#One deals with paperwork while the other 2 loose their shit

[caseykeshui]

They r all friends talking before work hehe

—————————

YALL I did not want to die again but school work like projects and midterms caught up with me gdi 😭 I’ve been itching to post something - I don’t post on Tuesdays but hey that’s okay 😌 hope you guys are doing well mwa ❤️

Anyway I’ve been watching gameplays of these 3 games and thought it’d be nice to draw them together

[duckdoeswords]

Remnants of the Past - Chapter 2

Summary: It’s been ten years since the fall of Beacon and five since the battle for Remnant which changed the world for the better. Or so the world believes. Those who fought in the war against Salem are still picking up the pieces while those who didn’t worship them as heroes. Team RWBY is in tatters, their leader having gone missing in the chaos of the final battle has left a person-sized hole where she had once been. The three remaining members have gone their separate ways, some fairing better than others.

Words: 4,316

Main Relationship: Weiss Schnee/Ruby Rose

Rating: M

Notes: Im finally posting chapter 2 here. It took me a while cause life got busy but if you follow me here please enjoy! Chapter 3 and 4 are completely outlined and have the endings written so they should be on their ways soon enough.

Fic:

Sun filtered through the skylight illuminating the large space, shelves lined the walls, full to the brim with worn books, the spines, a few of which read: History of Faunus in Remnant' and ‘The Founding of Menagerie’ . Several were piled up on Blake’s desk where she sat hunched, sheets of loose leaf paper scattered around. 

Her fingers were threaded through the front of her hair.  Paperwork upon paperwork upon even more paperwork. It was a headache but one she had no choice but to deal with. Blake sorted through the papers on her desk when the computer began to ring. 

‘Shit.’ Blake quickly cleared off her desk, moving the peppers to the side and out of view as the video call began. Several boxes popped up showing the faces of the Anima council and while she was muted she could clearly hear the other members as they talked.

At least ¾’s of which were human. Because of course, they were. 

“Alright.” The oldest of the council members spoke. An older man with balding gray hair, liver spots, and a patchy beard. The left bottom of his glasses let Blake know that his name was Sorrel Reed. “So, how has everyone been since the last meeting?” 

Blake bounced her leg anxiously as the rest of the council talked amongst themselves. She really had no patience for politics. She looked over her talking points, written on several pieces of paper, mentally preparing herself for when it was her turn to speak. Everything she needed to say was written in small but messy handwriting.

“Next on the agenda is Miss Blake Belladonna.” Sorrel Reed spoke looking up into the camera and Blake jerked back to the present. “You can speak now, Miss Belladonna.” 

Blake quickly unmuted herself and sat up straight as she spoke. “I was hoping to bring up my need to expand–” 

“Miss Belladonna. I’m going to cut you off right there.” A middle-aged woman with dark brown hair pulled into a bun on the top of her head, pushed her half-moon glasses up her nose as she cut her off mid-sentence. “There just isn’t enough land.” 

Sun slammed his hand onto the desk. “That’s bullshit and we all know it!” Blake held up her hand, silencing the blonde-haired faunus.

“We’ve received nothing but pushback from the council in regards to the expansion.” Blake leaned forward, clasping her hands in front of her face. “Please explain to me how there's ‘Just not enough land’ for my people?” 

“Well, it's just…Mistral is–” 

“I’m going to cut you off right there.” Blake held out her hand as she spoke. “We aren’t trying to come to Mistral. We are simply asking for permission to expand onto Anima. All I need is a signature saying we’re allowed to be there.” She tilted her head to the side, lips tilting downward. “So, why am I getting so much pushback?” 

“It’s not…we don’t…there's just..” The council members stumbled over each other, words blurring together.

“There's just what? Why won’t you sign the expansion into effect?” Blake snapped, agitation leaking into her voice. 

There was a beat of silence and then one of the council members spoke. “There's just nothing we can do. I’m sorry Ms. Belladonna.” 

And with that Blake was forcefully disconnected from the call and she stared at her reflection in her computer screen. 

“Well, that could have gone better.” Sun sighed from where he stood behind Blake who leaned back in her chair. 

“Ya think?” Blake groaned as she ran her hands over her face, trying to wipe the exhaustion from her eyes. “Do you think you can give me some space, Sun?” 

“Of course,” Sun said and Blake listened to his footsteps as he left her alone with her spiraling thoughts. Blake glared up at the skylight, at the clouds that drifted lazily across the sky.  Why was the council being so difficult? Why wouldn’t they just sign the expansion into effect? What was so hard about that? Why couldn’t they just work with her? Why–

A sudden knock at the door broke Blake from her spiraling thoughts and she bounced forward. “Yes. Come in.”

Ilia poked her head into the half-open door, eyes darting around before landing on Blake. She fully stepped inside, looking properly exhausted. “Hello. I’ve come to report that the fishing boats have returned from their trip.” 

“This better be good news.” Blake sighed, reaching up to massage her eyes. 

Rest of Fic on Ao3

[pinnithin-writes]

The First: Aftermath (Part 2)

A collaborative work between myself and @reneethecyborg on what happened after Lupin III: The First. Part 2 of 4, 1609 words.

It never ceases to amaze Zenigata how quickly things tend to spiral out of control when the Lupin gang is involved. Just a few days ago, he was staking out a Parisian museum in hopes of preventing Lupin from stealing some old diary with vague ties to his grandfather. The stakeout had sort of worked, excepting Lupin’s usual dramatic escape at the last second. Then radio silence for a day or so, until Lupin popped up again in the middle of Mexico for no clear reason. That’s when things really got complicated, as they almost always do with these people.

While arresting Lupin may be the cornerstone of his career, Zenigata’s primary goal has always been to uphold justice and root out corruption wherever it may lurk—even among his own coworkers, from time to time. With that in mind, it’s not terribly surprising that he often finds himself forming a temporary alliance with the Lupin gang when there’s a greater evil to deal with, and there are few greater evils than the one they’ve come up against this time.

All in all, things seem to have worked out alright. The entirety of the Brazil base’s manpower was either taken into custody or gunned down when Interpol (and the Lupin gang) stormed the place, the Eclipse device was kept out of the wrong hands, and Laetitia Bresson can get on with her life as a bright young woman with a promising career in archaeology to look forward to, finally free of the dark cloud hanging over her.

But something still isn’t sitting right with Zenigata.

He would never admit to giving them a head start—it would sound too much like he’s going soft—but it didn’t seem fair to chase the Lupin gang out on a rail before they had a chance to say goodbye to their new friend. From where Zenigata had been watching on Interpol’s own boat, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice, the whole affair seemed rather subdued. Lupin didn’t perform any of his usual grand gestures of farewell; Laetitia had hugged him, but he ended it fairly quickly and spent most of their conversation on the speedboat, like he was trying to keep a bit of distance between them.

The pursuit didn’t last long, on account of the fact that they could hardly leave Laetitia stranded there on the pier, but what little he saw before cutting the gang loose left a bad taste in his mouth. Again Lupin lacked his usual grandstanding and bravioso—no cheeky waving, no jumping around hurling childish barbs as the speedboat careened off into the sunset.

As a detective, Zenigata’s job is to make inferences based on whatever scraps of information he can wring out of a situation. In this case, the information he has leads to one conclusion: whatever happened on that plane, it didn’t go anywhere near as smoothly as Lupin insisted it would when he originally pitched his plan to destroy the Eclipse personally. There’s other supporting evidence, too; when the plan was originally hashed out, Lupin claimed he would set the Eclipse to destroy itself and then immediately bail out before it could become a danger to him. But when the time came, nobody saw him at all until long after the plane had begun to consume itself, and even then he didn’t have his parachute.

Something went wrong up there, Zenigata’s sure of it. If he had to guess, he would suppose that Geralt wasn’t as much of a pushover as Lupin seemed convinced he would be. They probably fought—or rather, Geralt fought while Lupin danced around making a fool of himself. Given the nature of Lupin’s scheme, it would stand to reason that Geralt might have come at him with everything he had. People tend to abandon all pretense when their ideology and life’s work goes up in smoke before their eyes. With that in mind, it’s very likely that Lupin took a beating before he could get away. That would explain his behavior after the fact, if he were injured.

Of course, there’s not really anything Zenigata can do about his theory, regardless of whether he turns out to be right. Going back for Laetitia meant he had absolutely no chance of catching the Lupin gang, or even tracking where they might have gone; he’s got a hunch they’re still somewhere in Brazil, but that’s not enough to work with. And there’s still all the logistics and busywork that come after a caper like this—reports to write and fact-check and edit, charges to file against the surviving Nazis, favors to cash in so Laetitia can make her way back to France (and then, shortly, to Boston) without too much hassle.

Zenigata is going to be up to his neck in paperwork for the rest of the month making sure this mess is sorted out properly and without any mistakes, and that’s assuming everything goes smoothly when it comes to filing charges. He’d like to believe his annoyance at being chained to his desk is purely a result of not being able to hunt down the Lupin gang after having no choice but to let them slip away, but he’d be lying to himself. The truth of the matter is that he’s worried, and there’s nothing to be done about it now except grind through the paperwork and wait to see if they resurface any time soon.

Just as Zenigata’s considering calling it quits for the night, his desk phone rings. That in itself isn’t terribly unusual, but everybody who’s needed to speak with him about today’s chaos has come to him directly—the building’s internal lines have been tangled up for hours with all the cross-department communication. It must be someone from outside the building, then, and Zenigata has a strong hunch who it might be. “Inspector Zenigata,” he says automatically.

“It’s Jigen.”

That’s what Zenigata was hoping for. “I’m not going to bother asking where you are.” Jigen would never say, and it would be impossible to trace the call before he loses his patience and hangs up. Besides, he’s almost certainly calling from a payphone, and that’s only marginally more useful information than ‘probably somewhere in Brazil’.

“Good. Saves us some time.” He sounds about as terse as usual—his gruff demeanor doesn’t translate well to phone conversations—but there’s something else there. Maybe he’s tired. “Just wanted to let you know we made it to dry land.”

Well, that’s good. Pretty vague reassurance, though. “And you’re all alright?” He can’t be blamed for probing a bit. It’s basically his job.

A brief pause. Not a good sign. “We’re all alive, if that’s what you mean.” Definitely not a good sign. Jigen sighs, or maybe it’s just static on the line. “Look, pops, I’ll level with you. Lupin’s not doing too hot. He’ll live,” he adds hastily, cutting off any possible miscommunication.

So Zenigata’s hunch was right. It’s no victory, all things considered. “How bad is it?”

Another pause, though this one is less loaded. “Not as bad as it could’ve been. He didn’t get shot this time, for once.” Lupin had mentioned his plan to palm Geralt’s bullets before they disembarked. Sounds like he pulled it off. “But that prick really did a number on him. Broke some ribs, fucked up his arm. Nearly crushed his throat, looks like.”

Zenigata finds himself gripping the receiver more tightly as he imagines what might have happened to cause those injuries, anger bubbling into his chest. Lupin may be a criminal, but nothing he’s done would ever warrant such brutality. “And you and Goemon, you two have it under control?” If they needed a proper doctor, Zenigata might find himself too busy to notice any reports that might come in regarding notable patients in the area. He’s got a lot of work to do, after all.

“I think so. It’ll mostly just take rest. Lots of rest.”

“Are you sure you can make that happen? Lupin won’t like it.”

“We’ll chain him down if we have to.” Jigen says it flatly, but there’s a hint of humor under there.

The situation must not be too dire, if he’s able to crack jokes. “Well, thanks for telling me. I really appreciate it, Jigen.” He won’t admit that he’s been fretting since he had to make the call to turn the boat around.

“No problem. It’s what Lupin would want, anyway.” Jigen pauses again; there’s a faint tapping noise, like he’s drumming his fingers on the receiver a little too close to the mouthpiece. “Pops, do yourself a favor. Take a vacation once you’re done cleaning up the Nazi mess. We’re not gonna let Lupin do jack shit for at least a month or two, so you’d be wasting your time waiting up for us.”

Now that he mentions it, a vacation sounds nice. Zenigata does get to travel a lot, but only for work; he hardly has time to take in the sights or buy souvenirs. “A month or two, huh? I’m holding you to that. I want a clean bill of health before you even think about another heist, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jigen sighs more than says. “Anyway, I’m gonna go. I’ll tell Lupin you said hi.”

And just like that, the line goes dead. In terms of the Lupin case, Zenigata still has no leads, but he can’t bring himself to be particularly upset about it. He got the information he was hoping for, and he can’t really ask for more than that. Instead, he returns to his paperwork and makes a mental note to look into attending Laetitia’s archaeology seminar in Boston next month.

Part 1 (by Pin) < --- > Part 2 (by Cosma) < --- > Part 3 (by Pin)

[morningstar-descended]

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Mammon was an accomplished soldier in the Celestial Realm

Belphie used to be a little Lucifer Mini-Me when he was a young Angel

Lucifer would sing his siblings to sleep, Before

He didn’t tell his brothers about Lilith because he didn’t want them to interfere with her new life. It was hard enough for him not to.

Diavolo’s older brother, Beleth, has a scar covering the left side of his face from where Dia ground him into the dirt to try and get him to yield.

Their formal fight for the crown lasted three days.

Diavolo’s younger brother, Amaymon, is Asmo’s sugar daddy.

Diavolo’s Mom is also still alive, she has her own estate in another part of the Devildom. She can suplex him.

Lucifer will absently neaten up his brother’s clothes for them while he’s lecturing them.

Lucifer has fed demons and unruly Witches to Cerberus before.

Mammon has never had a partner in any sense of the word.

Satan was ‘born’ as a baby.

Asmo used to dress Satan up in little outfits when he was small.

Satan can repeat almost everything he’s read verbatim.

Lucifer has to double check that he knows where all of his brothers are before he can rest at night, unless he passes out.

All the brothers wore their hair long as angels. Lucifer’s the only one who’s never grown it back out since their fall.

It took Lucifer around six hundred years to develop proper feelings for Diavolo.

Lucifer is deathly afraid of Diavolo’s father.

Barbatos is possibly--not counting Diavolo--Lucifer’s only friend.

The Sport Beel plays is a type of Wrestling mixed with MMA and Capture the Flag. It’s played topless.

Lucifer will occasionally ask Levi to explain the plot of an anime or game to him if he wants to zone out for a while. He’s listening, but because following what Levi is talking about takes a lot of concentration, it’s almost like meditating.

Lucifer’s hair got its white / gray streaks when they lost Lilith.

Lucifer actually does have some wrinkles, he just hides them most of the time.

No matter how hard he tries, Lucifer just can’t get good at video games.

Lucifer will write out bits of sheet music when he’s bored.

Lucifer has more demon markings on his body than just the diamond on his forehead.

Lucifer’s hands are very scarred, mostly from dealing with small child Satan.

Beel’s sport is unnamed because in Infernal, it literally just is called “The Sport” since there’s only one.

Almost all of the siblings have physically torn an opponent to shreds and or consumed them. Asmo and Mammon are notable exceptions.

Satan went through a phase where he spoke solely in riddles.

Levi was hardcore into theater before animation became more of a thing. he still has a lot of opinions about it.

Belphie spent most of their early fallen years either half asleep, or completely asleep.

Beel is incapable of chewing gum or sucking on a jaw breaker properly. He impulsively swallows whatever goes in his mouth.

Lucifer has been summoned to the human world successfully only twice in his existence. He killed both summoners for the audacity.

The entire garden around the house of lamentation was of Lucifer’s design.

Mammon has the best control over his shape-shifting--able to stay in a false form for longer, and able to retain his humanoid form despite high emotions.

The brothers are, quite literally, Devildom Celebrities.

Diavolo has never kept a pet before.

Lucifer is ambidextrous, but prefers his left hand.

Mammon is left handed.

Gluttony demons tithe to Lord Beelzebub on his birthday in the form of whatever food they fixate on.

The first angel Lucifer killed after his fall was one he didn’t actually recognize.

The first angel Mammon killed was one of his friends from the Celestial Guard.

Lucifer will never forgive the other Archangels for turning their back on him.

Lucifer has only ever had two partners in any sense of the term in his entire life.

Beel used to be the smallest, before he hit his growth spurt and overshot all of them.

Lucifer swears almost exclusively in celestial, when he’s pissed off enough to actually swear.

Satan doesn’t really have any of Lucifer’s memories, but he retained the emotions based around them. It’s confusing.

Lucifer can cook just fine, but he can’t bake to save his life.

The Longest Lucifer has stayed awake without any rest was about a month. It wasn’t pretty.

Half of the time Lucifer says something funny it’s unintentional.

Most of the Devildom’s current infrastructure was pioneered by Diavolo’s father.

King Diavolo’s real name is Ba’al.

Lucifer can play basically any instrument that’s been invented, apart from electronic only ones.

Levi’s skill in painting could put any of the great masters to shame.

Lucifer isn’t a fan of a poultry, ironically.

The fact that they can get Belphie to wear his complicated RAD uniform everyday while being the Cardinal Sin of Sloth is a point towards how well Belphie controls his sin.

Being a shutin used to be cool and mysterious-- Levi mourns that social shift often.

