#briefly interrupting my hiatus to leave this here

[relicsongmel]

Your honor my client simply wanted to fuck around and find out

[entishramblings]

The Innocence of Brutality Pt. 7 [Legolas/F!Reader]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6

A.N: hey my preciouses. so im back from my hiatus with some pain and suffering for you all. this part was very hard to write as this story is a 10th walker. lol i struggle to follow an already created plot and not get bored writing—and that’s why I gotta add some twists and funky ass kicking Rámaitë Mahtar lore heh. anywaysss...enjoy!

Request: none

Pairing: Legolas X Fem!Reader

Summary: The Reader is Rámaitë Mahtar, a warrior spirit race, and she meets the fellowship on their quest to destroy the ring.  

Disclaimer: Any mythology relating to the Rámaitë Mahtar is not canon as I made up Rámaitë Mahtar. Also, all elvish was translated from a translator site—it may not be accurate.

Word Count: 6.5k (i know I'm sorry i am a menace) 

Warnings: nudity (not sex), mentions of war, mentions of torture, violence, fluff, hurt/comfort, beard abuse (sorry gimli)

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD | The Innocence of Brutality Masterlist | HERE for OC format

The fellowship and the Rámaite Mahtar spent hours upon hours enduring the biting lash of the snow's frigid touch and the piercing wail of the wind. The Pass of Caradhras fought against them, hard and strong. Relentless it was; as if the mountain itself was pained by their footsteps, doing all it could to shake them off and consign them to a frozen grave. Though they soon discovered that the mountain was not alone in pursuing their downfall.

Legolas frowned, squinting past the snowflakes that landed upon his lashes. It was hard to focus on anything but navigating through the blowing blizzard, for if he wavered his calculations, he and the fellowship would surely fall to their deaths. Yet still, something tugged at his mind, begging him to recognize its warning. The elf, determined to unravel what it was, let his senses settle into the air around him, absorbing all he could. That is when he heard it—a resonant voice murmuring curses into the wintry air.

The elven prince spun on his heel—so fast that he startled the dwarf behind him. Now facing the rest of his company, he cried out his cautionary statement. “Someone is aiding the storm. There is a fell voice upon the air.”

Gandalf met his eye, and only one word passed the wizard’s slips. “Saruman.”

(Y/N) turned to Legolas. Over the wind, she yelled her question to him. “Who is this man of saru?”

However, before any method of how he could even begin to articulate such a person even entered his mind, Aragorn and Boromir tones sprung into the air. Their voices grew insistent, advocating to return the way they came, only for Gandalf to fiercely argue against it.

“Legolas,” (Y/N) addressed again, not paying mind to the serious conversation behind her. “Who is this man of saru?”

“(Y/N),” he started. However, he was interrupted by a deep murmur that reverberated through the mountain’s core. That was the only warning the fellowship received. Seconds later, heavy clumps of snow came thundering down from the slopes above them. Legolas’ unfinished words were swept away by the mountain's rampage, lost amidst the chaotic dance of falling powder.

“Get back!” was briefly heard as Aragorn pressed his body against the side of the mountain. He attempted to take Frodo and Sam with him through a failed outreached hand grasping upon nothingness. 

The Rámaite Mahtar’s eyes followed the motion, her instincts kicking in. 

Her wings snapped open, tearing through the fabric and leather armor that clothed her. They extended outwards, providing a canopy over the four hobbits, just as the avalanche was to bury them. 

(Y/N) grit her teeth, her form shaking slightly as the pressure hit. 

Silent the hobbits were, no sound leaving their normally chatty lips, as the onslaught of snow railed upon (Y/N). Only awe was present upon their expressions as those four pairs of big, worried eyes looked up at her stern face. 

The Rámaite Mahtar, however, took no notice to their concern. She held steady until no further weight was forced upon her wings.

Slowly, she lifted her head up—proud and strong—and her wings following suit. She shook them off. The snow she had caught tumbled from her feathery masses. It skipped off the edge of the mountain, leaving its longtime home.

Legolas emerged from beneath the snow rather quickly. A single glimpse of (Y/N)'s outstretched wings and the visible hobbits revealed to him what she had done. Knowing they were out of harm's way, he wasted no time in digging through the snow to unearth his other companions.

As the first hand broke the surface, Legolas seized hold of it and yanked. Spluttering, up came Aragorn. The two didn't need to speak to know what else needed to be done. They instantly began to sweep away the glistening snowflakes that continued to conceal their comrades. They hoped to retrieve them—one by one—from their frozen confinement. 

(Y/N), seemingly deeming the two men competent enough to handle the task, moved closer to the hobbits. She patted Frodo’s head as she looked between the four of them. “Safe, safe, yes?” 

Their responses consisted of small nods and drifting gazes, their minds still in shock.

Boromir and Gandalf soon emerged, though one member of their company was still not yet found.

“Gimli! Where is Gimli?” Legolas called out desperately.

(Y/N) furrowed her brows as her gaze scanned the snowy landscape. Meanwhile, the rest of the fellowship frantically dug, their efforts driven by urgency. (Y/N) took a few steps forward, her expression determined.

Suddenly, she began stomping in various spots on the fluffy snow bed.

Her companions, including Legolas, exchanged puzzled glances, unable to comprehend her actions. However, their confusion quickly dissipated when a muffled war cry echoed from beneath her feet. Without hesitation, (Y/N) plunged her hand deep into the snow and pulled hard. Emerging from the white depths, beard first, came Gimli, hollering and gasping for air.

Sighs of relief exited many lips before the arguing between the navigators started once again. 

(Y/N) looked between them, watching, observing, trying and failing to understand the gravity of the situation. Though it seemed it wasn't really up to her to have to understand. The decision got passed down to Frodo and the small hobbit picked their dwarven friend’s option: The Mines of Moria. 

Therefore, they wearily trudged down the mountain, their souls burdened and their bodies fatigued. (Y/N)'s wings guarded the hobbits, shielding them from the biting winds until they finally arrived before the sealed doors of the dwarven kingdom. And there they remained, seated in patient anticipation—for hours on end.

In the stillness, only the soft murmurs of Gandalf's whispered words and hushed conversations drifted among the fellowship, creating an atmosphere of quiet suspense. 

Legolas perched beside Y/N, holding her leather armor layer in one hand and a sharp knife in the other. He was carefully carving the ripped section into a smoother line, ensuring easy exposure of her wings. Given their current lifestyle, he presumed it was crucial for her to retract and unveil her deadliest weapon effortlessly. Besides, they lacked the time and resources to stop in a town again, and even if they did, they wouldn't find suitable clothing to accommodate her unique form. The Rámaite Mahtar were not supposed to exist—not in this world at this time. She was an exception. She was a phenomenon. She was a secret—one that could get them all killed. 

“Legolas,” (Y/N) stated. “Who is this man of saru?”

The elf briefly glanced up at her as he continued to work. This was the third time he was asked this question by her, and he knew she would ask it again if it was left unanswered. She was persistent like that. He cleared his throat. “Do you remember how we told you that there were some who intended to harm us and the people of this world?”

She nodded.

“Well,” he continued. “Saruman is one of them. He is aiding and orchestrating armies for Sauron.”

“Sauron?” (Y/N) questioned.

Legolas sighed, placing the leather down as he focused on (Y/N). He knew he would have to give her all his attention for this conversation. It wasn't one that you could have so casually. “Sauron is consumed by an insatiable thirst for power. He wants to enslave its people, create an empire of pain and suffering, and burn it down to ash and bone.” 

“Why?” she asked, so innocently. 

 “(Y/N),” he stated softly, gazing into those goddamn brilliant, concerned, (e/c) eyes of hers. “Sauron…Sauron was a servant of Morgoth.”

The Rámaite Mahtar's lips parted, releasing a hushed gasp that was woven with fear and disbelief. 

Legolas watched as these emotions shattered her soul and wreaked havoc in her heart. Her brows furrowed, her lips contorted, her gaze wandered, and her eyelids fluttered. Processing. That is what she was doing—absorbing the shock and dissecting its meaning. 

