” The smiling man answered, pulling along his friend. “Come on, Sarg! We can’t keep him waiting!”

“…” The man stared out silently into the woods for a few more moments before retrieving his gaze and moving on.

I waited until they were out of sight before letting out a sigh of relief. Rig and I exchanged looks of concern and then headed back towards the carriage. On our arrival, Lia greeted me with a cheer, hugging me tightly.

“Why did you run off?! I was so worried! Hallers said that you were talented at sneaking around and wouldn’t be caught but how could that be?”

I snuck a guilty glance at Hallers, who was studying me with a solemn expression. I guess I hadn’t fooled everybody when I snuck out of the Duchy those few times.

Turning to Rig, I stared at him seriously. “This is bad.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“You need to warn Nate.”

“No.” Rig crossed his arms stubbornly. “I need to protect you.”

“That’s not as important as this.” I pointed in the direction they had left in.  “I know he already suspects that something’s wrong, but those are clearly military men, and thirty more could make a huge difference to a fight. If he doesn’t know what he’s getting into…” I swallowed, my eyes burning. “He could die.”

“What if you need me?” Rig asked, his face uncertain.

“I do. I need you to warn him. Please.”  I was begging, but I couldn’t feel ashamed. Even if I was still sorting out my feelings about Nate, about my past and the uncertainty of the future,  I couldn’t stand by if there was a possibility of him getting hurt. 

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. 

I want to see him. I want to make sure he’s okay… I thought of his smiling face as he promised to be careful, and could barely hold myself back from jumping on a horse and riding back. But I couldn’t abandon the Queen.

Biting my lip, so hard I tasted blood. I looked back up at Rig.

“Please.”

He sighed, reaching out to ruffle my hair with an almost helpless expression. “Don’t look like that, girl. I’ll help him. I promise.” 

My breath came out in a long sigh. I slowly relaxed, smiling up at him. “Thank you.” It wasn’t perfect, but at least Nate wouldn’t be going into a fight blind. 

“Don’t worry so much. He’s family too…” Rig paused, looking at me with a slight grin, “Or least he might be soon.”

He left right after his words, jumping on his horse and riding away, leaving me to stare after him. Does he know how I feel about Nate? Do all of them? Looking at Hallers’ and Lia’s knowing smiles, I found myself blushing and turning away. “Let’s go.”

They followed after me, still smiling.

_________________________

We arrived home, and I immediately contact Rig’s second hand man, asking him for information on the Queen. The dark clothed man stared at me, confused. “Miss, as far as I know, Her Majesty hasn’t left the palace. But…” He shook his head. “I’ll have our people check on her.”

“Please do. The danger to her might be from within the palace itself.” At my cautioning words the man went pale, before slowly nodding.

“And send a message to Angela, the Lady’s maid within the Count of Erand’s home. She’s the one who sent the warning.” I hesitated. “She may be a traitor, be careful.” 

“Yes, Miss.” He walked away.

I stared after him, hoping that he would find everything was all right. Sighing, I went to find Henry.

_________________________

 “WHAT IS THAT IDIOT DOING? DOES HE WANT A WAR? Because that’s how you start one!” Henry angrily watered the plants in the office as he spoke, his motions jerky as he moved from pot to pot.  

Having just explained my suspicions regarding the “bandits” on the border, I just sat back, thinking his words over. “There’s no real evidence that these men are from Reterand. Even if they kill …” I paused, unable to say the words out loud. “…Even if that plan succeeds, it would be difficult to trace back to him. The question is why…”

If the king only wanted Nate dead, he would have sent assassins which would be more efficient. It meant he had some other purpose in this plan. I just didn’t know what.

“Well, if that bastard hurts my plant heist friend…” Henry paused, his face grim. “I’ll get revenge in the most evil way I know how.”

I was genuinely curious. “How is that?”

Henry chuckled viciously, rubbing his hands together. “Steal the royal lily breed their gardener has been cultivating.”

“Yes… I’m sure that will crush him.” 

Looking around the room, which had previously been my office, I couldn’t help but laugh. “You really made yourself at home, cousin.” There were plants crammed into every spare space of the office, even a few pots hanging from the ceiling. My only consolation was that the desk itself was organized, with the paperwork piled neatly. It seemed he was taking his work at the duchy seriously.

Henry followed my gaze, confused. “I just added a few things, though?” Turning away, I heard him add under his breath. “This is only phase 1 of the ultimate plant transformation.”

“…” I ignored his words, feeling I would be better off not knowing.

“Well, if Nate’s in trouble in Tilendria, something really terrible must have happened to bring you here instead of by his side. What’s going on?”

 I paused at his words. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, you look at Nate like I look at my geraniums… like he’s the best thing around.” Henry grinned confidently. “If you marry him, can I make him my official plant heist planner? He’s very talented” 

“…” I shook my head, unwilling to comment. “I received word that the Queen is in danger.”

I quickly explained about the message I received. He shook his head. “I haven’t heard of anything out of the ordinary. She contacts me every few days or so, checking up to see if you’re okay.” He thought it over. “I haven’t heard from her since two days ago though.”

I was surprised. “She checks up on me?”

“All the time.” He reached out, patting my hand. “She obviously cares about you a lot.” Humming, he went back to watering his plants, leaving me to stare and think things over.

This life was so different.

_________________________

I laid in my room, crying, as I had been since I had gotten home from the party yesterday afternoon. Angela had left after a few attempts to comfort me, leaving me alone. 

“What did I do wrong?” I whispered, the sound warped by sobs. “I just wanted to be loved.”

I missed the Queen, she always knew what to do. She was so kind, so loving. Even if my engagement had just been broken, she would come to see me, right?

Hopefully she would be here soon.

_________________________

She had stayed away from me in the days following the broken engagement, not writing, not visiting, ignoring all my letters. Even once I was out on the streets, she simply disowned me and pretended I had died.

My heart hurt at the memory, even as it didn’t make sense with how she had responded in this life. 

Feeling stressed, I decided to make myself some tea. As the water heated, I went to select some tea leaves… and paused. In the corner of the tea cabinet there was a small bag that was unopened.

The tea the Queen had given me the day before Ronan’s birthday party.

 Hadn’t she said it would help relieve stress? Shrugging mentally, I added those tea leaves to the pot, steeping it and bringing it back with me to the office.

I’ll take all the help I can get.

I sat back down and watched Henry fuss over his plants, pouring us both a cup of the tea I had made. My thoughts on the Queen, and the difference between her past and present actions, I idly lifted the cup to my lips, preparing to drink.

CRASH!

I stared down at the cup on the floor, looking at Henry who had swiped it out of my grip, his face calm.

“What’s going on, Henry?” I asked, feeling confused.

“Why are you always drinking poison?” He demanded, rolling his eyes. “It’s starting to make me worry that you have a habit.”

I stiffened in my chair. “Poison?”

He sniffed the tea in his untouched cup, nodding again. “I was about to drink it too, and I noticed the smell. It’s Glat leaf.”

“…” I wasn’t sure what that was.

“It would cause headaches, fatigues, nausea, vomiting and diarrhea.” He spread his hands. “Most people would feel they had simply fallen ill. It can be quite serious, you’d be sick for days at least. More likely a week.” 

I stared at the broken cup on the ground, my heart racing. “Sick for days?”

I thought back to what the conversation had been before the Queen gave me the tea. It wasn’t hers… it was a gift from Edith. 

I stood up.

The Queen had been sick in my previous life. Just before the party where Ronan was to break the engagement, unable to assist me. Allowing me to fall on my own, with only my uncaring parents for support.

Edith had planned everything.

But if she had been that meticulous… then… I groaned, putting my head in my hands. 

The letters were stolen, both mine to her… and hers to me. She could have easily been prevented from seeing me, even if she had come by after she recovered… a few quick lies from my traitorous lady maid.

Edith had been the one to tell me that the Queen had disowned me… considered me dead… I sat back down for a moment, my legs losing strength. I had believed it, believing in what I had seen at the palace that day.

Frowning, I thought back over that day, that I had snuck into the palace.

_________________________

“NOTHING SHE SAYS WILL CHANGE MY MIND! SHE’S DEAD, AND SO I’M STAYING HERE!”

_________________________

I rubbed my temples. She had said something else… something I could barely hear.

_________________________

“…wish… dead.”

What had she said?

“I wish… I were dead with her.”

She truly had thought i was dead. She didn’t hate me, disown me or despise me. 

She loved me. 

In this life and the last. So much that she had locked herself in her room to mourn, refusing to leave. She had never changed. I had only been deceived.

I needed to see her. She had adopted me as her daughter, but I had never treated her like my true mother. I had never had the chance to really tell her how I feel.

“Mother.” I whispered, standing up in a daze.

“Where are you going, Lenora?” Henry asked. “What about this poison?”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. I need to go see the Queen, now.” 

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I’m sure, I’ve already waited a lifetime too long.”

_________________________

I ran out, only taking Hallers and a coachman, too impatient to wait to gather more staff. 

I need to see her. I had to tell her the truth.

 I was so focused as we traveled, that it took me a moment to realize that the carriage had stopped.

“What’s going on…” I paused as we heard the coachman screaming.

Hallers turned to me, his face pale but determined. “Run, Miss, I’ll hold them off!”

He stood up, preparing to fight, but was pulled out of the carriage immediately. I grabbed my knife, but through the window hands reached into the carriage, clamping a cloth around my face. An overly sweet fragrance filled my nostrils, overtaking my mind.

“Mother.” The word was muffled by the cloth. I reached out, my hand reaching out futilely towards the palace. 

I didn’t get to tell you that I loved you, Mother.

I’m sorry.

The world faded into black.

_________________________

 I woke up slowly, every muscle in my body aching.

Where am I? Looking around, I could only see a dark room, lit by a single candle. I tried to move my arms and legs, realizing that I was tightly tied to a chair. The ropes dug into my skin, the pressure making my fingers feel numb. I flexed my hands, trying to wiggle loose, but couldn’t make the ropes budge. I tried a few more times before giving up, feeling tired and dizzy. 

The soft sound of laughter filled the air.

I stiffened in my chair, searching the darkness for the source of the familiar voice. I heard a light tapping, the sounds of shoes against the stone floor, the light rustle of fabric dragging along the ground.

Step by step, my kidnapper came into the light, bending over to study me closer with a gentle smile, but eyes so cruel that my blood ran cold.

Edith finally spoke, her voice filled with triumph.

“Welcome back, sister.”

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

JKR

Joker x reader

Summary:You’re an assassin from out of town that ends up in the middle of the nonsense that is the Joker’s reign of terror during The Dark Knight. Where do you go from here?

Word Count: 2570 

“Does it ever stop raining in this fucking city?” Y/N muttered to herself as the thunder shook the building for what had to have been the millionth time.

“‘Fraid not, my dear!” a chipper-sounding voice answered from the cell next to hers. “Most of the locals know that, though, so let me guess. You’re new in town?”

Her eyes drifted over to look at the speaker and was surprised by what she saw: a man in a surprisingly vibrant green vest with worn-looking clown makeup and green hair that looked downright dingy compared to the vest. “You could say that. And who are you supposed to be?”

A wicked smirk tugged at his red-coated lips. “Oh, no one really. Just the foil to the bit Bat.”

“Who?”

“You really are from out of town!” he cackled. “What’s a beautiful adventurer like you doin’ in a place like big, bad, Gotham?”

“Business,” was her vague answer.

“Must be some interesting business if they have you locked in here with little ol’ me.”

Her attention was stolen by the telltale clanging sounds of approaching guards. “You could say that.” It was her turn to smirk.

“Do you happen to have the time?” he asked abruptly.

The upward quirk of her lip immediately fell in confusion, but she looked around for a clock nonetheless. From her cell, she could just make out the reflection of red numbers in the glass opposite her. “It’s 8:43. Why?”

“Too soon, then,” he muttered, seemingly to himself. His dark eyes seemed to light up when he looked back up at her. “Ooh, are they coming for you?”

Her jaw clenched. “If they are, they’re gonna regret it.”

“Got somethin’ special planned for ‘em?”

She chuckled as she untied her boot to allow her fingers enough room to reach the pocket hidden within. Then she promptly withdrew a small knife. “You could say that.”

“Now how did you get that past the scanner?” He sounded a little impressed despite the little faux pout on his face.

“Ceramic. No metal in it to be spotted on their scanner.”

“Oh, you are a curious one,” he mused, clapping with glee. “Might I ask the name of such a femme fatale before she makes her daring escape?”

“Y/N.”

And then everything turned to chaos.

The guards burst in wearing full riot gear and immediately swarmed Y/N’s cell. The next few minutes saw her doing everything from slashing throats to using guards as meat shields against their teammates’ shots. All this while her neighbor clapped and laughed in unfiltered joy. By the end, she was left standing alone amongst a sea of dead and dying guards.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave,” she announced as she armed herself with a handful of stolen weapons. “Have fun with … whatever it is you’ve got planned.”

“Oh, I will. See you around, Y/N.” His voice shifted lower, became husky as he said her name, drawing a little chill down her spine.

The next several hours were a clusterfuck to say the least. Y/N had been hired by some Italian mobster to take out one Harvey Dent. That was why she was in the city in the first place. She’d gotten arrested during the old Commissioner’s funeral because they’d heightened security due to some threat, and she was caught in the guards’ paranoia. Rightfully so considering her intentions, but it still annoyed her to be waiting around in jail for a chance to escape while her plan just fell to pieces before her.  Then she found out Dent was already kidnapped and half-blown-up in an explosion.

So basically, she was pissed that her straightforward plan to assassinate some DA was becoming more and more difficult by the hour. Changing her plans for a bout the fiftieth time since entering the godforsaken city, she found out what hospital her target was being treated at, and resolvedd to pose as a nurse and drug him. If all went well, it would look like incompetence of a real nurse and that would be the end of that.

Only to run smack into another nurse right outside the door. “Excuse me,” she muttered, keeping her head down. “His doctor told me to prep him for–What the he–” She cut herself off as she recognized the eyes above the surgical-mask-wearing-person that’d just dragged her into an empty room.

“Now, I really doubt that, doll,” he teased, removing his mask. “Ain’t I a lucky one to run into you in such a convenient manner?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question, Missy.” As he spoke he pushed her slowly until her back met the wall, effectively trapping her.

As soon as her back hit the cold surface, she raised a knife to his neck. “I am trying to do the job I was hired to do, and I’m starting to get the sneaking suspicion that you’re the one that keeps fucking up my plans.”

“Ooh, let me guess, you’ve killed people for less?” He started cackling again, seemingly excited by the thought.

She smirked. “You could say that.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t let you kill poor Mr. Dent. I need him for a little game I’m playing with the Batman.” He traced a finger along the blade of the knife just lightly enough that he didn’t cut himself.

“See the problem with that,” she dug the knife in a little deeper, drawing a thin line of blood along the side of his neck, “is if I don’t get this job done, I’m going to have Gotham’s infamous mob after me.”

“And what if I told you that I had that, uh, mob under my thumb?”

“I’d say that when I get paid for a job, I fucking do it.”

He leaned forward until their noses were brushing, inadvertently making the cut deeper. Not that he seemed to care. “Loyalty. I like that.”

She scoffed. “I’m not loyal to those assholes. I just keep my word.”

“Then how about you just … delay his execution for a bit? Let the boy enjoy a little revenge before you kill him?”

Y/N let her eyes roam around his face while she thought about it. He was an interesting one, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about what he had planned. “That, I can do. You keep shitting all over my plans anyway. Which reminds me, it was your guys that shot at the mayor, right?”

“In a manner of, uh, speaking.”

Her eyes lit up as she realized what he was implying. “So you’re the guy I didn’t recognize! I had info on everyone that had checked in to be in that line, and then you showed up instead of the last one.”

“Right you are, dollface, but I’m afraid we’re gonna have to continue this later. I’ve got chaos to spread.” He leaned forward enough just enough that their lips grazed together in the ghost of a kiss.

Y/N was surprised, but not mad at the development, so she allowed the hand holding the knife to fall to her side. “For the record,” she cleared her throat in a poor attempt to hide the fact that she enjoyed that little touch, “the suit looked way better than the nurse getup.”

Again, he cackled, this time backing away a little. “I like you. You should make a quick getaway, sweetheart; things are about to get hot around here.” And then he donned the mask once more and danced out of the room.

The next couple of days went by in a strange blur for Y/N. She mostly spent the time following Harvey around right up until Batman shoved him down a hole in a fatal fall that was significantly aided by the tiny poison dart she shot into his neck once he landed. After that, she mostly lamented the fact that the one interesting person in the city, the Joker she’d since learned, had been captured the night the whole city was threatened.

Never one to do anything she wasn’t getting paid for, Y/N wouldn’t be breaking her amusement out of Arkham, but she did keep her ears open for information about the man. Instead, she tripped over the realization that one Bruce Wayne was Batman when she talked–interrogated–to the man that almost spilled his secret identity on  the news.

Be that as it may, she didn’t expect to return to her apartment from buying groceries to find Wayne himself lounging on her couch. “Apparently I need to call pest control,” she muttered automatically, “someone’s let vermin in.” She slammed her bags down on her kitchen counter in irritation before returning to the living room to stare at her unwelcome guest expectantly.

“I trust I don’t have to tell you to keep your … new knowledge to yourself,” he responded casually. “And you can put that knife away, I’m not here to fight.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” she said despite the fact that she returned the purple-handled pocket knife to her waistband. She’d been amused when she saw it at the store, and bought it on a whim. “I know what you did to my employer. Cost me a paycheck.”

“On the contrary, I’m here to thank you. You helped us save Harvey’s reputation by killing him”

“And made him a fucking martyr. Lovely.”

“And made quite the name for yourself here while you were at it: Red Queen, Killer of Gotham’s White Knight,” he proclaimed. This was immediately followed by a shrug. “At least that’s what the paper said.” His eyes narrowed. “They left out the whole ‘friend of Joker’ part at my request.”

