#Protective back case for Steam Deck

[heyitsmirae]

Nanami, it’s time [JJK fanfic]

Chapter Title: Time to go Word Count: 1,960 Synopsis: We all know that moment when Kento Nanami gets torched by Jogo, and you know what comes next… well I know we all want to turn back time and undo that moment. This is a retelling of that part in the story, with something different added to it. Nanami has a wife (you!) who is also a Jujutsu Sorcerer with a unique power, and they both want out of the Jujutsu Society forever. Pairing: Kento Nanami x Reader Content Warning: none YET, but in the succeeding chapters, there WILL be smut, I’m warning you all because I’m writing this while I’m ovulating lol horny JJK fans unite Notes: I had help from ChatGPT to generate a unique JJK-verse Cursed Technique without it being too OP or copying from an existing character, so thank you chatgpt lol, see the end part for a detailed explanation of the technique

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NANAMI’S POV

A minute ago, I, Naobito Zenin, Megumi Fushiguro, and Maki Zenin were all standing on a beach, the domain of the Cursed Spirit Dagon, watching the new arrival of a strong, frenzied man who had zero Cursed Energy, who was beating the daylights out of the domain owner.

The next thing I knew, we were back in the station at Shibuya, staring at the lifeless body of the octopus creature whose domain obviously crumbled upon his death at the hand of the man in the sweatshirt.

The same man who is now walking towards us with a glint of madness in his eye.

“Is he on our side...?” I thought, mentally preparing myself to battle this man in case he wasn’t.

Suddenly, two things simultaneously happened.

The man wearing a sweatshirt suddenly dragged Fushiguro-kun and flung him out the window, and another Cursed Spirit with an insane amount of Cursed Energy appeared without warning next to the corpse of Dagon.

He looked odd, almost comical, with the shape of his head looking like a volcano, complete with the top billowing off small amounts of steam. But we all knew he was dangerous.

“Dagon, I’ll take it from here. Leave the rest to me, we’ll meet again in the wastelands, one hundred years from now. Now then…” the Cursed Spirit said, turning to face all of us.

In a split second, he was by my side, touching my abdomen and glaring at me.

I barely had time to register what was happening when suddenly, I felt the familiar presence of a Cursed Energy, one whose presence I had not wanted to be in this place at all, not especially in this moment.

Time seemed to slow down as I saw my wife running towards me, worry evident in her light brown eyes.

“Y/N, my love, why are you here? Weren’t you supposed to be in Osaka? It’s dangerous here!” is what I willed my mouth to speak, but the words aren’t coming out.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. My mind can’t process it that quickly, but somewhere, somehow, I knew this was the power of her Cursed Technique, Chrono-Warping.

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READER’S POV

I read and reread Principal Yaga’s text message to me, sent about an hour ago.

Y/N, you should come to Shibuya as soon as you can. It seems we will need all hands on deck to handle the Special Grade curses wreaking havoc. You may join your husband in the rescue mission to retrieve Gojo, who was sealed in Prison Realm. Resume your current mission once this crisis is averted.

I willed the bullet train to go even faster, bouncing my knee up and down in a nervous tic as I run a hand through my hair.

“Knowing Kento, he’ll probably do his best to protect the students and his kohai, Ino. He might even get hurt from that chivalrous attitude of his.” I muttered under my breath.

Which is one of the things I love and hate about Kento Nanami.

It’s not that I don’t trust his abilities to get him through the battle at Shibuya. It’s that I know how overprotective he is of the younger Jujutsu Sorcerers (and of me), he’ll always go above and beyond to protect them at the risk of his own life.

The next stop, Shibuya.

“Fucking finally. I’m gonna age from waiting in this damn train.” I said, apparently rather loudly, since the couple seated in front of me turned to look at me with their eyebrows raised.

“Eh, who cares what they think. I’m used to the stares and the discrimination.” I thought.

I was a foreigner, half Japanese, half (your nationality), in fact. Despite my living here for almost three decades and speaking Japanese with a perfect accent, my features will never be Japanese enough for me to be treated the same as the “locals”.

It was one of the things that brought me closer to my husband, in fact. Standing 6 feet tall and with obvious Western features, he certainly stood out in the crowd. The locals here do not like individuals who stand out, so we both experienced discrimination of sorts, even within the Jujutsu society.

While I wait for the train to arrive at the station, I let my mind wander at a conversation Kento and I had before we were married.

“How does it not bother you, Kento. That old man was just downright rude to you!”

“I remind myself that they do not personally know me and that anything they say or do to me is based on a prejudice they have preconceived in their minds. Since they do not know the real me, nor do they have any special meaning to me, I do not let their words and actions affect me. It’s a waste of time.”

That man is wise beyond his years. His words back then struck a chord in me, as someone who’s always let other people dictate my mood and let their words affect me. I’ve always been like a sponge that just absorbs all the positive and negative things around me. Kento has taught me so much, both as a jujutsu sorcerer and as a person.

Due to an unexpected issue at our next station, the train will now be stopping. All passengers are requested to leave the wagon with their personal belongings and follow the station superintendent, who will guide you to the nearest emergency exit. I repeat… due to…

This is bad, bad enough that the Shibuya station is closed.

Once the train doors were opened, I jumped out and ran as fast as I could, ignoring the gasps of the people as they saw me jump down and run onto the train tracks.

“Please be safe, please be safe, oh gods please be safe.” I said as I ran, clinging onto these words like a lifeline.

I sensed so many powerful Cursed Spirits and Cursed Energy in the station ahead. Willing myself to concentrate on the one Cursed Energy that I’m very much familiar with, I stopped running and closed my eyes.

There he is! A few hundred meters below me.

I hurried towards the emergency escape ladder and onto the B2 level of the train station platform. Then I saw them. The Cursed Spirit standing over the body of another Cursed Spirit, my husband, Naobito-san, and two Jujutsu High students.

“Chrono-Warping Technique: Temporal Manipulation!”

Time slowed for everyone else, except for me. I only have a few minutes until my body gets taxed from using this technique, or until I accidentally create a time loop, so I have to make good use of it.

The volcano head Cursed Spirit moved too fast; in fact, it was already in front of my husband by the time I got there. I’m not a Cursed Tool user, so I don’t have any weapons, but I think my hands are enough.

I grabbed the volcano head spirit and flung him together with that man who was holding onto one of the students by the collar.

Quickly switching their positions, I half carry, half dragged back the kid to the position where the Cursed Spirit was, and snapped my fingers to let the regular flow of time back.

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NANAMI’S POV

Blinking, I stared down at Megumi Fushiguro in confusion, who was looking just as confused as I was.

“Nanami-san…?” Megumi asked dazedly.

“Kento!”

Her voice is like breathing in fresh air after staying in the sewers for a long time, or like seeing the ocean stretch endlessly over the horizon at dawn after a long year without vacation.

She was a force of nature, this woman. My radiant sanctuary that keeps me anchored, a beacon of love and resilience in this unforgiving world of curses, her presence a soothing balm to my battle-weary soul.

“My love, what are you doing here? Weren’t you – ” I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence as I rest my cheek on her head, breathing in her scent and wrapping my arms around her body.

“Principal Yaga briefed me on what was going on here. He said all hands on deck were needed. Of course I had to come here, love.” she murmured. Her hands were patting my back gently, but then she broke off the hug to look at me sternly.

“Look at you, your favorite shirt was ripped. These cuts, I can’t…” She reached for her pocket and brought out a small handkerchief, wiping the cut on my forehead as her brow wrinkled into a frown.

“It’s nothing, look, love, we all aren’t safe here yet.” I said, trying to appease her worry by making light of my current physical state.

A loud AHEM startles us both.

“Yes, ahem, well, if you both are quite finished being lovey-dovey, I should very much like to leave this station and get my arm treated by Dr. Shoko.” Naobito said gruffly.

We turned to look at the others, who were all averting their gazes from us, looking shy and embarrassed to witness our moment.

I cleared my throat as well, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks as my wife gently tended to my injuries, ignoring everyone else stoically.

“We won’t do much good to anyone, much less rescue Gojo and all the non-sorcerers here in Shibuya, if we’re injured. Let’s go find Ieri-san and get treatment for our wounds.” I said in a deadpan tone.

I could feel a different energy radiate from my wife, and I felt a sweat drop from my brow.

“Is she mad that I got this much injured? Is she scared? What is it?”

No matter how many years we’ve been married, I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand how my wife’s mind works.

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Chrono-Warping

A rare and balanced ability known as "Chrono-Warping" surfaces. This power enables its possessor to manipulate the flow of time in localized pockets, introducing a unique set of advantages and challenges.

Key Features:

Temporal Manipulation: The user can temporarily accelerate or decelerate time within a specific area. This can be employed defensively to evade attacks, strategically to gain an advantage in combat, or to provide brief moments of respite amid chaotic battles.

Time Echo: The ability to create echoes of the immediate past or future within the user's perception. These echoes offer glimpses of upcoming events or recent occurrences, granting the user enhanced foresight and the ability to react more effectively.

Temporal Distortion Fields: By creating localized distortion fields, the user can disrupt the normal flow of time for themselves or others. This may result in altered perceptions, making it challenging for opponents to predict the user's movements or react appropriately.

Chrono-Infusion: The user can infuse their cursed techniques or physical strikes with controlled bursts of temporal energy. This adds an element of unpredictability and surprise to their attacks, as opponents struggle to anticipate the timing and impact of each strike.

Limitations:

Temporal Strain: Manipulating time is mentally and physically taxing. Prolonged or frequent use of Chrono-Warping can lead to fatigue, disorientation, or even unintended consequences such as momentary time loops.

Temporal Anchoring: The user cannot manipulate time on a large scale, and the effects are limited to specific areas or targets. Attempting to alter significant events or manipulate time across vast distances is beyond the scope of this power.

Vulnerability During Temporal Manipulation: While manipulating time, the user is vulnerable to attacks. Distorting the temporal field requires focus, and disruptions can leave the user momentarily defenseless.

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Hope you like this first chapter! Not much fun but I personally had fun retelling this part of the Shibuya Incident. Stay tuned for more!

[topgunruinedme]

Chapter 3: A night in acid wash jeans - Part one

Summary:

After a rough day in training where classes are cut short and some hurtful words are shouted, Jake finds himself avoiding the Hard Deck and seeking out another bar to drink away his sorrows. He forgets that there's a reason they go drinking in pairs.

Series: His Tropical Depressions

Book Summery: So I present you; Cyclone accidentally adopting the Daggers. Dabbles of Cyclone taking care of or protecting his kids.

Read on Ao3

Word count: 3k

He relaxed with a sigh allowing his muscles to uncoil as he tipped his head back on the couch, fingers absently scratching against his jean clad thigh as he took a moment to enjoy the silence of his house. There was no yelling, the air was unusually dormant as it lacked the sound of jets taking off that he had long ago learnt to suppress as background noise. There were no fights he had to handle, no one calling him away from his desk for his attention and there was certainly no Maverick to match to ensure the little gremlin didn't burn down his base. Just pure silence. 

He placed his reading glasses on his nose as he grunted, sitting up properly lifting his head from where it was resting as he leaned against the end of the couch placing his cup of steaming tea on the small table next to the arm. His book was patiently waiting where it had been since he got back from the meeting all those months ago, face down with a receipt being used as a bookmark barely peeking out of the pages as it sat waiting to be reopened. 

It wasn't often that he got the day off, being a Vice Admiral and an Airboss on top of it the amount of work that was involved in his positions made it rather hard to arrange time off, let alone a holiday. It had gotten worse since Kazansky assigned the Daggers and Maverick as a permanent position on his base, they alone filled his desk with paper let alone the other work he received from Admirals and Lieutenant alike. He had sick days to assign, abscesses to approve, budgets to assign, check to complete, a base to run and somewhere under all of that he had to go home and get a few hours in before he arrived back and base and unfortunately it wasn't always his best case. Guiltily sometimes he crashed on the couch in his office for a few hours before changing into a new uniform stashed away in the Instructors lockerroom pre-pressed and continued the next day on pure caffeine. It was called a compromise, he sacrificed sleep to finish his work in order to keep the base running. He already knew that Sol was taking bits and pieces from his desk when he wasn't looking, not that he hadn't noticed that the small chunk of files had disappeared. He appreciated the man attempting to help him but he also knew that the man had his own family to go home and take care of. He couldn't ask him to stay late and help. 

Unfortunately his schedule was impossibly booked out most days, he had meetings scheduled on top of meetings, and most days if he did get home it wasn't until the early hours of the morning. 

Which was exactly why he was salvaging today, trying to ignore the dread forming in his stomach stubbornly at the amount of paperwork that will be waiting for him in the office when he returned, or how many meets he would have to rearrange and deadlines he would have to change to accommodate for being one day behind in his work. Instead he tried to enjoy his first day in…well, he wasn't entirely sure. It had been well before the daggers mission, and before that had been that stupid convention up in DC where he had to attend meetings back to back for three days only to listen to Cain crap on about his drones, which had later failed spectacular in front of the entire brass when he tried to demonstrate their use. He had taken joy out of that, it was the highlight of his trip really. But a holiday or well…a day off was well long overdue. He could almost feel his ulcers take a breath and relax slightly. 

He didn't expect it really, he got up this morning with the intention to work. He had 12 meetings today and two classrooms to oversee. He had gotten dressed in his uniform and driven all the way to base and managed to get to his office before Solomon had ambushed him. The man had stopped him with a determined look and ordered him off his own base, not listening to any of his excuses about the work he would miss as the man practically dragged him out of the still thankfully empty base as his best friend dropped him off at his car. “The world can survive 24 hours without you Beau, enjoy it” Sol had told him with an amused smile, he wasn't exactly pleased when Sol had leaned over taking the files he had been intending to take home and finish and told him to go home and relax. He wondered how much his friend was wishing he was back on base after filling in for him on one of his more relaxed days, thankfully it wouldn't be too brutal on the man. Hopefully. 

There was truly no winning, he knew he was a little bit of a workaholic, his fingers twitched slightly by his side at the thought of the paperwork he had fully intended of finishing was taken from him. It had been so long since he had truly had a day off without doing something work related during it and he wasn't entirely sure what to do. The day was dragging on and he was running out of things to do to distract his mind. So he tried to enjoy it, he had dressed down into a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt that he would usually wear to bed enjoying the day the light material allowed the sun front he window to peek through the fabric and warm his skin ad he leaned over the arm of the couch and picked up his book fingering the bookmark sliding it out between the pads of his fingers and the cover as his gaze dropped to the beginning of the page and started to read, enjoying the quiet chipping of the birds outside his window where a bird had made a nest on his neighbor's tree a few weeks ago. He let himself relax into the fantasy world of his book as he occasionally shifted the book into his other hand to reach out for his cooling cup of tea sipping at it as he grew absorbed into the printed words on the page. 

He had been trying to finish the book for a damn age. He had made the mistake of picking it up from the bookstore in the airport back in June when he had to participate in the new jet launch that the brass has strongly suggested he attended, which admittedly had been a cool experience but he had barely made his way through the book during the plane ride where it had been left abandoned in his suitcase until he landed back in Miramar where it had been placed on his side table, forgotten. 

He appreciated the way the book smoothly transitioned from scene to scene, the fact he hadn't read it in months hardly hindered him as he quickly fell into understanding of what was happening. Miss Elisabeth and Mr Darcy . Yes, how had he forgotten how painfully obvious they both were. His nose screwed up momentarily as he quickly backtracked and reread the line, they couldn't be serious. He had suffered through this entire book for these two blind sided idiots to confess and they had sprung this on him? Christ it was like watching Avolone and Lennox all over again. If he wanted to suffer through his painfully thick pinning he would have just stayed on base. He rubbed the bridge of his nose grumbling quietly as he allowed himself to scan the paragraph again. 

Rain, a dramatic atmosphere, tears and the only main male lead in the book who meant a damn, and she was so painfully blind to it all. He read as Mr Darcy bore his heart to her, his painful awkwardness stinting him as he tried to express his feelings towards her and her family as he all but knelt down on one knee. 

“From the very beginning—from the first moment, I may almost say—of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry." 

His heart ached at Elizabeth's agony as she realized in the moment she denied him that she was utterly blindly in love with him. Realized that her weakness for Mr Darcy would be her downfall.

A marriage proposal, how preposterous. How utterly romantic. 

She loves him, so deeply, so gut wrenchingly. He could almost feel it, reaching off the page as it tried to engulf him. 

He jerked slightly with a swear as his gaze darted up from the book as his phone vibrated on the table. He had been so engaged in the scene he hadn't realized that the sun had started biting at his skin or that his once steaming tea had long gone cold. His knees started to ache from his seated position and his lack of movement. He hadn't realized how long he had been here. His breath shuttered slightly as he pulled himself back to the world of the living placing the bookmark between he pages trying to ignore the grief of walking away at such a pivotal moment resisting the urge to let himself finish the chapter as he reached down and grabbed his still ringing phone placing the book to the side on the couch cushion. 