Lucifer considers Levi the easiest brother to handle because he doesn’t really leave his room.

Mammon, while definitely being guilty of lots of grifts and get rich quick schemes, actually has at least five jobs on top of his stipend for being a Sin.

Lucifer has been trying to figure out how to kill those three witches for causing him problems by proxy, but he hasn’t figured out a legal way to justify it yet.

Amaymon is Diavolo’s youngest sibling. Lucifer can’t stand him.

Flower arranging is one of Asmo’s hobbies.

Asmo also has the best eye for interior design aesthetics, even if he uses them to make a room look... Like That.

For Centuries Lucifer couldn’t even begin to talk about his interests without Diavolo flooding him with related gifts. He’s gotten better about it since.

Lucifer and Diavolo’s relationship was purely physical at first.

Beel often uses the fact that his brothers think he’s stupid for his own gain. Most of the time it’s to get more food, but whatever works works.

Lucifer is completely fire proof now as a demon, inside and out.

He has nightmares of fire, though.

In one of the battles of the Celestial war, The Archangel Michael did his Signature “Step on Lucifer’s face/head trick” And Lucifer nearly took his leg off for it.

All demons can both purr and growl.

Lucifer’s back is heavily scarred from his fall and Satan’s creation both.

Mammon physically regenerates the fastest, and Belphie the slowest.

Levi, due to Envy’s ability to constantly and unintentionally buff the demons around him, is always helping his brothers in some small way whether he means to or not.

Beel still has specific nightmares of Lilith’s death, and will often crawl into Belphie’s bed to hold him after.

Satan never knew Lilith, but he’s emotionally attached to her because of the vague memories he inherited from Lucifer.

Asmo’s hair, if he grew it out, would be loosely curly.

All Lust type demons are Incubi / Succubi / Concubi.

Wrath type demons are the ones who cause classic hauntings.

All sleep paralysis demons are Sloth demons, though.

Pride type demons are the most prone to possessing humans in power, despite Lucifer having never possessed a human before.

Barbatos is actually a little bit older than Diavolo, but not by much.

Luke is basically Michael’s son.

Simeon is the younger brother of the Archangel Jophiel (the Angel of Beauty).

Asmo, if given the chance to defect back to the Celestial Realm, would seriously consider it.

Mammon acts like a fool, but isn’t one himself.

Belphie and Beel aren’t quite telepathic, but they always know where the other is, or if they’re in trouble.

The Cardinal sin of Wrath traditionally writes all of the punitive legislation in the devildom, so Satan is the one who writes out what crime gets what punishment.

The Devildom’s economy has never flourished so much before Mammon became the sin of Greed.

A good 60% of the work Lucifer does is paperwork that should actually be handled by one of his brothers.

Asmo’s painted his nails with his own venom before, and then used it to kill people who piss him off.

The only person Lucifer can accept losing to is Diavolo.

Lucifer isn’t a functional person until around 2 hours after he’s woken up. Luckily he tends to get up around 4:30a.m. / 5a.m. so when normal people have to interact with him, he’s mostly aware.

Mammon likes to over-saturate his foods with toppings and sauces, which is why Beel can’t stand his cooking.

Asmo likes the taste of straight vodka.

Lucifer once slapped another demon’s head clean off when they spoke back to him while he was addressing Diavolo’s court.

Lucifer and Diavolo’s first real “Date” was in the Royal Garden.

Any part of an Archdemon is worth a small fortune, as they’re rather potent spell ingredients.

If you talk shit about Mammon near a Greed type demon they WILL beat your ass.

Diavolo loved Lucifer on sight. Or, well, he loved the look of him.

[bonbonthedragon]

Hi!! So I really liked your Hawks x reader and I was wondering if you could do another one 👉👈. Like an angst one but also super fluffy?? If you need prompts some are, “just kiss me, please.” “I couldn’t love anyone but you.” “Please don’t go.” Thank you so much!! I’m sorry if that’s to much hawks stuff. Please take care of your self btw!! 🧡

So I used the quotes as I inspire, but non of them were actually inserted- hope that’s okay :) hope you enjoy this weird, slightly angst? Fluff crack Drabble XD

Hawks....fucking loved you. When you asked him out, head over heels. When you exchanged promise rings, couldn’t wait. When he got down on one knee, dream come true. When you told him your were going to have children, heaven.

Now here he was, trying his best to take care of his very pregnant wife, all the while still taking up the no.2 spot as a pro hero. He hated leaving you, especially when you were almost in your 8th month with the baby’s. Yes, twins. You were far from helpless, being a hero yourself, but that didn’t stop him wanting to wait hand and foot for you.

The alarm blared and beeped rapidly on the night stand, and the blonds eyes pried open. The room still lay dark, air conditioning humming and he rubbed his tired eyes. You weren’t the only one loosing sleep. Man had been doing as much as he could for you, feeding your cravings, rubbing your feet, and helping get stuff when you dropped it. You were his priority, first, yes, but so was his work. And as much as he wanted a break from it all, he knew he couldn’t complain. After all, you were still working too, no hero work of course, but you returned to your agency for paperwork and give your student hero’s advise and help if they needed it, all the while you dealed with the pains your expanding belly brought.

Smacking the alarm clock, the man swung his legs over the mattress, arms going above his head and slowly stretched his crimson wings, carful not to hit you. He turned, going to stretch his back but paused, freezing when he saw your side of the bed empty, pregnancy pillow alone and heating pad off and away. Panic immediately set in his stomach, leaping from the bed and quickened his steps out the room. For all he knew you could simply be in the living room or kitchen for a snack, but with children on the way, he couldn’t help but worry ten times more. He rounded the kitchen, noting you weren’t there, living room either. He went around the large apartment, that panic rising when he still hadn’t found you.

Then the door clicked open, and he whipped his head around. You waddled into the house, sighing deeply from your journey and kicked off your slides, the only shoes your swollen feet didn’t reject. Two grocery bags hung on your arm and your other hand under your belly. He watched you go to the kitchen, setting the bags down and arched your back in a stretch, but then groaned and noticed your wince. You finally looked at him, noticing his presence.

“Oh, hi love” you smiled, still trying to catch your breath

He furrowed his brows, coming to you and sat you down “it’s four in the morning, what were you doing out of the house?”

You snorted, lightly laughing to yourself “little ones wanted some things,” you then took out a bottle of whip cream, tray of fruit, bottle of hot sauce, and things to make curry “sorry if I scared you, I forgot my phone”

He wanted to laugh too, but he wasn’t happy “you went all the way to the store? By yourself? At this time?” He gestured toward your belly “While like thi-“

You pouted, and crossed your arms “like what? Pregnant?”

“Yes (y/n), pregnant” he sighed, pinching the beige of his nose “look, I know your a pro hero, but the state your in right now- I can’t risk- just, please, if you need anything just tell me.” He watched you furrow your brows, shit, hormones.

But you seemed to shove it down “well, I’m fine.” You huffed “so can we drop it?” You got back up, hand on your back and grunted.

He watched you struggle to catch yourself, about to reach back, until you held up a hand to stop him. You waddled further into the kitchen, putting away the curry mix and kept out the whip cream and fruit, got the pickle jar from the fridge. Another thing, keigo hated pickles. Maybe it was because it was early, and his mood already was bad, but he scowled, holding his nose and making a show that he clearly was disgusted by it.

“If you don’t like them, then get away from the kitchen.” You struggled with the jar, shoulders slumping when you could get it to budge. Keigo sighed, knowing he shouldn’t try fighting with you, you couldn’t exactly help it. He grabbed the jar, prying it open and quickly gave it back to you before the smell hit him. He flexed his fingers from the tough lid, and looked up, only to see your eyes blurs with tears. Oh no.

“Hey, hey baby bird” he came to you, rubbing your shoulders

“I’m sorry...” you hiccuped “I-I just wanted a few t-things, and I know you’ve been working so hard. You’ve been so tired- I-I didn’t want to wake you so I-“ more tears rolled down your cheeks

“Shhhh hey, it’s alright. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I am, I’m tired, but that doesn’t mean you can’t ask for my help, dove. I’m just worried, you could pop at any moment and I don’t want you up and around too much, especially not this late.”

You sniffled, nodding “I can handle myself” you muttered

“I know you can, but your also carrying two baby’s” he chuckled “so please, the least I can do is help when I can.”

That seemed to settle with you, and you nodded again. It wasn’t long before you leaned away suddenly, and keigo looked back at you curiously. Your lips were tugged into a frown, eyes lit like a flame. Shit. He knew that look. You hit him over the head, and he sighed

“I couldve have opened the pickle jar!” You took it, taking the lid and screwing back on tight. Then you tried to pry it open again. Why....why were you like this. He loved you, he really did, but...

It wouldn’t budge, and you whined “keigooooooo”

“Here, let me try” he carefully took it, making sure you wouldn’t beat him up again and in undid the cap...again

“Thank you!” you almost beamed, then took the whip cream and drenched the pickle. Gross.

—

Bonus:

10 min later

The blond shrugged “alright, well I’m heading out.” He yelled out, slipping on his shoes. In the matter of seconds, he saw you appear from the bedroom, pickle still in hand and hand on belly as you cutely waddled to him.

“Don’t go” you have him the puppy eyes

He gave a wry smile “I’ll be back soon, just a short patrol, thier letting me off early”

You seemed to think about it, then looked at him expectingly “Kiss?”

He backed away, hands in front of him “not with that” he pointed at the pickle

Your bottom lip jutted, eyes brimming with tears “so you don’t love me anymore?”

Sigh. One more month keigo, one more.

[lalahbug]

Only One Night? Levi x Chubby!Reader

Fandom: Attack on Titan Word Count: 2,218

My Masterlist

Warnings/disclaim: general Modern AU! Talks about sex, but no actual smut

Author’s Note: continued under story Originally posted on DeviantArt, under the same username, on 10/26/2016. Revamped/edited in 2020.

___ is a blank for your name/oc/whatever you prefer Written in 3rd person

Line/header is to separate paragraphs to indicate time skips, as Tumblr hates my formatting.

Story under cut

         ___ slowly got out of the stranger's bed, checking the time on her phone, it was almost the time she had to be home. She cursed quietly before wandering the room, gathering her clothes and putting them on. Being as silent as possible, careful to not wake the stranger from his bed. She saw a notebook on his nightstand, she leaned over and wrote a quick note which read; ‘Last night was amazing, thank you for being gentle. It was my first time. I hope you have a wonderful life!’ She smiled to herself and grabbed her purse.          She opened his door, locking the handle, so he’d be safe. Then she walked out of his apartment, put her heels back on, then quickly walked to her car. In a hurry to get home before her dad got pissed off at her.

         Levi woke up with pain in his eyes from lack of sleep. He glanced over at his clock, 3:18 AM. The notebook on his nightstand grabbed his attention, seeing something written on it, he grabbed it. He furrowed his brow before glancing over at the other side of his bed. He honestly didn’t expect her to leave. He wanted her to stay, he didn’t even get her phone number or her last name. He groaned a bit.           ‘What the fuck does she mean, first time? Was she a virgin or was it her first one night stand.’ He thought to himself for a moment. He decided to change his sheets since he was up now. He spotted a bit of blood. ‘Okay, so she was a virgin. Then why did she want to lose it to a stranger and only do a one night stand? She had to be at least 21 because she got a drink from the bar.’ He tried to replay last night in his mind.

          ___ was in a simple black dress, drinking at the bar. Ignoring everyone and everything, obviously, she was there to just drink and didn’t have any intention of getting laid. That’s what caught Levi’s eye. She was beautiful, some might think she’s chubby. But to him, she was just very curvy, which wasn’t too common in this night club. Levi had gone up to her, saying hello. At first, she ignored him.          “Oi, brat. You can at least say hello back.” Levi glared at her, she glanced over at him. Before she looked to her side and behind her.          “Are you talking to me?”          “No. I was talking to your drink.” She giggled, she had a really cute smile. “So what are you doing here?” Levi took the stool next to her, to sit on it.          “Oh, I just had a really bad day, so I decided to try and make myself somewhat pretty and to go drinking. I brought a few friends, but they’ve all left with some guys.”          “Why didn’t you go with them?”          She gave him a dry chuckle. “I wasn’t invited.”          “Then why were your friends?”          “Because they’re pretty and lean. And I’m ugly and fat.” Levi wanted to lecture at her for thinking that, but the way she said it. It didn’t seem like they were her words, but words she’s heard a lot.          “Who thinks that?”          “My family, some guys, and almost every guy here.” She downed her drink.          “Your family says that to you?”          “Well, my dad. He wants to marry me off to a wealthy man, who is willing to deal with me. So far, every suitor agrees with him. That I’m not attractive and I don’t have an ideal body.”          “Your dad and those guys must have shit stuck in their eyes.” She giggled at his joke again. “Because you’re really beautiful.” He saw her face flush before she looked away. “Hey, how about we go talk somewhere else? I don’t want to be around these idiots anymore.”          She gave him a small smile. "Okay.” He took her hand and guided her out of the club. They went to a restaurant to chat and then they were at his place.

         Levi smirked thinking about last night while getting dressed for work. But then got annoyed because she fucking just left him alone. He groaned before grabbing what he needed and left.

         ___ was lectured once she got home at 2:30 AM because she was 30 minutes late home. Once again, her father told her that she had to stay pure, since she’s so unattractive, being pure is the only bargain chip left. ___ felt her heart almost break, realizing that she would have to tell him soon, that she is no longer a virgin. She quickly went down to her room, to the basement, where she lived. She was going to school, so she wanted to stay with her parents until she got her degree which her parents wanted her to finish. Since they both believed, she’d never get married so she’d have to support herself.          She was on a small break in between semesters, with no homework to do to distract herself. She decided to make herself happy by cleaning. She loved to cook and clean, usually only doing the downstairs, so today she would clean the whole house. Once her parents were gone, of course, dad at work, mom out with the girls.

         “Ackerman.” Levi stopped in his tracks and looked over to his boss, Mr. Lowells.          “Yes, sir?”          “We just landed a new campaign, I need someone to lead it. You will have to do a lot of paperwork with me for the next few days if you want it.”          “I’d be fine to do that.”          “Then after lunch, we can go to my home office. So it’s quieter and easier to get through everything.”          “Yes, sir.” Levi continued to his office before sighing with relief. “Finally, I won’t have to work under Shitty Glasses anymore.”

         Mr. Lowells walked into his home with Levi.          “Thought you said it’d be quieter here,” Levi stated with an annoyed tone, as music rang through the house, it wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t quiet.          “___!” Mr. Lowells shouted. Levi froze as he heard her name then his eyes widened as she popped her head around the corner, the music was abruptly turned off. Her father walked towards where she had popped her head out.          “Sorry, dad. I didn’t think you’d be home this early, so I wanted to clean and make dinner. I’ll finish up polishing the floors. Then if you’d like I can get you and your partner something to drink. Then I’ll go downstairs, so I don’t bother you.” She rambled. Her eyes never leaving her father.          “I don’t mind your cleaning.” He stared her up and down, she was in a tank top and some loose sleep pants. “You look disgusting, though. If you bring us anything, at least make sure to cover your fat first.” ___ hugged her arms, trying to hide them.          “Yes, sir. I apologize.” ___ focused her gaze onto the floor.          “Come on, Ackerman, we have work to do.” Mr. Howells turned on his heel and Levi followed. Trying to process everything in his mind. Everything she had told him last night to remember little things he had heard about her before from Mr. Howells.          “Your office is nice,” Levi stated as he sat down on the couch in the room, spreading out his material over the coffee table.          “Looks like she cleaned in here first since there’s no dust.” He sighed before sitting down in his chair. Levi was pleased with her cleaning. “My daughter, she’s sweet and can cook and clean very well. She’s decently smart too. But, because of how she is and looks, I can never get anyone to marry her. I’ve been looking for years. She gets fatter and uglier as the years go by.” Mr. Howells ran a hand through his hair. Levi was fuming, trying to keep his composure.          “Anyways, sorry you heard all that. Let’s get to work.”

         About an hour had passed before ___ knocked on her father’s door. “Enter.”          “Hey, dad.” ___ only took a couple of steps inside, but Levi could see she changed into a loose-fitting baggy shirt and some jeans. “What would you like to drink?”          “Coffee, black. You, Ackerman?” Levi finally got her to meet his eyes, her whole face flushed.          “Black tea.” Levi gave her a small smirk.          “Okay! I’ll be back in a few then.” ___ squeaked before slowly leaving the room.          Levi was hoping that would be her reaction to remembering him.          “She’s so weird.” Her father grumbled. Levi ignored him and got back to work.