“And yet the name is still derivative. Interesting,” she deadpanned. “Wonder how long it’ll take someone to connect the dots. That being said, I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. All I know is that the news said Mr. Dent died from a fall.”

Another shrug. “They found a dart later, and his system was full of morphine. Enough to kill several men.”

“First I’ve heard of it,” came her cool reply. “And besides, if that’s true how can you possibly be sure that that assassin was connected to the Joker. Let alone that it’s me.”

“If it’s so absurd, how about you explain this,” Wayne prompted, slapping a tablet onto the coffee table between them.

Against her better judgement, Y/N caved to her curiosity and picked up the device. Displayed there in full technicolor was a crystal-clear image of the barely-kiss between the Joker and herself.”

“Now I’m no expert,” his voice was almost mocking now, “but that’s you, and that doesn’t look like you don’t know him.”

“Your point?” Annoyed, she threw the tablet back at him like a frisbee, which he caught much to her displeasure.

“We’re at an impasse on the police front. You know who I am, and I know where you are. The commissioner isn’t looking for you because he’s busy with everything else that’s happening.”

“I don’t tell; you don’t tell. I’m not an idiot, Mr. Wayne.”

“Then as long as you stay away from the Joker we can keep it that way.”

“I don’t appreciate being threatened in my own home, Mr. Wayne,” this time his name was said through gritted teeth.

“And I don’t like assassins coming into my city and shacking up with people like the goddamn Joker. Stay away from him.” With that, he stood and straightened his obviously-expensive suit. “I hope we don’t meet anytime soon, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Fuck off.”

No less than five minutes after the bat-obsessed vigilante left, Y/N heard the front door open again from her place in the kitchen. Cautiously, she retrieved the loaded sawed-off shotgun from its place under the counter. “What’s the matter, Mr. Wayne?” she taunted as she crept from the kitchen to the living room. “Forget something?”

“Replace me already?” a different, familiar voice mocked right back. 

Gun still aimed at approximately chest-high, Y/N rounded the corner. She relaxed somewhat upon recognizing the intruder. “Joker?”

“A shotgun?” He used one finger to push the barrel away, grin beaming all the while. “Woman after my own heart.”

She rolled her eyes but relaxed her grip on the gun so that it hung limply by her side. “I’m not even gonna ask how you found me.”

“But it was so interesting,” he whined playfully. A smirk pulled at his lips.

“Joker,” her voice was warning.

“Oh alright, but you have to tell me about what good ol’ Mr. Wayne wanted. I had to wait out in the cold for him to leave. For hours, Y/N.”

“It’s 70 degrees out.”

“Oh, come on, dollface. What’s with the attitude? I thought we had something special.”

“You damn well why Wayne was here,” she snapped. “First, I make a fucking martyr because I listened to you, and now I’ve got a billionaire breaking into my place threatening to stay away from you! Special or not, I’m in the middle of a Gotham City Shitstorm because of you, and I never even got paid for it!”

“I’m not that blind, sweetheart.” His tongue darted out to lick at his bottom lip. “You love the chaos. You live for it. I’ve seen your record. You only take jobs that you think will be interesting, because you thrive under the pressure.” As he spoke, he stalked closer, forcing her to step back, until he had her pressed against a wall just like last time. “Am. I. Wrong?” Those last words were muttered right beside her ear, breath causing goosebumps to form along her skin.

By that point, Y/N had quietly drawn that knife back out with her free hand and had the tip of the blade pressed lightly against his groin.

“I’d ask if you’ve got a knife to my balls or if you’re happy to see me, but I know you’re happy to see me,” he stated casually.

To that, she rolled her eyes.

“You haven’t answered me yet, sweetheart,” he taunted. He turned his head so those scarred lips brushed against the bare skin of her neck. “You crave the adrenaline from jobs like this, don’t you?”

She shivered. “You could say that,” she smirked as she repeated her answer from the first time they met. 

The Joker used surprisingly gentle fingers to pry the shotgun out of her hand before setting it on a shelf beside them. “So join me. Just,” sharp inhale as her now-free hand slid up to grasp at the front of his vest, “imagine how much fun we could have playing both sides of ol’ Batsy.”

In a flash, she used that free hand to reach up while he was distracted to grab his hair and yank his head back so she could look him in the eye. Granted, she didn’t expect the quiet moan and ensuing giggle from him. Arousing as that was, Y/N chose to ignore it. For now. “And what do you get out of it?”

He practically purred at the question. “You.”

A laugh escaped her at the simplicity of the answer. Impulsively, she started leaving open-mouthed kisses along his exposed throat. “I think I can live with that.”

From there, he positively howled with insane cackling. “Ol’ Gotham won’t know what hit ‘em!”

[fandomseverywhereassemble]

He Stayed Quiet

Hey guys!!! So, recently, I listened to a beautiful song by @lovelylangst (seriously, it’s so beautiful I still get goosebumps listening to it, so hit them up if you want to listen to it.)  I wrote down the lyrics at the end, but the words themselves don’t do the song enough justice.

Anyway, I got some of the greatest inspiration to write a little something based off of that song.  And here it is!  I hope y’all enjoy.

(Trigger warning for abuse.)

Being quiet was harder than most people would think.  Especially for Lance, who was always so bubbly and happy and smiling.  If there was noise in the Castle, it was because he was making it.  He couldn’t sneak around the Garrison as Hunk or Pidge could.  He was always the one who bumped into a table, knocked something over, and alerted Iverson or whoever was on duty that there were cadets out after curfew.

He was the one who would get kicked out of the library because he was laughing too hard and too loud.  Yes, Lance, you really are being that loud. Pidge would roll their eyes and say.

He was the person who had no clue how much noise he was actually making.

He was the person who couldn’t quite grasp that whispering and talking were two different things until he was well into fourth grade.  Sometimes distinguishing between yelling and talking were difficult for him.

His entire life, people were always telling him to be quiet: his older siblings, his teachers, his friends, the librarian, his parents, the list goes on and on.  But now, no one was telling him to quiet himself.

Lance was doing it on his own.

Shiro was different.  Lance knew.  He had had his suspicions for a while, but now that Shiro was getting more violent, it was getting harder and harder to believe that he hadn’t been changed by his second stay with the Galra.  Maybe Keith had been Shiro’s impulse control, but the possibility of Keith being anyone’s impulse control was laughable.

It first happened when Lance had interrupted the black paladin in the middle of a strategy meeting.  There was a flaw in the plan that could have caused Pidge to become overrun if they weren’t paying attention at the exact right moment.  He didn’t even realize that Shiro had been talking until the damage was already done.

The Galran arm’s metal fingers were digging into the meat of Shiro’s bicep.  There was murder in the dark-grey eyes currently trying to bore a hole through the red paladin.  Lance had never before felt so small, so insignificant, and so inconsequential.

That mission had gone by without a hitch.  Pidge’s infiltration went effortlessly well, and they were able to avoid the guards that undoubtedly would have caught them otherwise.  Lance was feeling pretty good about himself.  He was laughing loudly with Hunk about some story that Coran was telling them.  Neither of them knew exactly what was being described, but the faces that the Altean was making and the sound effects he was somehow generating had them howling with laughter.

Pidge had come in somewhere in the middle of the story, and they had laid their head on Lance’s lap.  They silently thanked him with their eyes and didn’t protest when the red paladin ruffled their already ruffled hair playfully.

Allura entered not long after, and her eyes lit up when she heard Coran’s story.  She interjected her own points every few words.  Her eyes lit up in pure joy; not even Lance’s cheesy flirting could bring her down.

All good and happy things had to come to an end, however.  Lance excused himself to take care of business.  Pidge hissed when their head fell to the cushion, its pillow having left.  They glared good-naturedly at him as he rounded the corner, a smile still on his face when he ran into a wall of muscle.

Shiro stood in his way, his arms were crossed in front of his chest, with his prosthetic in front.  That was new.  Usually, his other arm hid the metal one from view as if he were ashamed of it.  His face was as hard as the metal posing as flesh.

The black paladin was taller than the others by a few inches at the most -excluding Pidge- but now, Lance felt like he needed to look two feet above himself just to look the team leader in the eyes.

“Lance!  You’re just the person I was looking for!”  His voice wasn’t normal.  It wasn’t robotic, but the enthusiasm seemed incredibly forced and insincere.  The casual ups and downs of his voice were the same, but they still weren’t right.

Lance kept the smile plastered to his face from his time with the other paladins.  “Yeah, I just need to run to the restroom really quick; I’ll be right back!”  He pushed past Shiro.  The hallways were tight enough as it was without a giant from one of Coran’s stories blocking his way.

The Galran shot out and grabbed Lance’s upper arm, squeezing tightly and pressing him up against the wall.

“Shiro?  Can this wait for like, two minutes?  I really gotta pee.”  Lance raised an eyebrow at the older man.

Fingers dug further into Lance’s arm, and the tips of his fingers started to tingle slightly.  “I just wanted to thank you.”  Shiro smiled, but the motion didn’t reach his eyes; it barely even reached his mouth.  “For graciously interrupting me during the meeting.  We never would have been able to spot such an obvious and vital problem if it weren’t for you.”

Lance’s dark blue eyes widened slightly.  “Oh, sorry about that.  I’ll be honest I wasn’t listening that closely because I saw-”

“Oh, my mistake,” Shiro said.  His voice was dripping with something that Lance couldn’t quite identify.  “If you weren’t paying attention, I guess all is forgiven.”  His grip hadn’t let up slightly since they started this conversation, and Lance’s hand was beginning to go numb at an alarming rate.

He smiled shyly back at the leader.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, and I really don’t mean to cut this conversation short, but unless you want me to go right here, and right now, I really need to use the restroom.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” Shiro spat.  He curled the metal fingers deeper into Lance’s muscles before he released it.

Feeling came back to his arm as blood rushed to where it was supposed to be.  It felt like he had dipped his entire left arm in near-boiling water for a split second and pulled it out just as fast, burning hot then freezing cold.  He massaged the area that Shiro’s hand had dug into as he made his way to the communal toilets.

As soon as he was finished, he rolled his sleeve up to expose the flesh that was already starting to darken from a light brown to a dark black.  He hissed as he felt around the tender skin gently.

It was in the precise shape of a handprint.

The door swung open, and Hunk stuck his head into the room.  “Oh, there you are!”  He laughed.  “We were starting to wonder if you had gotten lost.”  He went to the sink right next to Lance’s to wash his hands.  “I tried to give Pidge a piggy-back ride because Allura and Coran didn’t know what one was, and the little goblin licked me!  Not even slightly.  There was so much tongue and saliva involved.  I am even more terrified of them than I was at the Garrison.”  He raised his eyes to look at Lance through the mirror.  “Woah, where did you get that?”  He gestured vaguely with his chin toward the fresh bruise.

Lance quickly rolled his sleeve down and wracked his brain for an explanation other than ‘Shiro went Alpha on me’ and settled on: “Oh, during the last mission I had a little run-in with a guard.  He caught me a little unaware.  That’s all.”  He threw one of his award-winning smiles in the mix as well.

Hunk pouted his lip out slightly and looked skeptically at his friend in the mirror.  “Why didn’t you say anything?  That looks pretty rough.”

“It’s nothing.  I’m sure I’ll be fine soon enough.”  He smiled and slapped Hunk’s shoulders.  “Now what do you say we show the Princess and Coran what a real piggyback ride looks like?”

Things weren’t fine soon enough.  During training sessions, Shiro would hit him a little too hard a little too often.  The handprint on his arm had taken two weeks to heal.  For those two weeks, he had trouble aiming his bayard, and it showed.  He almost hit Pidge rather than the console that he was supposed to be hitting.  He did hit Hunk instead of a training bot one day.

Shiro hit him harder, more often.

Once, when Lance found himself on the ground, he pushed himself up and felt something in his chest snap.  A broken rib, he was told.

He really should take it easy on those missions, and not get himself hurt.

It became rare to see Lance without any blemishes on his once pristine and perfect skin.  He never wore short-sleeved shirts anymore, not that he had in the first place, but he started making sure that that’s all his wardrobe consisted of anymore.  He asked Coran for concealer after he ‘ran into a doorframe’ and he was cursed with a black eye.

Pidge just rolled their eyes because ‘they knew he was clumsy, but this is a new level, Lance.’

One by one, they all slowly stopped noticing every new injury that Lance was sporting.

One by one, they stopped noticing how Lance would never speak at team meetings anymore.

One by one, they stopped caring.

And through it all, the hurts, the bruises, and the false smiles, Lance stayed quiet.

Thank you so much for reading this; I really hope you like it!

Here’s the song that this was based off of, but seriously, hit them up to listen to them singing it.  You won’t regret it.

I stayed quiet

I didn’t tell a single soul

I stayed quiet

And its the truth I hold

I let you bruise me

I let you break

And I stayed quiet

With the force it takes

I didn’t want to sully

Ruin your good name

So I stayed quiet, once again

Oh, I stayed quiet*

I made it my place*

I stayed quiet*

Even though it was fake*

I stayed quiet*

Ruin my name*

I stayed quiet*

From all the things I could say*

I stayed quiet*

Oh, I stayed quiet*

Yes, I stayed quiet*

Oh, I stayed quiet*

You ask me why* I stay quiet*

Is cuz I-I* had to deny* it

If I did it, I would end up

Like that girl, you left*

Buried in the dirt*

I stayed quiet*

Yes, I stayed quiet*

Oh, I stayed quiet*

Yes, I stayed quiet*

I stayed quiet

Didn’t ruin your name

Didn’t sully your fame

Didn’t take the blame

I stayed quiet

And in return

All I do is get hurt

[betweensceneswriter]

Island Hopper: Chapter 22b- Cave Men

After Tarzan Falls, before Cocos Island, both John and Jamie have to use their raw masculine power.

Island Hopper Table of Contents:

    “So he truly just stayed hidden for twenty-eight years, even though he realized the war had ended?” Jamie looked back at us, swiping aside some bamboo leaves to clear the overgrown pathway for us.

    “The Japanese sense of honor during World War II was incredible,” Seth explained.  “I mean, you'd have to be committed to be a kamikaze pilot and use yourself and your airplane as a bomb, right?”

    We nodded in stunned agreement, sipping from our water bottles and resting in the shade of the glossy green jungle plants beside the path.

    Today’s jaunt was to Yokoi’s cave, the re-creation of the underground hideout dug by a Japanese soldier after the end of World War II.  He had stayed hidden there in the Guam jungle, sneaking out to take food from neighboring farms and fishing in the nearby river, weaving his own clothing from plant fibers.  He was finally found in 1972, almost three decades after the war had ended.

    “For those Japanese soldiers, dying for their country was more important than their own lives,” Joe said, shaking his head.  “That’s incredible devotion.  I mean, I’m a patriotic American, but still!”

    I offered, “I remember that if they were about to be captured, there were some officers who would fall on their swords rather than be captured--what was that called?  Harry Carrie?” I offered hesitantly.

    “Har-A kIr-i” Jamie corrected me.  I turned toward him, raising my eyebrows. Since my arrival out on Arno I’d been corrected by him plenty of times in private, but I wasn’t sure how it felt to be corrected by him in front of other people.  

    “You ken Japan occupied the Marshalls as well, Ri-pālle, and there were Japanese officers in the Marshall Islands when the Allied powers took it back during World War II,” he lectured.  “I’ve lived there four years.  And I also took Pacific History at the college of the Marshall Islands.  Ye ken I’m not a dimwit, don’t you?”

    Joe eyed the two of us, and I felt my cheeks flush at Jamie’s irritated response to me.  It wasn’t like I didn’t think he knew anything, but having spent a number of years growing up on Guam, I’d always felt like a bit of an expert on World War II in the Pacific, impressing stateside college classmates with my knowledge and horrifying them with descriptions of the group suicides of Japanese soldiers when the United States reclaimed Guam, lines of men standing at a cliff’s edge, pushing the next person off, the final officer taking his own life rather than be taken prisoner.

    “I really can’t imagine it,” John said, stepping between me and Jamie in a subtle attempt to dispel the tension.  “Either they believed that the Americans would be truly cruel to prisoners of war, or they were convinced that it would be a horrible shame to surrender or be captured.”

    Shelly was scrolling through something on her phone as she walked slowly ahead on the trail.  "Men had been indoctrinated with the notion that it was dishonorable to be captured,” she read, after which she stumbled on a root, caught her balance and then looked back with a sheepish grin.

    “Ye shouldna text & walk,” Jamie joked, just as Seth said, “Been walking long?”

    “Didja have a nice trip?” added Joe.

    John sighed with a wry smile as Shelly looked to him, eyebrows raised in resignation.  “I’m not in the habit of insulting young ladies,” he intoned, grinning when the three other guys made exasperated noises and Jamie scoffed, backhanding John’s bicep in irritation.

    “Tryin’ to make the rest of us look bad, are ye?” he teased.

    “I was saying,” Shelly said insistently, “That Yokoi felt it would be humiliating to go home.  In fact, the Japanese people coined a famous saying from his words on his arrival back in Japan: “It is with much embarrassment that I return.”

    “It is with much embarrassment that I return,” repeated Seth, shamefaced.

    “I don’t know about that,” Joe responded.  “Seems to me being able to avoid detection and capture for nearly thirty years is pretty darn incredible. What did he have to be ashamed of?”

    “Just goes to show you we can’t even comprehend the mind-set of the Japanese soldier,” Jamie concluded.

    We soon reached the re-creation of the original cave, a hole in the ground walled with bamboo.  We leaned over the opening, peering down into the darkness.  To the side, John inspected the primitive diagram of the cave painted on a sign and shuddered.  “It was only 9 feet by three feet,” he said. “I can’t imagine being trapped in a space that small.”