He frowned slightly at the name that was written across the screen, he slid his thumb across the screen and pulled the phone up to his ear. Even on his day off he couldn't escape the daggers. He leaned back taking a balanced breath feeling his heart match a steady rate as he silently did his mini meditations again trying to suppress the anxiety of his work again now that he had been so rudely reminded of it. He reached for his tea, frowning slightly at the cold touch of the mug and took a sip grimacing at the taste before stubbornly swallowing it and placing it back on the table, reminding himself to tip it down the sink after the call. 

“Admiral Simpson” he answered, waiting patiently for a reply only for his brows to furrow, frowning as the line stayed silent beside the slight audible wheeze that was being carried over the line. Has something happened on base? A fight? A malfunction? Surely Solomon would have told him, or maybe he was so busy arranging things that he hadn't had the chance. Seresin hadn’t been in medical school yesterday so something must have happened this morning. “Lieutenant Seresin” he called out, reminding them that he was the one who had in fact called him. Worry started to form in his gut swirling uncomfortably with the dread which had grown to an unfortunate mass. Something wasn't right. 

“Sir?” the worlds were slurred unnaturally, so unlike the normally controlled man. It sounded confused, disorientated almost as if he was questioning the Admiral himself. “Ah shit-” the younger man cursed, there was the sound of something breaking and being ground into the ground slightly as the man caught his breath which came out in a painful wheeze. “I was meant to call Javy” Seresin muttered under his breath absently, seemingly confused. 

Something was definitely wrong here, he had never seen the man in such a state to disregard the respect of ranks, not even when the man had been suffering a high fever and forced to go home by Maverick. The only disrespectful thing he had ever seen the kid do would be calling Maverick ‘Pops’, he had seen the kid respect and carefully toe the line of respect and disrespect with Cain and other Admirals over the years but he had never crossed it. He had never wanted to see the state the man would have to be in to disregard rank, to drop all pretense of respect and actively swear at an Admiral . 

Something was wrong, it was only 11am there was no way the kid was drunk. It was far too early for most of the bars to be open and he knew Seresin was responsible tending to stick to only one beer while at the Hard Deck (from what Penny tells him) and the had to be under a considerable amount of stress for him to forget that Machado wasn't even in Miramar presently. The man had left two days ago to return home for the birth of his godchild, he remembered the request being added to his pile of files, he had taken the chance signing it before he filly read the paper, at that point he was taking any chance he got to get rid of a dagger for a time even if it was only one of them. At the time sending a dagger away meant one less to handle or stress about and a whole week has seemed like a blessing. 

Now he was starting to regret it. He certainly wasn't a fan of the sound of Seresin slur, his mind rushing through other reasons the man could be so disoriented so early in the day. He assumed that whatever was causing the younger man to slur was also the reason for his painful wheezing. 

“Where are you Seresin?” he asked as he stood up from the couch moving towards the door where he had left his running shoes this morning before sliding them on, placing the phone between his shoulder and ear as he tied up the laces. He had been glad he chose to wear something easy and comfortable today; he didn't want to waste time having to go and change. 

“Wha-why?” the line cracked, and fell silent as he waited to be addressed only it never came. Head trauma then he decided, if Seresin had dropped rank enough to be talking to him casually as if they had known each other for years then there was definitely something wrong with his head. They may know each other through the chain of command but they did not know each other on a personal level and certainly not enough to be addressed so forwardly. 

He briefly wished that the man was drunk, it would be far easier to handle. Instead he took a  deep breath as worry caused his stomach to flutter at the out of character behavior. 

“Because I'm coming to get you,” he explained patiently, as he shrugged on a jacket. Seresin was clearly spacy, he wondered if he should grab a first aid kit before deciding he could always drive him to a hospital if it’s that bad. He grabbed his keys from the bowl on the counter as he opened his door quickly locking it behind him with a twist of his key. 

“You don't have to do that, s-sir” Seresin protested, only for something to crash over the line and a small whimper followed it with a keen whine of pain. Was someone else there with the kid? Was Seresin still in danger?

His brows furrowed as he opened the door to his truck and climbed inside. “Are you injured?” Other than the obvious head and chest injury. There was no way he was leaving this kid wherever he was, the 28 year old was clearly not in the right mind space to be able to take care of himself, let alone know where he was. He refused to leave him in a situation while the kid was compromised and unable to make rational decisions. He was his pilot, his subordinate, it was his responsibility to take care of them. Even if it meant going to find one like a wild goose chase on his rare days off. The engine rumbled as he pulled out of his driveway driving towards the center of town. 

There was a moment of hesitation before there was a small “Yes”, it was a small admission almost as if the younger man was ashamed of the fact. 

“Then I'm coming to get you. I'm already on my way, kid but I need you to stay on the phone with me okay? I need you to go to your maps and share your location with me so I can come find you kid”. He listened carefully as Seresin moved, letting out a pained hiss, fabric moving as he adjusted to fiddle with the phone. 

Christ these kids would be the death of him, his heart was already hammering in his chest as he waited impatiently for the message to come through. Phone balancing on the centre console as he glanced over as the screen lit up. The wheezing sounded worse, almost wet. His jaw clenched at the address, he wasn't far. What the hell was the kid doing in that part of town?

So much for a day off.  

“I’m coming kid, just hang on for me alright? I'm only a few minutes away” he waited for a few seconds with bated breath but there was no response. “Kid?” his stomach dropped as he glanced back down at the address before speeding up as he turned onto the road, he knew that there was an old bar in that area and by the sounds of it the younger man must be nearby because as far as he was aware there was no other reason to be in that part of town besides the piece of shit hole in the wall. “Seresin? Answer me, that is an order Lieutenant".

He swallowed thickly with unease reaching over to connect the call to his car via bluetooth hoping that perhaps the man was just talking too lowly for him to pick up on speaker. Anxiety climbed as the phone took a brief moment to connect to the car, “Talk to me Seresin”. The line was far too silent. 

Jake sounded disoriented, “What?” It sounded like something was shuffling around “Cyclone?”.

“I'm here kid, talk to me”. Thank fuck. He let out a controlled relieved exhale out of his nose, hands tensing around the wheel briefly before navigating his way through the road. That head injury must have been more than he thought it was, had the kid forgotten he was there? He was too spacey for it to be safe. He hadn't thought it would be that bad, sure the man was confused and slurring but he had a bad feeling of what he might find. 

“About what?”

“Anything kid,” he would listen to the kid talk about pain dry at this point. He really didn't like the way worry settled in his stomach, or the way he felt the urge to speed up when he knew fully well that he was already doing the speed limit. When had become so attached to these pilots to drag such a strong reaction out of him, for him to become so…protective of them. The idea of finding who ever did this to the younger man brought him far too much satisfaction than it should since he was only the man’s supervisor. “I want to make sure you stay awake” he didn't mention that there was a lingering feeling of terror that if the man went silent again he might not be able to get him back. The led in his stomach felt heavier with each delayed response “I need to make sure you don't have a concussion alright? You ended to stay awake for me”

“Yes sirrr ”

“Good job kid, ok. Hit me with your worst. Tell me something ”

“Did you know…did you know that Hawaii was a state…”

[nobedofroses]

December 10

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

warnings: brief masturbation, allusions to smut

words: 1k

a/n: a little space hottub action

Last, Full List, Next, More Din

🏔🏔🏔

This was a rare treat, something Din was doing especially for you (which you had requested especially for him because you knew it was something he would enjoy but never choose for himself). You celebrated the mid-winter holiday back on your home planet and had continued the practice even while away, and Din was kind enough to help you do so. 

You had heard from a bounty desperate to be let go that there was a hidden away retreat on a planet that was currently in its snowy season. The hideaway had a house of sorts, but the real draw was the connection to a natural hot spring that had been funneled into a large, round tub. 

By the bounty’s promises as he was being loaded into the carbonite freezer, you believed that he was the only person who knew its exact whereabouts. You told him you would leave it in good condition as Din hit the button to freeze him. He was still a bounty, and the two of you were professionals, after all. 

The man hadn’t given you the precise location, but Din’s instincts and the scanning capabilities meant that it was an easy find even from outside of the atmosphere. Since the people of the planet migrated every season to the other side to stay in the sunny climate, the warmth of the hot spring was one of the only signs of heat on that entire side. 

The baby was still being watched by Greef from the last bounty, and Din had sent him a comm asking to extend the time, which he gladly agreed to. When you arrived on the planet, Din set the ship down in a clearing a close distance to the hideaway. Then he set the ship on high alert so that he would get an alert if anyone approached from off planet or came within a certain distance of the ship from the ground. 

All of this protection wasn’t far from his normal amount of security, but this time he was taking extra steps because he’d be removing his armor. He planned to keep his helmet on because you’d be outside, but he was willing to take off his armor provided he had multiple blasters on hand along the edge of the tub. 

You were beyond excited, knowing that the two of you would likely have sex, which seemed like it would be so novel in the water. And regardless if you had sex, you knew that soaking in the steaming water would feel fantastic on Din’s sore muscles, and you loved making him feel good however you could. 

While Din was landing, you were getting changed into warm pants and a thick shirt, but with nothing underneath either. Din was going to get undressed at the tub itself and set up booby traps around the perimeter. 

You also packed a bag for the occasion with soft towels, water for hydration, a bit of wine, and snacks in case you got hungry. You’d likely only be in the tub for less than an hour (Din had lectured you that longer wasn’t good for you), but you might do some exploring and get hungry. 

Din told you to stay put while he went and set the traps, so you spent a little time preparing yourself in case he wanted to have sex as soon as you were in the water. You knew he’d be back any minute, so you just rubbed your clit some and didn’t get too into it. But you swore that when he came back in and looked at your innocent face (and hand out of your pants), he knew what you had been doing by the tilt of his helmet. 

But you just smiled at him and asked, “Can we go now, honey?” 

He nodded and held out his hand for first your bag and then to hold yours. You gave his hand a squeeze, but it was easier for you to hold his arm, so you slid your hand up it, finding the unarmored inside of his bicep and curling your fingers there. 

It was a relatively easy walk to the structure, and then there was a wood deck extending out to where the tub was. A couple times you stumbled, but Din was always able to catch you. 

When you saw the steaming tub, you squealed with excitement and let go of Din’s arm to hurry over. It looked clean and you saw that there were pipes going in and out of it, so there was constantly new water flowing, as if the tub was just an extension of the spring. You bent over to touch the water with your fingers and test how hot it was. It was enough to almost sting for a second, but then just very warm and you wiggled your fingers in the water in excitement. 

Din was beside you now and you stood up, toeing off your shoes and pulling off your shirt. You heard a small grunt from Din and knew he was appreciating your breasts, so you went ahead and pushed off your pants, turning a bit away from him as you bent down to fold your clothes so he got a good view of your ass. 

He hadn’t even moved to take off his things, so you turned back to him and tugged at the edges of his chest plate, “Time to take it off, honey, I’m getting in the water.” 

You stepped away from him and then down the descending little stairs in the tub. Breathing in sharply, you got goosebumps from the heat, and then turned around to smile at Din, knowing he was looking at you already. To get him out of his daze, you splashed some water onto his boot, and that seemed to do it. In just about a minute he had his armor off and was climbing down in the tub with you. 

Now it was your turn to watch him, looking at his muscles tightening in the heat of the water. You immediately stepped over to him and ran your hands over his bare chest, smiling and humming at the feeling. Your hands slid lower to his stomach, disappearing under the water; Din made a sound in the back of his throat. And then they slid lower again and he groaned. 

You smiled, yet again, and asked him, “Is there a bench in here or something? Or do you just wanna pick me up?”

🏔🏔🏔

[mareislandfoundation]

Lady Justice

In 1905 naval officers from around the country began assembling in a court room in the Mare Island Naval Shipyard administration building (building 47) for the Court Martial of the Captain and the Chief Engineer of a navy gunboat. A Navy Board of Inquiry had already determined the men were guilty of negligence and the Board’s recommendation for Court Martial was approved by the Secretary of the Navy. Their purported negligence during peacetime had resulted in the death of over half of the crew (62 men) of the USS Bennington (Gunboat 4) in the most horrible fashion imaginable and the Nation was up in arms demanding accountability.

The Navy had no need for this scandal and the administration of President Theodore Roosevelt, intent on sending the Great White Fleet around the world in an imperialistic demonstration of US power, wanted the distraction in the rear-view mirror. Despite the desire for expediency by those in charge, an effort to sacrifice the two officers and quickly move on, they found themselves confronted by Lady Justice in a Mare Island courtroom.  Lady Justice is a mythological figure for the belief that courts protect the rights of the people with fair and equal administration of the law, without corruption, avarice, prejudice or favor.

Several months earlier on a typical placid morning on July 21, 1905, the USS Bennington was moored just off H Street in San Diego Bay. Having returned from the Hawaiian Islands her crew had eagerly looked forward to shore leave prior to cruising to South America. Fate intervened as they learned that the aging monitor USS Wyoming (M-10) enroute to San Francisco had lost a propeller and the USS Bennington was to be dispatched to aid and a tow if necessary. Instead of shore leave the entire crew had to spend the previous day doing the back breaking and filthy work of coaling the ship. Now, as the morning went on, the black gang and machinists were busy below firing her four boilers and raising steam to get underway.

She would never make it out of the harbor. As the crew of the USS Bennington went through the routine of raising steam, at 10:38AM things went horribly wrong. Boiler B suddenly exploded crushing bulkheads and ripping other boilers from their mounts. The resulting explosion of scalding steam from all four boilers coursed through nearly every compartment. All the sailors in the boiler rooms were scalded alive and some sailors on deck were observed to be thrown 100 feet in the air. As the boilers and boiler fragments became missiles within the ship, they tore the connections to sea chests apart and sea water rushed into the doomed warship. Heroic crew members and responders beached the doomed vessel preventing her from sinking beneath the waves as her flooded boiler and engine rooms on the starboard side entombed everyone within.

Three days later under orders of the Secretary of the Navy a three-man Court of Inquiry was convened in San Diego. After another three days, the Court of Inquiry submitted its findings to the Secretary of the Navy. The Court recommended the Court Martial of the Chief Engineer, 25-year-old Ensign Charles Wade for not maintaining the safety valves on the boilers and for not demanding written reports (instead of the oral reports he received) demonstrating that they had been overhauled. The Secretary of the Navy concluded from the report that the Captain of the Bennington should also be Court Martialed as he found evidence that the engineering force under his command had potentially fallen into “habits of laxity and inattention to the discharge of their duties.”

On September 15, the hottest part of the year, the Court Martial convened in the courtroom in the Mare Island’s Administration Building. Captain Young was tried first to be followed by Ensign Wade. The prosecution was confident of their case based on the Court of Inquiry. Only one man was alive from the fireroom of Boiler B which had exploded first. He testified that the boiler had been drained of water after the ship arrived from Hawaii and, when ordered to proceed to assist the Wyoming, the boiler was refilled. At the completion of that operation a seaman had been sent up to secure the air valve that vented the boiler. The pressure gauge on the boiler read zero and the fires were started. After over two hours the gauge still read zero while a companion boiler’s pressure had risen to 135 lbs. Then a small leak developed in the furnace of Boiler B and a coal-passer was sent to fetch the boilermaker to assess the problem.

After the coal-passer left the compartment, the ship exploded and he was the only survivor from that boiler room. From his testimony the prosecution’s experts concluded that seaman sent to close the air valve had instead closed the valve leading to the steam gauge. The pressure simply built until the design pressure of the boiler was exceeded and the boiler blew up. The safety valves failed to open and release the pressure because the lack of maintenance by the lax crew left them rusted and inoperable. It was a neat and simple story, but as reported in newspapers nationwide, the defense was relentless and far more technically qualified than the prosecution's witnesses, or the members of the Court of Inquiry.

As noted by the defense, if the air valve had been left open as surmised by the Court of Inquiry, then why wasn’t the boiler venting massive amounts of steam through the air valve? There was no report of such venting. With respect to the relief valves and faulty maintenance, the defense had conducted experiments to deliberately try to cause them to fail to open, including filling them with debris and even concrete. They couldn’t cause them to fail to open. So, what was the defense’s theory of what caused the explosion?

The defense presented that oil that contaminated the boiler feed water was a known problem in the type of boilers on the Bennington. When the crew drained Boiler B a layer of oil scum was  deposited on the bottom of the boiler on what is known as the crown sheet that separated the intense fire in the furnace from the boiler water. Such a layer was known to act as insulation between the steel and the water which could cause the plating to overheat. The original plan following the draining of the boilers was to flush them to remove any such oil and debris prior to departure for South America, but the order to proceed immediately to assist Wyoming pre-empted that. The defense examination of the damaged boiler caused them to conclude that, denied direct contact with the boiler water due to the insulation provided by the oil scum, the crown sheet had simply been overheated to the point of distortion. As the crown sheet distorted, rivets designed to carry only shear forces were placed in tension. The rivets were inspected by the defense and were also found to be defective, weaker than called for.

The defense stated that the leak that sent the coal passer out to find the boilermaker was likely the first rivet letting go in the crown sheet with the entire riveted joint ripping apart shortly thereafter. The theory was that the boiler had failed from the overheating of the crown sheet and not from over-pressurizing the boiler as maintained by the prosecution. The pressure relief valve never opened, because boiler pressure never reached the relief point before the crown-sheet failed. The defense never explained why the pressure gauge on Boiler B never registered any pressure, but it could have been an out-of-position valve as maintained by the prosecution, a line blockage or simply a failed gauge. The Court sided with the defense and in January of 1906 the Secretary issued a mildly worded letter of censure that also recognized Young’s “brilliant service in the past.” Chief Engineer, Ensign Wade, was subsequently tried by the same court and quickly acquitted.