         Once again, a soft knock came, she was told to enter. She kept her eyes on the tray in her hand. She placed the coffee in front of her father. She completely avoided Levi’s gaze, placing his tea in front of him.          “Thanks, beautiful,” Levi whispered to her, once again her face flushed before she quickly left the room. Levi took a sip of his tea, it was perfect, just like her cleaning and her. “Sir, where is your bathroom?”          “Oh, it’s down the hall, the last door on the right.” Levi stood up and headed out of the room.          “Oi, brat,” Levi called out to her, making her freeze in her tracks, he walked up to her. “You could have at least left me your phone number since you ran away.”          “I didn’t think you’d want it. I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself.” She whispered nervously. “I didn’t mean to run away, I had to be home by 2 AM, I was still late back home, though.”          “Well, you made a fucking fool out of me. I got to be with a wonderful woman last night, then she disappeared into the morning. Because I forgot to get her last name and phone number. I was made a fool.”          “I didn’t mean to. Please don’t tell my father. I have to tell him or it’ll be worse for me.”          “Tell him, what?”          “That I’m not a virgin anymore.” She blushed a bit and focused her eyes on her feet. Oh, she's adorable.          “I can’t believe that my boss is your asshole father. I’ve wanted to hit him since I realized it was you. You looked really sexy while cleaning.” He cupped her cheek, pulling her face up to kiss her softly. “If you are so scared of what your father will say, why did you have sex with me?”          “Because I was weak, you were the first person to tell me I was beautiful. The care and love in your eyes. It was something I had never seen before. Even if it was fake to get a girl into your bed. I felt special for once in my life.” Her eyes were starting to water. “You don’t have to pretend anymore, to care I mean. Our one night, it made me really happy, because I felt loved and wanted for a few hours. So thank you.”          “Would you stop fucking crying.” Levi sneered. “I don’t fake shit like this. I said you’re beautiful because I think so. I said your dad is an ass because I think so. I had sex with you because I wanted you. I was pissed you fucking treated me like a one night stand because I want to see more of you. I want you. I want to have sex with you more than once. Even though we did it 4 times.” He chuckled as the crimson spread down her neck.          “So, you like me?”          “That’s an understatement. I fell in love with you the moment you down your drink. The moment you blushed at my compliment. Fuck, I think I fell in love, the moment I saw you.” Pulling her close to him. “You’re coming home with me tonight and you better fucking be there when I wake up.”          “Ackerman.” Levi glanced over at Mr. Howells's confused face. “What are you doing?”          “Trying to get her to come home with me.” Levi deadpanned, he wanted her to know he was being serious, that he honestly loved her.          Mr. Howells chuckled for a moment, before seeing Levi’s eyes scan back over her face.          “Are you serious?”          “Of course. You were complaining about her never getting married. Whatever offer you’ve made before on her, give it to me.”          “What?” They both looked at him in shock.          “You fucking heard me. Let me marry her. She’s beautiful, she gets my sense of humor, makes good tea, and loves to clean. If you would have told me about her and shown me a picture of her when you started all this shit. I would have taken her off your hands. I’m willing to do it right now.”          “Levi, shut up," she whispered.                    “Fucking, brat. Don’t tell me to shut up.” He looked over at Mr. Howells. “So? Are we planning a wedding or what?”          Mr. Howells smiled at Levi. “Yeah, we can start after we get this new campaign settled.”          “Good, because I’ve already had sex with her.”          “Levi!” She smacked his arm slightly.          “Is that why you were late home this morning?” She could only nod. “Well, you’re marrying him, so I'm not upset.”          “Do I get any say in this?” She asked.          “No.” Her father said sternly.          “You’re mine, don’t you dare think about running from me, again.” She squirmed in his arms from his glare on her. “Hey, sir. Are we done for the day?”          “Yeah.”          "Good.” Levi picked up ___, over his shoulder. "Then I’ll be taking her home with me now.”          Her face flushed again, trying to get out of his arms. She giggled a bit when he swore at her for moving too much. And for once, her father finally saw the beauty in his child. He smiled at her, as Levi walked out the door with her.

Author’s Note: continued (While editing this my tortillas almost burned, oop. Welp, time to eat some amazing tacos.) I feel like Levi would never be the type to do a one night stand. (That may be just blind love for him but it is what I think~) So thus this was born.

[jeonqukie]

SOMEBODY ELSE / 02 ( ALT ).

SYNOPSIS / After years of working up the courage to confess his feelings for you, Min Yoongi decides to give up and move on from the unrequited position he has put himself in. However, when you discover his veiled attraction towards you, you dwell on what could have been. You find yourself ready to reciprocate the same sentiment for him, only you’re too late when he reveals he has already found someone else. Consequently, you’re lured into a series of meaningless and warped encounters from the one person you swore to avoid.

FEATURING / Min Yoongi; brief appearances by Kim Seokjin, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, and Jeon Jungkook.

GENRES / Angst, romance, mature, friends with benefits, and unrequited love.

WARNINGS / This chapter contains alcohol consumption, graphic language, mentions of sexual activity, mentions and acts of infidelity, and other mature themes.

WORD COUNT / 4.2k.

TABLE OF CONTENTS / To be redirected and get the latest on the story, click on the table of contents.

NOTES / Because part 3 of somebody else will take some time to write, I decided to post one of the original ideas I had thought of for part 2. I still really like this version a lot, but I feel like I wasn’t going to go the direction I wanted to. So please enjoy this alternate version while I still plot out part 3! In another world, this is what I had planned out for this love triangle. Feedback is always appreciate. Big reminder that I am forever grateful that you took your time to read this! Thank you very much for taking your time to read this. (つ≧▽≦)つ

© All rights reserved to jeonqukie. All or portions of my work may not be reproduced, distributed, modified, or used in any way whatsoever without my permission.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and our non-binary friends,” All it took was one step inside of Ernie’s newly renovated bar to hear the particularly flamboyant introduction from the opposite side of the room. “We are pleased to announce the arrival of the new division head of advertising, YN.”

Your cheeks ignited at Seokjin’s grandiose greeting. The rest of the gang was evidently hammered from the boisterous cheers and praises. Nevertheless, it was nearly impossible to avoid the incessant stares from other bar attendees when your feet hastily walk towards the other side of the room.

“Ernie, another round of shots over here, please!” Michelle’s request could be heard from a mile away. You began to strip out of the beige blazer that matched your skirt off of your body only to reveal your white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up all the way to your elbows.

“I told you guys to get started with the drinks - not to get fucking hammered.”

“Sweetheart, the moment you gave us the approval, we couldn’t help ourselves.” You were seated in between Hoseok and Michelle, trying to make yourself comfortable inside the semi-circular booth. On the other end was Jimin and Seokjin who were awaiting patiently for the new round of drinks to appear on the table.

“Plus, it’s your fault for being late.”

“It’s not really my fault that I had to stay an hour back at the office. There were just a couple of paperwork I needed to complete.”

Could you imagine what your boss would have said if you refused to stay back at the office after you recently earned your promotion? It would have led to her doubting her decision to promote you. So you had no choice but to go along with the flow.

Frankly, it didn’t take long for you to earn your position. It may sound immodest of you to assume that, but you’ve only been working for a year and a half and you were already the division head in advertising. It’s funny how a year and a half ago, you were merely just an intern, fighting for a permanent position in the company.

The glasses of spirits soon arrive at your table, Hoseok captures one and placed the minuscule glass across from where you sat. “Alright, everybody, grab a shot because I shall propose a toast -“ But at the corner of your eye, your main focal point happened to be at the front door where he stood; dark mane and pale face when he enters the vicinity with the now familiar, Tiffany.

“Oh, shit, Yoongi and Tiffany are here! Okay, now, it’s a real party!” The sputtering slurs began erupting out of Seokjin’s mouth and all eyes immediately dart towards you.

You weren’t just a mere intern, struggling to find her place in the company a year and a half ago. You were just as lost and confused when it came to your own personal life. You vividly remember the morning Yoongi confronted you of your feelings - how you interrogated him of his true emotions with the both of you coming to the conclusion that there was no happy ending for the both of you.

The circle was in an awkward position for a while, unsure of whether you and him can be in the same room. But for the sake of everyone’s sanity, you were forced to make up with him. Well, you didn’t want to say you were forced to make up with him.

Your friends were too fed up to deal with the cumbersome conversations, so Hoseok and Seokjin had unwillingly bring you together to resolve the predicament you both found yourselves in.

To be honest, you missed him a lot. Persistently trying to avoid him for a good two months was draining, especially when he would be with Tiffany. You were quite surprised she hadn’t caught onto the dynamics of the clique after nearly being with Yoongi for months. You felt an ache in your chest every time she seemed to tag along with him. You even remembered the gut-wrenching moment when you overheard from Jimin that Yoongi manage to convince Tiffany to move in with him.

Suddenly, you found yourself back with Taehyung - in your eyes, he was a saving grace. He was constantly there to numb and alleviate you from the pain. You were always frustrated, absolutely depressed and sought for the comfort you yearned for. For some reason, you were okay every time - as Michelle would say, he’d fuck the sorrow out of your poor soul.

You recovered from the pain and your naive mind believed that you were immune to it.

You thought that everything was fine; you focused on work, focused on rekindling the same friendship with Yoongi and you even ignited a new one with Tiffany herself. She was genuinely sweet, caring, and selfless when it came to Yoongi. Soon enough, you were getting comfortable with the idea that, perhaps, the universe was right - maybe you and Yoongi were better off as friends.

Of course, that wasn’t the case.

Oh, how you were so wrong.

Just a month ago, you remembered how everybody gathered over to their apartment for a movie night and Yoongi made the announcement that he’s asked for Tiffany’s hand in marriage and she inevitably said yes. 

Who wouldn’t say no to someone like him?

Living your life so normally, thinking that things have gotten better was just the naivety coming to slap you right across the face.

The pang of agony was unbearable. You weren’t so sure how you survived the two hours in their apartment with their radiating, saccharine faces.

Not even Taehyung could save you from this one.

You recalled the moment you and Michelle arrived home - how you stampeded over to the bathroom when you began to regurgitate all of the nauseating pain at the pits of your stomach. You were no where near drunk - just utterly miserable.

The sting of your eyes came crawling back to your eyes when the large diamond ring shone right across your face. With Yoongi and Tiffany at the end of the table, Seokjin looked at you straight in the eye, awaiting for you to raise your shot glass once more.

“Earth to YN, I need you to have your glass raised up.” You apologized hastily and raised the glass hesitantly, blushing in embarrassment when everyone had managed to catch you in a state of otherworldliness. “As I was saying, a big fucking congratulations to YN.” It was conspicuous that Seokjin was absolutely inebriated and you savored his demeanor; he was so carefree and loose. “And, also, to our Yoongi who, in a month, will no longer be a fucking bachelor.”

Everyone raised their glass yet you remained… paralyzed.

The clinks of the glass against each other notified you to take the shot into your lips and you swallowed it, feeling the stinging burn coating your throat.

With your eyes pinched closed, you open your eyes only to see Yoongi directly at you. For a split second, he saw the slightest unravel of your guard. He could feel his own chest swell when he notices the way Michelle’s arms slither around your shoulders, whispering words of comfort into your ear before your lips unwontedly twitch onto a discomforting grin. Your eyes glistened underneath what little lighting the bar possessed and when both your eyes lock onto each other, he can see the light in your eyes losing its spark ever so slowly.

You made the announcement that you will be using the restroom and that you should be back with another order of drinks. Scooting your way out of the booth, Yoongi’s eyes follow to where you hastily amble towards the women’s restroom. He tried his best to ignore the way you felt about the situation. He knew that if he factored you in to every decision he made, he wouldn’t be able to progress his relationship with her.

However, when the words came slipping out of somebody else’s mouth that he would no longer be an emotionally available man, it dawned on him how soon everything seemed and he tries his best not to dwell on the fact that there was a slim possibility that he was regretting the decisions he made himself.The night was still relatively young. It was close to midnight, but your feet was growing painfully exhausted from being at the dance floor all night. In order to avoid the newly engaged couple, Michelle and Jimin were trying their best to aid you in distracting yourself from your pain and, hopefully, avoiding you from a really bad mistake.

In this case, they feared that you would drunkenly dial your unofficial bootycall.

But Taehyung has made it clear that it’s best if he strayed away from you… because there was only so much he can do to help you forget Yoongi. Every time he had the chance to see you, it gave him more confirmation that you were anything but over Yoongi. Despite his efforts of making you forget him, he realizes that you were utterly in love with somebody else and he can’t change a thing about it.

Michelle held your phone so close to her while Jimin spun you in circles all night. You yearned to have the phone back to your safety, in case your boss called you for an emergency, but they knew it was wise of them to keep it as far away from you. But they had their limits, too.

“That’s the last song, I’m beat.” Jimin surrenders in defeat which is quite surprising for someone like him. He had so much energy and he was usually the last one off of the dance floor. But you can see from corner of your booth how Tiffany nuzzled ever so lovingly onto Yoongi’s neck when they whisper to each other and your eyes dart back to Jimin who was ambling over towards the bar along with Michelle and you were left stranded in the middle of the floor awkwardly.

It wasn’t until you feel the warmth of somebody else’s body against yours. You spun around to meet eyes with a much taller male; his hair slightly parted with the ends just ending at the top of his brows. His hooded doe eyes stare right down at you with his naturally pink lips curling onto a flirtatious grin.

“H - hi,” You were breathless and taken aback by his handsome face when the song switches over to a much slower rhythm, introducing a romantic guitar at the background. “I - uh, I’m sorry. You must have me mistaken for somebody else.” However, he shakes his head when his large palm envelopes your wrist gently, urging you to slither his arms around his shoulders.

“I saw your friends abandon you and you looked… lonely, so I decided to come and save the day.” He chuckles darkly when you oblige to his request. The romantic guitar playing in the background is not helping you establishing personal space with the newfound stranger. But you weren’t necessarily protesting against it; it was just a little too forward for your liking especially when you couldn’t see your friends in sight. “Plus, you have some serious dance moves."

“Saving me won’t do anything.” It was a depressing thought and you were already biting back the tears that shimmered your eyes when you looked onto the stranger’s eyes. “There’s really no point in saving damaged goods.” You concluded your self-deprecating statements with a dark chuckle, cocking your head to the side to see just how he would react. “Thank you though; I learned from both of my friends who abandoned me. I think you should be dancing with them instead of me." He swipes his tongue across his mouth when he guides you to the rhythm of the song; hips grinding and swaying together, bodies getting closer and closer to each other.

“What’s your name?” He whispers ever so softly into your ear when his large hand is placed right at the small of your back, right above your ass.

“YN.” You answer him breathlessly. Oddly enough, you find yourself being so responsive to his touch - to his voice and to his requests. “I think it’s fair you give me yours?”

“Jungkook.” He sighs before looking you straight into your eyes. “Whoever hurt you,” he begins before his the palm of his hand comes to cup your cheek, thumb circling over the cheek. “… is a real fucking idiot.”

Your laugh travels so far through the room and Yoongi reactively searches for your location. He watches you nuzzle onto the warmth of the stranger’s palm, feeling the world move around you. You were reminded just how out of tune you were out of your normal self. The buzzed brain clearly did not function well when it came to making smart decisions which is why you found yourself caressing his cheek as well, only to have your thumb swiping against his bottom lip. Instinctively, Yoongi’s digits grip around Tiffany’s waist and she squeals, reminding him just how ticklish she was. But his eyes remained fixated on your dancing body, how close you seemed to be against another man.

“I see what you’re trying to do.” You begin your comment before you slowly peel yourself out of the much taller male. “You see this… girl and it’s so obvious she’s broken and it’s so easy to get a good fuck.” You sigh before your digits run themselves through your tousled mane. “You put on this spiel that you can make her feel good, but you can’t. You try to get her hopes up and we all know how this ends.”

His eyes transform into more melancholic ones and he shakes his head before he takes a safe step closer to your body. At the corner of your eye, you can sense the presence of your friends. Suddenly, you can feel several eyes on you, observing how you stood your ground. “You’re wrong, but if that’s how you truly feel, I won’t convince you otherwise."

Your perfectly sculpted brows knit together in confusion when you see him take another step closer towards you, but you remain frozen to the floors. From the booth, Yoongi can see your mouth moving; they were poutier than ever - the bottom sticked out so much when you spoke to the stranger across you. He watches the other male tower over you, caressing your soft cheeks and he fists his hand momentarily before he watches you nod to his statement.

Suddenly, Yoongi observes the way you step closer onto the other male’s body; how his arm wrapped around your waist while you had yours propped over his shoulder. It’s been a while since he felt the nauseating boil at the pit of his stomach; he was envious of the man who had you all to himself at the dance floor. His eyes never missed a second of you swaying your hips to the pattern of the romantic guitar in the background, the way the male lured you to press your smaller physique onto his.

When the song ends, Jungkook whispers something into your ear before he barely brushes his petals right above yours. It ghosted over your dry ones and it took every ounce of self-resistance for Jungkook to step away from you and you both bid your goodbyes only to watch the lust driven look on your face direct itself towards where Yoongi sat uncomfortably. Tiffany and Hoseok were having a conversation about cleaning supplies and he could careless about which bleach did the best job of ridding of stains. However, Yoongi, a newly engaged man, found himself standing up from the booth only to examine you from head to toe. He observes the way your chest rose up and down heavily, frustrated and anxious to have what should be hers.