    I looked at the drawing, which depicted Yokoi seated in his cave, a small fire built at one end and a chimney/air hole leading up from it.

    “And this says he came out only at night to avoid detection,” Shelly commented, still reading from her phone.  “So he was stuck in that small space all day every day.”

    I squatted down, trying to see farther into the cave.

    “I just can’t imagine it,” I said.  “I’d get so lonely.”

    A man wearing a khaki uniform stepped toward us, a smile on his face.

    “It was lonely, though Yokoi wasn’t the only Japanese soldier who went into hiding after the war,” he said.  “There were a group of ten originally, though they split up realizing that they’d be too easy to track and find if there were too many of them.  Yokoi had two friends who lived nearby, but after twenty years--still eight years before he was discovered--he went to their cave only to find them dead.”

    My stomach hurt at the thought.  Twenty years spent virtually alone, with eight years of interminable solitude left. I sighed and apparently inched closer to Jamie, only realizing what I’d done when I felt his arm around me and looked up to see him smiling down at me.  

    “Who found him, then?” asked John, stepping forward.

    “Two fishermen who were out on the Talofofo River,” the ranger answered. “They captured him, and though he begged them to kill him, they took him home, fed him some dinner, and then took him to the police.”

    “Did he stay on Guam long after that?” Shelly asked.

    “After discovery, he was only here two weeks.  He went back to Japan to a hero’s welcome.”

    “But he was embarrassed?” Seth asked, forehead wrinkled in confusion.  “Shelly read something that said he was ashamed.”

    “‘It is with much embarrassment, but I have returned?’” the guide quoted with a smile. “Yeah.  I heard you guys talking.  I really don’t understand it any more than you do.”

    “That’s crazy,” Joe said, shaking his head as he looked once again into the bamboo-lined hole.

    “Thanks,” we chorused, as the guide wandered off to the next group to answer questions.

    “Wanna take the monorail?” Seth joked, pointing at the rickety little train mounted with plastic folding chairs.

    “It canna be more than half a kilometer to the trailhead,” Jamie laughed.  “Why anyone would need to ride there is beyond me.”  

   As I followed the others back down the trail, I took one last backward glance at the hole in the ground, no more than a darker spot camouflaged by the sunlight dappling the underbrush. The thought of that unending isolation was heart-wrenching.

    I had just sighed and shook my head when Jamie took my hand in his. I stopped us where we were, put my arms around him, and buried my face in his chest.  He wrapped his arms around me and didn’t let me go, not even when Joe yelled back at us, “Are you guys coming or not?”

      “In a canyon, in a cavern, excavaaaaa-ting for a mine,” I yodeled, the sound of my voice expanding in reverberating echoes. I knew Jamie was somewhere in the eerie darkness, and singing made me feel better, even though I had the sneaking suspicion that any second he might jump out at me.

    “Jamie?” I called out, wading gingerly into the water.  Seth, Shelly, and Joe were behind us and I knew I could wait for them, but I also wanted to catch up to Jamie.  We had been filling our days with multiple touristy experiences--always with other people--and I was beginning to feel disconnected.  We had even been up late several nights in a row, staying up talking or playing games until the wee hours, and we hadn't gotten to bed at the same time in at least three days.  It wasn't very easy to maintain an active sex life when your husband was asleep when you came to bed or gone on an early morning job when you woke up the next morning.

    “Dwelt a miner, forty-niiii-ner,” I sang, splashing a little deeper into the cool water of the wading pool of Pagat Cave.

    Suddenly a large hand came from behind me and after several furtive movements, succeeded in covering my mouth, lips quickly coming beside my ear to whisper, “Jab keroro, Ri-palle.”  He pulled me backward around a rock outcropping and then stopped, his hand still over my mouth.

    Unable to avoid the juvenile impulse, I stuck my tongue out, tasting the salt and dust on Jamie's hand, pushing the tip of my tongue between his fingers.  He squeaked in an unmanly fashion, and suddenly I felt a firm grip on my left breast.

    “Stop it,” I hissed, wrestling my mouth free from his strong hand.

    “Sorry, lass, I slipped,” he fibbed. “‘Twas just an accident.” The subtle caress of his hand stated quite the opposite.

     Light shone against the far wall, and when I peeked around the rocky corner I saw the bobbing approach of a bright blue trio of lights.

    “Claire? Jamie?” the voices called out through the darkness.

    “She was just singing a second ago.” Shelly’s voice carried clearly to us.

    I leaned my head back against Jamie’s chest as he continued with his cave explorations, feeling lightheaded and dying for more time alone, wishing there weren’t three people heading in our direction.

    “You’re going to drive me crazy,” I whispered, letting my breath out in a shudder.

    “That’s my plan precisely,” Jamie murmured, his lips tracing the curve of my neck and shoulder.

     I was feeling faint and just about to reach back and grab something solid to help steady myself when the lights came around the rock.  Jamie released me, moving forward into the center of the channel and only then turning on his flashlight.

    “Hallooooo,” said Seth once his headlamp trained on us.  “We really should be staying together, I think.”

    “It’s not like there are any real arms of the cave where we could get lost,” Shelly offered.

    “Yes, but Pagat Cave is filled with water.  That adds a hazard level of its own,” I added, splashing out of the shadows, only to see several apparent knowing smiles pass between the others.

    “Come on,” Jamie said, turning away from the entrance and lighting the way with his flashlight.  “I think it’s only a wee bit farther to the Lake room.”

    It was slightly challenging to maintain footing on the rocks in the thigh-deep water of the wading pool, but soon we had maneuvered through a narrow passageway that finally opened up into the arched ceiling of the indoor pool.  For a few minutes, we used our flashlights to illuminate the corners of the room.  Several half-melted candles were perched on the sloping rock shoulders of the room and the rock spires sticking up out of the water.  

    I turned off my flashlight and put it on a flattish rock that seemed secure and waded the rest of the way into the pool. It was refreshing and cool, a relief after the humid little hike we’d taken to get there.

    “Wait for me,” Shelly said, putting her flashlight down as well and lowering herself into the water.  

    Soon the rest of the flashlights and headlamps had been stowed, and with the last light turning off, the room plunged into darkness.

    “Marco,” said Shelly.

    We laughed, but I listened intently and swam towards Jamie when he said, “Polo,” in his deep voice. The darkness didn’t feel as oppressive with him next to me.  Still about five minutes was all most of us could handle in the pitch black.  Shelly was the first to cave, paddling back to the entrance rocks and turning her flashlight on, finding the other four of us paddling around in the water.

    It didn’t take long to start feeling completely chilled, even with my natural heater close by with his arms around my waist.  When another group of voices started filtering into the cavern, we decided our turn in the lake room was over and headed back to the entrance again.

    “It’s too bad John couldn’t come,” Joe said offhandedly as we clambered up the steep rocks out of the cave entryway.

    Jamie smiled in response. “He said he would have loved to join us, but he’s a wee bit claustrophobic, AND his nieces had claimed his afternoon for a tea party.”

    “He has my pity,” Shelly said.  “Those girls are adorable, but they were exhausting!”

     As we hiked back up from the caves, I fell into step with Joe. I was dying to be nosy but did my best to show restraint and let the conversation flow--if it was going to.  Of course, a few minutes of silent walking and Joe turned to me, shaking his head. 

    “Go for it,” he said with an eye roll. “Ask me what you’ve been thinking about for the past five minutes… or five days.”

    “Do you like him?” I asked.  “You like, him, don’t you?” I almost skipped in my eagerness to keep up with him and hear his answer.

    “You are so not subtle, honey,” Joe laughed. “I don’t really need you to match-make for me.”

    “He’s such a nice guy,” I campaigned.  “And good-looking, too,” I added.

    Joe shook his head and looked down at the trail, a smile playing around his lips. “Why do you care so much, babe?” he asked. I didn’t answer, so Joe continued, “It’s because he’s in love with your husband, isn’t it?”

    I stopped in my tracks.  “Not still.  Is that what you see?”

    “He is so focused on Jamie I can tell that there’s some history there.  Unrequited, as far as I can tell from Jamie’s vibe.  But I don’t think he’s over him.”

    I frowned and sighed.  “I could swear John seems excited to see you.  I think he likes you.  And you asked about him just a little bit ago, so I know he’s on your mind.”

    “Yeah,” said Joe.  “He’s a great guy.  And gorgeous, too.  But there’s something off. Things are different with gay men.  Usually attraction is a little more straightforward.  We don’t play all those games that women and men have to.  And... I don’t understand, cause he’s not responding to me.”

    “Ohhhh,” I answered, thinking back to the conversation I’d had with John on the field ship. “I think he and Jamie have something in common…”

     This time it was Joe who stopped short.  “He’s a virgin?”

     “In a manner of speaking,” I answered quietly, looking around to make sure no one was in earshot.  “He came from a small island… fell in love with Jamie their freshman year… I just don’t think he has that much experience.”

     “Hm,” Joe grunted, a frown clouding his face.

     “He needs a caveman,” I said.

     Joe looked at me in amused confusion.  “What do you mean by that?”

     “He needs you to take the initiative.  Make it clear what you want… and that it’s him.”

     The frown was back again.  “I’m not going to force myself on him.”

     “That’s not what I mean,” I said. “I can only speak for myself, but here are my thoughts, for what it’s worth.  Sometimes a woman wants a gentleman who woos her.  But sometimes she wants a caveman who drags her to the cave and exerts his strength.”  At the skepticism on Joe’s face, I explained further.  “Not force, not aggression.  Just openly expressed desire and bold action. Something that makes it clear what his intentions are.”

     “And you think that it’s time for me to bring out my inner caveman?” John asked.

     I shrugged, wincing slightly.  “I don’t know, hon. It could be absolutely terrible advice.  You know my track record with relationships.”

    Joe shook his head in amusement, looking ahead toward Jamie who was leading the pack, a good head taller than my siblings.  

     “Worth a shot,” he concluded.

       “Want to watch ‘Elf’ with us, Claire?” Shelly called from the couch.  Joe had made his farewells, so it was just my mom, dad, and Seth who were lounging in the living room with snacks, waiting for the DVD to start.

     “In a minute,” I answered, heading into the kitchen.  Mom had left out the Christmas cookies, along with a tub of multi-flavored popcorn.  I was scrounging in the refrigerator for veggies and dip when two hands suddenly planted themselves firmly on my ass.  

    I shot upright and squeaked, checking the archway into the living room to make sure no one had seen.

    Jamie’s arms went around my waist, pulling me firmly back toward him.

    “Christ, I'm starving for ye, Claire,” he whispered in a husky groan. He let me go long enough to swipe my hair away from my neck so he could nip my ear. 

     Then he whirled me around with his hands on my hips, took the plate from me and set it down on the counter.  “We havena gone this long wi’out being together since we married,” Jamie insisted.  “Well, save for the field ship. But not when we were in the same place.  I must have ye.  Come wi’ me.  Now.”

     It was an order, not a request.  Jamie's eyes were narrowed, his gaze intently on me. And my body was on high alert, my arms peppered with goosebumps, shivers going up my spine. I felt suddenly weak in the knees.

     I stuck my head into the living room.  “I love this movie, guys, but we’ve been hiking and going and doing so much, I really think I should get a good night’s sleep.”

     “Sure, whatever,” said Seth, his eyes not leaving the screen.

     “Night, kiddo,” said my dad.

     My mom looked at me with a knowing smile but waved me away.

     I turned to see Jamie’s intense gaze on me. His words were sparse but his intent completely clear as he ordered me up the stairs.  

     “Come, woman.”

[im-a-riverdale-slut-blog]

Apricity C3

CHAPTER THREE -跳动的心

Mixing both sides of the tracks seemed like a recipe for disaster, but maybe that didn’t mean something bad? Just because she was born into class didn’t mean deep down Madsie wasn’t as dangerous as Pea - so what chaos would these two hurricanes cause together?

You know when you’re a kid, and its Sunday morning, sitting in bed in your favourite pyjamas, the soft, worn-down material gently caressing your skin, and although it’s early, and the birds morning song echoing outside, you’re watching your favourite TV show and you feel like there is nothing better in the world, this ball of content and excitement in your stomach? That’s exactly how I’m feeling.

I woke to the birds chirping, the sun beams sneaking through the sides of the curtains and the heat radiating through creating a warm atmosphere. And before five minutes passed, a massive grin formed on my face as I recalled the night before. A small squeal escaping my lips as I rose my hands to cover my face as I’m sure a blush crept on my cheeks.

“I swear this is the only place in Riverdale people care about.” I laughed as Sweet Pea and I sat in the booth at Pops, the one furthest in the corner, hidden away. The laugh that came out his mouth was angelic, despite the bad boy vibe that emitted from him. “It’s the best place in Riverdale, apart from the Whyte Wyrm on the Southside.” Just as I was about to answer, Pop Tate came over with two menus in hand which he placed in front of us. “Good to see you Sweet Pea, and especially with a young lady.” He raised his eyebrow at the teen before walking away, at which Sweet Pea laughed to himself. “I like your tattoo.” I said, as it once again caught my attention as a vein popped right through the centre of it when he laughed. “Why’d you get it? Every tattoo has a meaning, right?”

He raised his fingers to lightly trace over it, “I’m a part of the Southside Serpents, a gang, and every member has one.” My eyes widened slightly at the mention of him being in a gang. “Don’t worry, princess, we’re not bad, that’s not us, that’s the Ghoulies. Jughead’s a serpent too, his dad is the leader of us all.” At the mention of Jughead being a gang member made me laugh cynically, not being able to imagine the beanie-clad kid with a snake tattoo and in leather. “So, is the Whyte Wyrm like your… ‘hangout’?” He nodded lightly, and his lips parted slightly as if to talk but a strawberry milkshake was placed in front of us pulling us out of conversation, “On the house.” the old man smiled before returning back behind the counter. “Take me one day, Sweets.” Smirking at me, he took the cherry that sat atop the swirl of cream and placed it into his mouth, “I’d love to, princess.” There was a brief silence, where the air around us was filled with comfortability, as if we were friends that had known each other for years.

“Okay, Mr. Tall, Dark and Mysterious, tell me something about yourself nobody else knows.” He cocked his eyebrows in suspicion and surprise, but quickly shook his head with a chuckle at my antics. “I hate tomatoes. I think they’re pointless and a waste of time.” Rolling my eyes playfully, I crossed my arms and leant back into the soft material of the booth seats. “Dig a little deeper.” Sighing, he copied my stance, his muscular arms folding as he thought hard, and as I looked into his eyes I swore I could see tiny little cogs turning and twisting as he dug through his brain. “I still have my nans wedding ring, in the original box. I kept it after she died.”

My heart was pounding at the thought of last night’s events, at the thought of the beautiful, raven-haired guy with a ridiculous name that asked me out but before I could think more about it, my phone pinged loudly, resonating throughout the silent room. Looking at the screen, it read: Meet me at the park in 30 minutes – Vee x.

*    *    *

After meeting at the park, she took me to this beautiful river; it was soundless, and serene. Besides the echoes of our shoes, the only noise that could be heard was the satiating song of the birds sat in the trees that surrounded us, as well as the flow of the water, washing down the river. “I don’t think our lives have ever been this peaceful,” Ronnie sighed, in a tone of content, as if she was finally happy with how life had presented itself. 

“Our lives definitely weren’t peaceful when our tea parties didn’t go our way,” We laughed, remembering the countless play dates we shared as children which we had supervised by anyone but our parents as they were whisked away in their studies, discussing and planning business strategies and campaigns. “I don’t think Smithers or Wentworth appreciated the tantrums when they refused to put on tiaras and tutus.” We stopped, sitting on a rock placed beside the river. “Eventually they obliged, we were, kind of, their bosses,” Veronica laughed, taking in the view before us.

“Mija, why don’t you and Madsie, go to your room and maybe get ready for bed?” Hiram instructed, as he gestured for his business colleagues to step into his office. As usual, we both nodded, hiding away into Ronnie’s room, away from anything business related. “So.” She started, as she took her hairbrush and patted on the bed for me to sit. As I did, she combed my hair, the butter-coloured locks falling to my waist. “For your 14th birthday party… you have to invite Dominic!” I felt a red hue form on my cheeks while a quiet giggle escaped my lips, “No, I can’t.” I said quietly, trying to hide the excitement in my voice. Out of habit, I fiddled with my hands, twisting the silver rings that were located along my slender fingers. “Why not! C’mon, you like him, he likes you, this is your chance!” She slightly shook my shoulders, making us giggle at my hopeless crush. And that’s all it was – a hopeless crush. Dominic had been one of my best friends forever, and I never want to ruin what we have. Especially over something as stupid as a crush.

“And what about you Vee? Which dashing boy will you be taking as a date to my party?” She sighed, standing up from her position on the bed and walked over to the dresser, taking out a bag of her facial creams and silk shorts and shirt. “Honestly,” She paused, sighing once again and placed a blob of moisturiser onto her fingertips, “Wes, if anyone, but strictly as friends, platonic friends. I’m not the boys-orientated girl out of us.” Rolling my eyes, reached out of my bag across the bed and pulled it to my chest, a mischievous smirk forming on my face. “Your parents are going to be busy for a while, right?” I asked, carefully reaching into my bag. “Yeah, why?” Ronnie asked, tentatively walking closer to me, each stop slower and slower as she rubbed the cream into her olive-tinted skin. “I thought,” I dragged out my words, pulling out a couple of sticks from my bag, twiddling them between my fingers, they were white in colour with one having blue striped over the paper and the other green. “We could have some fun… take off the stress of boys, and school and parents…” Ronnie returned my smirk, taking one them from my hand and downing it without any more talk. “Where did you get these?” She asked, as I joined her motion, taking the Jingle Jangle, and we threw the packaging into her bin. “Nick St. Clair,” She nodded, shrugging off the curiosity of my dealer. “Maybe, I’ll take him to my party, he always knows how to have fun. Who knows?”