Mare Island dispatched divers and a repair ship to San Diego immediately upon being notified of the disaster. After completing interim repairs, the gunship was towed to Mare Island for further assessment. There she was determined to be beyond repair, and she was converted to a barge. The Bennington disaster did have some long-term beneficial effects within the Navy. It spotlighted the fact that the Chief Engineer Wade had never stood an engine room watch before being assigned to the billet. He knew nothing of machinery, and he did not have the technical knowledge to stop the chain of events that led to the tragedy. Not only had he never been required, nor had he been given the opportunity, to acquire the necessary knowledge. When the Mare Island representatives arrived on scene to salvage the ship it was found that he had none of the ship’s plans were available and when asked where the bottom blows were located so they could be plugged he had no idea what such a thing was. The situation helped to force the tradition bound Navy to elevate the status of the engineer within the increasingly complex and technical fleet.

Dennis Kelly

[electselectelectrical]

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[mtgacentral]

Historic Mono Red in MTG Arena: A Guide to Crushing Your Foes!

Hey there, fellow Planeswalkers! It's your old friend from MTGA Central, back with another guide to help you conquer the battlefield. Today, we're diving deep into the fiery world of Historic Mono Red in MTG Arena. If you're looking to add some heat to your game, you've come to the right place! Key Takeaways: Historic Mono Red in MTG Arena - Historic Mono Red is an aggressive deck archetype in MTG Arena focused on dealing damage quickly. - Key cards in a Historic Mono Red deck include Goblin Chainwhirler and Runaway Steam-Kin. - Early game strategies involve establishing a strong board presence and chipping away at your opponent's life total. - Mid-game strategies involve maintaining momentum and keeping pressure on your opponent. - Late game strategies involve closing out the game with high-damage cards and protecting your life total. - Understanding your opponent's strategy and adapting your own is crucial to mastering the Historic Mono Red playstyle. - Common mistakes to avoid include overextending your resources and mismanaging your mana. - Maximizing card synergies and utilizing surprise tactics can help secure a win. A Brief Overview of Historic Mono Red in MTG Arena Historic Mono Red, or as some like to call it, "monored historic", is a deck archetype that's been a staple in Magic: The Gathering since the early days. It's all about speed, aggression, and burning your opponents down before they even know what hit them. In the Historic format of MTG Arena, this deck type has found a new home, and let me tell you, it's a blast to play! The Historic format allows us to use cards from all sets available in MTG Arena, giving us a vast pool of fiery options to build our deck. Whether you're a fan of the classic mono red aggro historic style or prefer the tribal synergy of mono red goblins historic, there's a Historic Mono Red deck for you. Why Choose Historic Mono Red?

Now, you might be wondering, "Why should I play Historic Mono Red?" Well, my friend, there are a few good reasons. First off, it's incredibly fun. There's nothing quite like the thrill of unleashing a flurry of spells and creatures, watching your opponent's life total dwindle down. Secondly, it's a great choice for players on a budget. Many of the key cards in a Historic Mono Red MTG Arena deck are commons or uncommons, making it relatively cheap to build. But don't let that fool you - this deck can pack a serious punch! Finally, Historic Mono Red is a fantastic deck for learning the ropes of the Historic format. It's straightforward to play, but it also teaches you important concepts like tempo, resource management, and strategic aggression. Plus, it's a great way to get familiar with the broader card pool in Historic. So, are you ready to turn up the heat and start playing Historic Mono Red in MTG Arena? Stick around, and I'll show you everything you need to know to start crushing your foes with this fiery deck archetype. Let's get started! Remember, the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, or in our case, a single card. So, let's shuffle up and get ready to play some Magic!

Understanding the Basics of Historic Mono Red

Alright, now that we've covered why you might want to play Historic Mono Red in MTG Arena, let's get down to the nitty-gritty. Understanding the core mechanics and key cards of this deck type is crucial to mastering its playstyle. So, let's dive in! The Core Mechanics of Historic Mono Red Historic Mono Red, or as some folks call it, "monored historic," is all about aggression and speed. Your goal is to reduce your opponent's life total to zero as quickly as possible. To do this, you'll need to understand a few core mechanics that this deck type revolves around. Firstly, we have the concept of "aggro." This is a strategy that focuses on attacking your opponent early and often with creatures. In a mono red aggro historic deck, you'll be playing a lot of low-cost creatures that can start dealing damage right away. Secondly, there's "burn." Burn refers to spells that deal direct damage to your opponent or their creatures. These spells are a key part of the Historic Mono Red strategy, allowing you to bypass your opponent's defenses and hit them directly. Lastly, there's "tempo." Tempo is all about gaining and maintaining the upper hand in a game. In the context of a Historic Mono Red deck, this often means making efficient use of your mana and cards to keep the pressure on your opponent. Key Cards in a Historic Mono Red Deck Now, let's talk about some of the key cards you'll find in a Historic Mono Red deck. These are the cards that really make the deck tick, and understanding how to use them effectively is crucial to your success.

One of the most iconic cards in any Mono Red deck is Goblin Chainwhirler. This goblin warrior is a staple in mono red goblins historic decks, dealing damage to each opponent and each creature and planeswalker they control. Talk about a fiery entrance!

Another key card is Runaway Steam-Kin. This elemental can quickly become a powerhouse on the battlefield, gaining a +1/+1 counter whenever you cast a red spell.

For those of you who love a good burn spell, Light Up the Stage is a must-have. This spell lets you exile the top two cards of your library, and you can play them until the end of your next turn. It's a great way to keep the cards flowing and the pressure on.

And let's not forget about Cavalcade of Calamity. This enchantment is the star of any mono red cavalcade historic deck, dealing damage to the opponent each time a creature with power 1 or less attacks. These are just a few examples of the key cards in a Historic Mono Red deck. There are many more out there, each with their own strengths and synergies. The beauty of Historic Mono Red MTG Arena is that you can mix and match these cards to create a deck that suits your personal playstyle. So, now that we've covered the basics, are you ready to start building your own Historic Mono Red deck? Let's move on to the next section, where I'll guide you through the process of choosing the right cards and balancing your deck for optimal play. Let's keep the fire burning, my friends!

Building Your Historic Mono Red Deck

Alright, my fiery friends, it's time to roll up our sleeves and start building our Historic Mono Red MTG Arena deck. This is where the magic really happens (pun intended!). We'll be choosing the right cards and balancing our deck for optimal play. So, let's get started! Choosing the Right Cards for Your Deck

When it comes to building a Historic Mono Red deck, choosing the right cards is crucial. You'll want a good mix of creatures, burn spells, and a few other tricks up your sleeve to keep your opponents on their toes. For creatures, you'll want to focus on low-cost, aggressive options. Cards like Ghitu Lavarunner and Viashino Pyromancer are great choices for a mono red aggro historic deck. They hit the battlefield running and start dealing damage right away.

For burn spells, you can't go wrong with classics like Shock and Lightning Strike. These spells allow you to deal direct damage to your opponent or their creatures, keeping the pressure on. And don't forget about your other spells and enchantments! Cards like Experimental Frenzy and Cavalcade of Calamity can give your deck a unique edge and catch your opponents by surprise. Balancing Your Deck for Optimal Play Once you've chosen your cards, it's time to balance your deck. A well-balanced deck is key to consistent performance in Historic Mono Red MTG Arena. A typical Historic Mono Red deck will have around 24 lands, giving you a reliable mana base to cast your spells. The rest of your deck should be a mix of creatures, spells, and a few enchantments. Here's a rough guideline for a balanced Historic Mono Red deck: Card TypeQuantityLands24Creatures20-24Spells10-14Enchantments/Artifacts2-6 Remember, these numbers aren't set in stone. Feel free to tweak them based on your personal playstyle and the specific cards in your deck. The most important thing is that your deck feels consistent and fun to play. Building your own Historic Mono Red deck is a journey, my friends. It's all about experimenting, learning, and most importantly, having fun. So, go ahead and start building. I can't wait to see what you come up with! In the next section, we'll dive into some strategies for playing Historic Mono Red. So, stick around, and let's keep the fire burning!

Strategies for Playing Historic Mono Red

Now that we've built our Historic Mono Red MTG Arena deck, it's time to take it for a spin! But before we do, let's talk strategy. Knowing how to play your deck is just as important as the cards in it. So, let's dive into some strategies for the early, mid, and late game. Early Game Strategies In the early game, your goal is to establish a strong board presence as quickly as possible. This means playing your low-cost creatures and starting to chip away at your opponent's life total. Remember, Historic Mono Red is all about aggression. Don't be afraid to attack early and often. Your creatures are your best weapon in the early game, so use them! Also, don't forget about your burn spells. These can be used to clear the way for your creatures or to deal direct damage to your opponent. A well-timed burn spell can swing the game in your favor. Mid-Game Strategies As the game progresses, your strategy will start to shift. You'll need to start thinking about how to maintain your momentum and keep the pressure on your opponent. This is where cards like Light Up the Stage and Experimental Frenzy come into play. These cards allow you to keep the cards flowing and maintain your aggressive stance. Also, keep an eye on your opponent's board. If they start to build up a strong defense, you might need to switch gears and focus on removing their creatures with your burn spells. Late Game Strategies In the late game, things can get a bit tricky. If your initial onslaught hasn't won you the game, you'll need to start thinking about how to close it out. This is where your big hitters come into play. Cards like Goblin Chainwhirler and Runaway Steam-Kin can deal a significant amount of damage and turn the tide in your favor. Also, don't forget about your life total. If the game has gone on this long, chances are your opponent has been able to deal some damage to you as well. Be mindful of your life total and do what you can to protect it. Playing Historic Mono Red in MTG Arena is a thrilling experience. It's all about aggression, speed, and strategic decision-making. So, get out there, start playing, and set the battlefield ablaze! In the next section, we'll delve deeper into mastering the Historic Mono Red playstyle. Keep the fire burning, my friends!

Mastering the Historic Mono Red Playstyle

We've built our deck, we've talked strategy, and now it's time to truly master the Historic Mono Red MTG Arena playstyle. This is where we go beyond the cards and delve into the mindset and tactics that can make you a true force to be reckoned with. So, let's get started! Understanding Your Opponent's Strategy One of the keys to mastering any deck in Magic: The Gathering, including Historic Mono Red, is understanding your opponent's strategy. This means paying attention to the cards they're playing, the moves they're making, and trying to anticipate their next steps. For example, if you're playing against a control deck, you'll need to be prepared for their counter spells and removal. This might mean holding back some of your creatures or spells to avoid losing them to a well-timed counter. On the other hand, if you're up against another aggro deck, it's all about who can deal the most damage the fastest. In this case, you'll want to be as aggressive as possible, while also keeping an eye on your own life total. Adapting Your Strategy Based on the Game State Another important aspect of mastering the Historic Mono Red playstyle is being able to adapt your strategy based on the state of the game. This means being flexible and ready to change your approach as the game evolves. For instance, if you've managed to deal a lot of damage early on, you might want to switch to a more defensive strategy to protect your lead. This could involve holding back some creatures to block, or using your burn spells to remove your opponent's threats instead of dealing direct damage. Conversely, if you're behind, you might need to take some risks to turn the game around. This could mean going all in on an attack, or playing a high-risk, high-reward card that could swing the game in your favor. Mastering the Historic Mono Red MTG Arena playstyle is a journey, my friends. It's about learning, adapting, and above all, enjoying the game. So, keep practicing, keep playing, and most importantly, keep having fun. In the next section, we'll talk about some common mistakes and how to avoid them. So, stick around, and let's keep the fire burning!

Common Mistakes and How to Avoid Them

Alright, my fiery friends, it's time for some real talk. Even the best Planeswalkers make mistakes from time to time. But the key to becoming a master of Historic Mono Red MTG Arena is learning from those mistakes and knowing how to avoid them in the future. So, let's dive into some of the most common pitfalls and how to steer clear of them. Overextending Your Resources One of the most common mistakes I see players make when playing Historic Mono Red is overextending their resources. This usually happens when a player gets a little too excited and plays all their cards at once, leaving them with nothing in hand for the next turns. Remember, Magic: The Gathering is a game of strategy and patience. It's important to maintain a balance between applying pressure and keeping some resources in reserve. If you play all your cards at once, you'll have nothing left to respond to your opponent's moves. So, how do you avoid this? The key is to be mindful of your hand and think ahead. Don't just play a card because you can - play it because it's the right move at the right time. Mismanaging Your Mana Another common mistake is mismanaging your mana. In a Historic Mono Red MTG Arena deck, your mana is your lifeblood. It's what allows you to cast your spells and keep the pressure on your opponent. Mismanaging your mana can happen in a few ways. Read the full article

[mrs-gucci]

Spousal Privilege {Henry McHenry x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! I deleted the original request accidentally, but essentially, it was the prompt written below, but instead of getting married for tax benefits, you get married because he needs you to help keep him out of jail/the courtroom for Ann’s murder. 

**just because I write it doesn’t mean I condone it. writing a fictional piece and condoning are two very different things. this is fanFICTION.**

original prompt (from @dailyau): “we got married for tax benefits, but you aren’t in love with me and I didn’t develop feelings for you until after we got married. in practice, we’re just roommates. However, we’re staying over with someone who knows that we’re married but not why we’re married so we were only provided with one bed for our stay.” (slightly modified) prompt: “we got married for [the benefit of spousal privilege], but but you aren’t in love with me and I didn’t develop feelings for you until after we got married. in practice, we’re just roommates. however, we’re staying over with someone who knows that we’re married but not why we’re married so we were only provided with one bed for our stay.”

warnings: angst & smut. not-so-mutual feelings. non-con elements (but they’re not unwelcomed). taking advantage of someone else’s feelings for you to benefit sexually. masturbation. (kind of) mutual masturbation.

tw’s: consumption/use of alcohol (briefly mentioned). !!non-con somnophilia. !!non-con voyerism.

word count: 2.4k

“Spousal Privilege”: if you’re married, your spouse cannot be forced to testify against you in a court of law.

my taglist peeps (slashed through means that the username didn’t tag): @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​  @gildedstarlight​ @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy @I-can’t-draw-faces (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

“It’s just one weekend, Henry. One weekend. We have to at least pretend to be married.”

He sighs, reclining on the large lounger on the back deck, rolling an unlit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “Y/N...you know that I can’t come with you. I’ve got a show this weekend; I can’t just skip my own show to be your plus-one at a wedding.”

It feels like you’re the only one actually trying to appear as a couple, since your union is a sham. You made the grave mistake of visiting the McHenry residence on the night of Ann’s murder, finding a blood-spattered and disheveled Henry with his hand on the butchers knife impaling her chest.

And then, a few weeks later, your friendship became a marriage. You knew Henry was a good guy, and you’ve been friends with him a very long time, so...you helped him out by becoming the second Mrs. McHenry in order to protect him in case of a criminal trial. Spousal privilege is a powerful weapon in the judicial system, one that Henry successfully secured. 

Almost a year has passed since that fateful night, and the police investigation has all but stopped due to lack of evidence. The only living people who know what happened are you and him.

The worst part of it, though? You’ve fallen for him, hard. Sure, he’s been your friend since high school, but you never thought of him as partner material before. But, now that you live with him and spend lots of time together, you realize that he’s an amazing guy that you really feel connected to.

Unfortunately, he’s not in love with you, and probably never will be. But, you soldier on, putting your feelings on the backburner for the sake of the false union.

Henry sticks the cigarette between his teeth, the familiar flick of the lighter slicing the tension between you. He takes a long drag, exhaling loudly.

“Fine. But at least I’m actually trying to make this whole arrangement seem real. At this point, I’m the only one trying at all.” You huff, shaking your head as you walk back into the house.

-

You arrive at the large rented house for the bridal party, greeted by several of your closest friends as you walk through the door. Immediately, they ask about Henry, and you tell them that he won’t be joining you this weekend, that he has a show that he just can’t miss.

They’re understanding, of course, knowing of Henry’s blossoming career as a comedian. You spend the rest of the afternoon catching up with your friends, who seemed to be acting a bit strangely. They’re looking towards the lobby religiously, seemingly waiting for someone to arrive.

Probably just one of their boyfriends or husbands, you think, dismissing it with little thought as the waiter comes over with a tray of cocktails.

It’s nearly midnight when you finally head back up to your room, eyelids heavy as you fumble with the key and open the door. You’re startled when you see a large shadowy figure sitting on the queen bed. 

You quickly flip the lights on to reveal the mysterious figure’s identity.

“Henry? What are you doing here?”

He stands, grabbing a small bouquet of flowers before bringing them over to you.

“I’m sorry for being so unreasonable about this trip, Y/N. You’re right, I haven’t been trying as hard as I can to spend ‘couple’ time with you lately. And I know how important this trip is, so...I postponed my show to next weekend in order to be here with you.”