“(Y/N),” he whispered, reaching for her hand. “(Y/N), Morgoth will not come here. He cannot come to this plane. The Valar would never permit it.”

She shook her head, pulling away from him. “Yes, he would. For me, he would. For me, they would let him.”

“(Y/N),” he said again, desperately.

She stood, shaking her head, her voice rising slightly. “You do not understand!!!”

Legolas, sensing her distress escalating, abandoned his seat and moved to stand with her. Gently, he took both her hands in his own. “(Y/N), help me understand.” He peered down into her wild eyes, searching for an answer. “Please, help me understand. I am here. I am listening.”

She glanced down at the ground below her feet, taking in a deep breath as she tried to gather herself—to regulate her emotions, Legolas perceived.

After a moment, she looked back to him. Her voice was quiet as she spoke. “I—I did things. B–before. When I was here long ago.”

The Prince nodded his head in encouragement. 

She shut her eyes and withdrew her hands from his hold, letting her arms wrap around herself in what appeared to be a self-soothing state. “T–terrible things.” (Y/N) focused her gaze back onto Legolas. “They–they wanted it empty of some of the stuff they put in it.”

“What do you mean?” he inquired softly, his confusion deepening. “What did they want empty?”

(Y/N) frowned, her expression twitching as she tried to pick out the correct word to use. “The–the world.” She paused, just for a moment. “So, we emptied it. But–but we did not understand. I did not understand. There were peoples there.” As her words flowed on, she delicately extended her hand and brushed her fingertips against his ear. He fought the urge to flinch at the contact, but he did not stop her. Knowing how sincere and vulnerable she was in that moment, he wanted her to continue her truth. He didn't desire to give her any reason at all to halt her words. “Peoples like—like you, but not like you. Different.” She furthered, her hand then slid along the curve of his elvish ear until it was nothing but a ghost. (Y/N) looked down once again. “They screamed and cried, but we did not know, so we did not stop.”

“(Y/N),” he whispered, cupping her cheek and forcing her to look at him. “It was not your fault. The Valar did not teach you. They did not teach you of right and wrong.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, a tear escaping them. “It was my fault. I was the leader.”

Legolas’ thumb gently wiped away the water that ran down her cheek. “But you did not know, my starlight. You did not know.”

A quiet sob escaped her chest as she tried to look away from him. Though he would not let her. He would not let her suffer this guilt alone. Legolas pulled her form into his own. He enveloped her in his embrace, encircling his arm around her waist, while his other hand cradled the back of her head.

Instantly, she responded to this affection. Her hands—those small, deadly hands that had annihilated so many people—grasped onto his tunic, yanking at the threads. The ethereal glow of her wings enveloped him as well, as if just her arms were not enough to hug him back. And the pressure of her body against his was firm, almost urging him to anchor himself in case he lost balance. In that moment, with her face nestled against his chest, she sought solace and refuge in his embrace.

Softly, he pressed a kiss to her head as his hand moved in slow, soothing circles on her back.

Legolas knew the rest of the fellowship was trying, and failing, not to stare, but he did not care. This—this was important. This realization. This moment. This needed to happen. It represented her growth in the most pure and genuine way. 

The embrace, however, was disturbed by the sound of a gentle plop that resonated in the air like a soft melody—though one very much out of place. One after another, the droplets of sound caressed their ears, intruding upon the intimate moment they shared. However, Aragorn’s chidding tone unintentionally attempted to give it back to them as he ordered Merry and Pippin to halt their actions.

Still, (Y/N) turned to look at the rippling of the water, watching as it moved with little rifts and smooth slides. The Rámaite Mahtar tilted her head, ignoring Frodo’s voice pipping up with a question regarding the door’s riddle. It wasn't directed at her anyways. She took a step closer to the water, and another, and another—until the sound of loud stone shifting claimed her and her companion’s attention.

The group gathered their belongings, (Y/N) folding in her wings and pulling the altered leather armor upon her form, before they flowed through the now opened doors. As they listened to Gimli rave of his cousins’ hospitality, they filed in. However, hospitality did not greet them. Nothing did. There were no torches. There were no cheers. There were no dwarven faces. Simply put: not a trace of life offered them a welcome and naught but dread stirred in their presence. As darkness wrapped around them, Gandalf lit his staff. That glow began to reflect light, allowing the fellowship to bear witness to the truth.

“This–this is no mine.” Boromir began, horror upon his tone. “It’s a tomb!”

Immediately, Gimli’s loud cries of despair echoed throughout the vast walls and the hobbits’ heavy breathing followed. 

“We should never have come here. We must make for the Gap of Rohan!” Boromir exclaimed. 

Rash shuffling from each member of the group followed as they began scrambling from the hallway of bones. Those bones, however, were immediately replaced by a new threat—one of tentacles and slime.

Before they even could escape the tomb, Frodo was clawing at the ground, his anguished cries for help piercing the air. The other hobbits urgently grasped his arms, straining with all their might to free him from the vile creature coiling around his legs. Yet his friends were only so strong. The creature drug the poor hobbit to the lake, flinging him through the air like a mere plaything. 

Instantly, the fellowship, with weapons raised, were scrambling after him.

Though, the one that was the fastest was (Y/N). Her wings extended from her form, not breaking the newly crafted adjustments to her leather. With one strong push, she was in the air and weaving through the tentacles. 

“By the Valar,” Aragorn whispered.

At his tone, Legolas’ gaze flickered from his aimed arrow and to his friend’s line of sight above the beast of the lake. Immediately, the elf’s lips parted in astonishment. Even after the months that they had known the Rámaite Mahtar, they had yet to see her fly. They had seen those beautiful wings act as blades, blankets, and canopies, but they hadn't seen them act for their intended purpose. They hadn't seen them serve as instruments of the wind. Legolas could not help but let his bow falter as he stared. 

“She’s….she’s beautiful,” Legolas whispered. 

Aragorn, his own shock subsiding, grabbed the elf’s arm and hissed a panicked order at him. “Legolas, cast aside your admiration and put an end to that vile beast!”

“Right, right,” he mumbled, drawing his arrow once again.

Aragorn ran into the water, slicing at the tentacles in desperate hope to free Frodo—and prevent his own capture. 

(Y/N) maintained a relentless attack from above, using her wings as weapons to sever the slimy limbs impeding her path towards Frodo. With remarkable speed and precision, each stroke of her wings propelled her closer to the young hobbit, the distance shrinking inch by inch. However, just as she was closing in, the beast sent two tentacles her way. She spun quickly, her wings slicing them both, but it was the third to the back that she did not anticipate. It smacked against her shoulder blades, hard. Her body was launched backwards as if she was nothing but a gnat being batted away. The blow held such vigorous force that she crashed into the side of the mountain and tumbled with broken rock. Everything crumbled until she too joined the dust upon the ground.

Legolas, with fearful eyes, screamed her name. She did not answer.

The Prince continued firing arrow after arrow as he moved backwards towards the broken Rámaite Mahtar. Each forceful strike diverted the creature's attention. This distraction allowed Aragorn to slice the tentacle constricting Frodo, while Boromir swiftly caught him.

“Go, go, go!” Aragorn yelled, pushing Boromir and Frodo back onto the land. “Into the mines!”

The group darted through the entrance, Legolas scooping (Y/N) up into his arms as he did so. 

The lake’s guardian tried to pursue them, its battered limbs slamming against the rugged mountain surface. However, in doing so, the squid-like creature lost its meal. In its desperate attempt to give chase, the fellowship’s fate was sealed. The attack caused the rocks to tremble and shudder. So much so, that the entrance to the passage crumbled and collapsed—entombing the alive with the dead.

Thick dust now drifted through the air, melding with the sounds of adrenalized breath and pounding hearts. They stood still as Gandalf lit his staff once more.

“We have now but one choice,” the wizard started as he began walking deeper into the mine. “We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world.”

“Mithrandir, wait.” Legolas called out, almost desperately. 