We talked for a while: about New York, the time between Ronnie moving to Riverdale, her new life and it felt like nothing had changed. She did seem kind, caring and a new person but I couldn’t let myself be caught up in the web of lies she’s stuck everyone else in, I wouldn’t let myself. I knew deep down that she would never change from who she was, is. Manipulative, fake, deceitful and a murderer. After that night, neither of us were going to change who we were – it was too engrained in us. A permanent stamp, burned into our soul and in the DNA that made us who we were.

After saying goodbye to Vee, I went back to the Five Seasons and as I placed my hand on the door handle, I overheard mutterings and I paused. For a few seconds I let myself linger, trying to overhear the inconsistent muffled voices through the door but to no avail, I simply opened the door slightly before I heard the voices raise into shouting and then into screaming. “Stop! Richard. This isn’t going to help the business in any way, it’s stupid, foolish and will ultimately lose us so much money!” I didn’t want to move but I didn’t to listen to it anymore. The battle in my head rendered me unable to move, my feet stuck to the ground, every muscle, and every bone in my body frozen exactly into place. “But what if it goes right, Natalie. Yes, it’s risky, I’m not denying it, but it will work out, trust me.” For about a minute, they argued back and forth and I remained where I was.

Building up my courage, I walked in and aimed straight for my room, ignoring and avoiding all contact and conversation with my parents – not wanting to alert them in anyway. Over all the years, they had never fought, or at least I’d never seen them do it, they were always this picture-perfect couple. Shakily sighing, not wanting to overthink the situation, I pulled out my phone and hovered over one contact. And I debated whether it was a good idea to call them, if I was being heedless and should let it go. Without further thought, I pressed it down and it dialled. It rang a few times before they picked up. “Hey, princess, what’s up?”

“Um- can,” I paused, playing with the hem of my shirt, biting my lip subconsciously, “can you come over?”

*    *    * “I don’t know how you just snuck me past your grandad but-” Sweets had just made into my bedroom, I closed the door slowly, trying not to wake anyone. “Grandad? That’s Wentworth – the butler.” I said nonchalantly, but Pea quickly shot me a look of surprise and confusion, his eyebrows raising and his lips parted slightly. “Butler? Perks of being white, rich, skinny and pretty, right?” He said, kicking off his shoes along with his jacket and laying on the bed. “Now,” He said, reaching out his arm as if for me to lay next to him, and rolling his eyes as if to say ‘It’s a cuddle for fucks sake, not sex’, “Talk to me.” Huffing, I copied his actions and took off my shoes and sat beside Pea, his strong arms pulling me further into him until I felt the rise and fall of his chest, and surprisingly felt solaced by someone I barely knew. “My parents were arguing and I know it’s not even that big of a deal but it’s not normal for them and I don’t want them to split up.” I felt his body stiffen and then move as he sat up, “Hey, hey, stop.” Looking up at him and into his brown eyes, they were filled with unease, “People, couples, argue, it’s normal. They’re not going to split up.”

Smiling slightly, feeling better just by his presence, he got up and opened my wardrobe. “Let’s look through the princess’ ball gowns, shall we?” I shuffled closer, sitting on the edge of my bed, watching him flick through the masses of fur coats, blouses and skirts. He pulled out my pink fur coat, and as he did his head caved back and his face became disgusted. “I can’t believe you murdered and skinned an animal for this.”

“What do you mean? It’s faux.” I said, crossing my arms, and shaking my head. “Fucking faux my ass. You definitely skinned a care-bear for this.” He laughed, chucking the coat at me, and shivering in disgust at the baby pink fluff ball he had held.

“Does all of this,” he paused, turning and gesturing to the masses upon masses of clothes, shoes and handbags littered in the wardrobe, “make you happy?” He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow, waiting for my answer. “Yes.” I lied. I thought it did. But I never made that choice, from the minute I could comprehend life I was having dress fittings, hair appointments and blue box presents – I never had a choice in whether I liked my lifestyle. “Really?” He questioned, walking over and gently placing his thumb under my chin to look into his eyes. There was a sparkle in his eyes, something that compelled me to tell him the truth. “I don’t know. It’s lovely and the clothes are beautiful but, would I prefer jeans and something more casual? Yes. Would my parents kill me? Probably.”

As he sat beside me, he placed his hand over mine, and our eyes met. “Why are you so caught up in others opinion of you?” He said, his face confused, “And you’re not?” I retorted, standing up and pulling away. “You hold back from doing things just because they don’t fit your ‘image’, and you shouldn’t. Live the life you want to live; it doesn’t matter who or who doesn’t see because it’s for you.” His voice was slightly raised, as if annoyed or angered. “Me stopping myself from…wearing jeans and a t-shirt, because of my posh girl image, is like you, not going to a dog shelter because puppies don’t match your bad boy image. We both do it.” My arms were in the air, and I laughed lightly at his reaction.

“Okay.” He huffed, picking up his boots and lacing them up. “Where are you going?” I asked, puzzled. He ignored my question, doing up his coat and chucking one at me. “Pea!?”

“We are going to the dog shelter. If that’s what it takes you to do something that fucks up your image, I’m going to do something that fucks up mine.” Shaking my head, I shove the coat back at him “No.” I laughed, at which he got up, standing directly in front of me. He towered over me, a giant grin adorning his face, a mischievous grin. We stood staring at each other for a few seconds, taking in the others stance, trying to read one another. Rapidly, he picked me up, his giant hands gripping my hips tightly and threw me over his shoulder. “C’mon Rapunzel, let down your hair for once,”

*    *    *

When we arrived, my heart swelled at the sight of all the puppies: some sleeping, some playing, some eating. “Sweets!” I squealed eagerly, clutching his arm as I tried to calm myself, at which he laughed at me. Throughout the field of puppies and some older dogs, there were groups of them. An old-looking, greying golden retriever sat watching as these pug puppies started chasing each other around, their tiny yet mighty barks attempting to initiate a play fight with one another.

Out of all the puppies, one caught my eye. It was a tiny grey husky puppy, curled up into a ball in the corner staring at their surroundings, a wallflower. Just as I saw it, Sweets had taken a liking to her as well as he dashed over there and as picking it up smiled so widely I felt myself match his happiness. “She’s beautiful.” I sighed as I gently ran my fingertips over her coat, the soft fur tickling my skin. “She’s a beauty,” he agreed, and put the dog down. “And I’m not only talking about the dog.” He confidently, crossed his arms, his signature smirk appearing on his face. “Smooth.” I laughed, flippantly shoving his shoulder. Which he rolled his eyes at, before grabbing my hand and encasing it in his much larger ones. And as he looked at me, my stomach fell and my heart began racing, “Guess what?” He whispered, loud enough for only me to hear. “What?” I managed to force out, the lump still stuck in my throat, showing no sign of moving. And my heart pulsated so irregularly and sharply, I swore it felt like it was going to cut right out of my chest, right there and then. “I’m going to get it. The puppy.”

TAGLIST:

@quinn-e-dawson @misskarynie @mildy-human

[ezilyamuzed]

There’s no place like home- part 11

Summary: The reader has had a unique gift all her life. While considering it a curse, she discovers the identity of her real father after her mothers passing. Journeying towards her new life, she finds herself thrown within the Winchester’s world. Is it her destiny?

Setting: End of season 13. This takes place after episode 13.18. Flashbacks are italicized.

Warnings: Language. Some angst, fluff, drama- a typically SPN episode.  POV may switch after certain sections. 

A/N: Some more big reveals coming your way as we continue along the journey on the yellow brick road. Something newer to the series at the end- someone’s first person point of view that gives a little more light to the story that is still unfolding!

Any grammatical mistakes are all my own, because I am human. Remember all comments and feedback are welcomed! If you want a tag in future posts regarding this series or other writings please send an ask! As always thank you for reading! Enjoy!  

 *Y/M/N= your mom’s name

Series Masterlist

Dean stood patiently alongside his brother while waiting for Y/N to gather up a couple of items that she would need for the trip after he himself changed out of the monkey suit. They had quickly explained that it wasn’t always easy digging through the archives at the Bunker, since it was complied of a vast collection from past generations. She had no clue what she was about to walk into. Who knew if they would even find anything about their moms there? They had dug through it before and never saw mention of Mary anywhere. Dean couldn’t shake the sneaking suspicion that there was something else Y/N was looking for. He kept it quietly to himself as Sam looked over towards him with inquisitive eyes.

“Well?”

“Not now Sammy,” Dean mumbled, knowing very well that his brother was interested in the events of the evening. He didn’t want to bring any of it up, not when she was like this. When Y/N was clearly on edge with herself, almost like she didn’t want to be in her own skin. What had happened in those few minutes that she had left him? More importantly, was there anything he could do to help her?

Y/N came out of her bedroom with a fully stuffed duffle bag. For a hunter, she did not pack lightly. Sam grabbed it from her as she turned off all the lights in the house before walking out with them, securely locking the door behind her. She had changed herself now into stretchy yoga pants, sneakers and an oversized hoodie with her hair tossed up in a messy bun on top of her head. She looked like she was ready for bed, but the glare in her eyes stated that she was ready to get down to business. She crawled herself into the backseat of Baby while Sam and Dean moved to the trunk to place her things in carefully amongst their own.

“What are we doing Dean?” Sam whispered.

“Whatever she needs us to do,” Dean sharply replied while moving himself to the driver’s side. He shifted himself in while adjusting for the long ride. He looked into the rearview mirror at Y/N, putting earbuds in her ears, resting her head along the door with her legs stretched out. She was not in the mood for talking. Dean sighed, hoping that she could find some rest back there while his brother seated himself next to him. The rumble of Baby’s engine ignited as they took off, heading once more to the place they called home.

An hour had passed before Sam turned his head towards the backseat, motioning to Dean that Y/N had fallen asleep. Dean nodded and turned the music on just low enough to muffle out their voices if she were to happen to wake up.

“So what happened tonight? Everything seemed fine considering when you left,” Sam coaxed while still watching to see if Y/N was affected by their sounds.

“It was Monster’s Ball there Sammy, and not the one with Halle Berry,” he firmly stated, glancing back into the rearview mirror. “We walked in and she started mumbling off a grocery list of all the uglies around us. They fucking work there dude.”

“Like a cult of the supernatural?” Sam asked while the flicker of an off road light shined on his now widened eyes.

“I don’t know exactly what it was,” Dean stated while gripping Baby’s wheel with his hands tightly. “Whatever they were doing there, they didn’t act normal. I mean they all acted…friendly.”

“How did you know what you were talking to?”

“Y/N,” he simply replied. “You should have seen her Sammy, the way she mingled among them while subtly letting me know what was around. Bobby would have been proud the way she was able to place herself amongst them like she had no clue what they were or what they could do.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well,” Dean chuckled. “Then we danced. There was a moment there where it almost felt like everything else kind of drifted away. I think something spooked her though, because she left just as soon the song ended. When she came back she asked about Jack.”

“She knows? How?”

“No clue,” Dean replied. “Something there must have told her. My biggest thing is what and why.”

“And now all of this with mom and hers…”Sam mumbled while glancing off to the road ahead.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “Whatever is going on we need to help her. We need to get Mom back.”

Sam nodded his head in agreement, while Dean repositioned himself in the seat again. It wouldn’t be that much longer before either Y/N woke up, or they arrived at the bunker. Dean couldn’t help but to feel the dread in his stomach lingering as they continued on their long journey. 

_______________________________________________________

You had dozed off a little in the backseat while Dean drove you to their home, the once home of men who fought what hid amongst the people. You woke up a little out of your sleep and heard them speaking to each other. Dean telling Sam about the dance that still gave you butterflies. You stayed silent as they continued talking. You were confused when he said that they were going to find a way to get their mom back from another world. How exactly were they going to do that with the Nephilim on the other side as well? You slowly again drifted into deeper sleep while pondering over how it could be possible. You were awoken by the gruff voice of Dean, informing you that you had arrived.

You sat yourself up to look out the window. It was approaching dawn, but the scene from the old picture was alive right in front of your eyes. This was it. This was home. Sam and Dean led you inside where the brilliance of the rooms left you breathless. It was a spectacular sight of history all neatly placed along sturdy shelves. The scent of the ancient pages of the books filled your senses reminding you of when you would lay in your mom’s office as a child. Everything was just so…familiar.

As your gaze shifted throughout your surroundings, in the corner of your eye a blinding blue light surrounded a dark haired man in a tan trench coat approached into the room from another. He had piercing blue eyes as he looked into you, almost like he was baring into your soul.

“Y/N,” Sam announced. “This is Castiel.”

You moved closer to him, as he watched you intently. Anger quickly rose within you while you remembered everything that the boys had told you about him along with what Claire had told you only a few days earlier. How he was the cause of some of the major fuck-ups that had occurred in the world, including now Lucifer’s release, and how he had torn the young girl’s family apart. Nothing could had stopped it as you quickly drew back your fist and punched him hard, right into his chest knocking him down to the ground. There was shock in his eyes as you heard Dean laughing to your side.

“Yeah, sorry buddy,” Dean laughed while moving to help him up. “She is not a fan. Be glad that is all you got.”

“What are you?!?!” Cas grimaced while not breaking his stare.

“Pissed off,” you snapped back annoyed. “Is there a reason why he is here?”

“We thought he might be able to help. Maybe he knew something about your past.” Sam confessed.

“Well no Angel has been able to tell me anything before. They are all dicks and I do not want to be anywhere near him,” you ordered while moving yourself to climb the winding stairs towards the outside.

The three of them watched quietly as you slammed yourself out the heavy door into the cool morning air. The sun was rising even higher now and you could hear the wildlife amongst the leaves awakening from their slumber. This place really was a sight to behold as you washed your hand along the greenery feeling the morning dew on your palm. You heard the shifting of gravel coming up besides you, but you decided to ignore it. Whomever or whatever it was, you didn’t care anymore.

“Y/N,” Sam’s voice rang into your ears. “Look, none of us really know what to do here. We have been trying for months to find a way to get back there, to save our mom and Jack. We had one, but…it’s gone now.”

“What was that?” you found yourself asking, keeping your focus on the intricate details of the leaves.

“An archangel’s grace,” he sighed. “Gabriel. We were able to use some of his, but it wasn’t enough to keep the rift open, before he left us.”

You let a low chuckle when you heard the name. “Yeah, he doesn’t stick around long.”

You turned your head towards to a bewildered Sam. He shifted nervously where he stood while looking for the right wording to his question.

“How do you know Gabriel?”

“That ancient asshole?” you laughed. “Let’s just say we have some history.”

________________________________________________________

It had happened again. While walking along the busy amusement park, holding your mother’s loving hand you saw a different light surrounding the person who stood just a few feet away from you. This one was yellow, almost like a golden honey surrounding his skinny frame, different than the soft white of the others surrounding him. You pulled your mother’s attention to it, but she just brushed off your 6 year old cries telling you to just ignore it. That’s what she always did. Even as far back as you could remember, when you she tucked you in tightly and told her that you loved when her light shined a little brighter, because then you knew she was happy. Her light though had quickly shifted, as she told you to ignore it, that it was nothing to be bothered with. Anytime since, when you had seen a different color amongst the busy people, she would pull you tightly to her, while leading you away. Your frustration was growing with her actions. Your mind was curious, why couldn’t you know more?

Sitting alone on the swing in your backyard that your dad had hung on a tall branch, you dragged your feet into the dirt while wondering what exactly was wrong with you that made her light slowly dim down and why did so many people not believe that you could see it surrounding everyone’s faces except your own. Were you a freak?

An almost blinding light appeared before your young eyes, making you squint away at the sight. It was almost like staring into the sun. The light dimmed down some, just enough for your eyes to focus on the smiling man that stood in front of you.

“Be not afraid for I bring you good news!” he exclaimed before breaking out into hysterical laughter. “Wow, I haven’t said that in almost 2,000 years.”

“W-who are you,” your little voice squeaked.

“My name is Gabriel,” he stated before giving you a bow. “and you, my dear, are something special.”

______________________________________________________

“Everything alright out here?” Dean’s voice erupted while breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Just peachy,” you smiled firmly. “Is wings gone yet?”

“You know, Doc,” he stated while moving closer to you. “He might have done some wrongs, but he is a good guy to have by your side.”

“Give him a chance,” Sam added while agreeing with his brother.

You took in a deep breath before letting out a sigh. Everything else seemed to want you on their team, why not add an angel to the mix?

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes while moving past them back to the bunker’s doors. “Let’s get started.”

Leading Y/N into the smaller room where most of the archives, Dean watched as she moved gracefully in front him. Noting all the small details and craftsmanship that had become their home. He saw a smirk of appreciation rise to her lips, that even though they had turned it into a home, it was still well preserved in what it had once been.

“There is my room right there. Sammy’s is a couple doors down,” Dean stated while moving past his door. She stopped and smiled before reaching for the doorknob.

“Oh I have to see this,”she grinned while pushing it open.

Inside were just the few things he had been able to collect throughout the years. A couple of records, some clothes neatly hung up or folded neatly within the wooden dresser, and a simple kept bed. His simplistic room, that was his escape from it all. She moved forward, only smiling more at the guns display along the walls. She stopped herself by the nightstand where a few scattered pictures laid, only to pick them up, observing them carefully.

“Yeah, so I have to say that I probably have the best bed in the joint,” he said nervously while seating himself on the edge. “It’s memory foam. It remembers you.”

She let out a little chuckle while glancing over at him biting his lip. “I don’t think anything could ever forget you, Dean.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to stop the smile that wanted to form as she went back to the photos in her hands.

“Your mom is pretty,” she spoke softly while noting the photo of 4 year old Dean posing with his mom. “You look so innocent there and happy.”

“Yeah well, that was before everything.”