You’re unable to stop the grin that spreads across your face at this genuinely kind gesture that he’s done for you. You take the flowers from his outstretched hand.

“Wow, this is...thank you, Henry.” You meet his eyes. “I mean it, thank you. I’m, uh, I’m glad you’re here.”

His cheeks are dusted pink as he looks down at the carpeted floor, running a hand through his hair.  “It’ll be nice to spend some time together, I think. We’ve been a bit disconnected lately, off doing our own stuff without really connecting all that often.”

You nod in agreement, filling one of the hotel glasses with lukewarm water for the flowers. You set them on the desk, then look over at the bed. 

Bed, not beds. 

“I...I can ask for a different room. She just put us in here because she knows we’re married...”

He shakes his head. “No, no, it’s alright. We’ll make do.”

You’re a bit surprised by his mellow, chilled reaction to the situation. You thought surely he’d want to change rooms, since the two of you have never shared a bed before. 

Really, at home, you’re just roommates; each having your own separate living spaces. But of course, your friend Jen doesn’t know of the...unique aspects of your outwardly loving union, like the fact that it’s not genuine.

Both of you quietly unpack your things into the shared dresser. You keep your pajamas out and after you place your emptied duffle in the closet, you shed your top and bottoms, leaving you in just your undergarments. 

When you turn around to grab your pajamas, you catch Henry looking at you, a fact that brings a sheepish warmth to your cheeks. He was shirtless, standing in only his black jeans, which has you quite flustered. Henry’s very much in shape, you’re painfully aware of that in the moment, and you can’t help but let your gaze fall to his chiseled abdomen.

His eyes quickly dart away from you, as yours do from him, and his cheeks turn pink. He continues folding his clothes, putting them in the top two drawers of the dresser. You bite your lip as you grab your pajamas and head into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

The mirror blurs with steam from the hot water as it emerges from the shower head. You’re quick to peel the panties from your hips and the bra from your chest, tossing both on the tiled floor before stepping under the steaming stream. 

You groan softly as the hot water massages your tired muscles. The ache between your thighs is anything but soothed by the water, though, and your mind is playing the sight of Henry’s sculpted body on a loop, only intensifying your arousal.

It’s gotten to the point where the need for a bit of relief is inevitable, despite your efforts to prevent it.

Your hand trails down and dips between your legs, fingertips sliding around your slickened folds, attempting to locate the special bundle of nerves nestled beneath.

Breath hitching, you sigh softly as you begin rubbing it in small, lazy circles. Small gasps and moans escape your lips as the flames of your arousal are flamed with each swipe of your fingertips.

Unbeknownst to you, Henry has abandoned his putting-away efforts in favor of standing outside the bathroom door. He’s heard a few soft, muffled noises coming from the room, so he decided to approach and make sure that nothing’s wrong.

His length twitches to life beneath his jeans as he realizes what exactly it is those noises mean, what you're likely doing in there. He wonders, as he reaches down to cup his swelling arousal, if this was brought on by the sight of his naked torso.

You exhale shakily, lining up and pushing two fingers into your wet heat, biting your lip to try and suppress the gasp that escapes your throat. 

Henry grunts softly upon hearing this slip-up, shaky hands fiddling with his belt buckle, then with the button and zipper on his pants. He pulls his cock out in a rushed manner, ear pressing against the door while his hand starts to move up and down his shaft.

He hears something come from behind the door, but it’s too muffled by the wood that he can’t make out exactly what you said, which is probably a good thing.

“F-Fuck...Henry.” You breathe quietly, moving your digits in and out of your entrance swiftly, curling them up sporadically in order to tease your g-spot. “Shit.”

A low growl slips out as his length hardens further with his hand’s movements, slit starting to drool semi-transparent beads of liquid. He slicks them down his shaft, allowing his calloused palm to glide easier.

Your release quickly builds up inside you, hips jerking and twitching instinctively each time your fingers stimulate the special spot on your inner walls. It’s not long before you’re cumming all over your fingers with a series of soft moans and whines.

These small noises meet his ears and, within a minute, Henry reaches his own climax. He covers his mouth, a long groan muffled by the skin of his palm as ropes of seed spill out all over his palm and some onto the doorframe.

He rushes to wipe the evidence of his release from the scene, scrambling to grab his dirty t-shirt in order to do so. He hears you stepping out of the shower and quickly tucks himself back into his pants, running over to sit on his bed.

You emerge from the bathroom a minute or so later with only a towel on. He avoids eye contact, gathering his own clothes and heading into the bathroom for a quick shower.

You’re already tucked into bed and reading when Henry comes out of the bathroom in his boxers, ruffling his hair with the towel once more time before hanging it back up on the bathroom hook. 

After finishing a chapter, you tuck your bookmark back between the pages before setting it down on your bedside table, turning the lamp off. You doze off soon after.

Henry waits patiently, very patiently, until he’s absolutely sure you’re fast asleep. His cock twitches and stirs in his boxers as he thinks about his plan of attack, how he’ll do this without waking you.

He knows this is wrong, but he just can’t help himself; it’s been too long and his hand simply isn’t doing this trick anymore. And you are his wife, after all.

His fingers reach under the covers, experimentally dragging his hand up your exposed thigh. You don’t seem to really mind, but an innocent-enough thigh touch and his cock inside you are two very different things.

So, he figures that he should probably try his fingers first. At least that’d be easier to explain in the event that you wake up and find him knuckle-deep in your cunt.

Sure, he thinks you’re physically attractive, objectively, but he doesn’t have any more than sexual feelings for you. You’re his best friend and he wants to keep it that way.

But...all that can wait until tomorrow. For now, he needs this from you; he desperately needs this.

You’re laying on your front, so he’s careful as he mounts you from behind, gently encouraging your legs apart with his knee. Once you’re spread apart enough, he slips his hand down to cup your crotch, biting his lip when he feels the natural heat already present. 

He smirks, slipping his fingers between your pussy lips, searching for the spot that’ll get you nice and wet for him. Your hips naturally surge upwards when he finds it, a small grunt escaping your lips, but you remain asleep.

A breath of relief slips through the gaps of his perfectly crooked teeth as he continues rubbing you. It’s not long before you become slick, providing the natural lubricant for his fingers to glide easier.

His fingers begin to tease your puckered entrance, and he slowly slides one of the thick digits in, groaning under his breath as you clench so tightly around him. 

“Little slut. Wants it even in her sleep.” He muses with a devious smirk, beginning to move his finger in and out with great care and caution.

You moan softly, subconsciously spreading your legs wider for him. He shudders with arousal at this simple movement, palming his hardened cock over the thin material of his boxers while a second finger joins the first inside of you.

He’s so hard, he almost can’t see straight, absolutely loving the way you react to his touch. You’re fast asleep, unaware of his touch; and yet, you’re still soaked and squirming for him. There’s something so deliciously wrong about this that makes him throb.

Soon, he can’t hold himself back anymore. He pulls his cock from beneath the airy fabric, stroking himself as he allows his hand to run over your backside. His jaw clenches, suppressing the moans that so desperately want to come out.

Finally, the moment of truth. Will you wake up when he slides in?

The buzz, the adrenaline rush he’s getting from this is practically unmatched by anything in his day-to-day life. Not even his shows, his performances bring him this much of a rush.

He lines himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly, biting down on his lip hard as a soft groan slips out. You’re so tight, so wet, so hot, so perfect. 

You moan loudly, body and hips wriggling as your insides adjust to his length and thickness. It takes every ounce of his willpower to stay still, to let you adjust to the sudden intrusion. He wants nothing more than to pound you into the mattress and cum deep inside you, but he can’t do either of those things.

His hips roll softly, gently, cock dragging against your walls at an almost painfully slow pace. Your walls clench so tightly around him and he has to white-knuckle the headboard in order to keep himself centered and restrained.

You’re stirring a bit, but you’re still asleep, and Henry feels his climax already starting to build. Normally he’d be ashamed of this fact, but it’s probably best if he doesn’t drag this out.

The little noises escaping your lips only spur Henry on, each of your little grunts, groans, whimpers and moans are like music to his ears. 

With only a few more thrusts, combined with the sight of your ass jiggling each time his skin collides with yours, Henry’s cumming. He pulls out in the knick of time, shooting his seed all over your little pajama shorts, secretly hoping his cum stains them.

He strokes himself through orgasm, riding out his high to its fullest before re-adjusting your shorts and tucking himself back into his boxers, laying down next to you.

A soft sigh leaves his lips as he catches his breath, flipping over and sitting to grab the pack of cigarettes from the bedside table, heading out to the small balcony. 

Plumes of gray smoke linger in the still summer night as Henry looks out onto the lake, admiring the soft moonlight reflecting off the bouncing water. He comes back in after a few minutes and climbs back into bed, eyes fluttering shut.

Maybe being married to you wasn’t so bad, after all.

[rein-ette]

A cleaner version of my previous ask 😅

Engport, babysitting (catsitting, plantsitting etc) or fire, please?

Oooookayyyy, so. I wrote...something. It's for the engport + fire prompt, but if I'm going to be completely honest it doesn't have anything that much to do with fire, though I swear I did come up with it because I was thinking about things related to fire. And this first part of it doesn't have much engport either, though there's certainly a lot of Port. It does have a cute small animal in it, if that's any consolation.

I do also have another idea for plantsitting, so I might write that at some point, but I didn't want to keep you waiting much longer so -- please accept my apologies and this fic that I can almost guarantee is not what you thought it was going to be.

Warnings: abuse of Greek mythology and one scene from Spirited Away. Also skulls. One skull. And I guess, death? But not really.

The realm of the dead was turning out to be a lot less crowded than Gabriel had expected. Since many mortals died every day, he had imagined that the banks of the river Styx would be crowded with souls, screaming or writhing or whatever spirits did in agony as they waited for their passage to the Underworld. Instead, Gabriel stood alone on what appeared to be a train platform, in the middle of a river so still he could easily see his own reflection in it, and so wide it might as well have been an ocean. Gabriel only knew it was a river because he could sense that the water was drawn to him like a curious child to pretty flower, responding to his immortal parentage. Unconsciously, Gabriel flexed his fingers and wondered if the steaming waters of the Styx would listen to him if he tried to command it. Probably not, and seeing as he was going to be knocking on the door of her master momentarily, Gabriel did not want to be introduced as that nephew who had angered the Goddess of Hatred the moment he had woken up in the Underworld.

Fat lot of good his powers had done him anyways, since he had died at sea.

Hadn't mother always told him the Oceanids were bad shit?

Sighing, Gabriel looked around again at his surroundings. He realized with no small amount of surprise that, while he had just been alone, now several shadowy figures stood with him on the platform, the edges of their figures melting in and out in the thick fog that rose from the waters around them. He tried to examine their faces to see if any of them were the spirits of his crewmates, but whenever he thought he could make out a feature their faces dissolved back into the fog. Exasperated, Gabriel glanced back at the river, noting with another jolt of surprise that now he could see the dark outline of a set of train tracks beside the platform, about half a meter underwater and stretching away into the blackness. Not long after he registered that, he heard the rumble of a train in the distance.

I suppose that's my ride, he thought to himself. The old myths said that Chiron ferried people on a boat across the Styx, but apparently the Industrial Revolution had come to the Underworld as well. Snorting at the thought, he dug in his pocket for his gold coin, which any good sailor always kept in case the ever-capricious ocean claimed them — even semi-immortal sons of river goddesses. Clearly, this was a good habit, because being semi-immortal had not saved Gabriel from that torpedo, which had reduced his poor ship to a lump of floating scrap metal before Gabriel could call up enough power to fill a water bottle, and, oh, all those poor soldier boys who would now never get a chance to die in a gruesome war and fulfill their heroic fates —

Gabriel could not find his coin. Frowning, he searched the front pockets of his admiral's tunic as well, even though he knew he had not kept it there. When that yielded nothing, he moved on to his back pant pockets, then his boots. For the first time since he had drowned in the icy cold Atlantic (which, admittedly, was not that long ago), Gabriel felt a shiver of true panic run through him. How would he board the train without his coin? How would he enter the Underworld? How would he join the ranks of the heroes in the Elysian Fields, where he belonged? Had he perhaps lost his coin when he had rushed to the railings to survey the damage on deck and was promptly dropped into the roaring Atlantic when a stray bit of flak from the exploding engine room tore clean through his right leg?

Now that he thought about it, that seemed likely.

At least he’d gotten his leg back.

The train slid to a rippling stop into front of him. With a soft swoosh, the doors opened, and Gabriel found himself staring at a man who, despite his smart train conductors uniform, could not have been anyone but Chiron, given that his face was a gleaming skull and his eyes literally balls of hellfire. It seemed the god had tried to update his aesthetic for the 20th century as well.

Chiron proffered to him a small wooden box, in which Gabriel could see several gold coins. Desperately digging through his pockets one last time, he finally shook his head. "I’m sorry, I don’t have the fare, I —"

The doors slid closed in his face, and immediately the train began to pull away.

Muttering a few choice curses, Gabriel stumbled a step away from the edge of the platform and watched as the train picked up speed and swooped away into the darkness.

Somehow, he doubted it would be returning to this station.

In the ensueing silence, Gabriel weighed his options. He could sit on this platform and mope, possibly for eternity. He could jump in the river and hope that his aunt either saved him or tore his soul into shreds from the agony. He could try walking along the rails in the direction the train had left, also possibly for the rest of eternity, in the hopes of reaching the entrance to the Underworld eventually.

Gabriel took off his shoes and chose the last option, despite feeling that sulking for the rest of eternity held a certain amount of appeal. He was very good at sulking. Nevertheless, he waded into the water at the end of the platform and found immediately that Hatred was lukewarm, not freezing cold like he had imagined — a nasty, suffocating lukewarm which swirled thickly around his thighs with the collected resentment, broken promises, lurid thoughts and heavens knew what else of millions of miserable souls.

He had feared the water might send him immediately into convulsions of unbearable pain or suck his consciousness right out of him, but as he continued along the track nothing remarkable occured. Perhaps the Styx had sensed his godly parentage and was protecting its kin. Or perhaps Gabriel had collected so much resentment in his long life that the river didn't even recognize him as a foreign body. Whatever the case, Gabriel held his shoes gingerly in one hand and sloshed on.

Quickly, he lost all sense of time, distance, or direction. It felt like he had barely taken two steps before the platform he left was swallowed by the fog, and the tracks underneath his feet curved and meandered like a small stream itself, without rhyme or reason. Gabriel realized that even if the water had not immediately destroyed him, he could not walk forever, and when he finally collapsed from exhaustion he would either be eaten by whatever dwelled in this wretched river or drown over and over in its depths until it dissolved him like a piece of wet toilet paper.

Still, he could not turn back. There was no hope even if he managed to return to the platform, and while a lesser man might have cowered in fear on dry land anyways, Gabriel had spent most of his twenty one centuries of life fighting and wandering across the oceans anyways. Wading through an infernal river until even his immortal soul crumbled into the waves — it seemed somehow like a fitting end.

To distract himself from his happy thoughts, he began to sing. At times it was just a wordless tune, but when he felt inspiration hit he added lyrics. He sang of his birth on the sun-kissed banks of the Douro, the eldest son of its beautiful immortal gaurdian and a local Roman nobleman. He sang of his siblings, not all of whom had inherited his mother's immortality, and he sang in particular of the one brother who did and accompanied him through the aching, bittersweet years that followed. He sang of the lands he had travelled, some bursting with life and colour, others stunning in their harsh, barren beauty. He sang of his lovers, the princes and the ladies, the soldiers and the nymphs and the humble farmhands whom he had courted, bed, and occasionally wed — but never to last, for mortal lives were but a flicker in the endless night and even the immortal ones could not tether down his heart for long. The stars called him, the waves called him, and Gabriel always, always answered.

He suppposed now, though, he had finally found his last resting place.

This thought was immediately followed by a less melancholic one: I didn't know polecats could swim.

Gabriel stopped singing and instead stood and watched as the little furry animal approached, paws paddling furiously as it slipped through the water. It stopped when it neared him and splashed around for a bit, before lifting its snout and looking pointedly at Gabriel, its dark eyes gleaming and intelligent.

Gabriel hadn't known that polecats could give pointed looks, either.

He cupped his hands and extended them to the animal, which immediately scrambled on and promptly snuggled up in his palms, curling into a little content ball. Unable to hold back a smile, he stroked its slick, midnight fur with a thumb, marvelling at how soft and warm it was and how docile it seemed.

Well, he thought, at least I still sing well enough to seduce a polecat.

"You've seduced more than just a polecat, that's for sure," someone muttered.

-- part 2 is here --

[don-quixotine]

We interrupt your scheduled Truth ranting to bring you Day 3 of Adrinette April

ML Season 4 shitposting will resume after this message. 

@adrinetteapril

Day 3 - Game Night

Read on AO3

Marinette always played to win. She didn’t care what sort of challenge or competition it was. So long as there were an opponent and some sort of prize to win, she was game. And she was not the kind to touch her heart or think twice about backstabbing you if that meant winning the match, either. She went all out, or not at all. After all, games of any kind were the only occasions where Marinette allowed herself to unleash her ruthlessness, to blow off some steam.

Unfortunately, so did Adrien.