His eyes doesn’t disconnect from yours and you can’t help but swipe your tongue over to wet your petals, tasting the dried alcohol off of your lips and a hint of his strawberry chapstick. He wasn’t aware how hot the entire vicinity seemed to be. In addition to that, there was a minor strain over at his ripped, skinny jeans. When he mentally curses to himself, you begin your exit out of the bar, desperate to breathe in the cool air to relieve you off your non-fulfillments. When the night’s breeze attack your body, the muffled noises from the bar notifies you that you’re absolutely and utterly alone. The cruel reality of the thought finally edged you to your breaking point and you found yourself leaning against the wall, hugging yourself in the process of sobbing. When the doors open once more, revealing that Yoongi had followed you outside, clearly concerned for your well-being.

“What are you doing out here?” You inquire before you begin wiping every single tear that came streaming down your cheeks.

“I’d like to ask you the same question, to be honest.”

“I just needed some fresh air.” You quip bitterly before you sniffle to yourself, swallowing hard when he examines your current state. Hair disheveled from dancing for a decent hour yet your outfit seemed to be well in tact. The white dress shirt still tucked beautifully onto the waist of your beige skirt and some black tights to complement the outfit. But your eyes were too broken to comprehend; they were red and absolutely shattered, yet they shimmered in the night light. When he sees fresh tears staining your cheeks, he desperately seeks to wipe them off of you.

“A month, huh?”

Yoongi’s digits remain frozen midair when he attempt to wipe the tears off of your stained cheeks. He swallows hard, knowing very well where the conversation is leading to. All he could do is nod his head once and drop the hand to his side while takes a few step back, reminding himself that he cannot offer the same comfort to you anymore.

“Well, congratulations, Yoongs. I always thought Michelle would be the first one to get married - even Hoseok or something.” Yoongi was having a difficult time comprehending how you were still joking despite the pain he had put you through.

“Stop the bullshit, YN. I know you’re not okay with this.”

The uneasiness of his voice had your heart racing and your eyes disconnected from his; not wanting to read his mind - or try to read his mind. With pursed lips, the silence gave you a moment to remember everything - all of the pain he has put you through. Alcohol was running through both of your veins and you feel your hands ball into fists.

“But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“From what I heard you’ve been fucking Taehyung.” He scoffs and, suddenly, you were no longer sad.

“So?”

“Well, how’s that working out for you, YN? How is fucking your ex-boyfriend going to make things any better between you and I?” You clenched your jaw and you swallowed hard, trying to understand why he was so frustrated with you. “And then you’re… just… sleeping with random strangers at the club now?”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, c’mon, Hoseok tells me everything.”

“No - no! You have no right to discuss this with me. You have no right to judge me.” You seethed, stepping closer to his frame. “Just because you’re doing so much better at moving on from whatever the fuck we had, you have no right to judge the way I’m trying to cope with everything when this is all your fault.”

He scoffs bitterly and you pace yourself away from him, running your digits through your mane, wanting to rid of all frustrations out of your body immediately.

“I - I put my feelings to the side! I’ve withstand every single thing concerning you and Tiffany. For fuck’s sake, Yoongi, I even befriended her for your sake…. just to get back to the way things were.” The contrast of the cold breeze on your skin and the hot tears streaming down your cheeks earned an eruption of goosebumps through your skin. Your teeth shattered when you spoke and you swallowed the filter you once possessed. You were mindlessly speaking out loud at this point.

“And, for a while, I thought everything was okay. I’ve accepted that maybe this can work out - that i can move on from you because… I was so fucking happy to see you happy even if it wasn’t with me.”

You chuckled to yourself, reminiscing back to your naivety.

“Then you proposed and that’s when I knew I’m… not even fucking close to getting over you.” His eyes never leave yours and you can see how hard he was gritting his teeth because of how prominent his jaw was. He held his breath as he studies your tired features. The bags underneath your eyes stood out from your skin. Eyes blood shot from your tears and the alcohol - from the pain.

“I don’t know how you did it though. You’ve seen me with Taehyung all those months and you never said a single thing about it.” You started and he watches how your eyes are just searching for the right answer as if you were begging him to give you the answer. “You never did a single thing about it.”

It was his turn to get frustrated with your words. He opens his mouth expecting to raise his voice on you, but with the way you were sobbing, he chooses to calm himself further.

“There was nothing I can do, YN. You were with somebody else.”

“And look how the tables have turned.” You sighed, nibbling onto the bottom of your lip. Tears stopped trailing down your cheeks and you took deep breaths to calm your beating heart. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I’m not over you, Yoongi.” Your voice is small… so small that you feel yourself shrink in size when you amble yourself closer to him. “We both… had the chance to be together, but… we just - we didn’t happen.”

Silence over takes the conversation once more.

“Do you ever think of what could have happened?”

His query catches you off guard and your eyes meet his and you nod once. You inhale deeply, smelling his cologne and the alcohol exuding from his skin. “All the time it’s fucking unhealthy.” You were surprised to hear him chuckle softly to himself and you fold your arms, preventing yourself from doing something you may regret.

“I keep thinking what it would be like to hold your hand.” At the tip of your fingers, you feel the itch desperate to feel the searing heat of his skin against yours. “Every time you whisper something to her, I just… think what it would feel like to have your lips brush up against my ears.” Your cheeks burned when you confess your hidden emotions to him. “I see the way you kiss her; you have your hand caressing her cheek, fingers crawling to the back of her neck and you… sort of cradle her head while you just… kiss her and…”

All sorts of breathing stops when a hot palm frustratingly caresses your cheek, crawling gracelessly across the back of your neck to force your head to tilt towards the towering male. A pair of soft petals crash onto your own when he inevitably caves in and hungrily captures your bottom lip. You responded immediately to his actions, arms slithering around his neck when he firmly pushes you to cold wall, digits tugging at the roots of your hair when his tongue intrudes itself inside your mouth. You savored the heat of his tongue inside your mouth, so you feel your tongue collide against his. He tastes of mint and whiskey and you were addicted to the taste of his mouth.

When the sounds of exiting clientele leaves the bar, you are alerted that this was… wrong.

Yoongi was kissing you.

Yoongi is with Tiffany. You keep chanting it in your head and it took every ounce of willpower for your palms to unfold and push his strong physique off of yours, but you remain frozen underneath his touch.

Instead, he stops. He releases you slowly, lips leaving yourself gently. His hands, however, remain glued to your stained cheeks and he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

“We can’t do that anymore.”

You separate your heated bodies away from each other, experiencing a multitude of emotions all at once. There was a satisfaction deep within you at the realization that you were not the only one suffering from the struggle to get over somebody else.

Who knew one single kiss from him was all it took to realize that you wanted more?

“I — we should forget that ever happened.” You licked your lips once more, the guilt clearly painted across your visage and you tried your hardest not to break down when Yoongi exhales out slowly and realizes the immorality of your actions.

He stays absolutely quiet with his lips parted.

“Yoongi, say something. I’m doing this for your sake.” You try to shake him back to reality, worried he might make a choice he sincerely regrets. “Yoongi, you’re engaged… to Tiffany. You’re marrying Tiffany. Please go back inside and be with her.”

He nods his head once and shakes his head, realizing the repercussions of his actions. “We — we can’t say anything.”

“I won’t say anything.”

He purses his lips into a thin line, deciding to amble back to the entrance of the bar.

“YN,” He starts before he opens the door. “I — I’m sorry."

[userarchive]

Unexpected Circumstances Ch 2

Warnings: Language, talk of the job, PG13 rating? Sonny Carisi x Reader, but I’ve given her a name for the sake of my sanity lolol

**

9 hours later, you’d managed to get back to two different apartments, had a quick shower, and gathered all the information you needed from both, you were behind schedule as you walked into the SVU squad room with a box of files and evidence. The crew was already gathered around the white board, trying to figure out the bust before you burst the bubble. You softly dropped the box onto an empty desk,

“Sorry I’m late, took longer to take care of things that I thought.” You addressed Captain Benson, most of the squad’s attention was turned towards you, your chest tightened. 7 years of undercover work and you were still stressed every time you transferred units, more worried about the fact that this was Sonny’s old crew.

“Detective Sophie Montgomery.” Olivia gestured toward you, “Please treat her with respect, she may be our newest recruit from Staten Island Vice, but she’s highly recommended, she’s not new to this. You may recognize her as one of our arrests from last night, she’s been working this ring undercover for the past 7 years and she’s going to be the biggest help we have with this case.” She gave you a tight smile, stepping back from the white board. You took a breath in, surveying over what they had up on the white board.

“Okay,” You started to move pictures around on the board, “Y’all made the bust too early, which means..”Your hand shot up to the three blacked out silhouettes at the top of the board,”That you don’t have any of these three in your custody, and those three are the ones you need.” You moved a few more things around on the board, “Alejandro Martinez is the King of Manhattan, and has been for years,” Your fingers tapped the top photo, “He works with a Queen and a Prince, and he only works on the Upper East Side. These parties aren’t like you’d normally expect, the clients are high profile, actors, producers, judges, lawyers, cops, wall street guys, politicians, everything you’d hate to have to prosecute.The drugs are clean, mainly coke and ecstasy, bottles of Prosecco, Patron, high end shit, they rarely deal with underage girls, unless there’s a new pimp who they want to try out, or someone high up makes a specific request.”

You glanced around the bull pen, noticing that Dominick had joined in, your breath hitched every so slightly.  He however found himself somewhat entranced, he always enjoyed watching you work like this, your brain managed to wrap its way around things that everyone else missed, and you always seemed to know all the secrets people wanted to keep to themselves. Amanda interrupted your thoughts.

“So Martinez is the King, we know his brother is the prince, who’s the Queen?” You cocked an eyebrow at her.

“How do you think I have this much information?” You slouched against the desk next to you, “Listen, there is no way you can take down this ring with what you have from the bust. Every time there’s been a party busted the main 3 haven’t been present, or it’s just one of them and they get been slapped with a misdemeanour.  They disappear to some remote corner of the globe, but like clockwork 6 months later, manage to find each other again, give me until then and I promise you a bust, with the top three all there.” You eyes scanned over the room, “While I can work here, I cannot break my cover, I can’t have anything to do with this case, I’ll help you gain any information but I can’t testify.” You could feel Olivia sigh heavily across the room, 

“Okay, we’ll talk to the suspects, you and Carisi watch, anything that doesn’t match, you tell us immediately.”  Olivia gestured towards interrogation 1, Sonny and you following behind her before she closed the door, being alone with him skyrocketed your emotions, you shoved your hands into your pockets so he wouldn’t notice them shaking.

At first you listened in silence, then Sonny felt like he couldn’t hold it in anymore, the words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could even try to stop himself,

“Did, did you have ta do …anything ya didn’t…want to..while you were under?” His voice was so gentle you barely felt it, you could nearly feel the tears but you knew what he was thinking. 7 years under in a sex ring, it was only logical, and this was the first moment you’d had truly alone since your reappearance. Both of your faces stayed strictly facing forward into the interrogation room, attempting to pretend that you were listening to what happened in front of you. Carisi felt just as drawn to you in that moment as he did the first time he asked you to coffee, the warm smell of your perfume brought back memories of holding you close, burying your head into the crook of his neck, the briefest of grins flashed across his face before you replied.

“No. Of course not,” You risked a lightning fast glance over to him, “I worked mainly on the books, took care of the girls, nothing ever happened.” You couldn’t help yourself, admiration burning at your cheeks knowing that he was worried about you, you pulled your hand out of your pocket, giving his elbow a reassuring squeeze before dropping your hand.

The two of you watched the confrontation in front of you, not registering that you were slowly inching closer to each other with each shuffle of your feet. Sonny felt his hand taking control as it brushed against yours and immediately felt like a middle schooler on his first date again, blush creeping up his neck, but when you didn’t shy away, he found his finger looping around your left ring finger. Your heart jumped into your throat at the gesture, finally turning away from the glass to properly look at the man beside you.

“I’m sorry I was such an ass yester-“ Dominick started before you cut him off,

“You’re not the one who should be apologizing,” A shaky breath to try and keep you calm, “I am unbelievably sorry…for everything.” Looking directly into those steely blue eyes was nearly intimidating, they softened at your statement, the faintest of a smile creasing his face.

“You were just doin’ your job.” In that moment, properly seeing each other, silently forgiving previous actions, the air in the room shifted. Carisi reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair off your face, his thumb briefly stroking your jawline before running down your arm and you were completely lost in the moment gravitating towards each other. A loud bang from the other side of the glass made both of you jump, pulling apart as you were reminded where you were, shifting back into work mode. 

Sonny chuckled softly to himself, you cocked at eyebrow in his direction,

“Bella’s gonna freak.” You laughed lightly at that, 

“Your Ma’s gonna actually kill me.” 

“I’ll be sure to remind her assaulting a police officer is a punishable crime.” The playfulness slightly returned to the room, soft smiles and small laughs filling the awkwardness of the previous night.

***

As the day came to a close, you were sitting at your desk finishing up a pile of paperwork leftover from the various cases SVU had managed to arrest over the course of the day. The squad room had emptied out, and Olivia took advantage of that as she stopped at the side of your desk on her way out. You paused your writing, looking up at her,

“What can I help ya with Captain?” She faltered slightly, piecing together the words before she spoke,

“We’re…not going to have any..problems with the DA’s office are we?” It was a reasonable concern considering the only interaction she had witnessed with you and the A.D.A. was a heated screaming match followed by a physical altercation. You leaned back in your chair as you answered,

“No. That was a one time thing, I promise.” She quirked an eyebrow, not sure if she should believe you, so you continued, “You ever had someone come back from the dead?” Confusion took over Benson’s face,

“Yeah actually…one of our A.D.A.’s was shot in front of me, 12 hours later she turned up inside a car on the way to witness protection.” You watched as the emotions moved across her face, “It was a lot to process.”

“Now take all those feelings and add on about 7 years.”

“Jesus.” She muttered, shaking her head, 

“Carisi and I will be fine, it was just a lot to go through so suddenly. And…I do apologize about the whole thing, it was wildly unprofessional, not exactly how I wanted to have my first day at SVU.” Olivia gave a stark laugh to that, 

“It’s okay, just don’t make it a habit.” She shouldered her bag, “And don’t stay too late, just finish up what you can.”

“I will, night Cap.” You turned back to the last few pages as Liv exited the squad room, leaving you to quietly finish your work.

[nothing-fancy94]

Soooo... You guys liked it, and asked for more, and so here I am with part 2 of my little Shadamy short, where our fav hogs have an unknown, shared past, which left one bitter and the other... well we haven’t found that out quite yet.

As always thanks to my support team, @mysuperlaserpiss @another-sonic-blog and @lonelysadblob my cove of palm trees that always inspire me.

I look forward to hearing what you all think of this next part :)

........................................

Lost Time - Part 2

Shadow smashed the door to the G.U.N. offices open with such a fury that a chill spread through the entire floor. He passed by the many cubicles lining the middle of the floor, ignoring the array of frightened and annoyed gazes. Being on the job for so long, and never failing at a mission had given him a corner office in the back, which he appreciated for its seclusion and privacy. So, on a day like today, he could simply lock himself inside with the blinds shut, and no one dared to bother him.

Just as he had finished shutting the last of his shades, he heard the click of his supposedly locked door as it opened. If possible, his mood darkened even more, for he knew only one person could pick his lock as though he'd left the key in the knob.

"Hey, hon! How's my favorite hedgie doing this morning?" Rouge the Bat announced as she sauntered into his office as though she owned it.

Shadow brought his hands to his forehead and made his way to his desk which sat in the far side and next to the large windows which looked out over the city. Once seated in his chair, he finally brought his attention back to bat who was wandering about his office and touching all of his books and decorations. 

"What is it that you want, bat?" He asked, frustration dripping in his voice. He didn't want to deal with the other crazy female in his life, not after the shit he had gone through this morning.

Rouge sighed and dropped the generic bust of a head that had come with the office, back onto it's shelf. She made her way to the other side of his desk and plopped down into a chair. She sucked the right side of her lip, and looked at him with an almost nervous gaze. However, Rouge was rarely nervous, hesitant maybe, but her personality never let her dwell long on anything.

"Well..." She started, and sat back in her chair folding her arms, "I'm throwing a party tomorrow tonight... in celebration of an old friend returning home, and I thought you might want to come."

Shadow scoffed. It was almost hilarious, this situation. He'd never seen Rouge beat around the bush before, but he supposed that was to be expected when it came to the bombshell that was Amy Rose. He grunted and folded his arms as he looked her over,

"And what made you think that I would have even the slightest interest in going to one of your ridiculous parties. Besides it's most likely for someone I don't even know." 

He almost laughed out loud at the guilt that appeared on her face. He had never known his oldest partner to feel guilty about anything, and she was the one who had stolen the Master Emerald before and almost caused the collapse of the human world with Dr. Eggman. This was certainly interesting. Amy sure had a way of bringing out sides of people that were never before seen. And not their good sides either.

Shadow rose from his chair and made his way around the desk. "Look, I was going to let you fumble around some more, since it's quite amusing to see you behave like this, but I have work to do. As I'm sure you do as well. Besides," He paused, as he leaned in close to her twitching face, "I know she's back in town. I saw her this morning."

Rouge could not hide the shock that ran through her body and laid to rest on her face. Shadow smirked and walked to the door of his office.

"Wha... What happened?" She asked as he opened the door and gestured for her to leave. He rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms.