“This is Sam and you with Bobby right?” she asked while holding up the photo of the two smiling boys embraced with the proud old drunk. Dean let a slight smile appear in the corner of his lips while nodding. “He looks like he loved you two very much.”

“Yeah, he did in his own way. He went out of his way so many times to help us for as long as I can remember,” Dean replied while moving up to stand directly to Y/N’s side. “He would have loved you too you know? If he would have known.”

She turned her face to his, only inches apart while she looked up through her lashes. “Do you think he could have known and just didn’t want me?”

His let his finger slowly move up her chin, raising her eyes to meet his. “There’s no way anyone could ever not want you.”

Dean hesitated, looking into her eyes that were tired and tearful. He wanted to move his lips to hers and tell her that everything was being okay. In this world? This life? It was never just going to be okay. The sound of his heart was steadily beating in his ears, as he dropped his hand down from her face.

“Why don’t you go ahead and get a couple of hours more of sleep in here,” he suggested while moving back to the door. “I’ll get Sam and Cas to help me start looking. If you need anything, just shout for us okay?”

He could see the hesitation in her face, but she nodded her head, watching him move out the door and gently closing it tight. Breathing in a large breath of air to calm his nerves on the other side, considering the exhaustion that ran through him mixed with the urgency of everything bubbling around him.

“Dammit, Mom,” he whispered to himself. “What is going on?”

________________________________________________________

I sat patiently adjacent to Arthur as he noted which building we were supposed to enter. Seeing how deep the Men of Letters ran within America was the vital task that he had be given, that I had agreed to accompany along. Even after all these years, I knew this country far better than he ever would. A fancy GPS might give you the general directions, but the familiar roads were the ones you listened to. That was what my dad always told me.

“Mary, when we arrive in there to see the professor, let me do the talking,” he informed me with a serious nature instilled in his voice.

“Arthur, I really don’t know what you are going to find,” I replied with a smile. “The Men of Letters died off ages ago.”

“So you would think,” he commented. “There are still legacies alive that may remember things or have information that will be useful to us.”

“You want to recruit them don’t you?” I asked in surprise. “Just like what you did with me, and what you are trying to do with Sam and Dean.”

“We can only get stronger in numbers, Mary.”

I nodded my head as he led the way inside a tall stone covered building to the ajared door of the office of a young professor. Her youthfulness reminded me of my own many years ago, a little spunk rising within her as she spoke. I was filled with bewilderment that Arthur had chosen to talk to her, after unsuccessful attempts to reach her mother. He hadn’t told me much about her, just that their historians had found a lineage that needed thorough investigation.  

Calmly believing that this whole ordeal was pointless, that was when I saw her. Her face in a silver frame, protected by a simple piece of glass. The girl I had once called sister, Y/M/N.

Her story had been tragic when my father brought her home to us that warm August night. She clung tightly to the worn doll as my father explained that she would be staying with us, at least until they could figure something out. We had quickly became the best of friends, finding comfort in each other as the adults would whisper things that would give anyone else nightmares. She was brave, and I had admired her for it. Only two months had gone by when she was adopted by another family that was a few states away. My father explained that it was for the best and that getting as far away from Kansas as she could was the only way he could ensure she would survive.

We had kept in touch though, writing letters back and forth in secret once we were old enough and I had found her address tucked away within my father’s journal. She ended up growing up pretty normal, considering her start. Losing your father, the only family she had ever known was one thing, but even before she could walk she had lost both her mother and sister tragically. Often within her letters she would state how no matter what, she would find out what had happened to all of them and make them proud. I would cry for her, knowing that the life of a hunter fueled by revenge never ended without heartache for the ones they loved.

I was only a few months pregnant with John’s baby, my angel Dean, when I heard the knock on the door. Standing there shaken to down to her core, was her familiar face, still youthful after so many years. I wrapped my arms around her as she cried into me.

“I didn’t know where to turn to,” she sobbed. “I have no one else in this world. Mary,…. I’m pregnant.”

“You are family,” I had smiled. “You will always have a home with us.”

She had pulled herself away, surprised by my own swollen belly that hid underneath my blouse. I gently rubbed by hand across it. “Our family can grow up together.”

Those months spent with her had went by too quickly, she had been my rock and I was hers. John was as supportive as he could be, but trying now to support two women with growing bellies was straining on him. She tried to help out, finding part time work at the local university within the library. Books filled with history had always been her passion. Her passion is how she had met the mysterious love of her life that had led her now back home to me. Finishing another semester at college, she had fallen quickly for him. The rest of the story? I will probably never know.

In no time I was welcoming Dean into the world on that cold January night. I don’t know how I could have gotten by those first few months without her, as John was always called to the garage, often leaving me with another tireless night with my playful angel. She would pick him up and rock him to sleep, often humming to him her favorite tunes. There were times when she thought she was alone that I heard her praying that her sister’s curse would not pass down to her unborn child. I kept what I heard a secret, even from John. He wouldn’t of understood.

A few months later she welcomed her own joy. A beautiful little girl, Y/N. She was just as adventurous and playful as Dean, often making her voice well heard over his. I would often watch as they laid together on the little blanket on the living room floor, sometimes their little fingers would touch while they looked at each other in silence.

It was summer when I came home from the store carrying Dean in my arms. John was bringing in the groceries for me when I had noticed she was gone. Taking baby Y/N with her, she had only left a note that said, “There is no place like home.” I wanted to find her and bring her back, but I had to be there for John and Dean. They needed me, and I had never saw her again. Until now, as I looked at that photo had sitting alongside others of smiling faces.

As Arthur continued talking to the young girl sitting across the wooden desk from me, everything from my past had flooded back. I found my words spilling out, confirming what I already knew. This was a now grown up Y/N sitting in front of me, the little girl whom I considered my family that I had swore to protect all those years ago. Arthur had quickly interjected when she questioned who the men of letters were. The fact that she looked puzzled by the name, only gave me a sense of relief that she was kept in the dark of everything her family had endured. Wanting to hold her tightly again, like I had done when she was only a few weeks old, I knew it was only for the best to just walk out the door along with Arthur. She had grown up to be beautiful and intelligent, with her whole life still ahead of her. There was no way I was going to allow my world to find its way into hers. I had to say goodbye forever right then, as I turned to her with tears held back.

“Take care, Y/N.”

Keep reading to part 12

 Tags: @jaylarkson @waywardbaby @snffbeebee @iamabeautifulperson18 @19agbrown @midnightsilver @wildefire @hobby27 @sonotalice

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 21

A gentle tugging at my left nipple and a heavy but strangely soothing heat on my pelvis lifted me slowly from my slumber. I tried to open my eyes several times, first one, then the other, finally managing to coordinate and get both un-shut at the same time so I could actually see. The room was dim, the only light source the street lamps from outside, spilling in over the top and out from the sides of the curtains. I lifted my right arm, and it felt like I was moving through water. As my hand hit something solid and warm, the tugging at my nipple ceased and Tom’s face rose into view. I waved at him, fingers bending toward my wrist and thumb pointed out, as if I were a small child.

He smiled, voice hushed. “Hello, beautiful.”

I wiped the drool from my mouth with the back of my hand, speech still slurred from sleep. “Finished?”

His voice in my ear as he ground against me. “Actually, I’m just getting started.”

My legs moved as if they had a mind of their own, sliding out from under his, falling open and wrapping around his waist, ankles crossed and heels resting on his ass.

I tapped his shoulder. “Start you. Now. Can.”

He chuckled, then moaned as he worked himself inside me, rooting deeper and deeper until I felt his balls nestled against my skin. His mouth found mine, kissing me until I could barely breathe. We pulled away from each other momentarily, then resumed, repeating the process as he rocked gently into me, undulating his hips. When I finally joined in the dance, he sped up slightly, pulling almost fully out and pushing back in, cock lingering to rub against my walls just enough to drive me mad with want, but not enough to make me come.

I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed, my words jumbled by more than just sleepiness. “Fast. Er. Faster. Hard. You.”

He shook his head and whispered. “Not yet.”

I whined, and he shifted, resting his weight on one arm as he moved the other so his hand could reach my mound. He rubbed the outer lips, circling with the base of his palm, smiling in the faint light as my whine morphed into a throaty grunt of pleasure. I lost track of time as he continued, his pace remaining the same, until he dipped his finger into my wetness and found my clit. My fingernails dug into his back as the orgasm washed over me, waves of pleasure starting at my core and rippling out to finally reach the tips of my fingers and toes, like a rock thrown into a still pond. He began thrusting hastily, rubbing my nub vigorously, mouth on mine once again, rhythmically sucking on my tongue. I felt his balls draw up, the only sound in the room him whimpering into my open mouth as he came. I moved my legs down so they were twined around his thighs for leverage and rode him until I climaxed again, this one short but so powerful that I bit into his shoulder to stop myself from crying out and waking everyone in the building.

He collapsed on top of me. “Worth waking up for?”

I nodded drowsily. “Yah. Betcha.”

I could feel him grinning against my chest, and he rose up on his elbows. “Maude?”

I patted his cheek. “Mmm.”

“You were very, very wet when I woke you. Soaking. Sopping, even. Were you, perchance, having naughty dreams?”

I grabbed his jaw and shook it as I nodded again. “You. Lestat. Hot. Too much sexy. May die if happens. Bastard.”

He laughed. “You are irresistibly adorable when you’re half asleep.” He lifted himself off me, got up and stood at the side of the bed, holding his hand out to me. “Bathroom?”

I grumbled at the prospect, but knew I should take care of business if I wanted to sleep well. He escorted me to the bowl, guided me as I sat, helped me off when I was done, then walked me back to bed.

“Here you are, my love. I’ll be right back.” He kissed my forehead and went back in to the bathroom. I squinted at the clock. It read 3:30. I meant to tell him I was impressed with his speed reading skills but was asleep again before he returned to me.

****************************************

All of our Tuesday was spent addressing things we’d either been neglecting or needed to take care of before we left the city on Friday. I found a full service laundry and dropped off our combined pile of clothes before we stopped at McDonald’s for breakfast, then found a real estate agent willing to meet us at the house immediately. After apologizing profusely for what she was about to endure within, we toured the property with her. Upon inspecting the garage, we discovered it was filled to the brim with boxes, and that the former servant’s quarters above it had been converted into a recording studio. There were more guitars, a drum set, keyboards…the works. The agent’s on the spot appraisal based on local comps was seven hundred and fifty thousand as is, with a tentative value of at least a million if I painted, changed out all the fixtures, and converted the kitchen/bar area back into a kitchen and dining room with either a classic or modern theme, depending upon my taste and aligned with the look I chose for the rest of the home. The recording studio might attract a buyer, but she thought it would be better if I took out all the equipment and billed it as ready to finish space, or, preferably, turn it back into an apartment. I asked about having someone come in to clean up and hold an estate sale on my behalf, explaining I couldn’t be there in person, and she said she had a company she preferred to work with and would forward their contact info later on in the day.

I phoned Barty and asked him to email the loan holder information and balance due to me, and when it arrived I phoned the company and advised I’d be paying it off at the end of the week. The customer service rep I spoke with promised to have all the remittance details to me no later than Thursday morning. It felt strange, the idea of owning a home I’d hated to be in, but I reminded myself I wouldn’t have to LIVE there because it was nothing more than an investment in my future.    

We picked up our laundry, and after that it was off to Dress Barn to find something to wear for the upcoming bullshit. There were plenty of little boutiques around, but, let’s face it, good luck finding something above a size six. I knew that I’d be able to find something in my size at Dress Barn, even it wasn’t a perfect match for my ‘personal style’.

Seeing Tom holding the pile of dresses I wanted to try on as we headed to the fitting rooms struck me as hilariously funny, and I whipped out my phone to take a picture. He made me take another, in which he rolled his eyes and appeared as exasperated as possible. I dared him to post it online, and as soon as his hands were free he put it on Tumblr. I had him edit it when I saw the finished product.

Greetings and Salutations, Followers.

Not being the sort to back down from a dare, here’s a photo of me graciously attending to the needs my social media manager while she scours the racks at Dress Barn. I have a sneaking suspicion that the sole purpose of her goading me into posting this is so she’s able to deduct her purchases as a business expense.

Edited to add…said social media manager would like me to inform you that the ‘ask box’ will be open at some point today for ten minutes. Please check back periodically so you don’t miss out on the opportunity to send in your question.

Enjoy the day!

Tom

I forced myself to say no when he asked if he could join me in the fitting room so he’d be present and accounted for if any other needs that required tending cropped up, leaving him dejected and standing alone outside the entrance next to the service desk. He was wearing his running shorts, a white T-shirt, blue baseball cap and his running shoes, and while I knew if anyone looked closely he’d be recognized, the place wasn’t terribly busy so I figured it would be fine as long as I moved at a reasonable pace.

There were ten dresses in the stall with me, five different styles in both size twelve and fourteen. Women’s clothing sizes are a source of endless frustration and full of fuckery…a twelve often fits like a ten for one style, or a fourteen for another. Completely impossible to tell until you try it on, and then begins the parade back and forth to the rack to find that style in the next size up or down. Men’s stuff is so much more straightforward…a medium shirt is a medium shirt. A thirty-six waist is a thirty six waist. Hence my penchant for doing all my casual clothes shopping in the fella section. My double D’s complicated matters as well, the bottom half of me always a ten or twelve, the top more often than not a fourteen, sometimes a sixteen. Fine when buying separates, but dresses were a foray into a nightmare of too tight here, too loose there, too long everywhere, too…what the fuck is this even? It always seemed to me that many plus size designers were under the impression that there’s a direct correlation between a woman’s girth and her height. Not so, morons. Not so. When we put on weight, we do NOT get taller, sorry to say.

Three of the styles went into the ‘hell no’ pile prior immediately, having made me either look like a sausage or a matron, but the other two had promise. One was a short-sleeved faux wrap design with a black skirt and a black and white geometric patterned top. The wrap part was asymmetrical at the waist, which was surprisingly slimming. I couldn’t even get the twelve past my chest, but the fourteen, though a little snug in that area, was comfortable everywhere else. I walked out to show Tom and found him taking selfies with two women, probably in their mid-forties. His attention shifted when he saw me, and they looked my way as well, waving and saying hi. They complimented my dress, thanked Tom for the photos and were on their way.

I smirked, shaking my head. “Christ, I leave you alone for five minutes and the ladies are all up in your business.”

He shrugged, a slight blush creeping up from under his shirt to his neck. “They were returning something and I heard them whispering to each other, trying to determine if it was actually possible that Tom Hiddleston was standing outside a Dress Barn fitting room in New Orleans. I couldn’t help but say hello.” He pointed at me. “That looks amazing on you, by the way.”

I grinned. “Nice segue, as always. Thanks. This one is Viewing Dress.  Number two, Funeral Dress, awaits. I will most likely never wear either of them ever again.”

Funeral Dress was actually kinda funky, a black cold shoulder design, exaggerated V-neck, loosely fitted with three-quarter sleeves and silver embellishments. The twelve fit perfectly, hem hanging at four inches or so above my knee. Tom was resting against the wall to the right of the doorframe when I stepped out of the fitting room, biting his lip when he turned and looked me up and down, then leaned over to bite the exposed portion of my right shoulder, whispering ‘I. Want. You.’ while pulling away.

He laughed evilly at my semi-suppressed moan. “Oh, I like this one much better.”

I raised my brows. “Gosh, me too. Maybe this one will make another appearance at some point after all.”

He resumed his duties as dress carrier while I searched for a pair of high heels, which were as foreign and unacceptable to me as pineapple on pizza. After trying on what seemed like a thousand of the blasted things, I settled on a sensible black velvet pair. The toe was roomy and not too pointy, and though the heel was ridiculously narrow and three inches high, I didn’t totter too badly in them. I chuckled when I caught sight of myself in a mirror, hair in a sloppy ponytail, X-files T-shirt, hiking shorts and then…ninety dollar heels. When I turned to point out my serious fashion fug to Tom, I noticed he’d sat down on a bench further down the aisle, the one I’d left my sandals under.

I waved. “Hola. Como esta?”

He met my gaze as he rested his hands on his knees. “Would it be too much trouble to ask you to walk towards me very, very slowly?”

I shook my head, put my hands on my hips and embraced my very first runway model moment as I strutted towards him. Midway through I burst out laughing and had to stop, bending over to catch my breath. He was in front of me in an instant, hands on my arms and setting me upright.

“Maude, do you have any idea…good Christ…the way your hips roll in those things is downright obscene.” He pulled me to him, cock hard against me in an unfamiliar spot.

I thrust my hips forward. “Oooh, man…I wish I was this tall all the time. It would be so much easier for you to fuck me standing up.” I stepped out of the heels and picked them up, walked to the bench, plopped down, then stuffed them back in their box as he stood there, mouth agape. I put my Birkis back on and stood, box tucked under my arm. “Let’s go, cowboy. Much to do and little time to do it in, as always.” He retrieved the dresses from where he’d left them hanging on the edge of one of the shelves, and obediently followed me to the checkout counters up front.

****************************************

Back at the hotel, we ordered in Chinese for lunch, scarfed half of it down and put the rest in the fridge for dinner, intending to spend the rest of the day working. We Skyped with Luke about the upcoming film festival schedule, then we took turns to chat with him individually. Simon kept sneaking behind him and making faces and obscene gestures until Luke kicked him out of the room. They were leaving for London early on the sixteenth, which reminded me that we hadn’t booked a flight for ourselves. I took care of it as soon as our session was over, then logged in to Tumblr and opened Tom’s ask box.

He was sprawled on the bed, already well into Interview with the Vampire. He’d mentioned the screenplay to Luke, who didn’t express an opinion either way, but Simon overheard and began screaming a combination of ‘OH MY FUCKING GOD!’, ‘MAUDE!’ and ‘YOU SNEAKY LITTLE MINX!’ over and over again in the background.