This was a fact initially only Nino knew, having been witness to a couple of his basketball matches and fencing competitions. The dude packed a punch. You could be easily fooled by his friendly, polite demeanor but one step into the mat, the court, or whatever kind of space where competition happened, and that mild-mannered boy flew out the window. This was a truth the girls learned much to their amused surprise when Alya invited them to a board game night.

Regrettably, though, it had been Marinette who had been at the receiving end of his competitiveness. Adrien and she had been playing as allies throughout a long round of Diplomacy when, at the very last minute, Adrien betrayed her to protect his troops from Alya. It didn’t help his case that she had managed to win anyway, thus making his betrayal of Marinette be all for nothing.

The thing is, Marinette knew this was a game and she wasn’t about to make a deal out of it, certainly not when this was Adrien in question. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to ruffle his feathers a little bit if she could, especially after finding out he was perhaps the only person she knew who was as competitive as her.

Besides, that betrayal demanded to be avenged and who was she to deny the universe what it asked for? Particularly when Uno was the weapon to exact her justice?

She smiled devilishly at her cards.

“So with the blank wildcard, I can set whatever order I want, right?” Marinette commented casually as she mulled over her next move while Nino and Alya struggled to organize the handful of cards they had acquired over the last few rounds. A regrettable bout of bad luck, plus Adrien’s quiet but ruthless strategizing had left them sharing a good two-thirds of the deck they were playing with.

All the while, Adrien grinned smugly at them, dangling the one card he had left, and utterly convinced nothing Marinette could come up with would prevent him from winning the round.

“Yeah,” Alya said.

“Okay!” Marinette said chirpily, already knowing the rules but just fishing for confirmation. She set down her blank wildcard and with the sweetest voice possible, she ordered, “Adrien, take all but five cards from both of Nino and Alya’s hand, and return any power card or wildcard to the deck.”

“No,” he gasped, while Nino and Alya burst into screeching laughter. “Mari, no!”

“Also, I pick red.”

“It’s not fair! They have the whole deck!” Adrien complained as both Alya and Nino pushed their little mounds of cards towards him, crying with laughter.

“I’m not taking them!” he protested.

“Oh yes, you are!” Nino said. “You’re the reason I have thirty cards in here, you bastard. You’re taking them!”

Adrien pouted and grumbled, resigning to take the collection and causing the three of his friends to wheeze with uncontrollable laughter as he struggled to organize his new hand of plus seventy cards. “You are evil , Marinette.”

“I will take no such slander from the man that threw me to the dogs,” Marinette said, mocking a dignified air, and causing Alya and Nino’s hysterical laughter to escalate.

“I had to do it or Alya would’ve taken my army!”

“You betrayed me. We were a team !”

Adrien sighed, finally laughing himself. “Okay fine. Just be prepared, I’m going to destroy you.”

“Bold talk for a fool who has more than half the deck,” Marinette said with a wink. “Next time, don’t betray your allies!”

Call it bad luck, call it Alya, Nino, and Marinette working in tandem to pulverize Adrien, but the poor boy could not get his groove back. Even after that horrendous round was finished, Adrien ended up losing in the next few as well, much to everybody else’s amusement.

“I see how it is, then,” he said, sourly, yet only on the surface. In reality, Adrien was elated to even have someone to bicker with over silly board games. His own collection, though much more extensive than Alya’s, sat at back at the Agreste mansion neatly organized by size and name, collecting dust.  

“If that’s how you’re going to play, fine by me. We’ll see who laughs last,” he grumbled as Marinette snickered at him.

“What was that you said?” she wondered, taunting him. “Something about destroying me?”

Laughter bubbled from the crevices in Adrien’s fake scowl. He was having too much fun to pretend he was mad.

“Yo, what other game are we playing?” Alya asked.

Adrien scanned the stack of battered board game boxes that sat on the counter of Alya’s dinner table and grinned, immediately snatching his pick. “This one!”

Marinette blew a raspberry. “Twister? You’re going to lose.”

“We’ll see about that, Pigtails,” he said with a smug smile.

After flipping a coin between Alya and Nino, who were both arguing to see who’d have the privilege of watching the certified chaos that it was going to be having Adrien and Marinette compete against each other, Nino was assigned as referee.

Alya, Marinette, and Adrien stood without shoes at the edge of the Twister mat waiting for Nino’s instructions. It started civilly enough.

“Left foot, red.”

“Left hand, green.”

Given that Marinette was in the middle and being the shortest of all three, Adrien seized the opportunity to claim the green spot that was closest to her. She yelped, taken aback, and forced to take the one immediately adjacent to the left, leaving her in an awkwardly stretched position.

“Right foot, blue.”

Adrien smirked, instantly applying the same strategy and forcing Marinette to slide under him to put her foot on a blue spot. “Adrien! You’re cheating!”

“I’m doing no such thing, you’re just bug-sized.”

Marinette gasped, both delighted and insulted at Adrien’s audacity. Alya was too busy laughing at her reaction to even care about the fact she had fallen down.

“Left hand, blue.”

“Adrien!” Marinette complained after Adrien took the closest spot to her once again.

He laughed with unbridled amusement as Marinette produced a tiny, “Eeep!” and fell down. Not content with the outcome of the game, she launched herself aiming for his ribs, knowing he was dangerously ticklish in that area.

Adrien produced an unfortunate wail-like sound before collapsing right underneath Marinette, who despite being squashed by him, was not deterred from continuing her attack.

“Ma--ri--MARINETTE STOP!” he exclaimed, laughing hysterically and rolling, trying to free himself from the tiny “bug-sized” girl.

“No!” Marinette said, laughing with malicious power. “You were cheating!”

“No, I WAS NOT! MARI!” Fighting the torturous tickling, he forced himself to sit so that he could return the attack.

Marinette squealed with a pitch higher than Adrien thought was humanly possible. Delighted by the way she squirmed and laughed, he kept tickling her.

“Stop!”

“No, no, you started it!”

It was Marinette’s unintentional jab at his stomach that put an end to the tickle fight. She managed to elbow Adrien hard enough that she knocked the wind off from him. He pleaded for a truce despite the fact Marinette was not attacking him anymore but rather was sitting next to him, mortified that she had hurt him.

“You’re a sore loser,” Adrien pointed out, giggling, delighted to have learned that particular fact about Marinette.

“And you’re a ruthless backstabber,” she retorted, grinning. “Two can play the guilt-trip game.“

“Hey, I play to win,” he said beaming at her.

“I’ll get you back next time we play Mecha Strike,” she threatened him, adorably poking her tongue out at him, thus defeating any sense of menace she could have possibly portrayed.

“Can’t wait,” Adrien said with an elated smile and a blush caused by all the tickling. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself.

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Werewolf Creature!Fic

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Embers by shiftylinguini Rated:  Explicit Words:  41216 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, First Time, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Draco Malfoy, Omega Harry Potter, Werewolves, Heat Companion Harry Potter, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Masturbation, Knotting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Scent Marking, Scent Kink, Come Marking, Dirty Talk, sexual negotiation, H/D Career Fair 2017 Summary:  Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice. Of course it turns out to be bloody Potter. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Heart Like Neon by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill) Rated:  Explicit Words:  41103 Tags: Sex Work, Sex worker Harry Potter, Rentboys, rentboy Harry potter, Past Harry/Ginny - Freeform, past Draco/Theo, Harry/OMC - Freeform, Trans Male Character, Trans Female Character, Switching, Transphobia, Tattoos, hung harry, POV Alternating, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Rimming, Comeplay, Watersports, Duelling, Facials Summary:  Bored of being The Chosen One, Harry discovers he rather likes sex and becomes a professional. He’s good at it, and part of why is that he can read people. Not minds, not Legilimens, but their whole self, and he can give them what they don’t even know they want. Enter Draco fucking Malfoy, enigma to everyone, including himself. Harry can’t help but want to break into him, to figure him out. And Draco, thinking he’ll fuck Potter on a lark, has no idea what he’s in for. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Who we are in the shadows by Quicksilvermaid Rated:  Explicit Words:  99714 Tags: Dubious Consent, werewolf instincts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, child trafficking, Brief Claustrophobia, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Past minor character death, Past Child Death, Bigotry & Prejudice, prejudice against werewolves, internalized prejudice, Murder, Stabbing, Poison, Hallucinations, Creature Fic, Werewolf Harry, Werewolves, Auror Harry Potter, Case Fic, Masturbation, wanking, werewolf attack, Aural Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Biting, Marking, Claiming, Scenting, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Edging, Secrets, Lies, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Loyalty, Loyalty Bond, Bonding, Angst, Domestic, Falling In Love, Enemies to Lovers, Self-Acceptance, Emotional Growth, Angst with a Happy Ending, References to Auror Brutality, H/D Erised 2019, Comeplay, Wall Sex, sex without lube, Identity Porn, Secret Identity Summary:  What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Elusive Mate by 0idontknow0 Rated:  Explicit Words:  25786 Tags: Rating: NC17, Fanart, Creature Fic Summary:  Harry had done it (a) to save lives and (b) because the idea of him being Malfoy’s mate was clearly ridiculous, but now he had to tell Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Finding A Place To Call Home by marysiak Rated:  Explicit Words:  54747 Tags: Alternate Universe, Creature Fic, Werewolves, Post-Hogwarts, Rough Sex, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Summary:  Feeling directionless after the war, Harry is unexpectedly torn out of his own universe and thrust into another, where he must hide out with Remus Lupin, Teddy and Draco Malfoy as Severus Snape and Hermione try to find a way to send him home and save both his and his unwitting doppelganger's lives. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 as much a light as a flame by p1013 Rated:  Explicit Words:  6303 Tags: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Mating Rituals, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Knotting, Scent Kink, Mating Bond, Outdoor Sex, Anal Sex, Comeplay, Art, Claiming, H/D Sex Fair 2020 Summary:  His mother paints a wolf on his chest, its eyes bracketing his heart, and its muzzle pointed towards his groin. His aunt fills in the spaces around his waist and ribs with symbols he's lost the meaning of in the wash of whatever plant had been mixed in with the steam. They move after her brush leaves his skin, turning from incomprehensible marks to his name to wolf to home to hunt and then back to misunderstanding again. His legs are painted in patterned bands, starting from his ankles and ending at his upper thighs. His groin is left unmarked, the pale and empty skin meant to leave no doubt of the Claim once he makes it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Burning the Ground by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill), traintracks Rated:  Explicit Words:  10256 Tags: A/B/O-ish dynamic, Were-Creatures, Knotting, Rough Sex, Anal Sex, Bondage, Blow Jobs, sex on the floor, Rimming, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Mildly Dubious Consent Summary:  "Strap him down," someone said, and Harry felt the rage thicken inside him -- the viscous fear. Magical bindings pulled taut around his wrists . . . He felt a wand touch his arm and then a sharp bite as something punctured the skin, and a sweet, cool tonic rushed his veins. His breathing slowed. His eyelids drooped. The ceiling went grey and dark. And then he heard a woman's voice sigh, "Someone, get Healer Malfoy." ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Omega's Binding by Madriddler Rated:  Explicit Words:  49405 Tags: Hogwarts Sixth Year, Alpha/Omega, Omega Harry, Werewolves, Knotting, Fluff and Angst, Anal Fingering, Size Kink, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Watersports, No Horcruxes Summary:  After a violent encounter, Harry Potter is turned into a werewolf. An Omega Werewolf, to be exact. Now dealing with heats and the ability to get pregnant, Harry must learn to live with his new forms and life, while a desire for revenge fuels him. Will he be able to resist his heat and vengeance? Or will he fall into an instinctual lust, and look for his Alpha? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Light More Beautiful by firethesound Rated:  Explicit Words:  81255 Tags: Hogwarts Sixth Year, Dubious Consent, Potions Accident, Post-Hogwarts, Aurors, Returning Home, Owls, Drinking, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Shower Sex, Masturbation in Shower, Knotting, Rimming, Falling In Love, Case Fic, Loss of Virginity, Acronyms, Motorcycles, Christmas, Quidditch, Pining Summary:  Thirteen years after Draco accepts Potter's help escaping the horror of his sixth year, he returns to England where he makes the unfortunate discovery that Potter is still as obnoxious as ever. And worse, more than a decade overseas hasn't been enough to dim Draco's obsession with him. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Run With Me by dragontara Rated:  Mature Words:  16738 Tags: Animagus, Creature Fic, Werewolf Draco, Animagus Harry, Bottom Draco, Bonding, Knotting, snarky Draco Summary:  Draco and Harry meet in the Forbidden Forest in their wolf forms falling fast and hard and eventually bonding with each other. Unfortunately bonding in their animal forms doesn't mean they are happily bonded straight away in a real life too. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Taro Milk Tea with a side of Depression by VeelaWings Rated:  Mature Words:  1073 Tags: Pre-Slash, Screenplay/Script Format, Conversations, Veela Draco Malfoy, Werewolf Harry Potter, Guidance Counselors, in therapy, Depression, Self-Hatred, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Morbid Humor, Inappropriate Behavior from a Professional, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary:  Draco sat through twenty grievous minutes of Ministry-mandated group therapy for Newly Registered Magical Beings & Creatures — then promptly stormed out. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Blood Moon Rising by noelleification Rated:  Mature Words:  38322 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, Wolfstar is canon, Sirius Black Lives, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Draco Malfoy is a Little Shit, Adoption, Slowburn Adoption, Drarry might happen at some point, idk - Freeform, Remus and Sirius adopt draco, Remus and Sirius as dads, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, So much angst, seriously get ready for angst, Abusive Lucius Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, Harry Potter but it's ridiculously gay, Gay Draco Malfoy, Gay Disaster Draco Malfoy, Trans Hermione Granger, Because we don't support TERFS in this household, Yearning, Sirius and Remus are in love but it doesn't mean they're smart enough to know it yet, so get ready for them to pine for awhile, uhhhhhh just have tissues ready I guess, I'm gonna try my hardest to make you cry, You're gonna suffer..., But you're gonna be... happy about it?, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, traumatized Draco, Draco Malfoy Has Issues, Tonks is best girl, Tonks as lesbian wine aunt, Tonks has big sister vibes, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks Never Happened, Everyone is LGBT, because fuck jk rowling, Found Family, Whump, this shit hurted, Parental Remus Lupin, Parental Sirius Black, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, this shit gets dark yall, just be prepared Summary:  Draco Malfoy is cursed. Ever since Fenrir Greyback ripped him to shreds, Draco has transformed into a monster every month on the full moon. The change is painful, and living with Lucius Malfoy might be worse. But Draco is strong. He doesn’t need anyone, especially not Remus Lupin. Remus Lupin might be the only person in the world who understands what Draco is going through—but he has enough on his plate, between the still-raging wizarding war, the publicized nature of his status as a werewolf, and his best friend, Sirius Black, who Remus might think of in a more-than-friendly way. He certainly can’t take in a seventeen-year-old Death Eater—can he? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Howling Good Time by FleetofShippyShips Rated:  Explicit Words:  5819 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Established Relationship, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, Full Moon, werewolf/human sex, Transformed Werewolf/Human Sex, Knotting, Consent Given Prior, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Morning After, Aftercare (delayed?), Scent Kink, Fluff, (hahaha both literal and emotional), Don't copy to another site, Come Scent Kink (i.e. some post-sex bum sniffing) Summary:  They’d talked about this, and Draco had agreed that he would try it for Harry, once Harry had convinced him he was utterly serious and not fucking with him. The timing, however, was entirely up to Harry, and he'd decided tonight, this full moon, was the night. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Am I a werewolf? by a_reader_and_writer Rated:  General Words:  1230 Tags: Werewolves, Curses, Drarropoly 2.0 - A Drarry Game/Fest, Dramatic Draco Malfoy, Boyfriends, Fluff and Crack Summary:  Draco is hit by the werewolf curse. The healers send him home and tell Harry and him to watch the symptoms. Of course this isn't as easy as it sounds with our drama queen Draco. ❤️ Read on AO3

[zorosboyfriend]

Hello! Love your blog! Wondering if I could request Ace/Sabo (individually) when they see that their long time marine friend (who they developed feelings for) chooses them over their duty, (like if they were ordered by an admiral to execute them in battle, and they refuse?) I honestly just really like star crossed lover trope with a happy ending haha...

I got a little carried away writing Ace's part and ran out of steam but if you would still like me to write the Sabo one just drop me an ask!

Garp had tried time and time again to convince both Ace and Luffy to become marines. He'd never made any headway in convincing them but you were a different case. Ace had always been clear about his intentions to set sail as a pirate and you'd been equally vocal in your desire to become a marine, but when you eventually parted ways in pursuit of your dreams it was amicable. 

You two ran into each other multiple times over the years, both coincidentally and on purpose. You often spent time together in tiny port towns, catching up with each other. Garp went out of his way to ensure that you were never assigned any missions involving the Whitebeard pirates and Ace's crewmates knew better than to engage you in a fight.

You're currently assigned to the transport ship they use to escort high level criminals when news of Ace's capture spreads. You're there when Blackbeard tosses Ace, bloodied and unconscious, into the brig, his grating laughter ringing in your ears as you fight back the urge to launch yourself at him.