"What do you think? She invited me to her inane party. Of course I'm not going. Nothing will make me go, not you and definitely not her."

Rouge sat for a minute, a look of pity on her face, before she got up to leave. He almost felt bad for the way he treated her, after all it wasn't her fault that Amy was a total witch. But as she was leaving, she paused, gave him a look, and said, "People deserve a second chance. Amy may not be perfect, but who is? Just come and hear her out... You'll regret it if you don't." 

Without waiting for a response, she left.

................................................................................................................................

As usual, nothing of any importance or excitement happened to Shadow at work. And throughout the day he had done his best to avoid Rouge, which had been difficult since she was his partner, and was a stubborn bitch if he ever knew one. However, he’d been able to leave early after finishing all his paperwork, with the excuse of his broken bike. He headed to his favorite auto shop, all the while riding with extreme care so as not to lose more of his bike then he already had. Once he arrived he was greeted by one of the few Mobians he could tolerate, Jamie Steele, an orange hedgehog mechanic.

"Heya Shado–OH shit! What happened to Ruby?!" Jamie rushed over to the shambles of a bike that Shadow dragged behind him. Shadow rolled his eyes at the hedgehog's frantic examination of his prized possession. "Didn't I tell you not to call it that?"

Jamie stopped and stood up, his blue eyes playful, "You and I both know you like the name." Ignoring Shadow's glare, the orange hedgehog grabbed the bike, and pulled it into his private section of the garage. 

As they walked towards the back room, Shadow glanced around at all the high end vehicles and imported machines. He was still amazed at what Jamie had managed to do in just the few years that he’d owned the shop. It used to be the worst in town, but now there was a waiting list for months, just to have Jamie take a glance at a machine. However, having a rare handmade motorcycle, made Shadow’s ‘Ruby’ Jamie’s favorite client. He never had to wait for an appointment.

"So, my friend, you gonna tell me what happened to my favorite girl?" The orange hedgehog’s voice came through the door, snapping Shadow’s attention from the main garage. Shadow made his way in after Jamie, and couldn't help but let loose a frustrated growl. 

"Some shit from the past resurfaced in the most inconvenient way possible."

"Oh?" Jamie inquired, as he locked the wheels of the bike into place on a stand and took a closer look at the machine. "And this 'past,' she have a name?"

Shadow looked at him with such a bewildered expression, that it caused the orange hedgehog to laugh. Shadow’s eyes narrowed when he heard the laughter, and he scoffed,

"How'd you know I was talking about a person, let alone a female?" 

Jamie shook his head and stood up with a grin, "Not much can make a prideful male like yourself unnerved. I figure it has to be one of two things, a girl or a visit from Chaos himself. And I highly doubt the later is making trips to see a grumpy guy like yourself."

He made his way to the back of the garage, enjoying the sour look of confirmation on Shadow's face and turned off the lights. "Come on, let's go get some drinks. I don't have any more appointments today, and your bike will need new, imported parts, that won't get here for at least a couple days. Besides, you look like you need some hard liquor."

......

Previous / Next

[fleckcmscott]

Watch What Happens - Chapter 2

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: None

Words: 2,027

“Shit,” Y/N said. Her furious typing came to a standstill. “Patricia, do you have the wite-out?”

Patricia arched her brow at her from behind her own typewriter. “Did you hit the ‘v’ instead of the ‘w’ again?”

Y/N caught the tiny bottle her colleague tossed her. “Why can’t this guy have an easier last name? At least one that’s phonetic?” The feed roller clicked as she turned the typewriter’s carriage knob. Carefully, she extricated the paper without damaging it. “I can’t start anything with ‘Kowlinska,’” she said, carefully fixing her typo with the white liquid.

“I think it starts with a ‘K’,” Patricia retorted.

“Ha-ha,” Y/N deadpanned.

God, she needed break. She’d been working non-stop for three hours. Stretching, she stood and walked across the medium-sized room to look out the window. The streets were full. With a population of ten million, there was always plenty of hustle and bustle. The vendor on the corner was offering pretzels to anyone who came near him.  A little girl ran down the sidewalk excitedly, screeching and dodging trash bags all the way. Y/N smiled, thankful she was now in Gotham. The grime of the city, the variety of people - she wouldn’t trade it for anything. It was miles away from the small town she had wasted almost forty years in.

The sun was already on the horizon, ending the day too early for her taste. She still had a lot of work to do. A status conference on a jeopardy order for three children was tomorrow morning - that file needed to be prepared. The motion she kept mistyping needed to be completed. The shredding needed to be done. She enjoyed being busy, but this week had been more demanding than most. It would be another long night.

“Y/N? I’m getting some coffee. Want some?” Patricia asked.

Y/N turned to her and smirked. “If I drink it now, I’ll never get to sleep tonight, and then you’ll have to deal with me in the morning.” She shook her head and made her way back to her desk. “No thanks. I like you too much for that.”

“Sweet talker!” Patricia called as she walked off.

Y/N leaned back in her cloth chair, eyes roving over the woodwork of the ceiling. When she’d first started at Shaw & Associates, she’d found the intricate office decor intimidating. Fortunately, she’d grown up comfortably, and had been so most of her adult life. But she hadn’t been exposed to such opulence. Now, after a little over a year, she’d gotten used to it. And she was proud to be part of one of Gotham’s most prominent law firms.

Matt Stone, the attorney she worked with most closely, stuck his head out of his office. He was frazzled. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

She swiveled to face him fully and crossed her arms. “Do you have another present for me?”

“I do.” He approached and handed her an expanded pendaflex. It took both hands for her to hold it. “The Wayne Foundation case-”

Y/N’s eyes darted to his, corners of her lips turning up. “You’re letting me work on a Wayne case?”

“Which one?” Patricia interjected as she returned. She blew on the hot coffee she held.

“The case about the abandoned tenements in the borrows? The ones the Wayne Foundation wants to claim?” Matt nodded at the file, hands in his pockets. “The defendant filed a motion to stop it. Again.”

Y/N’s face scrunched up as she opened the file. “That’s odd.” Her fingers leafed through the stack of papers. “Didn’t you say before that they’re falling down? You’d think they’d want to be rid of them before someone gets hurt.”

“Maybe they want to keep the land as investment property. Then try to sell it off later.” He shrugged at her. “Look it over tomorrow. We’ll talk about it in detail next week.” At that, he spun to go back to his office.

Groaning, Y/N wheeled over to watch him as he took a seat behind his large, wooden desk. “That’ll be the third late night this week,” she said.

Matt waved her concern off. “Do you have something better to do?”

She rolled her eyes and scooted back to her work area. “Not being in the office is good enough.” While she didn’t have any plans, she didn’t want him to think she was endlessly available.

He offered an olive branch. “Well, I’ll owe you one.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said over her shoulder. “I’ll remind you at Christmas.” She caught Patricia’s eye, then. “I can’t decide if he likes me or hates me.”

Patricia chuckled. “Both. Definitely. Give me the Kowlinska paperwork. Unlike you, I know how to type.”