All eyes shifted, only to be surprised to see the Rámaite Mahtar cradled in his arms. Before, she had appeared to be invincible. From the first day they encountered her, when she lifted the strongest member of the fellowship by the throat and nearly killed him, they had thought she was unstoppable. This belief was further reinforced as they witnessed her relentless prowess in battle. She ruthlessly obliterated a pack of orcs like it was nothing. She had annihilated them with sheer force that made even the elves look weak. A glimmer of possibility was instilled in them. Maybe their quest was not destined to fail after all? She was their hope. And now? Now that hope was a slumped, unmoving, bleeding form. 

“(Y/N)?” Pippin whispered, his voice so quiet, so small. 

“Is–is she alive?” Merry added, his tone mirroring his closest friend’s.

Legolas did not answer them as he gently laid her body onto the ground, kneeling next to her. With frantic lips murmuring a prayer in Sindarin, he reached to hold her face. Almost instantly, the Prince’s shaking hands were painted in her red blood. He tried to not focus on it as his nimble fingers found her carotid artery. He couldn't afford to think that she could be dead. Not now. Not ever. 

The air was quiet and full of anxiety as they awaited his words—ones that would either break or heal their hearts. 

“She’s alive.” 

Sighs of relief left many’s lips, though Legolas did not hear one exit the wizard’s. 

“I must treat her wounds.”

Gandalf huffed. “We cannot linger here.”

“Mithrandir!” Legolas called out, appalled. “She cannot be left to bleed—”

“Legolas, îdh, listo. (Legolas, calm, please.)” Aragorn stated, raising his hand. He then turned to the wizard. “Gandalf, Legolas is right. Without medical attention she could die. I understand you do not trust her yet, but she has saved our lives many times over. We need her.” He paused, nodding to the hobbits. “They need her.” 

He huffed but dipped his head in agreement. He couldn't argue with that logic. “Ten minutes.”

Legolas was quick to pull his medical bag from his shoulder and began digging for supplies. 

“Legolas, man  tur- im ceri? (Legolas, what can I do?)” Aragorn stated as he knelt beside him. 

The Prince passed him a small pouch as well as a mortar and pestle. “Mol hi into a sirith ir im heneb hen. (Grind this into a paste while I examine her.)”

Aragorn nodded, beginning the assigned task. 

Legolas lifted her head, feeling the back of it, before speaking in the common tongue for the others to understand. “Swelling, but no blood from this blow. Seems it just knocked her out.” He twisted her face to see the bleeding cut above her brow. “This cut is pretty deep. I will need to stitch it so the skin mends properly.” 

“Despite her ability to heal quickly? Cuts like this usually are gone within a day or so for her, correct?” 

“Yes, but the flow is heavy and with the risk of infection—especially with all the grime in here…..” Legolas let his sentence trail off. 

“Master elf,” Samwise interrupted softly. “Is there anything I can do?” 

The Prince looked up at him. A gentle smile crossed his face for he knew of (Y/N)’s relationship with the hobbits. He knew how much she cared for them and they her. “Sam, if you could get Gandalf’s staff, maybe provide us with some better light?”

The hobbit nodded and quickly scurried off. Legolas could hear the soft conversation between the grumpy wizard and the innocent hobbit, though he was too focused on (Y/N) to pay attention. Regardless, Gandalf must have given in, for the hobbit returned seconds later with the light. 

“Sam, hold it over here. I must check her wings.”

The light cascaded brightly above them, its luminosity filtering across the brilliant wings. The feathers absorbed and reflected those subtle colors, shining them back upon the three men. If the scene wasn't encased in blood and emotional turmoil, it would have been a radiant spectacle. But now, the once alluring silk-like texture bore the marks of horror—marks none would want to see freely.

“There does not appear to be any significant damage. Most of the blood is from the head wound or superficial cuts.” Legolas stated. “It looks worse than it really is.”

“But–but then why isn't she waking up?” Pippin inquired with unease.

Legolas did not answer, for he didn't have a reason to give the hobbit. Instead, he returned to the wound upon her brow. “Pass me that needle and threat.” 

Soon enough, the Rámaite Mahtar’s cut was sealed and the blood upon her face was wiped clean. If they had not known of the events that had transpired, maybe she would have looked like she was sleeping peacefully. That, however, much to their dismay, was not the case.

Boromir, seeing (Y/N)'s treatment completed, spoke again. “We can take shifts carrying her.”

Legolas clenched his jaw, refusing to look at the Gondorian, as he gathered the winged warrior into his arms. “When her wings are exposed, it adds at least a hundred pounds to her weight. Without elven strength, you wouldn’t be able to carry her for long.” 

Boromir scoffed lightly and sent a look at the elf. 

Legolas wanted to snap back with another snarky reply, but he knew it would do no good. Hell, his previous comment was uncalled for—and he knew it. Boromir was a good, honorable man at heart. Legolas knew he would never do anything to harm (Y/N). The Gondorian respected her—as a woman, warrior, and friend. Besides, at this point, it was quite apparent that the Prince and Rámaite Mahtar’s souls were bound. So, Legolas kept his mouth shut as he pushed past Boromir and towards the front of the group. 

Aragorn walked up beside the Gondorian. He gently patted the man’s shoulder. “Don’t take it personally. Elves tend to get quite possessive over their lovers, especially under dire circumstances.” The Ranger then chuckled. “Not one of their finer traits.” 

Boromir snorted lightly in amusement, now not taking Legolas’ behavior to heart. “Indeed,” was his simple reply. 

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as they continued their journey along the paths of the old dwarven corridors. The fellowship found themselves halted at a crossroads, a convergence of three diverging paths, where Gandalf stood at the forefront, evaluating which direction to proceed with. 

Legolas settled himself on the ground, leaning his back against the cool stone surface. Keeping (Y/N) in his lap, he gently adjusted her position, allowing her head to rest upon his chest and shoulder, her face nestled against the curve of his neck. Finding a moment of reprieve, he let out a soft sigh and pressed his head against the wall behind him, shutting his eyes. With a soothing touch, he traced gentle strokes along the Rámaite Mahtar's cheek, passing the time with rest.

It felt like only minutes, even though he knew it was hours, when Gandalf called for them to follow. Legolas begrudgingly stood with (Y/N) in his arms.

“Legolas,” Aragorn’s voice softly sounded beside him. “Let me take her.”

The elf turned to face his friend. “It’s alright. I’ve got her.” 

The Ranger shook his head. “You must keep some strength if we are to make it through this mine. Exhaustion will do you no good. I will watch over her, even if it’s just for a little while.”

Legolas exhaled slowly but dipped his head in agreement. He knew Aragorn was right. As an elf, he had senses that would allow him to slay twice as many servants of darkness. If they were to come across any enemies, they would need him—especially with their strongest weapon now unconscious. Therefore, he passed (Y/N) to Aragorn.

The Ranger was careful as he took her into his arms, her wings hanging limp around him and brushing upon the dusty floor. “Valar—“ he mumbled. “You weren’t kidding about her weight.” 

Legolas smirked lightly. “If she is too heavy, I can take her back.”

The Ranger grunted. “No, no. I’m fine.” 

The elf raised his brows but followed the others.

Legolas kept an eye on Aragorn and (Y/N) as they moved. Though it wasn't out of distrust or jealousy, it was out of concern. He could sense, as the minutes passed and as the terrain roughened, the Ranger began to tire. However, it seemed he was not the only one who could tell. 

Boromir approached Aragorn. “You look like you could use a break. I will carry her.” 

Aragorn let out a low—and slightly strained—laugh. “Are you certain? Legolas wasn’t mistaken about her weight.” 

The Gondorian bobbed his head. “I hardly believe she is that much to bear.” 

“Suit yourself,” the Ranger replied as he passed the winged warrior to the other man. 

“By the Creator….” Boromir immediately gruffed out. 

Now it was Aragorn’s turn to tease. “I warned you.” 

“That you did,” the Gondorian grunted. He then nodded ahead. “We don’t want to get left behind. Let’s keep moving.” 