Not only are you one of Garp's protégés, a status that places you far above the average recruit, but you are strong in your own right, known by your peers as a competent, powerful rookie who is destined to rise through the ranks. It's why no one sees it coming when you creep into the brig in the middle of the night, knocking out the guards before they can even realize what's going on, and free Ace from his shackles. He's still a mess from his fight with Blackbeard and drifting in and out of consciousness but you manage to carry him to the deck, dodging past patrolling guards until you make it to the small ship tied to the side.

You've settled Ace into the boat and for a moment you think that you might be able to make a clean getaway but the abrupt, piercing shrill of the alarm dashes your hopes. You rush to lower the boat but before you can release the clamps there are dozens of marines on the deck. The vast majority of them are visibly shocked and confused though there are some who are already glaring at you, weapons clutched in white knuckled grips. The vice admiral currently in charge of the transport ship, a friend of Garp's who had agreed to take you on as a favor, steps forward, looking sad even as he unholstered his flintlock.

"You know there’s no going back.”

You do. You’re fully aware that once you leave this ship, your career is over and you will be labeled a traitor, worse than even the most villainous scum locked up in the depths of Impel Down. But you also know that if you step back down, let this blow over as a brief lapse in judgment, that they will kill him, and you can’t watch him die. 

You give one last salute, coat flapping in the wind, and then the small ship you’re on crashes down onto the sea below, skipping over the waves as you use your devil fruit to propel it forward. By the time the first cannon is fired you’re already out of range and the other ship quickly disappears into the darkness.

You're familiar with Whitebeard's territory and quickly set a course to the nearest island under his protection. It'll be another day and a half till you get there, sooner if you forgo rest and use your devil fruit to keep the ship moving at top speed, but you've put plenty of distance between you and the transport ship so for now you're focused on patching Ace up to the best of your abilities. You'd had the foresight to stash some supplies on board before enacting your rescue plan and you're thankful that you did because Ace's wounds are extensive and he'd been given no medical treatment after his capture.

The sun is just barely starting to rise, painting the sky in shades of pink, orange, and yellow. Your adrenaline has faded and you're exhausted but unwilling to sleep and you've preoccupied yourself with tending to Ace's more superficial injuries. You're so focused on cleaning a series of small cuts on his face that you don't even notice that he's begun to stir and it's not until you glance up at his eyes, which are open and trained on you, that you realize he's finally awake. You instinctively move to pull back but he catches your hand in his, weaving his fingers between yours and trapping your palm against his cheek.

"Hey." His smile is more tired and worn than it usually is but it's no less sincere and you take a moment to just look at him, this man you've loved since you were children, who you just came very close to losing.

There's no hesitation when you move to kiss him and Ace responds just as easily, free hand cupping your face as he moves his thumb to brush away some of the tears that now fall freely from your eyes. Later you two will need to talk about your feelings for each other, feelings that have largely remained unspoken over the years you've known each other. You will have to discuss what your new status as fugitive entails, how to deal with Blackbeard who remains at large, and a myriad of other things that will ripple out into the world as a consequence of your actions. But for now it is just the two of you, out on the open sea.

[gumnut-logic]

Minerva (Bit 1)

Okay, this fic is an attempt to get my mojo back. Every time I go on holiday it gets sideswiped. Being sick definitely did not help, though admittedly coughing all night last night may have made me my usual sleep deprived self, so who knows, it might have helped :D

But anyway, This fic is Kermadec because I needed a boat :D It also required a little research - Minerva Reef is a pair of actual atolls not far from Tracy Island. I’m not sure of the distance so I fluffed it.

Andre and Cecil are a pair of private nurses first mentioned in Gentle Rain. I like to recycle my OCs but I haven’t read that story in ages. Here’s hoping I’ve kept them true to form. They haven’t been sketched out in this much detail before, in any case.

There is fluff. I broke Virg again, oops, but there is resultant fluff. I’m sick, I can’t help myself. 

Many thanks to @scribbles97​ and @vegetacide​ for the read throughs and support. I haven’t forgotten about The Tattoo, I just needed a little self indulgence first.

This bit is mainly set up and I hope to write more asap. 1726 words.

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

Two broken legs.

If there was anything worse than a broken limb, it was more than one and two broken legs was the worst.

Or two broken arms. He wasn’t sure as he hadn’t managed to break two arms as yet. But two broken legs definitely sucked.

Of course, it was worth it. Saving children was always worth it. But weeks of confinement, of being unable to do anything for himself, was about to send him around the bend, out the window and into the Pacific.

His brothers did their best and both Andre and Cecil, the family nursing staff - yes, they had enough injuries on enough of a regular basis to have nursing staff on their payroll -  had been called in on this one to cart him back and forth across the house, see to his necessaries, and pretty much do his bidding.

Which was fine, since he and Andre got on like a house on fire. The man spoke both paint and piano almost as much as Virgil and there had been fun times, despite his infirmities.

Cecil was a Gordon clone and those two got up to much more mischief than was really acceptable for an employee. But since Gordon usually took all the credit, even the time Scott had his eyebrows shaved, they got away with hell.

Besides, Scott’s eyebrows had been partly burnt off already and had looked stupid, so shaving them both off was an improvement that had to be done. How Gordon had managed it, Virgil didn’t have a clue...and also didn’t want to think too hard about it because it gave his rapscallion little brother powers that he really shouldn’t have.

Cecil played it straight and the Tracys put up with it. Because despite Cecil’s idiosyncrasies, the two nurses were very, very good at their jobs.

That and they came as a pair because Andre and Cecil were married.

So, other than expanding Gordon’s power of pranking, things were good. Well, as good as they could be while he had two broken legs. 

But there were days.

God, were there days.

Days, so many days, and today was one of them.

Scott had been called out early in the morning and consequently everyone was up. Alan was called next and he and Kayo were out dealing with yet another space freighter collision. Scott was going to kick some space agency ass about updating some space etiquette rules in the near future to stop this stupidity from happening, and considering how much profanity was bouncing down from orbit, both John and Alan would be there to back him up.

So three brothers were out, leaving Virgil imprisoned with Gordon, Andre, Cecil and Grandma. This combination wouldn’t normally be an issue, but Grandma was cooking up a storm and Virgil was trapped.

Gordon may be a pain at times, but he saw the hazard coming and he was a good brother at heart. So, with some assistance from Andre and Cecil, the Fish deployed his yacht, A Little Lightning, and suddenly the day seemed so much brighter.

Virgil was ensconced in pillows and the best of comfort on the back deck and had the privilege of watching Mateo pass on their starboard side as Gordon guided the yacht out into the open ocean.

Why he seemed to always be injured when aboard this boat, he had no idea, but Gordon was a life saver.

Virgil had no idea where his brother might be taking him and he didn’t really care. He just lay back and enjoyed a beautiful day, the breeze, the many sounds of water and the gentle bounce of the boat.

At some point he dozed off.

It had to be a sign of how much healing his body needed, but somehow he managed to sleep the entire trip, because it was the sudden change in the engine noise that woke him.

Andre was smiling at him in that soft caring way he had about him. Dark hair, blue eyes and a soft smile, the nurse was somewhat reminiscent of his big brother, but without the fire and the drive. The man was quiet and reassuring, exactly what was needed when ill or injured.

“It looks like you needed that.”

Virgil grunted, never a fan of waking up. 

But Andre knew this and had exactly what the injured engineer needed - a mug of steaming coffee.

Virgil forced the last few steps to full consciousness, and, pushing himself up, made a grab for the mug.

The mug moved away. “Uh-uh, stretch first.”

Shit.

It was a thing Andre made him do every time he woke. Before coffee, he had to stretch abused muscles that were forced to sleep in awkward positions due to his legs.

Virgil mumbled and grumbled, but did as he was bid. He knew how important the exercises were, but the lure of coffee was just cruel. He vaguely noted the yacht’s engine dropping to a slow cruise and the open ocean having just that touch more sway, rolling the yacht in the swell.

“Where are we?”

“Cecil says we’re visiting Minerva.”

“Oh.” Virgil blinked. He’d flown over the Minerva Reefs many, many times. They were a navigation marker not that far from Tracy Island. Though they were far enough away for him to have been asleep for some time. “How long was I out?”

That smile again. “Several hours. Did you good.” The nurse had placed the coffee on a side table and was helping Virgil sit up straight enough to consume the taunting liquid from heaven.

A breathless moment and the mug was in his hands and coffee was pouring down his throat. God, Andre made great coffee. Yet another reason to put up with his husband.

He surfaced at some point and managed a thank you that set the nurse grinning just as a coral reef started to drift past.

Virgil didn’t know much about the Minerva Reefs other than Melissa Fisher on Raoul swore about them..alot.

They were on the very edge of the Kermadec Ocean Sanctuary and she had wanted to add them to the exclusion zone for a very long time. But the reefs were owned by Tonga or Fiji, depending on which country you spoke to and the environment continued to suffer from it.

He vaguely remembered Gordon saying something about visiting the reefs in Four on several occasions and Virgil had no doubt that he and Melissa were likely doing some kind of sneaky ecological monitoring or some such. After all, the reefs were rather close to Tracy Island and Gordon rather passionate about such things.

As A Little Lightning cruised between two reef headlands, Virgil surmised they were at the northern of the two atolls.

As Virgil guzzled the last of his coffee, the yacht came to a complete halt in the lee of one of the headlands - if you could call it that, the reef barely made it above the water line. He heard the sea anchor deployed and there was suddenly silence except for the crashing of waves against coral and sand and the breeze.

Virgil closed his eyes and soaked it in.

The empty mug was tugged gently from his hand and he vaguely registered a plate being placed on the table beside him. “Cecil made pie.”

That snapped him out of it. “Pie?” The prankster could cook and he was suddenly assaulted with a delicious aroma.

“Steak and bacon, topped with mashed potato and cheese.” The plate had a generous serving along with salad piled up beside it. Andre was grinning at his expression. “He’s mine, you can’t have him.”

Virgil had to grin. “Well, at least I know one of the reasons why you nabbed him.”

Andre’s grin softened, but it was still a grin. “In the top five.” A hand landed on Virgil’s shoulder. “Eat up, you’ll need it for this afternoon’s workout.”

That deflated him a little.

The nurse noted what must have been in his expression. “Okay, perhaps it can be a brief session today.” A shrug. “After all, an atoll is hardly a swimming pool.”

“Virg trying to con you out of rehab?” Gordon bounced onto the deck, a grin on his face and that look of absolute relaxation the man got whenever he was out on the water.

“‘S not rehab.” So Virgil was pouting and acting like a child. “It’s maintenance.” Of what still worked, until the casts came off and then the hell would really start.

“Don’t let those baby browns lure you from the path of righteousness, Andre.”

“What? Like you attempted last time?” The nurse was grinning at the aquanaut.

That brought Gordon up short.

“I have to say that your eyes are a lighter brown, not quite the same colour, but the manoeuvring is almost identical.”

“What?” It was a two Tracy chorus shot at Andre with two brows, one dark, one light, shooting daggers at the nurse.

Andre just laughed and turned back to Virgil. “You going to eat your pie?”

The nurse’s blue eyes did some manoeuvring of their own and Virgil found himself snatching up the plate and hovering over it to protect his slice of pie.

Cecil chose that moment to appear. As usual, there was never a laugh far behind him as he was wearing a bright pink chef’s cap canted at an angle. But it was the two plates of pie in his hands that drew the attention of the other two men on deck.

Gordon didn’t hesitate, grabbing his plate and shovelling pie down his throat with barely a thank you. Virgil growled in his direction.

“What? It’s good pie. Cecil knows I appreciate him, don’t you, Cecil?”

But the cook was accepting a gentle kiss from his husband as the man took his plate, his other hand drifting from Cecil’s shoulder, down to the small of his back in a gesture simple but intimate enough for Virgil to turn away to give them privacy.

His eyes landed on Gordon, who’s face had an odd expression as he looked back at Virgil, as if he knew something that Virgil didn’t.

Virgil glared at him.

It, no doubt, had something to do with Kay. He would slap his little bro about the head later.

In the meantime...”So, what are we doing here?”

-o-o-o-

Bit 2

[bamby0304]

The Hart III: Secrets

Chapter 19: Smoke and Mirrors

Series Masterlist

Summary: Three months… Dean was gone for three months and now he’s back. He’s back and he truly has no idea how much things have changed. Life moved on while Dean was in Hell, and now things are complicated. With new faces and troubles right around the corner, will the trio find a way to come back together? Or has all hope been lost?

Warning: Angst. Magic.

A/N: I won’t be doing taglists anymore, so if you want to know when I post stories follow @bambys-library​ :)

Bamby

EPOV

Hands shoved into the pockets of my 'FBI' coat, I followed a step behind Sam and Dean as we walked down a street in Las Vegas. But we weren't here for fun. No gambling for us, unfortunately. No. This was all about a job.

As we crossed the street, we neared a gathering people standing around a man dressed in black leather, and ripped jeans, with dark hair and eyeliner.

"This, this isn't a trick, okay?" the man told the audience as he shuffled some cards. "I- I- I don't do tricks. This is a demonstration. About demons and angels. Love and lust. All that stuff mixed up in my head."

"What a douchebag," Dean mumbled as we came to stand with the crowd.

I looked to the side, glancing at the camera person and microphone person as they focused on the man.

"That's Jeb Dexter," Sam noted.

Dean looked up at him, confused. "I don't even want to know how you know that."

Sam just shrugged. "He's famous, kind of."

"For what? Douchebaggery?"

I held back a laugh at Dean's disapproving attitude. "It's entertainment, Winchester." I smirked, looking up at the older brother.

He looked down at me, surprised for a moment before he returned my grin with a smirk of his own.

Jeb's voice pulled our attention back to him as he kept talking to the crowd. "But whatever happens, no matter how messed up it gets, don't touch me, okay? For your own safety, " he warned before inhaling deeply.

After a moment, he closed his eyes and exhaled, focusing as he shifted on the spot. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head, letting the air out again.

Suddenly he gasped as he began to shake as if having a seizure. With one hand, he grabbed the deck of cards that sat in the other hand as he opened his eyes enough so we could only see the whites.

"Go back to hell, demon!" Flinging the cards at the window behind him, we all watched as one of the cards stuck to the glass. The ace of diamonds. Reaching forward, Jeb ran his hand over the card, only to reveal that it was on the other side of the glass now. "Is this your card?" he asked a woman in the audience.

Applause broke out in the crowd.

"You've got to be kidding me. A fake demon possession?" Dean shook his head as he turned to walk away. "I can't believe people actually fall for that crap."

"It's not all crap," Sam argued as the two of us followed Dean.

"What part of that was not a steaming pile of BS?" Dean asked, gesturing back to Jeb and the people surrounding him.

Sam gave a short nod, agreeing with Dean there. "Okay, that was crap, but that's not all magicians. It takes skill."

Stopping in his tracks, Dean turned to his brother, grinning. "Oh, right, right, I forgot. You were actually into this stuff, weren't you?"

A smile spread across my lips. "Really?"

Turning to me, Dean was clearly enjoying the fact he was embarrassing his brother. "I mean, he had like a deck of cards, a wand and everything," he told me.

I had to fight back the laugh bubbling in my chest. Sam Winchester, an aspiring magician. Now that's something I would have wanted to see.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, I was thirteen. It was a phase."

Shaking his head, Dean shrugged. "Just... it bugs me. You know, playing at demons and, and magic, when the real thing will kill you bloody."

"Like a guy who drops dead of ten stab wounds without a single tear in his shirt?" Sam noted, talking about the case.

Dean gave a sharp nod as he started to walk again. "That's what I'm talking about."

DPOV

In the victim's hotel room, Liz, Sam and I were in the process of asking his assistant some questions while she packed up all of Vance's- the victim's- things.

"So, did your boss have any enemies that you know of?" I asked.

The assistant nodded. "Vance had plenty of enemies." Leaning down, she grabbed the end of a series of tied-together handkerchiefs and began to pull them out of a bag to wrap them up.

"How so?" Sam questioned.

The assistant shrugged. "He would steal from other magicians. All the time."

"What would he steal?" Liz asked while I frowned at the handkerchief rope that just kept coming out of the bag as if it would never end.

See, this is one of the reasons why I didn't like this kind of magic. I just didn't understand why it was so interesting. A never-ending rope of handkerchiefs? Where's the magic in that? How is it supposed to be entertaining?

That's another thing. Magic is not supposed to be entertaining. It's dangerous. Deadly. Real magic? It ends in death, and torture and mayhem. Real magic? It's messy and gross and bloody.

"Stage effects, closeup techniques," the assistant answered, the rope finally coming to an end. "Anything he could get his hands on."

Pulling my attention back to the assistant, I asked the next question. "Is that enough to get him killed?"

"These guys take this stuff pretty seriously," she noted as she reached over to remove a cloth from a table, revealing a white rabbit. "There you are." Bending down, she picked the rabbit up as I spoke again.

"Did you find anything weird in Vance's stuff? Well, weirder?"

"Matter of fact, I did." Putting the rabbit in a bag, she then pulled something out of a pocket of a cape before showing us the object.

It was a tarot card, the Ten of Swords. The picture on the card was of a man lying on the ground with ten swords sticking into his back.