After ten minutes of me sitting at the desk while attempting to weed through the two hundred emails in my inbox, I closed the ask box and began reviewing questions. I deleted the vapid ones, of which there were many, which honestly surprised me, and focused on the ones that had required some thought and were not too personal.  

I cleared my throat to get Tom’s attention. Nada. I raised my leg and poked him with my toes. He jumped, startled, and grabbed my ankle as I tried to pull away.

My left eyebrow shot up. “Wow, I’m guessing you’re liking it, then?”

He nodded vigorously. “I’d like this to be the first book you put on the website, if that’s okay.”

“Sure thing, sunshine. Will you be doing a write up or shall we make a video? Have to get the camera out to make one to answer the Tumblr ask anyway, and you’re already in a white T-shirt…”

He grinned. “Sounds fine to me. Are we betting on the number of notes again?”

I crossed my arms. “No. I don’t want to break my winning streak. And you may be smiling, but I have a feeling you’re out for blood this time.”

“But Maude, I’m so gallant and chivalrous and sweet I would never…”

“Yeah. Fuck right off. Here’s the first question…I chose three. ‘What do you enjoy most about the filmmaking process?’”

He rubbed his jaw.

“Number two. ‘How did you manage to get so skinny to play Hank Williams?’”

He nodded.

“Number three. ‘Out of all the places you’ve travelled to, which is your very favorite?’”

He pointed at me. “That’s the one right there.”

My brow furrowed. “Seriously?”

He marked his place in the book, picked it up and nearly leapt off the bed. “Where are we doing this?”

I removed the video camera bag from my carry on. “How about in front of that awesome bamboo in the courtyard?”

“Perfect. You should bring the tripod.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

I sighed. “Fine. It’s in my suitcase. You can carry it.”

There was no one around when we got downstairs and went outside, so Tom set up the tripod smack in the middle of the path. The ceiling was slatted wood, the walls white, and the giant stalks of bamboo were set in an oval inside a square raised bed, grey gravel filling the non-mulched areas. Two planters sat on either side to the front of the bed, and behind it all were the beautifully aged original windows, the burnished brown wood golden in spots from weathering.

Tom wanted to do the book discussion first. He stood in the gravel, in the center of the raised bed, towards the front, book held with both hands in front of his chest. I gave him thumbs up and hit record.

“Hello there. Welcome to the first installment of Tom’s Library –What I’m Reading.” He held the book out toward the camera. “I hold here in my hands a story that was born right here in New Orleans, Louisiana, put to paper by the amazingly talented Anne Rice, whom I was fortunate enough to meet last evening over dinner. Interview with the Vampire, the initial title of the Vampire Chronicles series. This is my first time reading her work, I’m embarrassed to admit, and though I just delved in a few short hours ago I already find myself completely immersed in the world of Lestat de Lioncourt and Louis de Point du Lac. Her prose is poetic, gorgeous, dark and expressive and if I have my way I’ll be sitting in a corner with my nose firmly planted in this…” He held it up with one hand. “For the rest of the day. These are vampires as vampires were meant to be. My thanks to you, Anne, for dinner and for lending me your very own copy. I promise to return it unscathed.” He grinned and spread his hands, book clutched in the right one. “That’s all for now. I’m certain you’ll be hearing more about it from me sooner as opposed to later. Until next time, then.” He waved and I hit the record button again to stop filming.  

I applauded. “That was gold, Hiddleston. Gold. I don’t even need to edit it.”

He set the book down gently next to the tripod. “Shall we get right into the next one?”

“Yeah. It’s fucking hot out here. My sweat is sweating.”

He paused, looking down as he readied himself, raising his head and nodding when he was prepared to proceed. I hit the record button again.

“Greetings, Hiddlestoners, and all of you who follow me on Tumblr. Today’s question is from kneelbeforeloki1985zx - ‘Out of all the places you’ve travelled to, which is your very favorite?’ Previously, I’ve always found that one impossible to answer, but now…it’s simple. The island of Kaua’i. I just spent the two most incredible weeks of my life there. There’s beautiful scenery wherever you go, the ocean is an impossible shade of blue, and so on and so on. But the best spot on the entire island is the Talk Story bookstore. I’m sure you’re aware I’m a bit of a bibliophile, and the place is chock full of unique and rare reads. There is, however, another reason why I feel so strongly about it. It’s where I met Maude.” He waved at me, trying to get me to join him. I mouthed the words ‘are you fucking insane’ and he nodded, grinning. I shrugged and walked around the tripod and into the frame, doing a giant circle wave starting with my palm out flat toward the camera at stomach level, raising it up past my face, then clockwise out to my right side.

“Hello, People of Tumblr. I’m Maude Gallagher, Tom’s social media manager. Also known as She Who Turneth the God of Mischief into a Dress-Carrying Pack Mule. Please excuse my slovenly and disgustingly sweaty appearance. For the record, as far as I’m concerned there’s really only one acceptable reason to get sweaty…and let me tell you, standing outside in ninety-nine degree heat with ninety-six percent humidity sure as shit ain’t it.”

Tom lost it completely, head back and roaring with laughter at first, then bent over with his hands on his knees. I made a valiant attempt at keeping myself together, but it was foiled when he calmed down for a moment, then whispered ‘we’re up all night to get…sweaty’ and started giggling madly. I laughed until I wept, unable to catch my breath enough to speak, and we clutched at each other as we tried to regain some semblance of control, instead dissolving into another fit of chortles and snorts whenever we looked at each other.

I held my hand out in front of me. “We are SO sorry.” More snorts. “Really. We’re normally very, very professional.” I kept my eyes forward, staring at the gravel as I inhaled and exhaled to the count of five and cleared my throat. I felt Tom’s arm slip around my waist, pulling me to him. I turned my head in his direction, surprised at how he’d sobered so quickly.

He kissed my cheek, then looked directly into the camera. “Over the past few years I’ve been asked about my relationship status more times than I care to count, and at one point I replied to the effect that when there was something to say, I’d say it. And now there is, so here we go.” I teared up, remembering what he’d said to Luke back in Kauai’i…that he wanted the whole world to hear him when he said it. His grip on my waist tightened.

“Someday we’ll have to tell you the entire tale of how we met, because it’s amazing and entertaining and, frankly, something straight out of a movie, but…long story short, we had a delightful exchange at Talk Story that ended all too soon as we both had appointments to keep. I managed to finagle her phone number, promising to call after said appointment was over. As it turned out, unbeknownst to us, our appointments were with each other and my PR manager, Luke Windsor. He’d contacted Maude to arrange a sit down to discuss my social media participation without telling her my name, and he’d only let me know that we were meeting with someone regarding the matter, nothing else.” He turned to me and smiled, and I smiled back. “I’ve heard my entire life that when you find the right person, the person meant for you, that you just…know. Love at first sight. And I never really believed in it, most likely because it had never happened to me. Until the moment I laid on eyes on this gorgeous woman, that is. I just had to meet her. It was a compulsion I couldn’t resist. And when our gazes finally locked and she smirked at me…that was that. I knew. By the end of that very first day, I was madly, deeply and completely in love with her.”    

I rolled my eyes as I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “Goddamn you, Hiddleston.” I shook my head and pointed my thumb in his direction. “Anyway. Yeah. What he said. And I got a really cool job out of it all, too. Seriously, though. It was the most bizarre and extraordinary thing that I’ve ever experienced. One moment, there was some creep standing behind me who wasn’t saying anything and totally freaking me out, and ten seconds later when I turned around to berate his or her appalling behavior I found myself unable to utter a word because the creep was actually this beautiful man. A beautiful man who shortly thereafter followed me out of the store and got on his knees to beg for my phone number. I resisted at first, but as you know all too well, when it comes to Tom Hiddleston, resistance is futile. Later on that same day he brought me Lindor truffles. They were what pushed me over the edge, and down into the rabbit hole I went.” He cleared his throat. “Fine. It was more than the truffles. But let’s keep this PG, shall we?”

He leaned into me, left eyebrow raised, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Must we?”

I grinned in return as I punched him in the shoulder. “Do you think it wise to encourage me in such a fashion?”

He laughed again, shaking his head “I know it’s not.” Tom turned his attention back to the camera. “So, there you have it. Kaua’i. My favorite geographical location. I look forward to answering next week’s question…if we behave ourselves perhaps Maude will join us again.” I shook my head like a four year old refusing to eat their veggies, lips clamped shut. He grinned, tongue between his teeth, curling to touch his upper lip. “A huge thanks to all of you out there…I appreciate your support more than I can express with words. I still love the work, and I’m thrilled that you still enjoy it.” He bowed as I waved and walked out of the frame to turn off the camera.

I felt him beside me, and when I looked his way he was smiling gingerly. “Was that awful? Should we try again?”

I took his hand in mine. “Let’s watch it and see.”

When it was over his head bent towards me and came to rest on my shoulder. “So? Again?”

“No way. It was real, and hilarious, and beautiful.” Sighing, I rubbed my temple against the crown of his head. “And very, very personal. You’re certain you want to put this out there?”

He stood upright, grasped my upper arms and rotated my body to face him. “Absofuckingloutely, as you say. It’s already out there, isn’t it? Vaguely, perhaps, but obvious to those who wish to see it. This just…”

“Serves as confirmation. Which you know I think is the best way to handle it. Band-Aid. Right off. No ‘Are they? Aren’t they?’ I say post this bitch and let the chips fall where they may. And have I mentioned that it’s fucking HOT OUT HERE? If I don’t get inside soon I’m going to have a meltdown in more ways than one.”

He held his chin in his left hand, thumb grazing over his jawline, stroking, making me want to run my tongue over the same spot. “I believe you have. You get the camera, I’ll grab the tripod.”

“Thank you, kind sir. Let us now adjourn to our climate-controlled room where I will offer up a silent prayer of thanks to Willis Carrier prior to dragging my sweaty ass into the shower.”

His mouth opened, as if he were about to speak, then it closed again quickly.

I pointed at him. “You were going to sing your bastardized version of Get Lucky, weren’t you?”

He feigned astonishment, hand spread wide over his upper chest, index finger across his collar bone. “What? No! What would lead you to believe that I’d do such a thing?”

“Experience. Hot, remember? Inside time. Move it, Thomas. Move. It.”

“Ooohhh, inside time. I rather like the sound of that.”

He bounded toward the doors, beaming, as I swiveled my head back and forth in mock disgust, brain far to addled to compose a witty retort.

Once upstairs and cocooned in the delightful coolness that was our room, we ate the remnants of our Chinese food, then went back to work, Tom reading and making notes along the way, while I converted the videos to the proper format and uploaded them where they belonged. Hours later, all my emails were answered, photos and videos from Comic-Con interviews and panels that had been passed on to me as requested were posted, and I’d even reviewed several new account intake forms Luke had sent earlier in the day.

I got up from the desk chair, which was an ass-killer, stretched and plopped down on the floor. I couldn’t remember precisely when I’d last done yoga, and since I was caught up for the moment the perfect opportunity to cycle through some poses seemed to have presented itself. I didn’t bother with the mat as the carpet was so plush, and as I finished, lying in Corpse pose, it occurred to me that I had never in my life spent so much uninterrupted time with another human being. Normally, two days was my maximum before I’d freak out and need to be alone…yet here I was holed up in a hotel room that consisted of less than three hundred square feet of space, perfectly content to have him constantly in my presence.

Tom hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed, pillow tucked behind his back as he leaned against the headboard, one leg bent at the knee, arm resting on it, the other leg stretched out straight, his foot dangling off the bottom of the mattress. I’d always thought my ability to focus was superior, but he had me beat, perhaps by miles. It was no wonder why he was so good at his job…he invested every bit of himself, even in the tasks others would have considered unimportant or beneath them.  

Inspired, I returned to the desk, turned on my iPod, put in my headphones and began outlining a plan for yet another version of the Prosper website, one that would include detailed bios and CVs for of all our clients as well as links to their social media accounts. Everything else just faded away as I selected potential colors to use as a theme, all of which needed to coordinate with the existing logo. I was in the middle of typing up a message to Luke asking if he’d at least let me show him some alternatives to the white on black version he preferred, Bob Marley’s ‘Is This Love?’ blaring in my ears and reminding me of what I’d been pondering as I lay on the floor earlier, when the sound disappeared and all that remained was my own voice, singing loudly. Tom was standing next to me, finger having just hit the pause button.

I reached out and touched his hip. “Sorry if I disturbed you…I didn’t even realize I was singing.”

He extended his hand to me as he removed the earbuds from the jack, pulling me to my feet when I accepted it. “It’s a marvelous song, especially in your voice…I’d forgotten it even existed. Dance with me?”

Nodding, I wrapped my arms around his neck as he started it over from the beginning and his arms encircled my waist. We swayed back and forth as we turned round and round, staring at each other and listening to the lyrics.

I wanna love you and treat you right; I wanna love you every day and every night: We'll be together with a roof right over our heads; We'll share the shelter of my single bed; We'll share the same room, yeah! - for Jah provide the bread.

Is this love - is this love - is this love - Is this love that I'm feelin'? Is this love - is this love - is this love - Is this love that I'm feelin'? I wanna know - wanna know - wanna know now! I got to know - got to know - got to know now! I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I - I'm willing and able, So I throw my cards on your table! I wanna love you - I wanna love and treat - love and treat you right; I wanna love you every day and every night: We'll be together, yeah! - with a roof right over our heads; We'll share the shelter, yeah, oh now! - of my single bed; We'll share the same room, yeah! - for Jah provide the bread. Is this love - is this love - is this love - Is this love that I'm feelin'? Is this love - is this love - is this love - Is this love that I'm feelin'? Wo-o-o-oah! Oh yes, I know; yes, I know - yes, I know now! Yes, I know; yes, I know - yes, I know now! I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I - I'm willing and able, So I throw my cards on your table! See: I wanna love ya, I wanna love and treat ya - love and treat ya right. I wanna love you every day and every night: We'll be together, with a roof right over our heads! We'll share the shelter of my single bed; We'll share the same room, yeah! Jah provide the bread.

At some point he took my hand in his to hold both of them to his heart and I rested my head against the other side of  his chest, remaining there until the first strains of the next song began and he hit pause again. I could feel him burying his face in my hair, breathing me in. Reluctantly, I pulled back so I could see him. He looked…exhausted. Peaceful and serene, but exhausted. My hand rose to cup his cheek.

“You look very, very tired, Thomas.”

He chuckled. “Been a busy couple of days. It feels like…I don’t know how long, but every time I remember that it’s only Tuesday it blows my mind a bit.”

I frowned, recalling everything we’d endured in such a short span of time. “Sorry…”

My apology was cut short with a kiss, long and slow, his tongue tracing my lips then greeting mine with an ardent fervor. He extricated himself in order to speak, his voice gentle, one hand wound in my hair, fingers massaging the area just above my neck. “From now on, whenever you begin to apologize for something that doesn’t require one, I’m going to kiss you.”

My mouth curled in a half smile. “Er, I’m sorry?”

“Well, that turned out exactly as I expected.” He kissed me again, deeper, with a passion that made me shudder. “It’s well past midnight, woman. Time for bed.”

“Do you mean time for bed, or time for…bed?”  

“Whichever you prefer.”

I disrobed in ten seconds flat, flung myself on the mattress and patted the spot next to me. “Come on, Hiddleston. Up all night to get sweaty, right?”

He groaned as he slid his shorts down his long legs and whipped the T-shirt over his head. “That’s going to haunt me forever, isn’t it?”

“Oh yeah. Forever and then some.”

****************************************

We slept in until noon on Wednesday, walked to Café du Monde for coffee and beignets…both of us realizing that if we lived here we’d be in serious trouble because, hello addiction…then headed back to the hotel to get ready for the viewing. I pointed out buildings and homes I loved along the way, as well as the bus stops so Tom could get a feel for what travelling around the city had been like for me. We stopped to listen to a street performer playing a portion of Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61. It was odd without the orchestral accompaniment, but glorious just the same. Tom placed a hundred dollar bill in the young man’s case, carefully tucking it down near the bottom to prevent it from tempting a passerby to help themselves.

“Hard to believe that piece is from two hundred years ago, isn’t it? Everything he did is still so…relevant. I keep hoping that Skrillex is going to incorporate some portion of Beethoven’s work into his own stuff at some point.”

Tom looked at me, head tilted to one side. “Who’s Skrillex?”

“You don’t know who Skrillex is.” I said it as a statement of fact as opposed to a question.

He shook his head. “Not a clue. Should I?”

I shrugged. “Maybe? He’s an EDM artist, and, in my opinion, a fucking genius. Lots of people can’t stand his music, but I love, love, LOVE it. He released his first album on his MySpace page as a totally free download, and then the next two as well, in 2010. He won three Grammys in 2011.” I poked Tom’s arm. “THAT is how you use social media to your advantage. I saw him perform in 2014 at Red Rocks in Colorado. It was awesome, even though I felt like I was the oldest person there. Someone actually asked the kid next to me if I was his mom. Not surprising, I guess, because I’d just left a seminar and didn’t have time to change so I probably looked the part. Anyway. I’ll play you something later. Kinda like the Prodigy, but more metal. Completely original.”

“I look forward to it.” He took my hand as we reached the hotel block, stopping in his tracks. “How are you, Maude?”

“I’m…I’m okay, actually. I just want it done, you know?”

He squeezed. “I know. If Will happens to show up…what would you prefer that I do?”

“Hadn’t thought about it, but…fuck…you shouldn’t have to even be involved in this. I’m really sorry…”

A kiss, short but sweet, interrupted me.

“Right. Not sorry. How’s this? I find it to be terribly unfair that you may have to encounter the epic douchebag that is my ex-husband, and I wish things were different. An apology, but…not.” I blanched. “God, I’m not sure I’ve ever said that before. Ex-husband. I think I may vomit.”