However, it wasn’t long before Boromir approached Legolas. “I won’t ever doubt the strength of you and your people again,” he expressed, accompanied by a warm smile. “Are you able to carry your girl again?” 

Legolas nodded, guilt flickering in his heart for his previous rude demeanor towards the man. “Yes. Thank you, Boromir. I appreciate your help.”

The Gondorian nodded in understanding before he passed (Y/N) back towards the elf. 

…..

As the days passed, (Y/N) still hadn’t woken, which proved to be worrisome. The wound upon her forehead had healed, leaving only a light scar that Legolas knew would disappear in a couple days. The swelling upon the back of her head vanished as well, providing even more confusion to her still unconscious state. She would stir here and there, but never did those curious, (e/c) eyes open. If she had survived a fall from the Valar’s incarceration, why was she remaining unconscious from a strike of the lake’s beast?

Still, they could not wait on her to wake. They had to push further. So, the fellowship continued to pass through Moria in secret, observing the dwarven wonders as they did so. However, it was ignorant to hope that that secrecy would last—and as soon as the corpse of an old dwarf tumbled down that well, they knew they were discovered. 

It all happened so fast. 

Legolas barely had time to place (Y/N)’s form down against Balin’s tomb before the doors were splintering, revealing orc faces dripping with evil desire. 

However, at the first clank of a sword, there came at least one good act.

A large gasp, loud and alarm-filled, struck the air. The Rámaite Mahtar jolted upright. In an instant, her wings snapped back to life, shedding their previously limp state, and surged outward with lethal swiftness. As they unfurled, they decapitated three nearby orcs.

Legolas could only manage to call out her name in relief before he too was consumed by the battle. 

With (Y/N) ripping the vile creatures into pieces, even faster than the elf, the fellowship had thought they had a chance. Well, that was until one sentence left the Gondorian’s lips.

“They have a fucking cave troll.” 

From then on, it was a blur. Each member of the group was fighting for their lives—including the hobbits. Though all their hearts stopped when Frodo called out in pain and crumbled to the ground. Shrieks of fear left every member’s lips as Aragorn desperately rushed to his body. Those heartaching cries, however, quieted when Frodo’s small voice sang out clearly. “It’s alright. I’m not hurt.” 

Then they were running again, and again, and again. 

The immense chamber teemed with a horde of orcs, swarming across every surface—the ground, walls, and ceiling. So much so, that the members of the quest were encircled by them, barely having room to breathe. A sort of stalemate settled in, both sides waiting for the other to make the first move.

(Y/N)’s wings twitched as she rotated, readying herself.

Though a fight did not come—not from the thousands of revolting beings. 

Badum, badum, badum. 

Each member of the fellowship spun and turned at that sound. 

Badum, badum, badum. 

The orcs faltered and swiveled their heads. 

Badum, badum, badum. 

Panic then erupted. The grotesque creatures scrambled to flee. They shoved and pushed one and other as their gangly forms scurried away—back to the hellhole that they came from. 

Badum, badum, badum. 

“What is this new devilry?” Boromir whispered. 

Badum, badum, badum. 

Gandalf sucked in a deep breath. “A balrog of Morgoth.”

(Y/N)’s heart froze. 

“A demon of the ancient world,” Gandalf continued. “This foe is beyond any of you. RUN!”

It was here that the fellowship mimicked the goblins—though with more care for one another. They took off down the vast hallway as they made for the Bridge of Khazad Dum. Their legs moved quicker than they ever would have thought possible—stopping only when there was a gap in a path above the fiery abyss.

Legolas was the first to leap across, his nimble form making it appear easy. Gandalf was the next to make the jump. Merry and Pippin were to follow with Boromir; however, they were halted as arrows shot at their feet—just nearly missing. 

(Y/N) whipped her head around, just in time to see another projectile whizzing straight towards Boromir. 

The Rámaite Mahtar was quick to lift her wing in front of him. The fine tip pierced her instantly, causing a deep grunt of pain to exit her lips. The arrow went through the feathery flesh, but halted as it got stuck in tight muscle—only inches away from Boromir’s forehead. 

The Gondorian’s wide eyes shifted to her—in thanks, in shock, in guilt. 

Legolas quickly turned and fired his bow, taking out the archer. 

“Go!” (Y/N) shouted as she lowered her wing. 

With that, Boromir grabbed Merry and Pippin and leaped onto the other side. His feet landed just before the section they had previously stood on collapsed. 

(Y/N) was next. She lifted her wings slightly, despite the pain, to give herself more of a drift. As she landed she shuffled close to Merry and Pippin and ripped the arrow from her wing with a groan.

As Legolas caught Sam and then Gimli—by the beard—another arrow whizzed past the hobbits’ head. 

Once again, the Rámaite Mahtar shielded them—earning two more arrows in the wing. 

By the time Frodo and Aragorn finagled their way across the ever growing gap, the Balrog was upon them. 

The fellowship were fleeing as fast as they possibly could. A few brave souls dared to steal a glance behind, their hearts pounding in their chests. Among them was Frodo, and as his eyes locked onto the fiery menace descending upon Gandalf, a cry of terror escaped his lips. The collective gaze of the group shifted at that, now drawn to the scene unfolding before them. They then bore witness.

The wizard stood strong. His deep voice, full of power and protection, echoed through the cavern. “You cannot pass.” 

The Balrog attacked. Gandalf defended. 

“I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow!”

Once again, the Balrog attacked. Gandalf defended. 

The wizard brought his sword and staff crashing down upon the bridge, a resounding boom echoing through the air. His voice then thundered, filled with unwavering determination. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" Those words seemed to reverberate through the chamber, carrying the weight of his command across the stone. In that moment, he stood as a barrier, defying the very force that sought to destroy them and their mission.

The bridge began to crumble. Piece by piece, the stone began to fall, taking the Balrog with it. 

Gandalf inhaled deeply. 

It was done. 

The whip, however, lashed out one final time. With a swift motion, it coiled around the wizard's ankle, forcefully pulling him off his feet. In a fleeting moment, he was airborne, his body suspended before gravity claimed its prize. Gandalf’s hands flailed, desperately reaching out for anything to anchor him to the bridge's edge. His fingers found the stone and his nails dug in. Though, he knew he had no chance. He wished only to leave a message for the one who looked up to him the most.

Frodo cried out once again, lunging for his mentor and friend.

Boromir, however, wrapped a strong arm around him and held him back. 

The little hobbit, sobbing, held eye contact with the wizard. 

“Fly you fools,” Gandalf whispered. 

Then, he too, was gone. 

Frodo screamed, his cry intertwining with that of his fellow hobbits, creating a symphony of despair that echoed through the burning darkness.

However, they weren’t the only ones to have a profound reaction.

Surprisingly, (Y/N) rushed forward. She sprinted down the bridge, her legs carrying her fast, but she wasn’t fast enough. Legolas anticipated what she was going to do. He saw how her strides stretched wide and how her wings extended. She was gonna jump. Reacting swiftly, he took off after her. His paces were wider and his speed was quick. Just as she was about to push herself into the air, Legolas grabbed onto her waist and yanked her backward. The unstable bridge trembled under the sudden motion, threatening to give way, but the elf maintained his balance and steadied the winged woman in his grasp.

“LEGOLAS!” she snapped in fierce anger. Her threatening gaze—one that he had only seen directed towards enemies—poured into him, almost incinerating his soul. 

“IT’S TOO LATE!” He barked back, ignoring the startlement that just flushed his veins and choosing to focus on the bridge crumbling beneath their feet. “RUN!” 

With that he tugged her in the opposite direction, following the remaining members of the fellowship. 

When they burst from the mines, their souls shattered like fragile glass. The hobbits collapsed upon the stony ground, their tears flowing freely, their sorrow reverberating through their chests. Agonized grimaces etched themselves onto the faces of Gimli and Boromir. Aragorn tried his best to conceal his pain, though his grey eyes betrayed him with hidden turmoil. And Legolas? He stood motionless, disbelief written across his face.