Y/N snickered as she passed it to her. “Thanks. I’ll finish tomorrow’s conference file.”

~~~~~

It was past seven she left the office. Though Matt had told her to start working on the Wayne file tomorrow, she’d wanted to take a crack at it. Given the size of it, she thought she might sneak it home to peruse over the weekend.

She was happy to be entrusted with a case from the firm’s most prestigious client. And after working there for a relatively short time. It’s not that she was a fan of the Wayne family - they just happened to be wealthy. But it would be nice to work on cases besides the pro-bono family and child protection matters. She was good at those and was able to process them quickly, but reading reports of domestic abuse was wearing. This change would be good.

The small grocery store was fairly deserted when she entered it. She was relieved, not wanting to take too long. A bottle of wine, a bag of chips, and a frozen dinner for tomorrow would do. As she picked up each item, weaving through the disparate aisles, she smirked at herself. Was it pathetic that she was pleased with her basket of alcohol and garbage? Maybe. But she was fine with that.

Y/N sauntered down the frozen food section, scanning the bright TV dinner boxes. The regulars, macaroni and cheese, Salisbury steak, lasagna, were ones she’d already tried. She stopped when a new one caught her eye: Polynesian Style Dinner. Nothing like fried meat chunks in an unnaturally orange sauce. She’d try that one and pretend she was adventurous.

The only thing preventing her from grabbing it and heading to the check-out was the man standing in front of the freezer door.

She watched him. He hadn’t seemed to notice her approach or sense she was a couple feet behind him. She took the opportunity to inspect him. Well worn brown shoes, dark blue slacks a tad loose on him. The basket in his hand had marked-down pens, bread, and a bottle of seltzer. Continuing upward, she could see his tan jacket was well-loved, soft and clean. His longish, slightly dark brown hair had a slight curl to it, and it looked freshly shampooed. Even though she was in heels, he was a couple of inches taller than her.

After waiting to see if the man would realize she was there, she gently cleared her throat. “It’s hard to decide when there are so many choices, isn’t it?”

He slowly moved to look at her. She thought he hadn’t heard her clearly at first, but the corner of his mouth lifted.

She spoke again, starting to grin. “I think I’ve had every one of these. Want me to warn you off a few?”

A soft huff escaped him. She noticed his free hand join his other on the basket handle, squeezing tight. “No. I get these all the time,” he said quietly.

Y/N gave a short nod, then pointed at the door of the freezer. “Would you mind if I grabbed one?”

It took only a moment for him to open the door and hold it for her. He leaned against it lightly, some panache in his movement. The slight smile hadn’t left his face.

She let out a faint laugh and stepped forward to reach past him, and grab the dinner. “Thanks,” she said as she turned to look up at him.

His wide cheekbones and sharp jawline gave her pause. He looked a bit weary, maybe a couple years older than her. The clear, light green of his deep set eyes surprised her, a contrast from his dark, prominent brow. Those eyes were narrowing as she continued to stare at him.

“Sorry,” she said, blushing and averting her gaze. He’d caught her checking him out, and she felt bad for obviously making him feel self-conscious. “I didn’t mean to gawk at you. It’s been a long day and I’m a little dazed.”

He reached into the freezer and grabbed the same frozen meal. “It’s fine.” She thought she heard him chuckle.

She started towards the check-out, looking back over her shoulder. The man was headed the same way, but kept a respectable distance. As she placed her few items on the belt, she noticed him get in line behind her. He held his hands in front of him, head bent downward as he waited. Y/N paid quickly, giving him a small wave as she walked off. “Night.”

“Good night,” he answered.

Once Y/N was back home, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her answering machine was blinking. She played the messages and took her shoes off. They were mostly mundane: confirmation of a dentist appointment, her sister just calling to say hello and catch up. She was in the middle of opening the wine when the last message played.

“Y/N, this is Matt from the office.” He must be working at home, she thought. “Sorry I didn’t catch you before you left. You’ll need to come to the hearing with me tomorrow. I’m this is last minute, but you know the file well and it’ll make the process easier. Sorry to cancel casual Friday.”

She finished opening the wine and poured herself a double. “Now you owe me two favors,” she said to herself. Taking a long drink, she walked to the television, turned it on, and planted herself on the sofa.

The news was on. “Thomas Wayne has formed an exploratory committee to to test the waters for a potential run for mayor,” the reported intoned. “We caught up with Mr. Wayne outside of town hall.”

The picture cut to Thomas Wayne: well-dressed as always, slicked back hair. His wife and son were with him. “I’m the only one who can help Gotham. That’s why I’m considering a run for office.” He brought his hands up to his chest, gesturing for emphasis. “To help the people of this city. To give back some of the blessings I’ve been given.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. Even though she was only now starting to work on a Wayne file, she’d heard some of the legal maneuvers the foundation had taken. Yes, there were good intentions behind nearly all of them. But only a small fraction of those plans seemed to come to fruition. With that knowledge, she thought it was arrogant for him to assume he was Gotham’s white knight.

Deciding it was too late to think about politics, she let her mind drift to the guy at the store. She hadn’t expected him to be so handsome. He’d barely talked with her, as though he didn’t realize how good looking he was. And the way he opened the door with some flourish…  For someone who came across as rather awkward, he certainly appeared to have some grace. The juxtaposition was charming.

Taking another sip of wine, she chastised herself. He’d probably thought she was a desperate creep, staring at him the way she did. She was neither. She wasn’t even looking. But it had been a long time since she’d seen someone who’d piqued her interest at all.

The news broadcast ended and she flipped to Tonight with David Endochrine. Finally, brainless entertainment. She grabbed the folded blanket from the back of the sofa and snuggled down into the couch. She finished the wine and was soon snoozing, still dressed for work.

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @clowndaddyfleck

[todisturbtheuniverse]

FIC: Set All Trappings Aside [5/8]

Rating: T Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Pairing: f!Adaar/Josephine Montilyet Tags: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Class Differences Word Count: 4000 (this chapter) Summary: After months of flirtation, a contract on Josephine’s life brings Adaar’s feelings for her closer to the surface than ever. It highlights, too, all of their differences, all of the reasons a relationship between them would not last. But Adaar is a hopeful woman at heart; if Josephine can set all trappings aside, then so can she. Also on AO3. Notes: While the context for this story is the Of Somewhat Fallen Fortune questline, some of the conversations within it didn’t quite fit for this Inquisitor. The resulting fic is a twist on the canon romance. This Adaar and Josephine have featured in other fics, so you may miss a little context if you haven’t read Promising or Truth-Telling, which both come before this one.

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Usually, Adaar liked nothing better than being on the road. Clear nights like these were best of all. It was easy to pick out constellations she knew, stars she'd once navigated by on her own, crisp against the velvet map of the heavens. She'd lain on a thin bedroll staring up at that sky more nights than she could count, and when she'd closed her eyes, she'd slept peacefully.

The view afforded her very little peace just now.

Four more days to Val Royeaux. Six more until this party that Adaar was supposed to appear at. She'd made up her mind as she left Josephine's office, though. She hadn't promised anything. Leliana had sent along the tools and information Adaar would need to deal with the House of Repose. Damn the woman, but she had done Adaar that small favor. 

Her people answered to the Inquisitor, not the Ambassador. When they arrived in Val Royeaux, she would do what needed to be done. No more games.

Josephine would be angry, but the damage to their friendship had already been done. What did one more blow matter? 

Best not to think about that. To hope, as was her habit, that Josephine had kissed her back and meant it. That it hadn't just been relief, or gratitude, or the heat of the moment, or… 

Adaar would send her back to Skyhold with Leliana's people when it was all over, but she would not be escorting them. The additional protection Adaar and her companions offered would no longer be required. They could ride far faster than a handful of carts. They would go south, to the Emerald Graves, and Adaar would get back to doing what she did best.

She did not plan to go back to Skyhold for a long, long time.

She shifted a little in the open bed of the cart, easing her legs out of one position and into another. Wouldn't do to get too cramped if someone crept up on them in the dead of night. She needed to be quick. Quicker than she'd ever been. She blinked her bleary eyes and surveyed the lonesome wilderness around their meager campsite again, searching for anything that didn't belong.

Behind her, canvas rustled. She turned her head to note it, squinting through the dim starlight. Paranoia prickled at her, insisting that an assassin had slipped by both her and the four others on watch, but the part of her still capable of logic expected to see one of their own party leaving their tent.

She just didn't expect it to be Josephine.

Adaar looked away, back to watching the road and sparse woods behind. She briefly considered the merits of lying down flat in the cart, concealing herself from view entirely, but that was both too childish and too dangerous. She knew how likely she was to fall asleep, even on these hard boards, if she arranged herself horizontally.

So she listened, with pricked ears, to Josephine's footsteps. She hoped they would circle away, paired with whatever guard had the unfortunate task of protecting people while they pissed, but instead, they drew closer.

Shit.

They hadn't spoken much since leaving Skyhold. She'd avoided Josephine, staying close enough to watch her back but far enough away to ward off conversation. Josephine seemed to have picked up on this, accepted it; she hadn't said anything beyond a simple greeting this morning.

But they'd also been surrounded by others: scouts, guards, Adaar's companions. Perhaps she'd just been waiting for the right moment, when they'd be overheard by the fewest possible ears.

The right moment for what, Adaar had no idea. Another plea for Adaar to understand? An apology for being so cursed stubborn about this? A reprimand for kissing her? An entreaty to do it again?

Josephine paused when she drew alongside the back of the cart, just within Adaar's peripheral vision. "Inquisitor," she said softly.

Adaar watched the woods. "Ambassador."

The cart dipped a little with Josephine's weight. For a moment, they sat in silence, two feet of space between them. Adaar saw Josephine's head tip back, taking in the view of the heavens, but only out of the corner of her eye. She didn't think knowing the way starlight looked on that face would make this any easier.

"I brought you something," Josephine said at last, and Adaar realized she held a small wooden box. She set it down on the cart between them and opened the lid. "If you're not going to sleep, you'll need your strength."

Adaar glanced down at the box. A pile of little round cookies nestled on a linen napkin inside it, some of their edges crumbling.

Well, maybe she could rule out a reprimand, at least. That was...something.

"I don't know that sweets are the best choice for a long watch," she said, but she took one, anyway. "I don't recognize these."

"Polvorones. My favorites. My father's, too. He sends me quite a few of them, for fear that I'll get too homesick, the way he's always done. I usually hide them away for myself, but…" She clasped her hands in her lap. "I thought they might be an adequate peace offering. Or the beginning of one, anyway."

Adaar turned her attention back to the road as she took a bite of the cookie. It crumbled in her mouth, on her hands, sweet with a trace of almonds. She swallowed, took a sip from her water skin to wash the rest of the crumbles down as she considered.

It was abominably hard to tell this woman No, which was why she'd avoided situations where she'd have to do it at all costs.

"Danaya," she said, raising her voice. 

Josephine's head turned toward her, but she didn't interrupt. Quick footsteps approached. 

"Yes, Your Worship?" the guard said.

"Watch the rear. I am being distracted."

"Yes, Your Worship," Danaya agreed, and wisely moved a solid thirty feet down the road to take her post without further comment. Good woman. Didn't make a single face whatsoever.

"I'm listening," Adaar said to Josephine.

She heard Josephine's relieved breath. She unfolded a napkin over her lap, and her elegant fingers dipped into the box to pick out one of the polvorones for herself. "I've been thinking, these last few days. I realized how poorly I've behaved. We had an agreement. If you still want to deal with the House of Repose directly…I am a woman of my word. I won't argue further."

Adaar blinked. The possibility of an apology had occurred to her, and not even as a long shot; Josephine was mindful of other people's feelings. She'd certainly noticed how...off...Adaar was. Adaar was not that adept at concealing it.

But this? She hadn't expected this.

"Okay," she said slowly, testing. "That does make things a little easier, since I planned to do just that when we arrived in Val Royeaux."

Surprise—distress—flitted over Josephine's face, but it quickly smoothed. "That is fair."

"I would have told you," Adaar said, compelled to defend herself, "but frankly, I don't hold up very well to your silver tongue. Best not to risk it."

Josephine chuckled, a little sadly. "No, I understand. I just have one request."

"For my sake, please make it a reasonable one."

"Even when you have every right to be angry with me, you are amusing," she said, but pushed on before Adaar could reply. "I would like to explain why I've been so opposed to your plan, to Leliana's plan. Prove to you that I'm not being mulish, or stupid, or naïve, or..."

"I don't think you're any of those things." Adaar picked up another cookie. She'd finished the first one without noticing. She did tend to eat her nerves. "Well, maybe a little stubborn. Usually that's a good quality. But if you'd like to tell me, go ahead."

Josephine dipped her head. "I used to be a bard, you see."

She paused there as if deliberating, and Adaar tried to imagine it. She was a deft negotiator, but Adaar had a hard time picturing her in such a place at court just now, with the pretty ocean-blue shawl held around her shoulders to ward off the chill, her long dark hair woven into a loose braid over her shoulder. Rumpled by sleep, or maybe a lack of it. She belonged among her books and her missives, her pen and her ink. Hard to imagine her hiding daggers in her clothes instead.

She'd had a letter opener in her sash that night. Adaar pushed the thought of it, its inadequacy, as far away as it would go.

"What, like Leliana?" she asked. "With the singing, and the story-telling, and…"

"The spying," Josephine finished. "Yes. I was young, attending university in Val Royeaux. It sounded so...romantic, so exciting. Trysts, secrets, fascinating people. Very different from my responsibilities to my family."

"Ah," Adaar said. "So even you can get tired of paperwork sometimes."

"Especially at that age." Josephine sighed, as if the memory embarrassed her. "So I put on a mask, told myself that my siblings would get along without me, and practiced the Game in as thrilling a way as I could."

"I suppose I can imagine that. Well," she amended, "parts of it, anyway."

Josephine nodded. "Parts of it, yes. The charming conversation, that I was good at. I had some skill with a harp, though my singing has never been as good as Leliana's."

Adaar made a mental note to find a harp at the first opportunity, then remembered herself and crossed it out again immediately. Her plans after Val Royeaux had not changed. She would maintain the distance between them. It was for the best.

The words would ring true someday, she was sure. 

"And the other parts?" she said. "How did that end?"

Josephine drew her shawl a little more tightly around herself. "Very poorly. You know that I am not a fighter. I had an aversion to violence, even then. But I convinced myself that I needed to play the part, that I could learn, that I would adjust to it. I practiced."

"You got hurt," Adaar guessed when Josephine hesitated.

"If only." She straightened up as if steeling herself. "During a particular intrigue, another bard was sent to kill my patron. We...fought, if you could call it that. It did not feel very much like the epic duels we sang about. I was terrified. I think that he was, too. We were at the top of a steep flight of stairs. He drew a knife, and I pushed him away from me…you can imagine the result."

Adaar could see the shame on her face. The guilt, even after all these years.

Adaar remembered the first person she had killed, too. The way she'd thrown up on her knees in the dirt after. It took a lot of practice to stop doing that part. Demons were easier. Hell, Red Templars were easier. They weren't really people anymore.

"It was self-defense," she said, trying to be gentle. "He would have killed you."

"But it was such a waste!" Adaar had rarely seen Josephine so animated: the words burst out of her, not loud, mindful of the guards, but sharp. Devastated. Her eyes gleamed, and Adaar fought the impulse to touch her, to comfort her. "And when I took off his mask, I knew him. We'd attended parties together. If I'd stopped to reason, if I'd used my voice instead of scuffling like a common thug…"

It was just another blow to an old wound. Adaar weathered it. She knew Josephine didn't mean it like that, would never be that cruel, but Adaar knew the truth about herself, too. Knew, and accepted it.

Cassandra kept saying that she was the person they'd needed, exactly when they'd needed it. Stood to reason that sometimes the world needed a common thug.

"I will always wonder who he would have turned out to be," Josephine said. "That is why."

Adaar returned to the problem at hand. "These aren't boys on their first run, Josephine. They're part of a guild of assassins—"

"I know that. I know." She shook her head, impatient. "It is not their lives that most concern me, though I do think their deaths would be pointless. For what? For an old grudge so easily forgotten that the surviving descendents would sweep it away for a favor of status?" She scoffed. "They're bound by that old agreement, but no one else feels the same."

There was truth enough in that. Adaar had seen some of Josephine's exchanges with the Du Paraquettes. Hard to imagine that a hundred years ago, these families had been at each others' throats. They were just strangers now. 

"What most concerns you, then?" she said.

Josephine looked up at her. Her fingers had pulled one of the cookies apart in her lap; it was a pile of crumbs now. "The lives of our people. Any of them could get hurt, could die, trying to destroy this contract. You could die."

Adaar considered her for a long moment. "You see our impasse, then," she said at last. "You are not willing to send me into mortal danger, and I am not willing to let you stay in the same."

"Yes." There was disappointment, but understanding, in Josephine's eyes. "I do see. And you have honored my request, above and beyond our agreement, so you can do what you see fit with a clear conscience. I won't protest."

Damn her. Even as she released Adaar, she bound her. Adaar wondered if she'd just played the Game for so long that she couldn't stop playing it, that she did it even subconsciously. That she knew, instinctively, that where pleading or begging wouldn't change Adaar's mind, this would.

And Adaar admired Josephine's idealism. Always had. Maybe she was cutthroat when it came to maneuvering alliances, but it was in metaphor only; she did her best to mitigate harm. She advocated for opportunity, for a future, not an ending.

Adaar wanted the world to work that way.

"This is exactly why I haven't talked to you in four days," Adaar muttered. "I knew you would talk me out of it." She took another cookie to console herself and stuffed it whole in her mouth. Maybe the crumbs would choke her, put her out of her misery.

"I mean it," Josephine pressed. "Do what you think—"

"—is best," Adaar finished. "Yeah. Wish I knew for sure what that was." She dusted her hands free of crumbs. "If this minister so much as looks at me funny—which is very likely, given the manners these kinds of people usually have—I'm storming the House of Repose that very hour."

Josephine reached across the space between them to touch her hand. "Thank you."

Adaar only nodded. Hard to do anything else as she looked at those soft fingertips grazing the backs of her knuckles, thinking inevitably of the last time they'd touched.

Josephine withdrew, and Adaar hoped that she would get up and leave; that she had gotten what she wanted, and there would be no need to discuss anything else.

"There is one other matter," Josephine said, her words more hesitant by far now.

Adaar didn't dare look at her face. She listened, waited, for the guillotine to drop.

"You kissed me," Josephine said, and Adaar closed her eyes against it. "After…"

Adaar would never forget it. Never. The relief she'd felt all the way down to her weary bones when she arrived outside Josephine's door to hear voices, to hear her voice, to realize that she was safe, alive—only for that relief to twist, become a terror so stark she'd never felt its like—

"I only…please understand, I don't want to assume that you harbor any tender feelings for me, I just…" Josephine let out a frustrated breath. "Listen to me stutter. I only want to understand what you meant by it."

Adaar opened her mouth before she even knew what she planned to say; she shut it again. Josephine waited, patient, not pushing.

Adaar could lie. Wave it off. Make the same excuses she'd imagined Josephine would make. Things would be awkward, probably. After all this, it was hard to imagine that they'd ever be as close as they had once been.

But Josephine deserved better than that. She'd gone out of her way to apologize, to explain. Now she asked to understand, to be given the same courtesy in return. 

It would still be awkward, but maybe they'd get past it, someday. She could hope. It had carried her this far.

"I care about you," she said. She sounded steady enough. "Very much." She paused, cleared her throat. "Thought it was sort of obvious."

Josephine didn't reply. The silence—a few seconds that felt like years—pressed down on Adaar, threatening to crush her. She had to look, had to see…

Josephine stared at her, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. She looked an awful lot like she had after Adaar had kissed her.

Breathlessly, she said, "I thought...I thought it was possible, but…"

"I know. I didn't send an eyebrow poem." She fell back on bad humor like it was some kind of defense, like it wouldn't just make things worse. "Just a bunch of stupid trinkets. Awfully unclear of me. Look, I'm sorry if I made you uncomf—"

She had not known that Josephine could move so quickly; she'd pushed the box of cookies out of the way, thrown herself against Adaar's side, and pulled Adaar's head down to kiss her before Adaar knew what was happening.