"I'm guessing this didn't belong to Vance," Sam noted as he reached forward to take the car.

The assistant shook her head. "He hated card tricks. Never wanted them around. Let alone in his precious cape."

EPOV

While Sam was off doing some research, Dean and I walked into a theatre to find a possible lead. Up the front, on top of the stage, hung a sign. The Incredible Jay over the Table of Death. Under that sign of Jeb, on the phone, clearly annoyed and pissed.

"It's a lame gig. I'm in a fleabag hotel doing this man-of-the-people crap, and freaking Angel's in Vegas doing Cirque du Soleil! That should have been mine." He shook his head, even though the person on the other end of the phone couldn't see him. Hanging up, he sat down at a table, across from an older man while the camera crew hovered. "All right, boys, get it in gear, I don't got all day."

Dean and I moved to a table near Jeb's where two older men sat, watching the interview between Jeb and the other older man.

"You Vernon Haskell?" Dean asked as he sat behind the man he was addressing.

"Who's asking?"

"Federal agent, Ulrich. This is my partner, Agent Hetfield," Dean introduced as the two of us pulled out our FBI IDs. "We're looking into the death of Patrick Vance."

Our attention was pulled back to Jeb as he started the interview. "I'm Jeb Dexter. This is Devil Twist. We're chilling at the International Magicians' Convention, which is a dope chance to tip my hat to the wicked cats who came before me. Smoking hot effect last night, Jim."

"Jay," the older man corrected.

Jeb frowned at him, clearly confused. "Huh?"

"My name is Jay."

"Yeah, whatever." Jeb waved Jay off. "We can loop it later."

Vernon shook his head at the younger magician. "What a douchebag."

"Couldn't agree more." Dean grinned as I held back a chuckle. "Is, uh," he pulled the Ten of Swords card out from his pocket, "this familiar to you?"

Turning to give the card a glance, Vernon shrugged as he focused on Jeb and Jay again. "Should it be?"

"Well, we heard that you used tarot cards in your act," Dean noted.

"My act?" Vernon let out a humous laugh. "That was a long time ago. I haven't touched a deck in years, you know..." He held up his hand, showing us how shaky it was.

"Well, do you know anyone who might use them now?" I asked.

Vernon thought about it for a moment before nodding. "Well, there was a guy down on Bleeker Street."

"Oh, yeah. He, he peddles that kind of specialty stuff," the man with Vernon added.

Dean looked to the two men. "Did he have a problem with Vance?"

"Matter of fact, Vance crossed him about a year ago," Vernon answered, voice slightly hushed. "Probably cost him fifty grand in royalties," he added, the man next to him nodding confirmation.

"Would you happen to know where this person is?" I asked as Dean tucked the tarot card back into the pocket of his jacket.

"Four twenty-six Bleeker," Vernon answered without missing a beat.

"Ask for Chief," his friend added.

"Chief?" Dean asked, getting a nod in return. "Thank you." He gave Vernon a pat on the back as the two of us stood, leaving.

...

"Stay close to me," Dean told me as we walked down the creepy looking street, heading for the building Vernon and his friend directed us to.

I wasn't feeling too good about this. The lonely street. The sirens in the background. The dark night. The unending possibilities of danger lurking in every corner of the place. It just wasn't sitting right with me.

Coming to stop at the door of the building we were looking for, Dean knocked on the bars of the door before taking half a step back so he stood closer to me.

The chain-link door inside swung open, revealing a man dressed in black, who looked the two of us up and down.

Trying to play it cool, Dean moved another inch or so closer to me as he spoke to the man. "We're, uh… here to see Chief."

Raising an eyebrow, the guy looked us over once more before opening the door without a word. Stepping to the side, he gestured for us to enter, which we did.

The moment I stepped over the threshold, Dean's hand found its way into mine. I was startled for a moment but didn't question or stop him. I knew he was just being his protective self, so I let him hold my hand as we moved through the dark and mysterious building, following the man as he took us down to the basement.

As we came to a stop, the man turned to us. "Stay here. Don't touch anything," was all he said before he walked off.

Once we were alone, I turned to Dean, shaking my head. "I don't like this."

Looking around, I tried to ignore the gut-wrenching feeling inside me that was screaming at me, telling me to get out of there. The graffiti on the walls, exposed pipes, and dark atmosphere, it all seemed to increase the suspicion growing inside me.

Suddenly some music started playing in the background. We could hear the thumping of the bass get louder as a door opened, the light on the other side streaming in. Another man walked into the room, climbing the stairs, the light coming in from behind him making it hard to get a good look of the guy. That was until he stepped closer...

The was dressed in all leather, carrying a flogger which he used to slap his hand a few times. "You are really gonna get it tonight." He grinned at the two of us.

Dean moved a little closer to me as he tried to explain our way out of his. "There's been a misunderstanding." He grinned, just as embarrassed as I suddenly felt. "I, uh, think we've been had."

"Oh, you ain't been had till you been had by the Chief." The Chief smirked for a moment before he quickly added, "Oh, and before we get started, what's your safe-word?"

Oh, my God...

SPOV

Sitting in the motel room, doing some research on my laptop, I looked up at the sound of a knock on the door. Getting out of my seat, I walked around to go check to see who might be here. As I looked through the peephole, I let out a sigh, seeing Ruby on the other side.

Opening the door, I looked down at her. "What are you doing here, Ruby?"

Arms crossed over her chest, she looked as annoyed as I felt. "I should be asking you the same thing," she countered, pushing past me and into the room.

Closing the door, I followed her to the middle of the room. "I'm working a job."

"The whole world's about to be engulfed in hellfire, and you're in Magictown, USA."

I let out a short, bitter laugh. "You got something against magic?"

"That would almost be funny if thirty-four seals hadn't been broken already." She gave me an exasperated look. "Thirty-four, Sam. That's over halfway. The angels are losing this war. Every day is one day closer, and if someone doesn't do something soon-"

I cut her off, "And that someone is me?"

"Who else would it be? Lizzie?"

"Leave her out of this." If I didn't want anything to do with the end of the world, there was no way I was letting Lizzie deal with it. Not the way Ruby was talking about. "Look, I don't know where these seals are. I don't know squat. So why don't you tell me where you'd like me to start?"

"Well, you can quit dicking around here, for one. Bigger fish, Sam. And if the seals are being broken, you might want to go after the one doing the breaking."

"Lilith?"

"Cut the head off the snake. You're the only one who can stop her, Sam." She stepped up to me. "So, step up and kill the little bitch," she said as she passed me to stand on the other side of the room.

"Oh, I'm game, believe me," I assured her as I moved to where she'd been standing before. "It's not the psychic thing I got a problem with."

"Yeah, I know what you got a problem with, but tough. It's the only way."

"No." It was that simple.

"You know, this would all be so much easier if you'd just admit to yourself that you like it. That feeling that it gives you."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I don't, huh? Fine." She moved to leave, only to stop herself. "It's simple. Lucifer rises, the apocalypse starts. You think that you have blood on your hands now? People are gonna die, Sam. Oceans of people. So, you just let me know when you're ready." This time, she didn't stop, she just left.

DPOV

Back in the theatre, Liz and I headed over to where Sam stood, waiting for us. Liz and I hadn't really talked about what happened at the Chief's. It was awkward. Not because something happened, nothing happened, really. Once we explained the situation, the Chief was pretty understanding. Apparently, people got tricked into going there a lot.

No, the awkward part was what happened after. When Liz and I were in the dark street again. Standing there, in silence, thinking over what had just happened, and all the memories it brought up. Memories of us.

There was no point in denying my feelings anymore. I liked Liz. I knew. Sam knew it. I was pretty sure Liz did, too. So, standing there, in the ally, by ourselves... yeah it had been awkward.

"Find anything interesting?" I asked Sam as we reached him.

He turned to us. "What? Uh, no. You?"

I shook my head. "Nothing I want to talk about, or think about, ever again." There was no way I was telling him about the Chief. So, instead, I started towards Vernon and his friend as they stood closer to the stage. "The Chief, huh?"

They both turned to Liz, Sam and I, Vernon's friend smirking at us. "What's the matter? Chief not your type?"

I grinned back, but was clearly unamused. "You know, I could have you both arrested for obstruction of justice."

"How? You're no Fed," Vernon stated simply.

"We con people for a living, son," his friend added. "Takes more than a fake badge to get past us."

I let out a nervous laugh, our cover was blown. "You got us. Yeah, we- we are actually- aspiring magicians," I lied.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, we- we came to the convention 'cause we thought we could learn something."

"To get some idea for our new show," Liz finished.

Vernon looked intrigued. "Ooh, what kind of show?"

"Well, it's- it's a-"

When I stumbled on thinking something up, Sam saved the day. "It's a brother act."

"And I'm their assistant," Liz quickly added.

I went on with the lie, trying to make it sound believable. "Yeah. Yeah, you know, with the rings and doves and... rings."

Before anyone else could say more, applause broke out in the gathering audience as someone spoke into a microphone, introducing an act. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Incredible Jay."

"You want to learn something? Stick around." Vernon's friend gestured to the stage where Jay- the guy who Jeb had interviewed earlier- stood.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Jay addressed the audience, "what you're about to witness is a feat so daring, So dangerous, even the great Houdini dared not attempt it. I give to you...The Executioner!" Suddenly, a noose fell from the roof as the crowd 'oohed' and 'ahhed'.

...

Jay was now strapped into a straightjacket, the noose around his neck as someone from the audience checked to make sure that he was in fact, securely strapped in.

"Now, sir, as you can see, this jacket is the real article. Thank you, sir." Jay nodded to the man. "You may take your seat." Once the man was off the stage, Jay addressed everyone again. "Now, I will have one minute, sixty seconds, to escape certain death. Let's see if I can do it."

A curtain fell in front of Jay, so only his silhouette can be seen and he began to struggle and a time started to tick away.

He continues to try and escape, but as far as I could see, he wasn't getting anywhere. He was still firming strapped into the jacket.

"I don't think he's gonna make it," I mumbled to Liz and Sam.

The timer kept ticking down. Twenty-five seconds. Twenty. Fifteen. Yet he still wasn't out. There was no change.

As the clock reached ten seconds, Liz's hand grabbed mine, squeezing it tightly. I looked over at her, seeing her eyes wide with fear and anticipation. Turning back to the stage, I watched as the timed clicked to zero and the bottom under Jay fell away, leaving him hanging.

People cried out, gasped, stood and looked away as the lights changed so we could no longer see the silhouette.

But the curtains were then pushed aside, revealing Jay, standing there, unharmed and out of the noose and jacket.

People cheered and applauded the act as Jay gave a bow.

"Oh! That was amazing!" I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. "That was freakin' amazing!"

But Sam shook his head, looking at the stage, confused. "That was... not humanly possible."

Bamby

[pixie88]

Meeting the Parents pt 2

Chapter 12 - Always the Bridesmaid.

A/N: I’m on fire with these ATB chapters once I got to 5 in my drafts I thought I better release one! I hope you like it.

If you would like to be ADDED or REMOVED just let me know!

Read previous chapters HERE!

Warnings: Fluff & Light Angst

Word Count: 1832

Pairings: Laila x Harry

Enjoy!

"Is he mine?!" she seems a bit taken aback by his question, she wasn't expecting to see him again.

He asks again "Is he my son?" it's almost a hiss.

"No! No, he's not" she understands why he would think he is considering the timescale "I did a DNA test when he was born, he's Anthony's"

Harry is relieved, "You're one hundred percent?" she nods "I can show you the results if you would like?" she doesn't wait for his reply she rushes off, moments later she hands him a bit of paper.

It reads at the bottom -

Alleged FATHER  - ANTHONY KENNEDY

Probability of Paternity: 99.99999%

Harry feels like he can finally breathe again, he hands her back the piece of paper "Thank you and sorry I just had to know," she offers him a weak smile, "It's OK, I understand why you would think he was yours. Again, I'm sorry about what happened to us in the past and I'm glad you have moved on she seems lovely!"

His thoughts go to Laila "She is to be honest with you, she's probably the best thing that has ever happened to me" her face sours, but quickly changes as she hears her son cry "I'm coming Jasper" she turns back to Harry "Sorry, I have to go. Harry take care!" he smiles "You too"

He makes his way down the path, pulls out his phone and dials Laila's number. It rings a few times before she answers.

"Hey Harry..." He cuts her off, so she doesn't get the rest of her words out.

"He's not mine!" she lets out a breath"How do you feel about that?"

He chuckles "Relieved, Laila the thought of being tied to her because of a child...I couldn't think of anything worse. I thought I might have wanted him to be mine for a few moments but as soon as I knew he wasn't mine, I realised I didn't really want it at all"

"Well, I'm happy for you and at least that's cleared up now. You can move on from it"  He can tell she's secretly relieved to as much as she tries to pretend she was OK with it.

"I'm on my way back to yours so make sure you're ready, we'll leave for my parents when I get back"

"OK, I'm nearly ready. Harry, I'm so nervous," he chuckles "No need to be! You've met my mum, one of my brothers and my sister...my dad you just need to take everything he says with a pinch of salt. He's hard on everyone until they get to know him"

"Great....anyway. I'll see you in a bit, I love you" He laughs "See you soon! I love you too"

Later they arrive at his parents house, Harry lets himself in with his fingers entwined. Laila's heart is racing with nerves, "Mum, Dad?" he calls out "Harry! We're out the back" They make their way through the house towards garden "Laila! How are you?" Rose welcomes her with open arms.

Harry puts him down and pulls Laila over to the table "Arthur and Izzy you've already met Laila, but Dad, Brad, Will, Sophie, Claire and Ruby this is my girlfriend Laila, Laila this is my Dad Colin, and my brothers Will and Brad and their wives Ruby, Sophie and Claire" His brothers and their wives offer her a warm welcome but Colin doesn't even look up at her.

"Hi, Rose! It's nice to see you again!" Laila smiles at her, she notices the rest of the family round a table "Uncle Harry!!" a little boy runs over colliding with him, Harry picks him up "Hey Cohen! This is my girlfriend Laila!" Cohen looks over to her "She's pretty" Laila smirks "Thank you! You are adorable!" Cohen smiles.

Take everything with a pinch of salt! She thought, "I knew something was going on with you two! I saw the way he looked at you at the sky gardens!" Izzy winks at her, they take a seat Harry doesn't let go of her hand.

"We were in the early stages of dating at time" Laila smiles at her. She hears Colin sniggers, but she chooses to ignore it when she feels Harry give her hand a tiny squeeze.

A little while later dinner is served "Laila, are you left handed?" Colin asks "Erm..no, no I'm not," she smiles at him "So, why are you holding your knife and fork like a left handed person? It's a bit ill mannered?" he hisses. "Sorry, I always have used them this way..." he cuts her off "What do you do for a living?"

"Oh, I'm a hairdresser" he sniggers again "So not a doctor then..what a shame!"

"Dad!" Harry hisses at him "Harry, it's fine!" she smiles softly at him. Pinch of salt! She thought.

"And your parents?" Colin asks "My parents? Well, they own a pub" Colin laughs "Of course they do! Talk about lower class and cliché"

This comment makes her blood boil she jumps out of her seat, throwing down her cutlery "Say what you want about me, but don't you dare talk about my family!" She says pointing her finger at him "My parents are worth 10 of you!! You are nothing, but a miserable, snobby, rude old git! I will not sit here like everyone else and let you get away with talking to me or about my family like that!" she storms off through the house and out the front door.

Harry chases her calling after her "Laila! Wait!" He catches up to her, gently grasping her arm, making her turn "Laila, I'm sorry I should have spoken up...I should've never let him speak to you like that. It's just that's the way he is. I know that's no excuse"

"I get it..he's your dad, we make allowance for family. I shouldn't have say anything" Harry chuckles "No! I'm glad you did..That is what I love most about you. You don't take crap from anyone, you speak your mind and no one has to second guess where they are with you"

Behind Harry, Laila spot Colin stands in the doorway. Harry eyes follow in her direction "Harry, if he's here for round 2, I swear to god I will not be responsible for my actions" Harry chuckles "As much as I would love for you to deck him..." she cuts him off "Don't you think I can take the old man?" she asks.

He laughs "I have no doubt that you can take the old man! But let's just hear what he has to say? I promise I will step in if he's out of line again," she rolls her eyes "Fine" Harry takes her hand and they make their way over to him "Let me just warn you, you dare speak to her like you did in there so help me god" Colin can see his son will not stand by and let it happen again.

"First can I say Laila, I'm a protective old fool, I just don't want him hurt like last time. You were right in there, when you called me a miserable, rude old git. No one has ever pulled me up on how I speak to people and for that I respect you"

"You forgot snobby!" Laila hissed, Colin laughs at her "I also forgot to say sorry which I truly am sorry and if you will allow it can we start again?"

"OK, I'm also sorry for what I called you" Colin laughs "You have nothing to apologize for everything you said in there was spot on. Now let's go back inside"

They follow Colin back to the garden as they walk in his brothers clap "Keep hold of this one Harry! We like her!" Will laughs "Don't worry I intend to!" he winks at Laila.