(Y/N), however, snapped him out of it. She pushed her palms against his chest, hard. “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”

He twisted to look at her. “What?”

“Why did you stop me?!” The Rámaite Mahtar quipped back aggressively. She grasped onto the two arrows still embedded in her wing. She yanked them out. “I COULD HAVE SAVED HIM!” 

Legolas shook his head, his tone calm and full of despair. “No, (Y/N). No, you could not.”

Her hands ran through her hair, frantically and angrily, the strands tangled and pulled on as she sought release from the overwhelming emotions rippling through her blood. A frustrated scream escaped her lips—a raw manifestation of these turbulent feelings surging. With a sudden burst, she spun back around, facing him with eyes ablaze. “I have killed one of those–those balrogs!” She took an enraged step towards him. “My legion and I bleed one dry of its fire! And you—”

Legolas interrupted her, his tone now picking up. “And I stopped you from killing yourself! You and your legion—”

“Legolas!—”

He grabbed onto her shoulders as his next words raced across the stones, silencing the area from all but tears. “YOUR LEGION ISN'T HERE!” 

The wind skipped through the leaves of the trees, uneasy at the elf’s sudden tone. It blew gently upon the despairing people, begging to kiss their skin with some kind of hope, but only succeeding in tearing their hearts further. Still, it continued its melancholic dance. Seemingly carrying the weight of their shattered souls with its whispering of sorrowful melodies. 

Nature itself mourned alongside (Y/N) as she stared, bewildered, at Legolas. 

The Prince closed his eyes and lowered his head. He inhaled deeply, regretting his tone. After a moment, now returned to his normal steady and calm temperament, he gazed into her eyes and spoke again. “(Y/N), your legion is not here and they will remain absent. They were not present to help you defeat this Balrog and they will not come to help you fight others. They are imprisoned, beyond your reach. They won't escape as you did—not now, not after you have. The chains will have been fortified and the gates sealed with blood. You are the sole Rámaite Mahtar that will ever step on these lands.” He paused, his tone now a whisper. “You are alone.”

(Y/N)’s expression distorted. Her brows crinkled, her lips quivered, her eyes watered, and her form shook. Emotions whipped through her blood, boiling and freezing in the pain of realization and acceptance. She supposed a part of her had thought that her race would eventually return with her—join her in learning this plane. Though now that that secret hope was exposed and disproven, there was nothing else to be said. The truth stood liberated from the web of self-created falsehoods that had previously concealed it.

“(Y/N),” Legolas whispered, realizing the dream he had just shattered. 

And that was all it took. 

A loud sob escaped her throat and tears pooled down her face. She flung her form into his arms and cried.

She cried and she cried—as loudly as the hobbits. 

And Legolas held her. He rocked her back and forth as he smoothed her hair, desperately trying to keep her safe from the pain, though he knew it was too late. He pressed a kiss to her head as he whispered into her ear. “Though you may be alone among your kind, I will forever be by your side.”

…..

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6

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[mccarthawrites]

Friends With Benefits

Relationship: Matt Simmons/OC!Lucy Rivera

Rating: General Audience

Summary: Matt and Lucy see each other again and briefly discuss their relationship.

Author's Note: I am taking a hiatus after this. But I don't plan to be gone long. Not allowing myself to write anything unless inspiration strikes.

Words: 1,348

Strike Zone Masterlist || Criminal Minds Masterlist

Lucy approached the large black door with a silver nameplate that read: McClellan Suite. Checking the text from Matt to make sure she was in the right place, she reluctantly knocked on the door. Wishing he had met her in the lobby, but how would that have looked? It wasn’t the first time she showed up at a hotel for a hook-up with a hot athlete. But there was something about Matt. No. She wasn’t going to allow feelings to get between her and good sex. No, not good. Great. She was about to knock again when he opened the door.

“Hi.” He smiled, having been looking forward to seeing her again. He wore an olive green henley and a silver chain with the Wolverines mascot pendant.

“Hey.”

“Uh- come on in.” He welcomed her into the suite. “How are you?”

“I’m alright.” She nodded. “How’ve you been? Congrats on a successful season. You guys killed it.”

“Thanks, but I think we shat the bed in the last game.” He scoffed.

“I wouldn’t say a tie is shitting the bed. At least you didn’t bomb like the Cyclones. Their worst season in like fifteen years. Something like that.” She laughed.

“Can I get you something to drink?” He asked. “I was thinking about ordering a bottle of wine or something. Is that alright?” He asked, walking to the hotel phone.

“I will never say no to wine.”

“Any preference?” He picked up the receiver.

“Whatever you choose is fine. I’m not picky.” She replied, looking around the suite. It was the nicest one she’d been in since ending her engagement. She walked to the windows overlooking the city. Looking down at the city passing by.

“Yes, thank you.” Matt hung up the phone. “The wine will be arriving shortly.” He reported.

“This might be the nicest suite in the city.” She told him. “Plus you have a great view.”

“You should see the view in the bedroom.” He replied, joining her by the windows. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant-”

“Relax. It was hot.” She couldn’t hide her smile. “Very hot.” She pulled him in for a kiss. “Why don’t you show me the view?”

“Is it lame to admit I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again?” He asked.

“It is lame, but it’s cute.” She laughed, kissing him again. Placing his hands on her hips, he walked her backward until her ass hit the back of the sofa. She pulled at his shirt as he grinded against her, pressing her body into the sofa. He pulled his shirt over his head. Lucy kissed his jawline, down his neck, getting a quiet moan in response. She began unbuttoning his jeans when a knock on the door interrupted them.

“Oh shit.” Matt quickly grabbed his shirt from the floor, put it back on, and ran to open the door. As expected, the wine he ordered had arrived. As soon as he closed the door again, Lucy burst out laughing. He looked at her.

“That was my fault. Got too carried away.” She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. Matt chuckled.

“Should I bring this to the room or-”

“Yeah. Why not?” She shrugged. “Do you have condoms or should we call down to the front desk and have someone send us a box?” She teased.

“Thanks for reminding me about that. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

“It worked in your favor in the end, didn’t it? Come on. Show me that view you were talking about.”

Lucy stood in front of the windows in the bedroom, wine glass in hand admiring the view.

“The New York City skyline is one of, if not the best skylines in the country, maybe even the world.” Matt joined her.

“Can’t argue with that. Part of the reason I came back.” She replied.

“You’ve ever thought of living anywhere else?” He asked.

“Not after Miami. I’ve got no reason to leave the city again. I have everything I could ever want here.” She explained. “What about you? Ever think about leaving Michigan? Have you ever left besides traveling?”

“I was born in Carson City. Got recruited right out of college. I haven’t had a reason to live anywhere else. But I do like New York. I don’t know if I’d ever move here, but I enjoy visiting.”

“That’s fair. The city isn’t for everyone.” She shrugged. “Especially not someone from a small town.”

“You ever been to Carson City?” He asked.

“Don’t think I’ve been anywhere in Michigan.” She told him.

“Maybe I can show you around sometime.” He proposed. “Can take you out on my boat.”

“You have a boat?”

“Yeah.”

“That is a tempting offer.” She replied, turning towards him. “Do the Wolverines sell chains or is that a custom piece?”

“This?” He held the pendant of his chain. “It was a gift when I first got recruited.”

“From an ex-girlfriend?”

“From my mom, actually.” He replied. “She was so excited when I first joined the team.”

“That’s adorable.” She cautiously held the small golden pendant, admiring the detail. Turning it over, she saw the engraving: Proud of you. It made her smile. “That’s sweet. Are you close with your mom?”

“Yeah. We were before she passed.”

“Sorry to hear that.” She gently dropped the pendant. “I was asking about it because I want to get something like that for my dad.”

“Speaking of your dad-” He put his glass down and opened his suitcase. “You said he was a big fan of the Wolverines, so I got the guys to sign a ball for him.” He pulled out a ball, wrapped in a shirt.

“You’re joking, right?” She asked.

“No. I figured- is it too much?” He asked. Derek’s words echoed in his head.