Tom embraced me and kissed the top of my head, then released me.

I bit my lip. “So. To answer your query…I can’t answer it, honestly. What do you want to do?”

The left side of his mouth twisted upward in a sneer. “Split his skull?”

I snorted. “Get in line.”

He laughed. “I’m aware that you’re perfectly capable of handling it on your own, but I still want to be nearby, just in case. Mainly because he’s gotten violent with you in the past. Is that okay?”

I paused, frowning. “Be nearby, yes. But if anything physical happens, please promise me you won’t raise so much as a finger unless there’s some sort of imminent danger. He’s the kind of asshole who’d try to get you to hit him simply because he knows doing so could damage your reputation.”

His brow creased. “Hadn’t thought of that aspect. I promise…it won’t be easy, since I already want to punch him repeatedly, but…I promise.”

I hugged him briefly. “Thank you, Thomas. See, if I punch him and the cops show up all I have to do is tell them he fucked my mother while he was married to me and is now crashing her funeral and they’ll be all like, hit him again, lady. We’ll be out getting some beignets if you need us.”

We began walking again, the hotel lobby only a few steps away. He held the door for me as we entered.

“Is it wrong that I’d love to see you give him a sound ass kicking?”

“Nope. I think it’s adorable. And, I’m overcome by the urge to apologize again but if you keep kissing me…yeah. It would be rather gauche of me to be late, would it not?”

He nodded, and we climbed the two flights in silence. His phone was ringing as we opened the door, and he let out a muffled ‘fuck’ in the hallway when he realized he’d forgotten it. He managed to catch it before it went to voicemail, and he mouthed ‘Legendary’ at me as he answered.

I hopped in the shower, attempting to shift my focus to something more pleasant whenever what awaited me crossed my mind. He stopped talking, and I heard his footsteps coming toward me and into the bathroom.

“They’ve reworked the cast, and we begin shooting in late October. On Oahu.”

I whooped. “MORE HAWAII!” I cleared my throat. “Assuming that I’m coming with you.”

“Well, I’m not going without you, so…”

“Good. But I insist upon staying in a nearby hotel, not in any housing they’re providing for you. When you and the powers that be deem it appropriate for me to take pics and so forth I’ll come to the set. I’m not into going full on Yoko Ono. You need to do your thing, bond with your co-stars and all that jazz.”

He opened the curtain, laughing. “Full on Yoko Ono. I love that. And I love you. As long as you don’t mind me showing up to be near you at all sorts of odd hours and sleeping there whenever possible I’m okay with you being in a hotel.”

I waggled my eyebrows. “Booty calls. I can hardly wait.”

He reached in and put his hand on my shoulder. “Maude, you’re so…different. It’s incredibly freeing, having someone in my life who…I can’t quite explain it. Probably because you’re naked.”

“Makes sense. I forget my own name when you’re naked. How about…understands that your occupation demands long and often unusual hours in faraway places?”

“Yes, but…more than that.”

“Okay…isn’t a total attention whore who can’t deal with not being able to parade you around 24/7? Who has her own interests and a job to keep her occupied while you do yours? Isn’t a massively annoying cling-on who’s so self-centered that she gets pissed when you can’t do what she wants when she wants to do it?”  

His smile took my breath away. “Yes. That. But you left out ‘is intelligent, confident, powerful, caring, amusing and sexy as fuck’. And I’m sure I missed a few, too.” He removed his hand from my shoulder and took his phone out of his pocket. “I’m pleased to inform you that I had an abundance of texts waiting for me, all of them commenting on our Tumblr video.” He began reading them to me. “From Hemsworth, ‘It’s wonderful to see you so happy, mate. Good on both of you.’ Evans said ‘Tom, you lucky bastard…she’s beautiful, and wicked funny. Tell me she has a sister.’ Ben’s comment was ‘That’s how it happens, you know…minding your own business and…BOOM. Can’t wait to meet her.’ And then there’s Downey’s, ‘Tommy. I know that woman. Don’t fuck this up. Oh, and Susan says MARRY HER RIGHT NOW.’” He was blushing, a deep pink color that began at his collar bones and reached all the way up to his cheeks. “There are a bunch more, if you want to read them later. Did anyone mention it to you?”

I laughed. “Thomas, my love…in order for friends to comment on such matters, one must first have friends. So, no. And I haven’t checked the post comments. That’s for another day.”

He waited while I finished, then stepped in to take his turn.

I kissed him on the cheek. “You are so very, very cute when you blush.” He shut the curtain in my face. “You’re doing it again right now, aren’t you?” He remained silent, and I chuckled to myself the entire time I was getting dressed, until he wandered out of the bathroom naked and dripping yet again…at which point all other thoughts escaped me.

He dressed as I put on makeup and wound my hair into a bun, cursing occasionally at my ineptness, then finally saying fuck it and letting it hang loose. After fastening the tourmaline necklace into place, I went back out into the main area. Tom looked stunning, as always, in the grey pants he’d worn at Comic-Con, a black button down shirt, grey knit tie and black patent shoes. He had his light grey jacket in his hand.

“Should I wear this, do you think?”

I shook my head vehemently. “Not unless you want the next funeral to be yours. You’ll fucking sweat to death.”

He peered at me quizzically. “Surely they have air conditioning.”

“Yes. They do. But no one ever turns it up enough. I hope I’m wrong, but…yeah.” I slung my bag across my body after looking at the clock. 3:30. “Ready?”

He nodded, and we made for the car.

****************************************

The receiving room was painted a pale yellow, with a yellow-gold carpet and drapes to match on the wall behind the casket. Brown wooden chairs with avocado green leather seats and backs that clashed horribly with the pink roses had been arranged in neat rows, though I doubted we’d need them. I didn’t anticipate much of a crowd, unless they were coming purely for the schadenfreude, in which case it might be standing room only. Mrs. Henderson came out of a side door to greet us.

“Hello, Maude. Have you seen her yet?” I shook my head, and she motioned for me to follow her to the front of the room. Tom grabbed my hand and came along. The pink dress looked garish, but that would have been the case even if she was still alive. I had to admit that the cosmetologist had done an exceptional job…her color was nearly normal, cheeks fleshed out (with what, exactly, I was sure I didn’t want to know) and blush applied, her hair washed and styled, fanning out on the white pillow behind her. “She looks beautiful, and so peaceful, doesn’t she?”

I wanted to scream, but I nodded instead.

She pointed to a grouping of three chairs to the left of the casket. “You can stand or sit until guests begin arriving, whichever you prefer. If this room gets too full, you’re welcome to have folks wait in the one next door…your mother’s is the only visitation we have remaining for today. I’ll be right behind this door if you need anything, and at 6 PM you’ll have the opportunity to say goodbye privately before we seal the coffin.”

I flopped down gracelessly in the chair furthest away, tossed my bag on the floor and put my head in my hands, elbows on my knees. Tom sat next to me, gently rubbing my back until we heard a familiar voice.

“Maudie! Thomas! There you are.” She was wearing a black dress with a white lace collar, a black and ivory cameo at her neck. She walked toward us, then peeked in the coffin before taking a seat next to Tom. “Wow. They did a nice job.”

Tom and Anne chatted about the screenplay while we waited for people to show up, and listening in was a welcome distraction for me. I checked my phone and discovered it was already 4:30, and not a single soul had come by.

The next hour seemed to drag on endlessly, with only six visitors…our former chef and  housekeeper, two neighborhood ladies that my mother couldn’t stand, Barty, and Reverend Thompson, who indicated that he always turned out for such things when he was officiating the at the funeral. Barty, who’d apparently been Anne’s lawyer for years before she relocated to California for the second time, lingered, pulling a chair over and sitting beside her so they could catch up.

By 5:45 I thought we were in the clear, but moments later the yelling started. It was distant, but I knew immediately who it was. Lord knows I’d heard his voice at that volume often enough throughout the course of our relationship. I couldn’t make out all of what he was saying, but I did hear ‘fucking cunt’ and ‘does she think she is’ quite distinctly. Tom was engaged in conversation with Anne and Barty, and he paid me no mind when I got to my feet. Boots echoed down the hallway, thumping on the hardwood floors, and then there he was, in the doorway and storming through it, headed straight for me.

I laughed out loud when I took in his appearance…I’d forgotten how short he was, barely as tall as me when I was in bare feet and he was wearing shoes,  and I was reasonably sure that I’d tower over him in my three inch heels. He’d put on at least fifty pounds, belly hanging over the top of his jeans, black and white Nirvana T-shirt two sizes too small. His hair still hung long, midway down his back, but his hairline had receded more than halfway on the sides above his temples, leaving nothing but a tufty grey-streaked strip running down the middle of his head. The jeans were filthy, his tan work boots shabby and unlaced, and a plaid flannel was tied around what passed for his waist, partially invisible under his protruding stomach. Other than the weight gain and the hair loss, he looked pretty much the same as when I’d left…meaning, those might just be the same exact fucking clothes he’d worn for days at a time seventeen years ago. Hopefully he’d laundered them at some point.

As he drew closer I realized he really didn’t look the same at all…his complexion was ashen, eyes bloodshot with dark circles under them, skin wrinkled and leathery, lips cracked and chapped. He was speaking, pointing a finger in my face, but I couldn’t hear him, my only focus intent on the amount of dirt underneath his fingernail. I suppressed a gag as the fact that I’d slept with this disgusting piece of shit rose to the surface of my mind. As I pushed the thought away his voice, southern accent as thick as ever, became clear.

“…show your ugly face in this town, sneakin’ behind my back and tryin’ to take what’s MINE. But I FOUND OUT, because I KNOW PEOPLE and I got told YOU were there Monday with your fag actor boyfriend and that there was a fuckin’ realtor car there yesterday…you can’t fuckin’ SELL it, it’s MY house now…”

I squared my shoulders as my arm shot out, hand wrapping around his hairy wrist and squeezing tightly, voice icy and dripping with condescension.

“If you plain on retaining possession of that particular digit I’d strongly advise you to cease waving it in my face.”

An expression of surprise crossed his countenance briefly and was quickly replaced with rage. He tried to twist away from me, but my own rage had tightened my grip well beyond my ordinary level of strength, to the point where tears began to well up in his eyes from the pain. I let go, smirking.

His hands dropped to his sides, balled into fists. “You ain’t gonna do another goddamn THING until we see a LAWYER, Maude. I want what’s MINE.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m sorry…what do you mean, you want what’s yours? NOTHING is yours. She died intestate.”

He stomped his foot. “I don’t care what the fuck it was that killed her…all that matters is she’s dead, and she left me everything. It says so in her will.” He whipped a stained, dog-eared sheaf of papers out of his back pocket, unfolded them and tapped his finger to the front page. “Right fuckin’ HERE.”

I’d heard Barty snicker at his reply to my intestate comment, and I could feel the fiendish grin spreading across my face. Granted, there weren’t as many people present as I would have liked for the show, but I was going on with it anyway.

I rolled my eyes. “Intestate means without a will, you fucking moron. Which, in turn, according to the laws of the great state of Louisiana, means that everything goes to ME, not YOU. And it was the booze that killed her…technically alcoholic cirrhosis of the liver, but I think I’ve already exceeded your fifty-cent word limit for the day, so let’s just leave it at booze.”

He screamed and waved the papers in my face. “I HAVE THE WILL RIGHT HERE, YOU STUPID BITCH!”

Mrs. Henderson popped her head out and asked if everything was all right…I nodded and waved her away, and Anne got up and followed her into the adjoining room.

I shook my head. “Shut up and listen very carefully, William. After you left town with wife number three, Mary filed a statement with her attorney revoking all existing wills and codicils after marking the most recent one VOID. That’s the one you keep waving around there, by the way. She knew you had a copy, and she wanted to make sure you got precisely jack shit.”

He took a step forward, snarling. “YOU’RE A FUCKIN’ LIAR!”

Barty stood up and walked to my side. “Mr. Bonaventura, I’m Bartholomew Stevens, Mary Bonaventura’s attorney.” He pulled a document out of his inner jacket pocket. “Here’s a notarized copy of her revocation statement as well as the will she marked void. You’ll find it’s identical to the one you already have in your possession. Ms. Gallagher is 100% correct. The entire contents of the estate passes directly to her as the only surviving child. Go ahead and take those to your own lawyer and he’ll tell you the same.” As he went back to sit next to Tom he winked at me, and I wanted to kiss him.

I could see Will’s wheels turning, trying to figure out how he could get something out of this. I dove in before he could speak.

“Sorry asshole, no payday for you. Guess it’s time to find another cash cow to milk, especially since your most recent one’s run dry as well.” His eyes widened. “Yeah. I know. Took me a while, I’ll give you that, but all the pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place. You dragged me to Vegas and got me blackout drunk so I’d marry you because you thought I was rolling in dough. When you found out my mother was the one with all the money, you started fucking her and she fell for your bullshit hook, line and sinker. Once hers ran out, you latched on to Anna Beth. Rinse, lather, repeat.”

He took a step forward. “You begged me to marry you. You said you loved me. And you sure fucked me like you did.”

Without pausing to consider the consequences of my actions, I leaned back, made a fist and swung, hitting him square on the mouth. His head flew to the side, blood spraying from where I’d split his lip.

“The only reason I ever fucked you AT ALL was because I was DRUNK, you worthless piece of shit. My heart had just been torn from my chest not once, but TWICE, and I couldn’t face the pain. You were nothing more than a convenient excuse so I could tell myself I was an ARTIST who liked to party, not a raging alcoholic. I NEVER loved you. And you knew it. And that’s why you tricked me into marrying you, abused me, belittled me, accused me of cheating and played all your other mind fuck games. That and the fact that you didn’t want me to notice that you were fucking MY MOTHER before you were certain she was all yours.”

He lunged at me, and I saw Tom stand up out of the corner of my eye as I grabbed Will by the shoulders, kneed him in the balls, then shoved him backward. I motioned for Tom to sit back down as I steadied myself, balancing on one heel even just for a few seconds having thrown me off balance. His eyes narrowed, but he complied.

Will was doubled over, and I bent down, got close and screamed in his face. “It’s bad enough that you’ve done this all your life, grifting and sponging off everyone else because you’re too fucking lazy to get an actual JOB and won’t let your stupid dream of hitting it big because you’re such a great guitar player DIE, but now you have CHILDREN who are COUNTING ON YOU to PROVIDE FOR THEM. Newsflash, fucktard. You’re too fat, too bald and too old for anyone in the industry to even look twice at you, and your guitar playing is mediocre at best. The only reason your band was popular back in the day was because of ME. People came to hear ME sing, not to hear YOU play. And that always burned your ass too, didn’t it? I hope it still does. Every fucking day.”

He stood upright as best he could, arms still clutching his stomach, staring at me like he had no idea who I was.

“This didn’t turn out quite the way you expected, did it? Sorry to disappoint, but the coward of a girl I was when you knew me…the one who let you walk all over her and treat her like she was worthless and stupid…she’s been dead for years, Will. Her father blowing his brains out killed her drunk ass off and a goddess took her place.” I pointed at my chest with my thumb. “This, this is the REAL me. The me that’s going to pay off the mortgage on my crazy fucking mother’s house so I can sell it later for a huge profit. The me that’s going to sell every single fucking thing that’s in it, too. Your toys, your instruments, every piece of equipment in the recording studio, her shit, ALL OF IT. And would you like to know what I’m going to do with the proceeds? Of course you would. I’m donating every single penny to a crisis organization for victims of domestic violence, the Metropolitan Center for Women and Children, right here in New Orleans. Appropriate, don’t you think? It won’t make up for any of what you’ve done to me, or to Anna Beth, but it will surely help a LOT of women move on from their OWN Wills, and it’ll absofuckingloutely put a smile on MY face every time I think of how much my doing it pissed you off.”

The staring continued, his eyes wide with shock.

I waved my hands at him in dismissal. “We’re done here. Time to go back to whatever hole you crawled out of. And do not, under any circumstances, show up here tomorrow for the service OR at the cemetery. Unless you want me to kick your sorry ass some more, that is.”

His brow furrowed, and I couldn’t help but notice how much he resembled a Neanderthal. He turned and walked slowly toward the doorway, then looked back at me, the fire still gone from his eyes but unwilling to let me have the last word.

“This ain’t over. You’ll be hearin’ from my lawyer, you fat fuckin’ cunt.”

I laughed. “Looked in the mirror lately, Will? Fat cunt is a much more appropriate description of YOUR appearance these days, not mine. I’ll be waiting with baited breath for your attorney’s call. In the meantime, get the fuck out of here.” He didn’t move until I took a step in his direction, then finally exited the room and stomped down the hall.

I remained in place for several moments, rewinding and replaying it all in my head. A smile spread across my face, so huge and wide that it was almost painful. I turned around to see everyone standing, eyes on me. Barty, Anne, who I had no idea had come back into the room, and…Tom. He’s the one who began applauding first, and the others joined in immediately.

I held up my hands in a stop gesture. “You should NOT be rewarding this kind of behavior, folks. Where’s Mrs. Henderson, I need to tell her how so very, very sorry I am…”

Tom strode over, embraced me, picked me up and spun me around, mouth on mine as he set me back down, sucking on my lower lip until I moaned. Barty cleared his throat and Tom released me.

He glanced in Barty’s direction and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry about that. Couldn’t help myself.” He turned back to me, whispering. “Maude…you are, indeed, a goddess. MY goddess.”

I whispered in return. “Are you going to worship me later?”

His reply was a barely audible hiss in my ear that made me shiver. “Yessss.”

Barty appeared behind Tom, clapping him on the back. “So, who’s up for some dinner at the Palm Court Jazz Café? One of my favorite haunts. The food is damn tasty…” He patted his belly. “And I enjoy it as often as I can, as you can clearly see. My treat, of course.”