She'd tried not to remember. In those moments before the few hours of sleep she'd scraped for herself, she'd tried not to think about how it had felt. Josephine clinging to her, safe and warm and alive; Josephine pressing close to her, matching Adaar's desperation with her own fervor; Josephine's soft, sweet lips yielding beneath hers.

She was just as demanding as she'd been that night. Adaar had never expected, never imagined that—when she'd dared to imagine, anyway. That Josephine had a fire burning inside her to match Adaar's torch, and when their lips met, they knew one another's heat.

Josephine's hands framed Adaar's face, held her in place. Without Adaar's explicit say-so, her arms had wrapped around Josephine. She drank in the blissful noise of delight that came from Josephine's lips, didn't bother to catch the shawl as it fell and fluttered to the cart. Josephine touched her like she was something beloved, and she melted beneath the worship of those fingers, fell to pieces beneath the care of this deepening kiss, sweet with that lingering taste of the polvorones. Another few seconds of those soft lips moving with hers and she'd be tumbling Josephine down into the bed of the cart, and she doubted very much that Josephine would protest—

One of the guards called to another. Despite the heat, despite Josephine's body against hers, she heard it. It was a proprietary remark; there was no danger. But it felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over Adaar's head.

She tugged away, just enough to break the kiss, letting the cold night air come between them. "Wait."

Josephine made an impatient noise, following. "There are no assassins out—"

"It's not that."

Josephine's eyes searched her face. They looked a little glassy with want, with lust, with starlight.

It was a very good look on her, but it wasn't helping Adaar keep her head straight.

"Then what?" she asked. Her thumb ran over Adaar's cheek, once, twice.

She would not get through this if Josephine kept touching her, but she had to tell herself to let go three times before she actually took her arms from around Josephine. Josephine settled back to the cart, waiting, brow knit with confusion.

"This isn't a good idea," Adaar said.

Josephine leaned a little away, clearly stung. "Why not?"

Adaar glanced down the road, toward the nearest guard. Danaya's back was to them, but she wasn't far enough away, not nearly.

"People talk," she said. "As you've told me yourself. Even a short entanglement—"

"Short entanglement?" Josephine repeated, a thread of anger weaving through the hurt. "I am not interested in a fling, as you well—"

"Let me finish. Please."

Maybe something on Adaar's face convinced her; she took a breath and gestured, as if to say go ahead.

"This whole deal is going to restore your family's status," Adaar said. "Right?"

If Josephine found the change in subject strange, she didn't comment on it. "It will take more work than that, but—yes, this is the necessary beginning."

"How do you think that status would dip if everyone knew you were involved with me? What trade opportunities would you lose? Who would exclude your siblings from parties, your parents from plans?"

Josephine didn't answer right away. She thought about it, giving it a moment, turning it over, before she answered. "No one who has not already excluded us," she said. "No opportunities I have not already lost."

"Are you sure of that?"

"No one can ever be absolutely certain of anything," Josephine said evenly. "But I do not care."

"I know that isn't true. You've worked so hard to make this happen. Not just these last few months—years and years of work. What if just…being with me…would reverse all of that?"

Josephine slid off the cart and turned to face Adaar. Silently, Adaar offered out her shawl, and she took it, but let it hang loose from her hand.

"For my family, yes, I have worked," Josephine said. "So that they might get along without me, one day, if the worst were to happen. But I set all my trappings aside to join the Inquisition, knowing that I might well be cast as a heretic with the rest of you." She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, as if this didn't trouble her at all. "It does not appear that this is our trajectory any longer. I've turned a deaf ear to many slights, but there are fewer of them every week."

"You'll have to turn a deaf ear to many more," Adaar said. She had to make Josephine understand. "Supporting me politically is very different from declaring a romantic relationship with a common thug."

Josephine looked at her, silent, inscrutable, and Adaar almost squirmed under the weight of that gaze. It felt like Josephine saw a great deal. Things Adaar didn't want her to see, things she didn't intend to show her.

"You know that I don't see you that way," Josephine said.

"But other people do," Adaar argued. "Other people will—"

"Other people think many silly things," Josephine cut across her.

"Tell me if this is silly, then. When this is all over, if I'm still standing when the dust clears, I will have a very simple life left to me. A little land, a little house. You have connections, responsibilities, that won't fit in the space I have to offer. Would you give all that up to sink to my level?"

Josephine let out a low breath. "I see."

The way she was looking at Adaar, Adaar very much doubted it. "See what?"

"You are afraid that I am going to hurt you."

Adaar spluttered. "That's not what I—"

"You think that when this is over, you will not be special anymore, and I will not want you anymore." Josephine stepped forward, just enough to wrap the shawl around Adaar's shoulders. "You're wrong."

She patted the fabric into place, as if to protect Adaar from the chill. Every touch of her hand weakened a little more of Adaar's resolve.

"I am not going to change my mind," Josephine said. "When you have gotten over your reservations—"

"My reservations? You're the one who should have—"

"I will be here, Herah," Josephine said, relentless. "And I will still want the same thing. Lest you accuse me of manipulating you with my silver tongue, I will leave you to think."

Adaar had lost all language, all ability to protest. Josephine took one more polvorone from the box, but left the rest with a last pointed look at Adaar.

She was not afraid.

...Was she?

Go to Chapter 6 -->

[diary-of-deadweight]

BNHA short(kinda): My dude you just got PRANKED!

A Trolling Neito Monoma fic.

Authors note: this was inspired by a prompt I found on Pinterest.

Credit to rebel circus. (I had to squint to see if I was reading it right.)

Summary: after being tasked with vandalising one of monoma’s dress shirts, he’s out looking for the perpetrator but with less then stellar luck it seems.

“For today’s homework assignment-“ a unified groan resounded throughout the classroom at the prospect at doing homework until their hands ached made Aizawa’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance of being interrupted by the slackers of the class like Denki, Kirishima, Mina and Sero to name a few, “do you think the hero life is all glitz and glamour?” Asked the blunt, dry eyed and sleep deprived homeroom teacher rhetorically, awaiting the snarky comments to fly out of the kids mouths like bullets about how boring or how necessary they thought homework was when in actually it played a big factor, especially to those in the hero course, so when he heard the sweet sound of silence, something he wished would be a daily occurrence in Class 1-A but alas he could only dream and savour this moment into his head as it’ll be the only time it happens throughout the rest of the semester, “the answer I was looking for was no, even the pros have to do paperwork day in day out but you don’t hear them complain about it to the public now do you? So grow up and pretend to be ecstatic.”

He then proceeded to hand out the homework to everyone in the class one by one before proceeding to explain the material to you all, “ your homework, before I was so rudely interrupted,” He casted a sharp gaze to the Bakusquad in specific that it almost made Denki short circuit, “ is to create a constructive criticism analysis on your assigned classmate, I made sure that no one got anyone they were familiar with so you’ll make use of your brains for once, and how they can improve as a hero going forward into this course, it’ll be due in this time next week, class dismissed.” Aizawa waved all of you off, just in time as the bell rang out for lunch as he proceeded to crawl into his iconic yellow sleeping bag like a caterpillar who came out of his cocoon too early, which was apparently funny to you as that was exactly how you acted after a harsh day of training and a body load of aching muscles, scrapes and bruises, you couldn’t really complain though as becoming a hero requires intense training regimens and strict diets, so you knew that Aizawa was only doing what was beneficial for everyone in getting maximum results; you knew everyone in your class had the potential of becoming an awesome hero one day...except for Mineta...he’d be the biggest disappointment, you don’t have anything against the little creep but his personality stank like dog shit and it shows, no wonder his only ‘friend’ was the electric blonde with a short circuitry problem, you could withstand the flirtatious dunce more so then grape stain.

“Oi idiot,” a gruff voice cut through your thoughts like a hot knife through butter, turning your attention to the ash blonde leaning against the doorway, bag slumped over his shoulder as he stared at you with furrowed brows and crossed over arms, “you coming or do I have to drag you to eat something?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming keep your pants on angry chihuahua.” He growled at the nickname and that was pretty much all he did while you grabbed your bad and shove your notebook and your assignment inside with haste to then run out the door in order to catch up with Bakugou and his big ass strides that somehow didn’t falter under the weight of his big ass head as your journey to the canteen was riddled in silence and minimal conversations, which you didn’t really mind as you’d probably gain a headache if you went with Mina, Kirishima, Denki and Sero instead, you really didn’t know how Bakugou could deal with that constant noise and to be honest, he couldn’t stand it. At all. So he resorted to blocking out people’s obnoxious voices whenever he was with the group but today he decided that he should just walk to the canteen with you as you weren’t the most talkative nor were you a walking, talking headache either, something he appreciates but would refuse to admit it as his big ass ego stops him from doing so.

“Who did you get for the assignment,” he asked, straight to the point as ever, not bothering to engage in eye contact with you.

“Don’t know, I haven’t looked yet if I’m being honest.” You confessed, shrugging your shoulders, not really seeing why it would be of any consolation to him. “Well take a look now, no ones stopping you from doing so dumbass, you aren’t a dog patiently waiting for a treat.” He reaches a hand up to flick you on the forehead as if punishing your for your idiocy as you instinctually reached up to rub the spot he flicked to be rid of any stinging sensations, “your so mean katsushi!”

“It’s Katsuki. You dingbat.”

“Nope I’m pretty sure it’s Katsushi”

You two went back and forth like this for the rest of the walk so that when you were nearing the entrance of the canteen you noticed that Bakugou stopped walking some time ago, so turning to ask him what was wrong only to see his face contorted into anger at whatever he was seeing before him that was somewhat invisible to you for some reason the more you looked round the two of you fruitlessly, “ Oi Katsushi, what are yo-“ he grasped your cheeks in his hand with little to no pressure, turning your head so you could see where his scarlet eyes had narrowed in on.

It was class 1-Bs copy cat, the lilac eyed and avid hater of 1-A, Neito Monoma, the usually smug blonde was currently harassing all your friends, claiming that one of them at that table had vandalised his dress shirt that had scrawled across the back of it in blue marker and pretty pink glitter that was super glued within the heart outline was :

‘I ❤️ class 1-A’

You would’ve laughed if it wasn’t for Bakugou cupping your face in his hand so instead all that came out of your mouth was incoherent spluttering which earned you some weird stares from the students walking past you and the crimson eyed time bomb to get into the canteen as you two were well...kinda blocking the path but no one was brave enough to say anything about it due to the Male next to you, speaking of the Male next to you, Bakugou had a smirk plastered on his face that would -hopefully, for his case- come off as cocky before his face automatically rested to his 24/7 ‘I’m going to kill you and make it look like an accident’ face the second Monoma caught sight of the two of you and was now currently in front of your faces, ignoring the personal space he was invading, by this time Bakugou finally let your face go from his grip as he clenched his fists at the sight of the copy cat that tried to make a fool out of him during the Calvary battle at the sports festival.

“Are either of you 1-A scumbags gonna fess up for tarnishing my shirt?!” The lilac eyed egotist shoved his -surprisingly- nice smelling dress shirt mingled with the scents of blueberry scented marker and dried glue under your noses as you mentally groaned at the intoxicating smell of men’s cologne but mainly one in specific and it seemed that Monoma HAD that specific cologne that made you weak in the knees, you just wanted to know what it was called so you could get bottles of it for yourself damn it!

“Why would your dumbass assume that it was me who did it huh? You’ve got some big balls copy cat” Bakugou stated with a scowl, staring Neito down just as he did the same, you swore you saw a little bolt of lighting spark between them the longer they looked at each other as if they were in a cliche anime where two of the characters stare each other down in anger with a bolt of light is struck between them to add effect for their feud or something while you tried bidding the fact that you were about to blow a fuse trying to hold back your laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation, to find your self slowly weaken and loose self control.

‘I can’t this is too funny!’

With that you bursted our laughing so hard that you had to lean into Bakugou for support so that you don’t fall to the tiled floor in a heap of laughing limbs, unable to stop for the time being, surly Monoma had more then just one dress shirt in his closet right? Unless it was his favourite dress shirt but still a reaction to a harmless prank like this was totally unnecessary and a tad dramatic for your tastes that when you finally calmed down from your laughing fit, you unknowingly gained the attention of nearly everyone in the canteen, who turned to see what the unnecessary loud laughing was about.

“ I didn’t do it Neito, I’m not that petty.”

“Then why did you laugh as loudly as you did, only people who committed the crime laugh as loudly as you did just now, so why don’t you admit it (l/n) and confess that you vandalised MY shirt.” Neito squinted his eyes suspiciously as if to get you to crack under pressure but what was there to crack when there is no pressure being placed upon, he was that bad at trying to get you to crack that you didn’t really feel like you were being put under pressure as of right now while Bakugou could only scoff and roll his eyes at Neito’s quick judgment.

“I was laughing because (1) it’s a natural response to something this stupid and (2) who ever did it is a freaking genius!” You defended yourself as the patience within Monoma was wearing thin and his plasticine face was growing redder by the second as he huffs in annoyance, turning on his heel and stomping back to his table to sulk about his tainted shirt to his reluctant classmates who found the situation just as ridiculous as you did.

So as you and Bakugou were waiting in line for some spicy curry he turned to you with a knowing look in his eye, “ you did it didn’t you?”

“What gave it away mr observant?”

“The scented markers and the glitter pot you “borrowed” from raccoon eyes’ room with false promises of returning it one day.”

You nodded your head, turning your head towards the line in front of you with an equally knowing look in your eyes, “well done Katsushi, I was dared by Denki to do so...plus I had some inside contact within class 1-B who found Monoma just about as intolerable as we do.”

Bakugou only grunted in response as he looked back at Monoma’s table where the blonde had his head resting upon the shoulder of a tense Tetsutetsu or ‘man of iron’ you had him named in you contacts.

“But seriously who’s the idiot you got before copy cat shoved his prized possession in our faces.”

[omgjasminesimone]

Juvenile Delinquents Part 1

Logan x MC (Ellie)

Summary: Ride or Die AU. Logan’s day started out routine, but it ended with mugshots.

Next Part: Part 2

Word Count: 1600

Logan sighs as he drums his fingers on the steering wheel. He hates the waiting, it makes him anxious, too much time to think and allow his nervous energy to build up.

He switches on the radio to have something to drown out his buzzing thoughts, flipping through several stations before settling on 90s West Coast hip hop.

“Logan, it’s time.” Kaneko’s voice comes in clearly through Logan’s earpiece.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Logan replies, revving his Devore’s engine before peeling out of the parking lot at top speed.

In short order, he catches up to the rest of the crew. Kaneko, in the just stolen sports car they’ve been targeting. Mona drives her own convertible to his right, Ximena is in a pickup truck to his left, and Toby is just in front in his favorite Italian import car of the year.

Logan falls into place in the back, completing their diamond formation.

“No one saw you pretty boy?” Mona asks. He can faintly hear the Lebanese traditional music playing in her car through his ear piece.

“Nope. Got to the parking lot without anyone tailing me, and peeled out quick.” Logan answers, unable to mask his cocky tone.

“That’s my boy.” Kaneko praises.

“Uh oh.” Toby mutters.

“That can’t be good.” Ximena replies.

“I’m picking up cops on my scanner boss. Coming up on the 405 South fast.” Toby informs.

“Damn it. Everyone, take the next exit.” Kaneko directs. They all merge right to exit the freeway.

“Shit, they’re expecting us boss.” Toby is still in front, so he’s the first to see the police spikes set up across the asphalt.

“Bet they’re not expecting this.” Mona mutters, engaging the modified spike proof tires Toby installed and driving through the spikes, dragging them along after her car.

The others quickly fly out of the opening Mona has created, and the police give chase.

They use all their usual tricks to try to shake them, but the Mercy Park Crew has been very active lately, and it seems the police have been studying up on their tactics.

“God damn it, I’m running low on gas.” Kaneko informs his crew.

“What do we do boss?” Ximena asks.

“Logan, I need you to peel off, let them catch you to buy us some time.” Kaneko directs.

Logan blanches, gripping his steering wheel tight. “But then I’ll have a record. They’ll have my prints. Know who I am. I’ll be fucked.”

“You’re 17. It will be a juvenile offense, while the rest of us will definitely get prison time. You’ll get off easier. You’re the only one who can do it.” Kaneko explains.

“But-“ Logan starts.

“Logan.” Kaneko interrupts, and his tone informs Logan he’s not asking.

Logan sighs, peeling off from the others as he takes a right on La Cienega. “Will you make sure someone picks up my car when they impound it?” Logan asks.

“I’ve got you Logan.” Ximena promises.

“Thanks.” Logan replies, turning off his headset as he leads some of the police away on a high-speed chase. He circles back and runs a red light, causing one of the cops to crash into the ones still pursuing the crew. But he’s going so fast that he can’t make the next turn, slamming into a pole.

Logan groans as he tries to remove himself from his dented in car. There’s a lot of damage, but he knows the crew will be able to fix it.

“Get out of the car with your hands raised!” A cop yells, and Logan can see he’s pointing a gun at him through his rear-view mirror.

“I can’t! The door is dented in!” Logan shouts back, raising his hands so the cop can see he doesn’t have any weapons.

Several cops approach, guns raised, to remove him from his vehicle. As soon as he’s out, they cuff him and force him into a patrol car.

…

Logan toys with the bandage wrapped around his forehead to stem the bleeding from his head hitting the windshield as he surveys the police station.

It’s busy. Phones ringing, cops dragging resisting criminals to cells, people being processed with fingerprints and mugshots.

It seems like there’s so much going on, that if he could get his wrist out of the hand cuff chaining him to the bench, he could make a run for it. He experimentally tries to squeeze his hand free, but the cuffs are too tight. He sighs. Guess it’s time to face the consequences of his actions.

“Oh my God Jason, you don’t have to forcefully restrain me, I’m not going anywhere.” An airy voice complains.

It’s a girl who looks to be around his age. She’s pretty, with long brown hair and matching brown eyes. She looks too innocent to require the tight grip the detective has on her arm, dressed in a Langston College sweatshirt and jeans.

“Yeah right, like I’d fall for that, again.” Jason replies, forcefully pulling her over to get fingerprinted.

Logan leans back against the wall, closing his eyes as he tries to drown out the loud cacophony of sounds so he can think. What’s his next step after this? He’s got ID on him with his real name, so they’re going to know who he is, and have his prints, and be able to track him back through foster care records.

Will they try to force him back into a group home? He’ll just run away, again, so hopefully they don’t bother.

Is Kaneko going to let him back into the crew? Seems like that would be an unnecessary risk that Kaneko’s not going to be willing to take. But Kaneko can’t just cut him loose either, he knows too much. He doesn’t think Kaneko would hurt him, but he might send him away. Back to Michigan maybe? Logan doesn’t want that.

“What are you in for?” The pretty girl he noticed earlier asks.

Logan is startled to find her sitting beside him on the police precinct’s cold metal bench. She hadn’t been there a second ago.

He looks her over, measuring whether or not she’s harmless. She quirks an eyebrow at his silence. “Hablas ingles?” She asks.

“Yeah, I speak English.” Logan replies. He doesn’t know much Spanish, despite his father allegedly being Salvadoran according to his birth certificate. All his foster parents spoke English, so he only picked up the Spanish basics once he realized people were always going to look at him and assume he speaks the language.

The girl smiles at him, and when she speaks again, he notices a peek of silver in her mouth, a tongue piercing. Guess she’s not as clean cut and innocent as he first clocked her to be.

“So, what are you in for?” She repeats.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to ask people that in here.” Logan responds warily, and the girl lets out a laugh.

“So, I take it you’re a first timer then.” She quips cheerily.

Logan glances down at the pink nail polish adorning the girl’s fingers, the charm bracelet on her delicate wrist. As he looks up into her innocent looking face, a few freckles dotting her tan skin, he has a hard time wrapping his mind around a girl like her being in a place like this.

“And I take it you’re not.” Logan finally replies, and her lips turn up in a grin as the two teenagers stare each other down.

“Fucking hell, Eleanor. Again?! Really?!” An officer interrupts, storming up to the teens.

The girl, Eleanor, he supposes, rolls her brown eyes. “Calm down Dad.”

 The Detective’s face becomes red with anger at his daughter’s flippant attitude. “I will not calm down! You’re out of control. Drugs, Eleanor?! Really?!” He yells. The other cops desperately try to ignore the scene he’s creating.

“Prescription drugs.” Eleanor stresses. “It’s really not that big of a deal. If Ingrid wasn’t such a snitch, everything would have been fine.”

“Is this a cry for help Eleanor? Selling prescription drugs at school? I can’t get you out of this, not this time. Ever since your mother died-“