“What? No! My dad is going to flip. I can’t believe you remembered.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome. If you or your dad are ever in the Carson City area, let me know and if the season is on, I’ll put some tickets to the side for you.”

“Thanks, Matt. I should get going before Andi puts out an Amber Alert for me.” She joked.

“Andi? Is that your- boyfriend?” He asked. She laughed.

“No. Andi is my roommate and best friend who sometimes worries about me a little too much.” She replied.

“You don’t have to leave so soon. At least help me finish the bottle. You snuck out on me last time.”

“In my defense, I thought it was a one-night stand.” She laughed as she began getting dressed.

“Fair enough. Can I see you again before I leave? Maybe take you out to dinner? Something a bit fancier than pizza?” He asked. She stopped and looked at him.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Look, Matt, I think you’re great. And we have a good time together, but- I’m not looking for anything serious right now. If you thought that’s what this is, then I’m sorry if I led you on.” She told him. “I just want something casual, but if that’s not something you’re into then I respect that.”

“I’m not looking for anything serious either.” He lied.

“‘Something a bit fancier than pizza’ sounds like a date.” She replied.

“Or it can be dinner between friends. I mean assuming we are friends.” He teased.

“That would make us friends with benefits. Is that okay?”

“As long as I get to see you every time I come to New York.” He smiled.

“Glad to know we’re on the same page.” She returned the smile, as she continued getting dressed. “When are you going home?”

“Wednesday.”

“Do you have plans Tuesday night?” She asked. “I can take you to one of my favorite spots in the city.”

“Okay. Sounds good.” He walked her to the door. “Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night? It’s late.”

“Gotta get home. Give Andi all the dirty details.” She laughed. “I’ll be okay. I’ll see you on Tuesday. I’ll text you the details. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Get home safe.”

[deadratio]

(Ghost) Riders in the Sky Ch.6

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x fem!reader

Summary: GhostRider was once considered one of the best naval pilots on the West coast. She was top of her class, and had the proof for the pudding. That all changed one day, though, when she and her very best friend are sent on a mission that turned deadly. She was never the same, and ran away from her problems. What will she do when she’s forced to face the demons that taunt her on a daily basis, and the man who she once thought she resented?

Word count: 2.0k

Warnings: Soft and sad tbh

A/N: Hey y'all! Here's chapter 6! I would like to thank everybody who has read my pic since I started it, I can't express how much I appreciate you!

Please be aware that this story, along with all of my others, will likely be on a hiatus beginning August 15th, which is when I begin my final semester for college! I will definitely still be working on my pics, just not as quickly as I would like.

I also apologize to those who I’ve tagged but it isn’t actually tagging. I don’t know how to fix it :’(

Happy reading! <3

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Ghost woke up suddenly, lifting her head to observe her surroundings. She could only remember half the night, and it took her a moment to recall exactly what had happened and how she found herself tangled in Jake Seresins limbs. His breathing was soft and even, still asleep. She looked around briefly again, finding that they were thankfully both still clothed. She knew sometimes she could remove a clothing item or two in her sleep, and wouldn’t have been surprised if she had because of how hot they were laying on the blanket together. 

She slowly attempted to lift herself from between his arms and legs, knowing that she really had to pee, but also didn’t want to wake him up any earlier. She glanced over to the clock on the wall, finding the time reading 6AM. A sigh of relief left her lungs, thankful that they hadn’t overslept. 

Slowly but surely, she freed herself of the grip Jake had on her, pulling the blanket back over his chest. She tiptoed to the bathroom, thankful that she didn’t have to travel to the public restrooms. Finally able to relieve herself, Ghost washed her hands before stopping to think about how she was going to get herself back home in order to change into uniform. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the bathroom door, a very sleepy Hangman cracking the door slightly. “Hey, Ghost, I really gotta go, can I…” He said, his voice deep from sleep.

GhostRider could have melted at the sound, but she instead held herself together, nodding as she opened the door to exit. She then stood in his room, quickly finding her bag. She dug out the dress from the day before, looking to make sure Jake wasn’t leaving the bathroom before stripping her shirt and shorts off and slipping the dress on. 

She had just pulled the hem down to her knees when he entered the room again, running his hand through his hair. She couldn’t deny that he looked extremely handsome like this, not put together at all and almost disheveled-looking. They stood in a momentary silence before GhostRider opened her mouth.

“So, uh…I guess I have to get back to my house to change,” She started, licking her lips. “I know you left your truck at The Hard Deck, but is there any way we could try to get it?” She asked, biting her lower lip.

Jake studied her for a moment, noting how quickly she had gotten ready. Her hair was still in the bun from last night, a few loose strands sticking out now. He didn’t know exactly how she could look even more beautiful than she already did, but he had never seen her like this…It was a sight he wanted to get used to.

“Of course, Ghost. I don’t mind at all. Just let me get ready and we can get on our way.” He told her, turning towards the uniforms hung up. She nodded, neatly placing her garments back into her bag. She slipped her shoes on while she was at it. She heard Jake shuffling through his drawers, probably looking for a pair of underwear.

She finished getting her things all in line while he slipped back into the bathroom to change. She looked around the room, finding the makeshift cot on the floor as Jake had left it when he had gotten into bed. She decided it would be unkind of her to leave the bed the way it was, practically destroyed from the two of them sleeping in it. 

Moving quickly, she placed the pillows onto the duvet on the floor. She pulled the blanket to the top of the bed, smoothing it out. She wasn’t exactly sure how Jake liked his bed to be made, but made every effort to make it look neat. She moved the pillows back to their original location, next lifting the duvet from the ground, shaking it out. She was sure his floor was clean, considering the neatness of everything else, but knew that you could never be too sure. 

She folded the duvet into a long rectangle, setting it on the foot of the bed. She took a seat on the edge, tapping her feet on the floor. She knew he had to take his time to be presentable, she’s lived by the same rules for just as long as him. 

Jake sighed when he opened the bathroom door, looking up from the floor to see that his bed had been made, and the makeshift cot was gone. His eyes found Ghost’s, noting the nervous movement of her legs. He grabs a pair of socks from one of his drawers, pulling a pair of shoes from under his other uniforms. 

He sits next to GhostRider, his shoulder knocking hers. She looks up to him, finding him staring right back at her. She isn’t entirely sure she can kiss him just then, like she wants to. She faces away from him, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. She listens as he puts his shoes on, fumbling with her fingers in her lap. She feels his weight leave the bed and looks back up to him. She grabs her bag, standing with him.

“I already called for an Uber.” She told him, awkwardly waiting for him to initiate leaving. It wasn’t that she couldn’t, she just didn’t want to get caught leaving his room. 

Jake nods, making sure he has everything he needs before leading the way to the door. GhostRider follows behind him, stepping out after he opens the door. She glances in both directions and finds that nobody else has left their room yet, ever thankful for the grace of whatever god above granted her this peace of mind. 

Jake walks closely behind her as they make their way to the front of the base, knowing damn well that they would easily get spotted if anybody decided to take a morning run. Their trek is silent, the emotions from last night still hanging stale in the air between the two of them. 

The uber GhostRider ordered arrives shortly once they finally get to a place where they can be picked up, Jake opening the back passenger door for her. She nods to him in thanks, smoothing out her dress over her knees. Jake rounds the back end of the car, slipping in next to her.

The ride back over to The Hard Deck is just as quiet as it had been the night before, except this silence was something you could slice a knife through. 

GhostRider knew that she needed to talk to Jake about last night, to fully understand where they stood with each other. If they would go on with each other or go their separate ways after the mission. Jake looked over to her, admiring her features. He wanted nothing but to hold her in his arms forever, to be her guide and comfort in life. There was a mound of obstacles they would have to work through first, though.

They made it to The Hard Deck rather quickly, Jake leaving the driver another tip. They waved them off before turning to each other, GhostRider letting out a deep breath. She wasn’t exactly sure how to tell Jake that she wanted him for life, for eternity, as long as eternity was for the both of them.