Later, Harry is playing football with the kids Cohen, Ethan, Bobby and Lara while Laila is colouring with Mila "Do you love my Uncle Harry?" Mila looks up at her "I do" Mila smiles "He loves you too. Are you going to marry him?" Laila smirks she loves how kids are so blunt "Maybe one day"

"Maybe one day?" she hears him asks over her shoulder. Great! She thought. "I asked Laila will she marry you. She said maybe one day!" Mila giggle, Laila blushes as Harry takes a sit down next to her "You're all sweaty!" Laila wipes his brow "Yeah, those 4 have been ganging up on me. 4 against 1 can you guess who won!" Laila laughs at him.

"Not you?" she winks "Got that right!" Harry grabs Laila's hand as she's colouring making her go out of the lines "Harry!! Look what you made me do!" he chuckles at her and does it again "Harry! Stop it!" she hisses "Or what?" he asks.

She takes the felt tip pen and draws on his face "Laila!" she smirks, Mila giggles "What? I'm colouring out of the lines like you wanted me to," he smirks as he shook his head, "You are so going to regret that!" he's quick, he takes a red felt tip pen off the blanket they are sitting on and aims for her face, but she dodges it. He goes in again she falls back against the blanket, Harry grasps her hands pinning them, so she can't stop him. She's laughing "Harry, don't you dare!"

Moving towards her face with the pen between his teeth as his hands pin down hers, she's laughing "Harry" as he gets closer Mila pulls the pen from his mouth and uses it on him "Argh! Mila, you're suppose to be on my team!" he lets go of Laila, Mila gets up and makes a run for it. Harry is about to chase after her, but Laila grabs his ankle making him fall to the ground.

She gets up and makes a run for it after Mila, they're both giggling as they run from him. Before they get to far, Harry's arms come around both their waist's "Gotcha both!" he begins to tickle them and they both fall to the ground trying to get away.

"Uncle Harry! Stop! I'm sorry!" Mila says through her laughter, he stops "I like Laila, Uncle Harry" Harry smiles at his niece "Me too!" he winks at Laila.

~*~*~*~

A few weeks later

Laila had arranged to meet Nikki at the park with Poppy, They are chatting when all of a sudden they hear Poppy scream.

They both rush over to her, Poppy is hysterical on the floor below the monkey bars "Pops, what's wrong?" tears steam down her face "It hurts!!" she screams "Poppy, did you fall from the bars?" Laila asks her and she nods unable to answer because of the pain.

Nikki becomes distraught "Nikki, It's going to be fine!" Laila tries to reassure her "I'll call an ambulance just in case" Laila pulls out her phone to make the call.

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 13.

@shewillreadyou​ @lem-20​ @secretaryunpaid​ @khoicesbyk​ @aussieez​ @txemrn​ @irisofpurple​ @casualpostqueen​ @shannonwrote​ @tea-me-kah​

[dailybeastarsthings]

Chapter 4 - Can This Day Get Any Worse? 4.1. It's Not Easy Being A Bunny

The school’s cafeteria is one of the main areas where all students can meet with each other without any boundaries. The area was designed to be able to serve all kinds of animals regardless of their species and sizes. The main area was dissected into three larger levels, which looked like platforms. They were bordered by wooden walls planted with succulents and tiny shrubs to create a greener atmosphere. The roof was made out of glass to ensure that natural light can always get inside. In the four corners and the middle of the cafeteria, there were large oak trees planted with decks on multiple branches. This served as the dining area for smaller animals, such as mice, squirrels or songbirds. The tree was specially developed so its leaves would rarely fall, in order to avoid any accidents.

The cafeteria was packed for dinner, as usual. Students lined up at the kitchen ladies, who served them the food. The meals were specially chosen and prepared to satisfy both herbivore and carnivore students. Each day, there were separate meals for carnivores and herbivores. Today, carnivores were given steamed soy beans, egg salad, black bean pastries and milk, while herbivores were given vegetables boiled in soy milk, fruit parfaits and orange juice. Of course, if a carnivore student preferred something from the herbivore menu, they could change their meals and vice versa.

In the mass of animals, there was a small Netherlands dwarf rabbit girl. Her name was Haru. Her fur was pure white with no marks or any other colors. Her eyes were pitch black. One could easily get lost in them, wondering what thoughts were being kept secret behind them. She was quite short even for her species so she wore shoes with thicker soles to add to her height. As she walked along the line, her uniform was flowing in the air.

Today’s dinner is my favorite, I just can’t wait to eat it!” she thought. “Now I just need to find a place to sit.”

She paced the area for free seats and found three tables with free seats. First, she walked up to a female mongoose student.

“I’m sorry, may I sit here?” Haru asked.

“Umm… Sorry, but I’m waiting for my friend” the mongoose replied.

Next, Haru walked up to a feline student, who didn’t even pay much attention to her. It seemed like she recognized her and since the situation was too awkward for her, she just went back to eating without saying anything.

Haru was a bit annoyed, but she still had one option, a group of rabbits.

“Hey, may I sit with you, please?” Haru asked them.

But they were so busy chatting they didn’t even hear her question. Haru’s ears drooped but she wasn’t the type of girl to get upset over a situation like this. She walked outside and sat down on the stairs to enjoy her meal.

“Oh well, I’m sitting alone behind the building but at least the food is delicious” she thought as she was eating her meal in silence. She suddenly heard another student calling for her. It was her roommate, Sally.

“Haru! There you are.”

“Oh, hey, Sally. Are you heading back to the dorm?”

“Well… umm… yeah. Why are you eating your food alone in this place? Don’t you think it’s too dangerous for a small herbivore like you to be alone after the incident?”

“Well… It’s better than eating alone in the cafeteria. Anyway, if you’re so worried about me, why don’t we have dinner together?”

“Oh… Sorry, I can’t. I can’t be seen together with you. Everyone in the school knows what you did.”

“Well, that figures” Haru sighed. “Everyone’s been avoiding eye contact with me for two days now…”

“Mizuchi is really mad about it. Take it from your roommate, okay? Try to act less resilient.”

And with that, Sally walked off without saying goodbye, leaving Haru by herself. Haru lost herself in her thoughts…

“Is it just me? When an animal is as small as I am, their body will sometimes shake uncontrollably from the pressure of their own heartbeat. If I were to just follow my instincts, I would just keel over and never get back up.”

Haru sighed. For the first time, she felt lonely. Yet she was determined to not allow it to get to her and stand up from this situation even stronger. She finished her meal and went to the main building. She still had some homework to do for tomorrow and wanted to finish it in the library. As she was going up the spiral stairs for small animals, a walnut shell fell down in front of her. And then a couple others followed, but this time, they landed straight on her head.

“What the…”

“Oops, my bad! My hand slipped” said a high-pitched voice.

“Did you get hurt?” asked another one.

“Oh, you’re probably fine, aren’t you? No doubt some boy will come running to save you!” a third added.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m fine” Haru replied. “Nothing you do can hurt me.”

Haru continued her walk up the stairs, trying to ignore the laughs of the other three girls, but she suddenly came face to face with them. It was Mizuchi and her two allies, a black cat and a raccoon. Mizuchi was a harlequin rabbit and a pretty popular student in Cherryton. If anyone, she could completely destroy someone’s reputation with a gossip in just a few days’ time.

“I guess all of your friends are ignoring you…” she said. “And yet, you’re still holding out quite well. But you do understand your situation don’t you? No one wants to deal with you” she said with the most satisfied smile on her face.

Haru didn’t mind the harsh words Mizuchi threw at her just now. She picked up one of the walnut shells and threw it at her.

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t have time to deal with you or your little friends so bye” Haru said while passing the others without even looking at them.

“Hey! I’m not finished with you!” Mizuchi yelled.

“If you’ve got enough time to spread rumors about me, you surely have enough time to make up with your boyfriend.”

“You have no right to say that! You’re the one who split us up in the first place!”

“I’m sorry, but he’s the one who kissed me. I don’t know what you were told and I don’t really care either” Haru said while turning around with a smug look on her face. “Still, a buck who’d get infatuated over a little kiss isn’t worth much if you ask me.”

And that was it. Right then and there, Mizuchi was destroyed and she knew it. The frustration caused her two-toned face to turn completely red. She picked up the janitor’s water bucket and threw the water at Haru, who fell to the ground.

“Listen well. We were a harlequin rabbit couple. Harlequin rabbits are an endangered species. We’re on a completely different league with obvious pedigree. And yet you, a plebian dwarf rabbit, went and destroyed that couple! How dare you! We’re going to spread rumors that you’re messing with other male students as well.”

Haru was not surprised by Mizuchi’s reaction but she was still a bit upset. Her clothes and fur were dripping wet and the other three were laughing at her.

“Let’s go girls” Mizuchi said. “You should really pick yourself up from the floor, Haru. Or don’t. It suits you anyway.”

And with that, the terrible trio was finally gone. Their footsteps echoed in the corridor for a few moments but with each passing second, they became quieter. Haru stood up and looked at herself. Her clothes were dripping wet. Fortunately, the water didn’t get into her bag, so at least her schoolwork was safe. She looked for the nearest restroom and walked inside. She went inside one of the stalls, closed the door and hung her dress on the door. She sat on top of the toilet seats and started the rest of her homework.

“Well, it’s not the library but at least no one should bother me here” she thought.

It didn’t take Haru to finish her school work. She completed an essay and two multiple choice exercises and was ready to go. She reached out for her uniform, which was almost completely dry. She got dressed, exited the stall and washed her hands.

“I don’t want to go back to the dorm yet… I’ll just spend some time around the back of the gym” she thought.

She looked in the mirror and took a good look at herself.

“When males see this face, they start to approach me thinking »I want to help her« or »I want to protect her«… But when they realize that I’m different from their fantasies, they use me and eventually leave. Right… The winners of this world are the animals who live by their feral instincts. I was destined to be a loser. I lived a life of being used as fodder for other animals.”

It was already late when Haru exited the main building. It was really quiet all over the school and only a few lights were on in the dorms. A thin layer of mist was resting lightly on the ground, deterring from Haru’s way as she took her steps towards the gym. It almost felt to her like even the mist didn’t want to touch her anymore. She reached the gym and headed towards the fountain in front of it.

Haru was always mesmerized by the dancing water. She didn’t know why, but she enjoyed looking at it for hours, enjoying the sight of the little drops being painted into colorful gems by the surroundings or silver tears by the moonlight. It was a place where she could calm herself down in all cases – exams, arguments, family life… But the peace and harmony didn’t feel the same this time. She felt as if someone was watching her. She heard a rustle from the gym’s entrance.

“Someone’s here. But who could it be? Do they know who I am? Do they want to hurt me? Or… can it be the one who killed that alpaca?”

She heard the rustle once again… The other one moved closer to her… Tears started to flow from Haru’s eyes. Her legs were trembling. She wanted to run but her legs wouldn’t move – they were heavy as stones.

“I’ll let you have me… But please… Just once in my pathetic life…Give me a reason to run away in fear… Give me a reason to cry in fear… Give me a reason to value my life…”

With all these thoughts in her head, she started running towards the arches. She couldn’t even make two steps though when she could feel her body being grabbed by large hands with sharp claws… She was trapped. And yet, she felt completely calm.

“Could you understand what valuing your life is?” she thought. “He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t have to. I can feel that his desires resonate with mine. I’m just glad they are not here to see me like this…”

[pro-bee]

Clean

I have been in a major writing rut for months, so I decided to write something completely different to get me out of my funk! This is for @coffeedepablo and @indestinatus and @delicatefalice and anyone else who’s ever nagged me to just write again. Also, this was inspired by the scene in “Hiatus” where, in the middle of the chaos of Gibbs being blown up, Ziva is transfixed by the rain outside, and today was a rainy day which was finally a perfect excuse to just wrote.

Also, I wrote this today, and haven’t done as much proofreading as I would like, but I decided I had to just post it and forget it!

Rating: G Characters: Ziva David, Tony DiNozzo Pairing: Established Tiva, duh. Type: One-shot fluff. (That’s all I’m good for these days.) Word Count: 1,100 Summary: A rainy day makes way from some quiet contemplation.

Also available on AO3.

The air is heavy, weighed down by the humidity of the passing storm. The rain falls gently in the small yard, creating a sheen over the sidewalk this evening that threatens to become a reflecting pond if it doesn’t let it up soon.

She is curled up in the weathered Adirondack chair on the small deck, her body still, and her gaze set afar, like a lioness surveying her domain. She cradles a mug of tea in both hands, the steam rising to join the mist that surrounds her.

“I was wondering where you’d gone to.”

She is awoken from her reverie by the humor in Tony’s voice behind her, and she turns around to acknowledge his presence. At some point after dinner, he’d scurried off to catch up on some neglected work, and it wasn’t until an hour later that he’d noticed that Ziva had disappeared from her usual reading perch in her favorite armchair in the living room.

“It’s raining cats and dogs out here.”

“Ah, that would make our daughter extremely happy, would it not?”

“Can’t argue with that. Guess we’ll have to settle for the tadpoles for now.”

She offers him the hint of a smile in return, but her her attention is fixed upon the horizon. (The horizon, here, is the hedge separating their yard from the neighbor’s. Not quite the Saharan vista of his imagination.)

Curious, he grabs a chair and joins her under the awning, without saying a word. He follows her lead, basking in the hypnotic melody of drops hitting the roof, the drizzle pulling a curtain around them. Here they are, protected in their cocoon, the rest of the world melting away from them. Truth be told, he’s a little on edge, unused to this lack of conversation in their new home, but he also senses the importance of this moment of solitude. He’s become an expert at biding his time over the years, so he lies in wait for her to make the first move.

(Or not. If she wants to sit here for the rest of their days, immovable like a sphinx surveying the desert, he’ll plant roots right along with her.)

She pulls her legging-clad knees in even closer, taking in a deep breath and sighing, letting go of a lifetime of worries in a single exhalation. He’d give a penny for her thoughts, but he’ll make do with whatever she’s willing to part with tonight. Unsurprisingly, she seems to read his mind.

“I used to love watching the rain when I was a kid.”

She pauses for a second, like she were waiting for a prompt, as would have so often been the case in the old days, but none comes forward. He’s still wary of pushing too hard, too soon, so he’s learned to let her take the lead when it comes to deciphering the code to Ziva David’s meditations.

“It hardly ever rained at home. Not like this, anyway. In the winter, we would have these thunderstorms that seemed to come out of nowhere, and end just as quickly. My sister used to complain about them, because they got in the way of her imaginary stage design outside,” she recalls with a chuckle, “but my mother used to tell her that we needed the water for things to grow. The stormy skies would give way to the shining sun.”

He waits to see if any storm clouds brew behind her eyes.

“How’d she handle that?”

“Usually by tearing up the house and inevitably ending up in what we would now call a ‘time out.’”

It’s his turn to laugh, trying to picture the siblings squabbling a lifetime ago, before they had to confront the demons in their home head-on. (The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, it seems.)

“But not you?”

She shakes her head. “The storms always fascinated me. How you could feel the air change, all of a sudden, and then the sky would just open up. And there was nothing you could do to stop it. Life was always so busy, so regimented, so volatile, but one thing that no one could control was Mother Nature. You could predict and plan all you wanted, but when the storms came, all you could do was take cover and wait it out.”

He has a feeling she isn’t just talking about the weather.

“I would sit by our living room window if we were at home in Tel Aviv, or on our porch if we were in Haifa with my grandparents, and watch it pour down. It drowned out all the other noise, for a little while at least.” The wistfulness in her voice belies the darker memories bubbling beneath the surface.

He watches her in turn, understanding how rare these moments of utter tranquility must have been in her young life. Hell, still were, until recently. Some days, it seems like she’s still struggling to grasp them, even now.

“It’s funny. There is so much fear tied to storms. About their unpredictability, and the floods and destruction left in their wake. They are the only thing that cannot be bent to one’s will. But I never felt that fear. To me, they were… soothing. Like the rain would fall and wipe the slate clean. No matter what was happening, you could start over fresh when it was over. It was like finally being able to breathe.”

Once upon a time, this kind of talk would make him nervous, wonder if she weren’t about to decide her own slate needed to be wiped, all by herself. Yet here they are, together, and he realizes that maybe, that isn’t what this is about at all. That maybe after every storm is a chance for a sunny start, too.

“Sounds like maybe your mom was right.”

“I guess so.”

They sit in silence for a spell, mesmerized by the clatter of the downpour and the motionlessness of the moment. Where once they would have both felt awkward at the silence between them, now they sit in reverence of it, the beauty of what doesn’t need to be said anymore

After a while, though, he comes to realize that this is her quiet confessional, between herself and whatever power is driving her forward, and he feels as though she needs this time alone to commune with her higher power. He gets up, a little less limber than he’d care to admit, and places a gentle kiss on the top of her head, before heading back into the house. Once inside, he watches from the kitchen window as bit by bit the tension seeps from her body, washed away by the deluge and the promise of tomorrow.

Time stands still, and for what feels like hours, all she hears is the patter of the rain, gently surrounding her, the rushing sound eclipsing all of her worries as she welcomes its release. She takes a sip of her tea, and smiles to herself as her old friend envelops her in its comforting embrace.

She thinks that, maybe this time, she is finally clean.

---

My apologies to Taylor Swift for paraphrasing her song “Clean” in that last line.