Anne answered first. “Count me in. I’m in just the right mood for some jazz. And Mrs. Henderson went to make sure Will actually left the building. She said not to worry, that this kind of thing happens more often than you’d imagine, and to just leave when we we’re done and she’d take care of the rest.”

Tom met my gaze, raising an eyebrow. I nodded and spoke for both of us. “We’re in too. But it’s MY treat, Barty. You being here with those papers…epic. So, so epic.”

He laughed. “A little bird was kind enough to inform me that Mr. Bonaventura had arrived in our fine town, and I had planned on coming anyhow. Always be over-prepared…every attorney’s mantra. I’ll let you buy, darlin’. Next time’s on me, though.”

I smiled. “Fine. Why don’t you and Anne go on ahead and get us a good table?” I looked over to the casket, then back at Barty. “There’s something else I need to do here.”

He nodded, took Anne by the arm and walked her out.

Tom put his hands on the sides of my face. “Would you like some privacy?”

“I’d like you to stay, if you don’t mind.”

He nodded, then removed his hands and slid one arm around my waist as we walked up to the coffin. He let me go when I stopped to pick up my bag on the way. After staring at her face for a few moments, I took a deep breath and began to speak, knowing that my adrenaline high could slip away at any moment, leaving me a quivering, shaky mess.

“Mary. I’d call you Mom, but…you weren’t really that, were you? So Mary it is. Better than what I’d really like to call you, that’s for sure.” I reached in my bag and pulled out the brown leather box with the maroon tapestry inset that held my father’s revolver. I heard Tom inhale sharply, but he didn’t speak. “I know you left this for ME, but…I want you to have it. And you will, now, forever. Theoretically. What Dad did…in the end it was his choice, but you’re the one who betrayed his love. And what a love it was. Yet you threw it away like it was nothing, and because of that, he was already dead before he pulled the trigger. But his heart kept beating in spite of how he felt, so he had to finish the job. Anyway. None of it was my fault, and his tomb is sealed, so, here you are. A little parting gift to enjoy while you rest eternally at his side.”

I put the box down inside the coffin, below her hands and out of sight.

“All of my life, I could never understand why you didn’t love me. And I always thought it was because of something I did, or who I was. Now I know it wasn’t me at all…that’s just what you wanted me to think. The real reason you never loved me…and, scratch that…the reason you hated me was because you regretted the choices you made in your own life, and because you were jealous of me. That, at least, makes sense. Of course you were jealous. I’m everything you were never capable of being, or becoming. The best you could ever do was dress yourself up and try to look pretty enough so that no one would notice that you were nothing more than a monster in an expensive dress. I wasted so much time…my god, the TIME…feeling like I’d missed out on so much because I never really had a mother, when, in truth, the only person who missed out on anything was YOU. You had an amazing, beautiful, intelligent, funny daughter who loved you despite everything you did to her. You never got to know me, you never cared to know me, and now you never will. My love for you turned to hate long ago, but now…even that’s gone. I feel…nothing. You’re nothing. But I’m something. Because I’m still here. You did your best to destroy me, but you couldn’t. Not completely. I’m too strong for that. Stronger than you. And I’m happy. Happy with my life, and happy that you’re finally out of mine. For good. There’s no coming back from where you’ve gone. Every night the last thing on your mind before you fell asleep may have been how you wished I’d never been born, but the last thing on MY mind every night before I fall asleep is… love. So, fuck you, Mary. I win. You lose. Game over.”

I turned around and began to walk toward the doorway, but Tom stopped me.

“When did…how…”

“You used the bathroom after the real estate agent left and I snagged it. Still wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it, but…”

His arms wrapped around me, and he placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “You’ve left me speechless again, Maude. God, how I love you.” He pulled back, smiling softly at me. “Ready to go?”

I nodded. “Fuck yeah. I’m starving.” I paused. “And Tom…thank you, once more, for being here. And not judging me. I love you too.”

“You’re very welcome. Though I have to admit, I did, in fact, judge you.”

I shot him a look. “I’m sorry, what?”

He laughed. “I judged you. And my verdict is that you throw one mean fucking punch, woman. In heels, even.”

I slapped his upper arm. Lightly. “You know, I had no idea I could do that. It felt really, really good. TOO good. Maybe I should take up boxing.”

We walked through the doorway together, and he leaned into me. “Not a bad idea. Then you could serve as my bodyguard as well.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know, Thomas, you can’t expect me to do EVERYTHING.”

He held the building door open for me, whispering seductively as I passed by him, his hand cupping one cheek of my ass. “As long as you do me, nothing else matters.”

“Shut up, Thomas. Please. Shut. Up.”

He laughed all the way to the car, finally quieting down when I distracted him by hiking my skirt more than halfway up my thighs as I sat down in the driver’s seat. Then it was my turn to laugh…until his hand found its way between them in the parking lot. And mine found its way into his pants. We were slightly more than fashionably late when we finally made it into the restaurant, but Anne and Barty were too busy dancing to notice.

[mirrorofficialramblings]

Chapter 1

Arc 1 - Auspicious Calamity (Part 1)

Word Count: Approx. 2,500. 

PK - Summer, 114, 0000. 

        Arriving at the den, the gray wolf called a greeting and crept inside. "Fang? You there? Did something happen?"

        A large wolf with odd, glistening, azure-blue fur stood and glanced towards the voice. Seeing his brother sneaking in, he stepped over and greeted him. "Slash, you've come back!"

        Slash bowed his head and glanced around. He sniffed the air and bristled as he caught a scent. Fang chuckled and stepped back. "Fang, who was in here?" Slash glared up at his elder brother. "Someone was here, who was it?" His ears swerved as he waited for an explanation.

        Fang could barely keep himself from sighing. "Relax, they were only some travelers; they're not even a part of a pack! Come here, I'll explain." He nodded to the fire and plopped back down.

        Knowing that the visitors were loners, Slash relaxed and shifted deeper into their home. He settled down beside Fang's fire, directly across from the male. He glanced around the underground burrow with the aid of the flickering flame. The dirty space was sparsely decorated with scrolls, animal skins, and an herbal showcase made from a dead log. Seeing as there was nothing out of place he rested his suspicions, tucking them away in a corner of his mind. With that out of the way, Slash eyed his older brother, silently questioning him. "How many of them were there?" he asked. 

        "Well, only one came to see me, but she said she had two sisters waiting elsewhere. Approaching a male they had never seen was a bit frightening; they couldn't tell what I would do to them." 

        Slash narrowed his eyes. "And why exactly did they approach you? What were they here for?" Like he would just ignore this. Travelers or not, they were a threat - female demonic wolves were especially vicious when angered. They made even the largest, ugliest male look harmless, even cute in comparison. 

        Fang watched as the youth nosed at his paw, his lips curved into a forced smile. "Well, Slash... can I be honest with you?" When he saw he had the boy's attention, he continued to say, "I think we should try to form a pack with them. Their old pack was ravaged and they were the only ones to escape. Besides, it'd be way easier to get food and defend ourselves if there were others." He didn't dare shift his eyes away from the ground. Even so, he could feel Slash's eyes drilling into him with all the venom attached. When he finally glanced up, the face was different than he expected. There wasn't even an ounce of spite on Slash's face and it seemed quite blank. 

        "Fang, have you forgotten who we are? Do you really think we need a pack?" Slash's face sunk and became full of shadows. "No way, I'm not being a part of this. If you wanna be led on by those girls, go ahead. It has nothing to do with me." 

        "What? But I can't just leave you here alone!" Slash abruptly stood up at those words, his lips peeling back. Fang silenced himself the moment those teeth were brandished. He watched as his brother stood and relocated to a darker part of the burrow, baring his back to his sibling. The older wolf stared at that hunched back and knit his brows. "Slash, just listen. This place is dying: the animals, the birds, haven't you noticed their numbers have dwindled?" 

        Slash glared at the other from the corner of his eye. "I don't trust them," he grumbled. "We don't need a pack, especially not with those shady sisters! My gut tells me they're bad news, and I haven't even met them yet." He stood and stormed off to the exit. "If you get yourself killed trusting the wrong people then so be it!" Ending the conversation at that, he dashed outside. 

        "Slash, wait!" Fang stood, ready to chase his defiant brother, only to give up the task. As the kicked-up dust settled, Fang sat there with his ears reeled back. He let his tense body relax. "When are you going to learn," he muttered. Fang's eyes examined the dirt floor before they shut. 'This place isn't our home anymore.' 

        Glowering as he walked, Slash came across a creek skirting a large boulder. He hopped across the creek and climbed atop the boulder, sinking in the sunlight. He stared down at the creek where some water striders skidded away further downstream. Slash had always come to this place when he was upset with Fang. The pup sighed miserably and fell onto his side so he could just pretend he was a corpse. Sometimes he didn't even want to think about anything and this place would let him. The way the rock soaked the heat of the sun and the way it warmed his soul when he rested upon that lukewarm rock, it felt peaceful and calming. His heart was set at ease instantly, allowing his cloudy mind to clear. The forest was silent and allowed him the moment of peace. 

        As time passed, he began to mull over the words he and Fang exchanged. In truth, his brother was right. There was logic in his words and nothing Slash could say would prove otherwise. This was their home, but sometimes home isn't always the best place to be. Prey was becoming scarce and the selection was thinning, and he couldn't catch any lunch for either of them today as a result. Knowing that he was being a nuisance, he couldn't stop himself from agreeing: maybe it was time to leave their birthplace. A forest so young that is dying is a pitiful scene. Drew's demise should have been the signal that the land was unstable. Joining a pack was probably the best bet they had at surviving in an unfamiliar world. He sat up and grumbled "But not with those girls!"

        One of his ears twisted to the sound of the creek's burbling. Going silent, he couldn't fight the unease creeping into his heart. "It's strange. It seems a bit different today. How is it usually again?" He surveyed the area and sucked in a breath. He rose to his paws and let his tail slip between his legs. He realized what was off: the birds were mute, not a single chirp, nor a single song. Something was causing the birds to go quiet and hide, possibly even frightening them. Deciding it was no longer safe, he began to ease off the boulder, only to jump at a pattering to his left. His head whipped to the noise to see a pinecone rolling across the ground. He exhaled in relief and strolled over to the pinecone. "You scared me," he whispered. He rolled the seed-bearer under his paw and dismissed his anxiety. "This is ridiculous!" He kicked the pinecone away where it plopped into the creek. 

        His heart sank again the moment his ears perked. Daring his instincts, he glanced up the tree he was under. His eyes instantly connected with two golden irises glaring right back at him. Perched in the leaves above was a beast ready to pounce. Without warning, the beast lunged at the pup with its maw gaping. The small and swift Slash quickly zig-zagged out of harm's way, stumbling towards the creek in his panic. He caught only a glimpse of the beast, but he already knew how deep he had sunk. It was a Sin Lion. He pivoted for just a moment to see the beast, regretting it instantly. The white figure was standing with jagged claws dug into the ground and fangs flaunted. The Sin Lion turned and used its hind leg to scratch at the grotesque gash along its side, not caring if it caused the bleeding to worsen.

        Noticing the wounds, Slash couldn't help but curse himself. 'Was it being attacked and hid here by chance? I have bad luck, geez!' Slash backed away from the beast before turning tail and bolting across the creek. 'I can't fight this off. No way in hell. I have to get Fang.' Seeing him flee, the beast roared and charged after him, digging up the earth stuck to its claws. The wolf dared not look back; he didn't even need to. His round eyes were near spinning as they scanned the area ahead. All his attention was fixed on not tripping. Anything he came across he could duck below or hop above. On any account, it's not like he needed to turn back for he could easily hear the beast mowing down everything in its path. 

        Slash's mind shut down as a sharp pressure spread from his tail, sending his nerves alight with pain. He was brought to a complete halt by the beast as it clamped down onto his tail. From behind the beast, a tree was partially uprooted. Tired of this game of chase, the Sin Lion swept its paws under Slash's hind legs, sending him collapsing onto the earth. It released his tail and pinned him to the ground, snarling into his ear.  Slash's ears pressed against his head and his tail retreated between his legs. 'No. No! I'm not going to be killed now, am I? Is this really how I die? Why did this happen?' All of Slash's formerly chaotic thoughts became cloaked in dread. He didn't want to accept this fate, but he couldn't think of any ways to escape. Sin Lions were created as warriors by the Western Goddess herself. Their power was unmatched by any other animal in the world. 

        Swallowing any pride he might've had, he inhaled. "Fang! Help me!" he yelled at the top of his lungs for his brother, praying to the goddesses above that there would be a miracle. The Sin Lion jumped at the sudden noise and dug its claws into his back. Slash whined at the stabbing pain. 

        Without warning, a figure dove from higher ground and crashed into the Sin Lion. The impact sent the beast sliding away from its victim, the figure landing defensively over Slash. Hearing the beast get knocked away, Slash's head shot up and he regarded the one hovering above him. He witnessed a wolf who wasn't his brother. His fur bristled at the sight of the female above him. He didn't know who she was or why she was helping him, so all he could think of was a threat. Regardless, she was his best bet. It didn't matter whether she was friend or foe so long as she got rid of the Sin Lion. He panicked the moment the female peeked at him, their eyes locking. He turned his head away, avoiding her unfamiliar gaze.

        The female chuckled and returned her focus to the Sin Lion standing not far away. Silver eyes matched gold ones as the pair stared at one another. The she-wolf broke the silence. "Were you attracted to this child? Was it fun venting on him?" She eyed the trembling pup on the ground and then cocked her head. "It's honestly a shame, you frightened the poor thing quite a bit." She stepped away from Slash and smirked, looking the Sin Lion up and down. "You really did run a ways away. Seems a punishment is in order." Within moments she closed the space between the two, bursting straight for the Sin Lion's face. She dug her canines deep into the beast's right eye, causing blood to sputter out as it roared. It thrashed its head, yowling in agony, eventually tossing the she-wolf away. The wolf flipped and landed perfectly on all fours near Slash. She gave a wink to the pup watching her and smiled.

        Licking the blood from her teeth and spitting it out, she shifted back over to the Sin Lion. "Is that really all you can do? No acrobatics? No charging? No biting? I'm a little disappointed here. Normally Sin Lions are fighting geniuses who can figure out complex plans, but you've displayed none of that skill during our run-in. I might as well make you into an experiment!" Her pupils shrank as she gave a crooked smile. "How much fear can you feel?" 

        Rubbing as its gored eye, the Sin Lion could only glare at her with the one eye it had left, soaking her in disdain. The crimson blood stained its white fur as it streamed from the injury.

        Satisfied with her work, the wolf gave a shrug and her eyes began to glow black. The black rhombus marking on the she-wolf's forehead gave off a black mist that rose into the air. The smoke flew to the Sin Lion and made contact with the confused beast's forehead. Her face relaxed as a black rhombus similar to hers formed on the beast's brow. The beast instantly went stiff as if it had been petrified. The wolf's body went stone-still as well, leaving the spectating Slash confused. The pup stared curiously at the pair, tilting his head to the side with a blink.

                                                 ~~____________~~

        The Sin Lion glanced around in confusion as both wolves had vanished from its line of sight. Its sole good eye zig-zagged, trying to figure out where they went. It spun around and noticed that the forest was different. The world around it was frozen, completely silent, and almost dead.

        "Tell me," the beast flinched to a voice, "do you know where we are?" The female stepped from behind a tree and approached the confused Sin Lion. It scowled at the sight of her, not knowing what sort of trick she was pulling. "Well, let me take this time to ask you a few questions. I know you can't respond, but might as well. Why did you feel the need to run away from me? Did you think your life was so worth living to escape your fate? If I don't kill you, someone else will. You Sin Lions don't have any worth to this world, so I don't see the point in any attempts to flee." She sighed and shrugged off her concerns, "Regardless, you're weird for a Sin Lion. Seems that despite your body not having any gold yet, you've developed a personality. How odd. Might have to report this." 

        When she looked back at the beast, it had nothing but mild irritation painted on its bloodied face, obviously finding her words vexatious. She chuckled at its display and sneered with a crooked toothy smile. "Suit yourself, let's get started!" The wolf sprung into the air and burst into bright light, fading within seconds. The world around it began moving, but not in a lively way. Its head swung back and forth as it watched all of its surroundings get sucked up. The landscape was being eaten by the sun, slurping it up like a casual meal. In its wake was pure darkness with no visible end. It glanced up at the sun as the last bits of color and light were consumed. Once everything was gone, the floating object seemed to swirl around and burst into a small flame, similar to one seen on a lit matchstick, and went out, leaving the Sin Lion in a void of black. The beast looked back and forth for something, anything, of some semblance of form. Where it was, what was happening, both of those things were unknown. If it knew anything, it was that the silver-eyed wolf was behind whatever was happening. It was her trickery the Sin Lion was witnessing. In what little mind it had, it scorned her with every drop of hatred it could muster. 

        "Hm, you're just going to stand there? That's no fun. You're boring!" The she-wolf's voice rang from all directions, but no direction all at once. The Sin Lion froze in its spot and lowered its head. Unable to figure out what was going on, it could only submit in panic. "They say the smart ones are the boring ones, but this dumb thing right here is so much more annoying to watch! I should just end this now," she muttered. With that, her voice was no longer heard, and everything returned to a deathly silence. 

        Just as it began to wonder what would happen, a strange static began to fill the black. It seemed to almost shift, creating an odd sloshing noise. As if on cue, eerily enough, a pair of massive eyes appeared from within the darkness. Slowly they opened and looked down at the beast from behind. A moment later, eyes of all sizes began to appear all over the endless abyss, all setting their focus on the frozen beast. Underneath the eyes, large crooked smiles appeared. The mouths sang out at the same time, their voices overlapping. "Hey, do you wanna play a smidgen?" With a giggle, the pupils narrowed down to vertical slits like that of a cat's in bright sunlight. The crooked smiles laughed to no end, a string of endless chitters.