“I’ll be right back, I’ve got to go get the keys from the lockbox.” He said to her, turning away to jog over to the box Penny would put leftover keys in from the night before. Jake had done this plenty of times, and the code clearly hadn’t changed from when he had done it last, the door opening to reveal his truck keys. 

GhostRider stood by the truck, admiring the deep blue color of it. It was a newer model Dodge, she wasn’t exactly sure which one though. She knew more about planes than she did trucks, but as long as it got her to and from this spot to her rental house she didn’t care.

Jake unlocked the doors, kindly moving to open the passenger door for her. Thanking him, she found it surprising that she didn’t struggle to get in, considering the height of the vehicle. He closed the door behind her, rounding the truck before hopping into the driver's side seat. He put her address into the GPS on the screen and pulled out of the parking lot.

Jake's mind raced as he drove to her rental, wondering exactly how things would go down now that they had both revealed their feelings for each other. He wanted her to know everything he ever thought about her, everything he loved and admired about her. But he knew she wasn’t ready, and wouldn’t be for a long time. 

GhostRider found serenity in watching the beach pass them by, the crashing ocean waves rippling in the morning sunlight. She felt comfortable in this position. Being in the passenger seat of Jake’s truck, riding past the beach…If only it could remain that way forever. 

The view quickly changed from the ocean and sandy beach to the suburban houses that surrounded her rental. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Jake clearing his throat, briefly looking over to her. She met his gaze before he returned his attention to the road. 

She didn’t want to say anything just yet. She wanted to get home and be in a place where she could safely talk to him about it all. She didn’t think talking to Jake about how she felt while he was driving would be the smartest idea, so she left it be until they pulled up to the house. 

She didn’t wait for Jake to open the door for her this time, a little too eager to get inside, into a more open space. He was hot on her trail, standing a little too close behind her as she opened the door. 

“G, please talk to me.” He said when they both entered, closing the door behind him. 

She barely stopped in her tracks, standing at the base of the staircase. She contemplated what to say to him, how to say anything to him at all…

“Jake, I just-” She started, turning to face him. “I just don’t know how to do it. How to give myself to someone, even if I want them so badly it’s almost painful. I haven’t been with anybody since before the incident, and I don’t even know where to start.” She told him,  holding back tears. She really needed to stop crying or else her eyes were going to go dry.

Jake looked at her somewhat shocked, mostly because she was revealing a part of herself that likely no other person had seen. He approached her, taking her hands in his. He rubbed circles into her soft skin, lifting them to press a gentle kiss to the backs of her hands.

“G, trust me when I say this,” He says, looking down at her. “I am here for you, and I always will be. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. If you wanted to kick me to the curb and say to hell with me, I would respect your wishes. If you want us to do…whatever it is we’re doing, we can take it slow. I don’t expect anything.” 

Ghostrider nodded her head, looking back up at him. “Jake, I can’t explain to you how much I appreciate that. I think I just need some time to think it over. I’m not asking you to step away, just back a little bit. I’m not quite ready.” 

Jake nods, releasing her hands. Ghostrider leans up to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, so much. I’ll see you later on base. I’ve got to get ready.” She told him, turning to go upstairs.

Jake smiled sadly at her before watching her disappear around the corner. He knew it would be better for her, but he couldn’t explain the pain it brought him to see how hurt she was after all these years. He would hold out for her, though. He would make sure that she was well aware that he was there for her, and support her in any way she would allow him.

Tag List:

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[mcwriting]

just say I Do

I have been super active lately which is vv weird for me but this has been in my drafts all summer and I thought now was a good time to post it since wedding season is coming to a close :)

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 2945

Warnings: alcohol mention; slight angst with happy ending

§

She was a walking red flag from the moment she refused to laugh at your jokes.

Sure that sounds like a stupid reason, but more little "quirks," as Tom liked to call them, made themselves present the more he talked about Alaina.

He had been one of your best friends for years, but now he refused to listen.

"She doesn't trust us to hang out anymore?" you had asked incredulously.

"No, no. She's just insecure with the idea of us being alone together. That's all," he tried to reassure you. "I want to prove that I'm trustworthy."

Insecure

Code for "I don't trust you at all but I'm gonna keep using you for my benefit."

She had no reason not to trust him. You'd been in the friendzone for years and neither of you would ever cross a boundary. He was the most trustworthy person you knew.

After a couple weeks of his blatant ignorance of each red flag, you decided saving him from this relationship could never happen. You'd just have to let him drown in it.

So, you kept your mouth shut and ears open every time you hung out as he dumped all of her problems onto you. She'd turned him into her personal therapist and now you'd become his.

Regardless of how much you'd tried to extend an olive branch to her, she denied it every time, continually trying to push you away from her and, subsequently, Tom.

After months of this, yours and Tom's friendship eventually phased itself out.

Years of memories left in the dust .

You were almost happy, though. No more emotional trauma dumps every time you hung out with Tom. No more unnecessary hostility from Alaina. No more hiding your long-standing feelings.

You'd actually tried to tell him how you felt months earlier, but that got squashed when the "big news" he needed to tell you was that he had met someone. That "someone" being Alaina, of course.

You'd finally decompressed from all of the Tom drama when life decided to ramp up again as Harrison popped the all-important question to your female best friend, Rebecca.

The day after his proposal, she'd asked you to be maid of honor and you were quickly thrown into helping plan a wedding.

So you did your job: dress shopping, party planning, and shower throwing.

One unfortunate happenstance was that Tom was Harrison's best man, meaning that you had to see him again, especially within the month before the ceremony.

However, as the month moved forward, you and Tom had reconnected, your friendship much more lighthearted than how you'd left it previously. While Tom still talked about Alaina on occasion, he was no longer dumping everything onto you.

She still showed up to certain things, like a wedding shower and some parties, but you were mostly able to avoid her hostility and focus on Rebecca and Harrison.

Finally, after months and months of planning, the rehearsal dinner came, and you were almost hoping they'd just sign the papers that night and call it a wedding.

You were in the bridal suite touching up your lipstick as Rebecca and Harrison talked with the minister when Alaina appeared behind you, arms crossed.

"What's your angle, y/l/n?"

You furrowed your brows but didn't turn around, continuing to carefully apply the liquid lip as you just looked at her reflection.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sister. I'm just here to watch my best friend get married tomorrow."

"Don't play dumb. I know you're trying to get between me and Tom," she huffed.

"I can guarantee that's not what's going on here. We're friends again. That's all."

"You've been trying to squeeze your way into our relationship ever since it started. Forcing Tom to hang out with you alone, always texting him..."

You screwed the lipstick shut and stood up, whipping around to interrupt her.

"I'm sorry, what? I never forced him to do anything. He and I actually started communicating less once you two got together. You know, I knew you were insecure but I didn't think it was this bad."

"Well you've still been trying to pry us apart, even after your little friendship hiatus."

"Honey, I'm the reason he even asked you to make it official. He was too scared of committing, but I told him to pull the trigger and make you his girlfriend. Now I get that you have family trauma and the whole thing with your parents but-"

When she cut you off you knew you'd made a mistake. She wasn't supposed to know what all Tom had told you.

"You know what about me?"

You took in a sharp breath, unsure how to answer. An awkward pause fell between you.

"Everything. I know almost every damn thing about you. You were using Tom as a therapist and he took it to me. And I'm sorry about everything that's happened to you but I was almost glad when you forced me out of his life for a little bit because it meant I could finally deal with my own problems for once."

She continued to stare at you, stunned.

I- everything?" she breathed. You nodded, somber. "Why would he do that?"

"Dude. We were best friends for years. Told each other everything. Always went to each other to talk through the deep stuff. He didn't really know how to handle the stuff you were telling him. I wouldn't blame him for wanting to tell someone."

"But you know all this... stuff about me!"

"And those things aren't what shaped my opinion of you! Sure, it gave me some insight into your personality, but you can't let that stuff define you. You aren't going to get any real help dumping it all on your boyfriend, either."

"What are you trying to say, y/n?"