“This isn’t about Mom. This was about making enough money so I could pay LA rent and not have to live with you anymore! You treat me like a child, you’re overbearing!” Eleanor yells back.

“Maybe I would treat you like an adult if you acted like one!” The Detective yells back. His daughter shoots him an icy glare in return, and Logan watches as he closes his eyes before taking a deep breath, trying to compose himself. His attention turns to Logan.

He uncuffs Logan from the bench, gripping his arm and leading him over to be fingerprinted. “Hands up.” The Detective orders gruffly, and Logan reluctantly complies. The Detective frisks him, coming upon his wallet. The Detective rifles through it, quickly finding Logan’s license. “Logan Sanchez?”

Logan nods, and the Detective writes the name onto his paperwork. He takes Logan’s wrist, forcing his fingers to the ink pad and then rolling each finger over the fingerprint paperwork.

“Wheeler, mugshots. You know the drill.” Another cop calls. Eleanor hops off the bench, smiling cheekily as her mugshot is taken. Her father shakes his head as she blows the camera a kiss for her last frame.

The cop she called Jason grips her upper arm again, leading her away. She turns back toward Logan. “See you inside!” She says with a wink before Jason tugs harder, forcing her to walk.

Her father frowns as he turns to look at Logan. His look conveys his belief that Logan is going to be a problem. He grips his arm, rougher than Logan thinks is necessary, and positions him in front of the camera.

Unlike Eleanor, Logan doesn’t smile for the camera.

taglist:  @choicesarehard​ @ifyouseekheart​ @brightpinkpeppercorn​ @regina-and-happiness​ @drakexnadira​ @flyawayboo​ @fairydustandsarcasm​ @alesana45​ @umiumichan​ @maxwellsquidsuit​ @lahelable​ @god-save-the-keen @mrsmckenziesworld @paisleylovergirl​ @iplaydrake​ @sinclaire-made-me-sin​ @choicesgremlin​ @lovehugsandcandy​ @desiree-0816​ @cora-nova​ @justdani14​ @emceesynonymroll​ @emichelle​ @badchoicesposts​ @client-327 @riverrune​ @liamzigmichael4ever​ @princessstellaris​ @mrskaneko @anxious-arliah​

[chromecutie]

Not A Ghost - part 33

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Masterlist on my profile!

Taglist: @emma-frxst  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @holamor ​  @empressme-bitch  @marvel-is-perfection  @hazilyimagine ​ @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash ​ @whitewitchdown ​ @master-sass-blast ​ @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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

Blood got in her eyes; she’d hit the concrete hard enough to break the skin. The buzzing of the tattoo gun filled Rhonda's senses. She couldn't hear Wade yelling for her, couldn't hear the inmates laughing, couldn't hear the sick satisfaction in Calhoun's voice as he handed it to someone and got off her back to make room.

Whoever held her arm twisted it to make a small vacant patch of skin easier to access. It hurt. Fingers pinched and pulled at her skin. 

But it was nothing compared to the jagged burning of the tattoo needle.

The inmate jabbed it deep into her skin, as if it was a tiny saw he was using to cut her open. Rhonda's eyes screwed shut. She tried not to hyperventilate.

They had done this so many times, what was one more? Would Piotr even notice a new one? Or five? If she shut her eyes and kept still, it would pass. She might have to beg Wade not to tell her husband what he'd seen. Or maybe this would be the time they finally kill her, and she'd never have to beg for anything again. Wouldn't have to see the look on her friends' faces as they barely recognize her. Wouldn't have to argue with a bunch of idealists that maybe the X-Men aren't the answer. But she would also never feel grass under her feet again. Never dance across worn wood floors. Never feel the sun or her husband's kiss or see Ellie's rare smiles. A steep price to pay for peace, rest, quiet. She even already had a grave. Pieces of something started to fall into place--

The tattoo gun buzzed against her bone and brought the present moment back in stark clarity.

She was tired of having strangers' hands on her.

Like a crocodile ripping off a zebra's leg, Rhonda rolled. There was a horrible pop as one of her shoulders dislocated, and it startled the inmates restraining her.

The brief hesitation was all she needed to get one leg free and start thrashing. Someone’s jaw broke when she launched a wild kick. The last inmate holding her arm panicked and let go. 

Calhoun shouted into his radio for backup, even as he readied his cattle prod.

One arm was useless. Rhonda knew she wouldn’t hold up one on one like this. The inmates previously surrounding her had given her space. Wade was still somewhere behind them. When she caught sight of Janks, she grabbed the front of his jumpsuit with her good arm and demanded, “Pop this back in, quick.”

He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t hesitate to wrench her dislocated shoulder back into its socket. Another sickening pop ignited pain that had Rhonda seeing spots and almost made her faint. No time for thanks, Rhonda spun toward Calhoun.

The prongs at the tip of the cattle prod sparked as the guard jabbed it toward her face. She dodged and rolled, but caught a shock in the ribs as Calhoun hit her. Inmates yelled as if they were watching sports at a bar. The noise echoed everywhere, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the sound of Rhonda’s own heart pounding in her ears.

The shock from the cattle prod added ultimate insult to injury. If it weren’t for the collar, Rhonda could have deflected the electric current right back up Calhoun’s arms. As it was, he would jab for a few seconds, taking too much delight in the way she contracted and convulsed on the floor, then jab a different spot.

Dozens of inmates closed in a circle around Calhoun and Rhonda, and guards responding to the call for backup couldn’t get through without using their own cattle prods. There wasn’t much time before Rhonda would be dragged away. Finally, she had the timing right, and between jabs, she kicked Calhoun’s hand with both feet. He dropped the prod and it skittered across the floor, disappearing between people’s feet in the commotion. 

His surprise was his downfall, just as it had been at the truck stop.

Rhonda kept low, either crouching or kneeling, as she swiped at him with a shiv. Calhoun’s gaze kept darting over the floor, looking for his prod, but it was gone. He backed into the ring of inmates, and things got lifted off his belt before he could stop it from happening. One inmate, a Vicious 13 member, pushed against one of Calhoun’s calves to ruin his balance. The officer stumbled to one knee, and it was all Rhonda needed to grapple him.

She threw her full weight against him and they rolled together. Inmates cheered at a deafening volume. Her dancer’s legs tangled with his arms while his legs thrashed helplessly. Her four-fingered right hand knotted in a vice grip in his hair and yanked his head up and back, exposing his stubbled throat. 

Too quick for the other guards to stop her, she buried her shiv two inches into the side of Calhoun’s neck, and dragged it across to the other side.

Blood gushed over her hand, spilling over Calhoun’s chest and staining her yellow jumpsuit. It was the warmest she’d felt since returning to the Icebox. 

Rhonda’s voice dripped venom in his ear, “I told you you’d die shit.”

He choked and gurgled, but it only took a few seconds for the light to leave his cruel eyes.

The backup guards pulled Calhoun off her and tried to resuscitate him, but it was too late. Then they turned on Rhonda, prods and pepper spray out, ready to waste her for killing one of their own.

Now would have been a fantastic time for Piotr and the team to show up, Rhonda mused. When they didn’t, she resigned to an ugly fate of a fight to the death she couldn’t hope to win. It was how she thought this mission would end all along, and it had only taken two days. She wished she could apologize to Piotr, then held up her shiv, ready.

Just as they closed in around her, a voice called out, “Boys, the paperwork!”

The guard closest to Rhonda pulled up short, raising a closed fist to the others. “Wait,” he said. 

A bland looking blue eyed officer countered, “Come on, Robinson. Man, what paperwork? This one’s not even on the books.” He thrust his pepper spray at Rhonda, just to watch her flinch.

A sturdy, auburn haired woman sided with Robinson, “The last time we killed an inmate, the warden put three officers on admin leave.”

“So?” the bland one asked. “Even with suspension, it’s one less mutant to deal with all the time.”

Another chimed in, “And this one killed an officer. We can’t let that stand.”

The youngest officer spat, “If a dog had the same record as this one, it would get put down. Maybe taken out behind a shed and shot.”

“Yes, but she’s not a dog,” Mimi threaded through the throng of inmates and lazily leaned one hip against the edge of a table. “Inmates who assault officers are supposed to go into solitary. We all know the rules.” There was a hard staredown. The guards couldn’t deny Mimi was right. It was basic protocol, even if the DMC played loose when it came to the Icebox. “If the DMC so publicly disregarded protocol, well, it might get...rowdy in here.”

Robinson, the bland guard, and the others exchanged looks, expressions tinged with worry.

“Besides,” Mimi edged away as if already bored. “People get forgotten in solitary all the time. Maybe she’ll waste away,” she fluttered her hand dismissively. 

"Fine," Robinson conceded. "Solitary it is."

The bland guard shrugged, then sprayed Rhonda in the face with concentrated pepper spray. The other officers snickered as she gasped and coughed, frantically rubbing at her eyes, which only made it worse. Her shiv clattered on the floor and a guard snatched it up.

Eyes and face on fire, struggling to breathe, Rhonda barely registered guards hooking their arms under hers to drag her along. Splashed with blood, one arm bare, dehumanized, Wade shouted her name one more time before she disappeared down the hall towards the solitary unit.

Finally, the inmates holding him let go. He crossed to pick up Rhonda's torn and discarded sleeve. Exhausted from fighting and coughing, he wrapped the yellow scrap around his hands and held it close. How was any part of their plan supposed to work now? He muttered under his breath, "Fuck…"

[canaryatlaw]

alright, so today was not bad. it was mostly good really, just one thing that made me kinda upset, but it’s really not a big deal, I’m just getting irrational about it. but anyway. woke up at 6, had to wait like 15 minutes for the fucking bus to show up and was freezing while doing so, but it finally came thankfully. made it to court just past 8, set up and got my client going and handed off my other case to my coworker who was handling it. it is also of course my clinic day and my supervisor was gonna cover for me while I’m in court because all the other staff attorneys were also in court, but there was some sort of train back up due to some problem on the pink line and I wanted to get to the courtroom before 9 so I could talk to the state’s attorney so I ended up having to close clinic for a hot second until my supervisor got there, which ended up being slightly longer than a hot second but there wasn’t really any other option left at the moment. I just feel shitty closing clinic when we have volunteers ready to go, but it worked out okay. of course since it was my clinic day it meant I was going to get stuck in court for-fucking-ever not for anything productive but just waiting so damn long for the judge to recall the goddamn case. UGH. out of pure coincidence though, I ended up in the courtroom to see the guy we got arrested yesterday get arraigned and they bring him out and I’m just sitting there with the biggest shit eating grin like I’m not here related to this case at all but he doesn’t know that and I just felt so goddamn satisfied, I have to call the client and tell her haha because I know she’d appreciate it. my other case though, without going into any detail, it didn’t end up getting resolved quite the way we wanted so we’re going to have to step off the case and refer it to another legal aid organization because we don’t really handle the type of case it is now, and that’s just disappointing because this is the client I’ve been in touch with like every day for the last two weeks helping her with stuff so I’m kinda attached to it at this point, but at the end of the day the case probably isn’t going to suffer for it and they will end up being fine, I just have to get past my feelings and disappointment about it in order to talk to the ASA and the client and clarify what’s going on, which are calls I need to make tomorrow. anyway though. it was like fucking noon by the time I got back to the office, so I was in court for like 3 hours, and after getting a copy of the clerk’s sign in list for a day after loosely threatening to subpoena it....it was an amusing moment. but then I actually took back over for clinic and got started on those cases. there was a lot going on at once as tends to be the case with clinic days with one case we’re actually taking up accepting from the beginning so that has a whole other level of protocols and things to do, so it was a lot of work for a solid amount of time, and by the time things cooled down it was like, 2:30 haha. but yeah, for the rest of the day I just kept monitoring things and getting some other work done. By the time the last client got down from court and I finished up the paperwork it was almost 6, not too bad for a clinic day but glad we didn’t decide to record the podcast tonight because that would not have worked with my east coast co-hosts schedules. so I got home and chilled for a little bit before meeting up with a friend for dinner which was nice. came home afterwards and finished watching The Resident from tonight and then realizing I missed last week’s episode and watching that too. and once I finished that up I showered and started getting ready for bed, then a bunch of other things happened that I needed to pay attention to and of course by the time I’m actually finishing this it’s past midnight and I need to go the fuck to sleep. so that’s what I am going to at least attempt to do now. Goodnight dearies. Sweet dreams.

[alpacannot]

Chapter 2

I can’t keep doing this. Something’s got to give, I thought as a leaned my elbows on the sink. Sweat ran down my neck, and I ran my fingers through my slightly damp hair. I swallowed, my throat too tight. Blake pawed at my legs.

“I know, I know. I’ll talk to someone—I promise.” She sneezed, and I took that as my cue to get ready. I looked at my self in the mirror, at the tension around my eyes. “Get your shit together,” I muttered at my reflection. After a few minutes of fumbling around my dark apartment, I finally found my keys. I grabbed Blake and Marlow’s leashes and slowly made my way down to the office.

“You okay?” The security officer’s voice pulled me back to reality.

“I’m sorry?”

“Just checking to see if you’re okay. You’ve been coming in pretty early, even for you.” I checked my watch: 4:15 a.m.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just can’t sleep.” I pushed on into the office, letting Blake and Marlow pull me forward. They forced their way under my desk, and I dropped their leads.

“Alex? Is something wrong?” The hulking Keeper rose from my chair, towering over me.

“Not with me.” He paused, waiting for me to say something. When I didn’t, he continued. “Look, Tris, PJ and I are worried about you. I’m sure others are, too. I know you’ve struggled with adjusting to everything, but you’ve been really out of it lately—coming to the office during the middle of the night, staying at work until everyone else has left, spacing out. If something’s wrong, if anything happened out there, you know you can tell me.” He locked eyes with me, and I immediately looked away. Tell him, I begged, but I knew I couldn’t. I laced and unlaced my fingers, hoping he would drop it. I wanted to tell someone about my nightmares, but every time I tried, the words wouldn’t come.

Alex reached towards me, smoothing the furrow between my brows. I wanted to protest, to tell him there was nothing to worry about, despite there be everything to worry about, but, as usual, I stayed silent. He sighed, backing away so I could get to my desk. He made his way towards the double doors, and I watched him walk away from me, just like I’d let everyone else.

“Alex. . .” He stopped, turning towards me. I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth. His shoulders drooped.

“See you later, Tris.” He kept walking, and soon he was out of sight. Idiot. Why didn’t you say something? I sunk into my chair, and Marlow laid his head on my knee. I mindlessly scratched his head, my thoughts running a million miles a minute. Guilt ate away at me—my skin itched with it. I waited, hoping the feeling would pass, but I couldn’t shake it.

“Well, I’m not going to just sit here feeling sorry for myself. Blake, Marlow, let’s go.” They bolted up, ready to explore. I snatched up their leashes and stormed down the hallway. The endless corridors were a maze nearly impossible to escape, but I managed to find Human Resources eventually. Brushing past the security guard, I marched into the office and up to the first manned desk I saw.

“Take me to my brother,” I demanded. The woman looked up from the stack of paperwork on her desk, peering over her glasses.

“And do you have the proper paperwork?” Her blank stare boiled my blood.

“Of course not—but why does it matter? I work here!” I was quickly approaching hysterics.

“I’m sorry, miss, but without approval from the Undertaker, I can’t let you see your brother.” She returned to her paperwork. I turned back towards the door, breaking out into an all-out sprint, headed anywhere and nowhere. Blake’s barks echoed through the empty hallways, and I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over my cheeks. When I’d successfully lost myself, I slumped down the wall, a dark silhouette sprawled across the too-bright white walls and floor. I stayed there for hours, pain and grief and guilt gnawing a hole in my chest.

Marlow’s low growl drew my attention to the intruder, forcing me to look up. A small, slightly familiar man stood a few feet away, held back by Marlow and Blake. “Chris.” My voice was barely a whisper, raw from hours of crying. “I’m sorry you have to see this.” I wiped away the stale tears with my sleeve, and Blake came over to help me stand. Marlow continued standing guard, keeping Chris away. I picked up his leash, bringing him towards me.

“Do you need help?” he asked, tentatively reaching towards me. I shook my head.

“It’s fine. I’m on my way to work now.” Clinging to my dogs, I turned right and started making my way back.

“Um, Tris?” Chris’s voice rang through the empty space. I turned towards him. “Your office is that way,” he said, gesturing in the opposite direction. Grimacing, I turned around and walked back towards him.

“Let me at least walk you back.” He spoke gently, and I started feeling calmer.

“Okay.”

We walked in silence, and I was grateful that he didn’t try to fill the void with conversation, especially about the mess he found me in. I see why PJ likes you, I thought. I began to relax, letting the tension in my shoulders roll off my back.

“Thank you,” I muttered. He gave me a reassuring smile and continued leading me back to my office. PJ was sitting at my desk, his fingers drumming wildly on the arms of my chair. He stood up when he saw me, coming towards us.

“Oh, Chris, thank God you found her,” he cried, pulling me into a tight embrace.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you,” I managed.

“It’s okay—everything’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I would have gone to look for you myself, but Chris has been here longer and knows these corridors better than I do.” He smiled warmly at Chris with a rare tenderness. “Thank you again. I know you’re busy.”

“I’m glad I could help.” He looked between PJ and me. “I know this isn’t the best time, but remember what we talked about yesterday. It needs to be taken care of today—the sooner the better.” PJ squeezed me protectively, his hands tensing slightly.

“I know. Their timing sure sucks though. This isn’t exactly the best time to shake things up.”

“I understand, but maybe it will help. There’s not much of a choice, but still, just think about it.” He waved goodbye and left the two of us alone at my desk—well, as alone as we could be in an office full of Reapers in the middle of their work. PJ turned towards me, his eyes full of concern.

“You sure you’re okay? Because we can talk about it if you want.” I felt my resolve start to crumble, and I collapsed into my chair. PJ knelt beside me.

“I tried to see my brother today. Obviously they wouldn’t let me in, although I’m not sure what good seeing him would do. What would I say? ‘Hey, sorry for getting you killed when we were kids—turns out it wasn’t an accident, and it was supposed to be me. But, hey, I work for them now!’ He’d be so upset. I know I would be if he was responsible for my premature death.” I absently pulled at a loose thread on my shirt.

“Tris, you know that’s not true—well, at least blaming yourself isn’t right. I’m certain Alistair wouldn’t be angry with you. You were both children. And he went straight to Heaven. You know he wouldn’t be there if he was still holding a grudge.”

“What about my parents? One dead child, the other vanished. They’re still in the same house, hoping that one day I’ll come home, unsure whether I’m dead or alive. How is that fair to them? How is any of this fair?” He let out a low sigh.

“I know this system isn’t ideal, but it’s better than it was before. It was chaos when humans found out about us and were allowed to live. Reapers everywhere were being hunted, like the Witch Trials before those even happened. And sometimes accidents happen, but we’re all human here. We make mistakes, and while those mistake hurt people, the Undertaker isn’t just going to take away everyone’s agency. It’s one of the reasons he made humanity in the first place. I’m certain he would have been fine just letting everyone stay as non-corporeal beings in Limbo, but he wanted to give us a chance at something greater, and with that comes a chance to get hurt. And while I know this might not make you feel better, it’s the way things work here, and none of us can do anything about it. That sucks, I know, but it’ll get better. It stops hurting eventually.”

“Does it? Did it ever stop hurting for you? Any of it?” His face fell. Silence stretched between us.

“No, it didn’t. And horrible things still happen here, but eventually you find things that help make it hurt less. And some days are worse than others. And I’m sorry—the hurt will never go away, but at least the times between those terrible days begin to last longer. Sometimes it’ll be months before another bad day comes along. And what matters is that you make the most of those times in between.”

“PJ, it’s been more than ten years. When am I going to start feeling better again?” He shook his head.

“I don’t know—I don’t have all the answers. It’s different for everyone. I fell hard before I was able to get back up again. You remember. I was a wreck, and then I started to get better. I opened up about it, went to see a therapist, and gave it time. Getting out of the Higher Path helped, too. Dealing with death out there every day, it takes it’s toll.”

“But I can’t get out, not now. I’ve already graduated and made my choice.” PJ twisted the end of his shirt.

“I can’t get you out of it, but what if I could make it better? Less deaths, but more time out there?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Extended assignments? Aren’t those for interns?”

“Well, sort of like an extended assignment, but less educational. Look, I can’t give you all the details—I’m low on information as well, but Chris dropped off your Summons with me yesterday, asking me to review it before giving it to you. It’s your choice to accept it or not, but it mildly affects the two of us. We’d be pulled off regular Reapings to work solely with you and your paperwork. If it’s what you want, we’re both happy to support you.”

My mind was racing, trying to make sense of what he was telling me. A way out? I’d do anything. “Alright. I’ll accept the Summons.”