"I'm saying that him telling me everything shouldn't be the real problem here. The problem is that the whole relationship is toxic. Break up or don't, but you both need help. Tom isn't your therapist and if that's all you want him for then he shouldn't be your boyfriend. You both deserve better."

Each of you sat in that statement for a moment. After all of the frustration and anger, you'd chosen to channel it into something constructive.

Alaina had a look of defeat. You'd expected anger from her after everything.

"Yeah. Maybe we do. I just can't believe I couldn't trust him with the most important things in my life. Maybe I shouldn't have been trying to keep you apart all this time. I really should've been getting you together."

"What? No, Alaina don't say that-"

"Do you know where Tom is?"

"Come on don't do this right now-"

"Y/n just tell me where he is."

"I- You were the last one with him as far as I know. You came in here after I did."

In silence, she nodded and exited, leaving you alone again with a pit in your stomach.

You quickly tried to straighten yourself out, taking one last look in the mirror before you walked out and faked a smile.

"Oh! There you are! We're gonna get started on the rehearsal now!" Rebecca said as she caught you in the hall. "Just head outside and if you see Tom, tell him to come, too."

You did see him as you headed that way. His lips were pressed into a tight grimace as Alaina quietly talked to him near the building's entrance.

His eyes caught yours briefly and you gestured your head towards the alter, tapping your wrist. He gave a small nod of recognition and Alaina turned to see you in the distance, giving you a sad grin.

Tom started to tell her that he needed to go rehearse when she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Bye, Tom. Keep in mind what I told you," she said, leaning up to press a kiss on his cheek before walking off to her car, leaving for good.

You could tell he trying not to seem sad as he followed not far behind you to join everyone else.

When Rebecca returned, she was excitedly telling everyone the plan for walking down the aisle, deciding to pair bridesmaids with groomsmen as there was an equal number.

The pit in your stomach grew when you realized that meant you and Tom would be paired together.

The pairs lined up, you and Tom having to be last. You knew it would take a while when the flower girls took forever to walk the aisle and the first male/female pair couldn't figure out their cue.

Your arm was looped in Tom's but you had never felt so apart from him. Both of you were stiff, trying not to move too much.

"Alaina dumped me," he finally whispered, leaning over to tell you, as your heels brought you close to his height.

Your head stayed forward as your gaze fell to the ground.

"I figured as much. I tried to talk her out of it but... you know."

"Yeah."

There was another heavy silence.

"I'm really sorry, Tom," you started, but he cut you off.

"Don't. We just need to focus on Becca and Haz," he bit back, stone-faced.

You wanted to say something more, but you were cut off by Rebecca telling you your cue and getting you to walk the aisle in sync.

You couldn't look at Tom the rest of the night and hardly touched your dinner as your thoughts ran wild of how to make things up to him.

You couldn't tell Rebecca what happened. This was her time to shine, and you figured if Tom were to tell Harrison anything, it would just be that they'd broken up.

A couple speeches were made about the happy couple and finally it was over, all of you nervously ready for the real ceremony tomorrow.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you made it out without talking to Tom again.

The next morning, things ramped up as the bridal party got ready while sipping mimosas. Everything felt frantic because you felt the need to supervise and take stress off the bride.

It didn't help that you were still stressing over Tom.

You went into the bathroom to catch your breath, trying to maintain a positive facade.

When you stepped out, you found Rebecca looking beautiful as ever in front of you, but you quickly recognized the look on her face.

"Lets go to the balcony real quick. I feel like we need to talk."

You followed her out, both of your robes flowing in a soft breeze as the sun shone down happily. She handed you another mimosa as she leaned over the railing.

"Harrison told me about Tom. Said it was a pretty big deal."

You groaned, trying not to facepalm over your freshly done makeup.

"Becca we shouldn't be talking about this right now. We need to focus on your wedding-" you started, reaching for the door handle.

"Y/n. I want to talk about this. And I hear you're supposed to listen to the bride on her wedding day," she chuckled. You rolled your eyes and smirked.

"Fine. Yeah, they broke up. And it's all my fault and Tom's probably pissed at me but whatever. It's fine."

"From what I hear he's not as mad as he probably should be. It's been a long time coming, you were just the catalyst. Just think how much longer it would've taken for them to pull their heads outta their asses without you."

"He's not mad?"

"Doesn't sound like it. I think you guys need to talk about it, though."

You sighed.

"We will, eventually. We both agreed yesterday that we just need to focus on you two right now."

"You know that's gonna be hard, right? I mean, you're both gonna be stuck together from pictures up until after the ceremony."

"Yeah, yeah. I promise I won't ruin your wedding. Can't speak for Tom, though," you joked, holding your glass up towards hers.

"I'll take your word for it," she replied, clinking her own glass against yours.

§

The bride and groom weren't ones for superstition, so you took wedding photos before the ceremony to maximize lighting and time with the guests later.

You didn't talk to Tom at all, but neither of you could keep from making quick eye contact between shots.

Finally the time had came for guests to begin arriving and the big moment to actually come.

After some last minute touch ups, the wedding party greeted guests as the countdown began. Once things were in place, you all went back into the building to line up, ready to start.

Again, you and Tom were linked together, waiting in bated breath.

"Alaina told me something yesterday before she left," Tom whispered.

You hummed in response.

"Yeah. Said I never really loved her."

"What makes her think that?" you asked, trying to pay attention to those ahead of you in line as music started playing outside.

"She told me I probably loved you," he replied casually.

Your eyes widened as you turned to look at him in shock. Again you wanted to reply but Tom tugged your arm and started stepping forward.

"Oh, looks like it's our time to shine."

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you walked down the aisle, seeing familiar faces as a blush rose to your cheeks before you both separated at the alter, leaving an empty spot between you and Harrison.

You pretty much forgot all of the nervousness when you watched your beautiful best friend come down the aisle with her dad. Harrison was tearing up and you were fighting back your own.

The ceremony began and throughout it, you and Tom continued to look past the couple and steal glances of each other.

When the vows finally came, you actually were crying, pulling a hidden tissue from your bouquet to dab your eyes as you watched with a watery grin. They had written their own vows.

You still couldn't help but watch Tom, though, as the two professed their love in front of everyone.

When they finished, the minister was given the rings and the most important part came.

"Now, Harrison, do you take Rebecca to be your wife? Will you love and cherish her for the rest of your days?"

The groom said I do, but you could only see Tom mouthing the same words to you.

When Rebecca was asked the same thing, you couldn't help but mouth the same words, too.

With that came a kiss and the declaration of marriage, with each couple again pairing off to run down the aisle.

You didn't have time to talk to Tom though, as you were whisked away with the bridal party to have a glass of celebratory wine before dinner as you waited to enter the reception.

That dinner again went on without a hitch, with both you and Tom making pre-written speeches about the couple before the first dance.

Once the DJ turned up the music, everyone was out on the dance floor having a good time when he slowed it down again for couples to dance to.

You were prepared to walk off when a hand caught your arm.

It was Tom.

"Dance with me," he beckoned, and you couldn't bring yourself to say no.

You slow danced in silence, trying to figure out what to say as he twirled you around.

"So..." you started.

"Don't feel bad about Alaina," he immediately replied.

"But I'm the reason you broke up."

"No, I am. You were right that neither of us were handling things correctly. I should have never told you her personal business behind her back. I'm sorry for doing that to you, too."

You gave a lopsided grin.

"It's okay. I get why you did. I'm probably the best person you could've gone to anyways. I'm guessing you also apologized to her?"

"Yeah. I did last night but then I called her this morning and we talked it out. We should've broken up a long time ago. I wish I had listened to you back then."

You raised your brows.

"So you actually remember all the stuff I pointed out?"

"Just because I ignored it doesn't mean I didn't hear it. I was just too stupid and puppy-blind to see how much you actually cared."

You hummed as you wrapped both hands around his neck, stepping a little closer. He rubbed your back as he went to speak again.

"She was right, too. You are the one I really love. I meant it when I said 'I do.'"

"So I didn't just imagine that?"

"Just as much as I imagined you replying," he smirked. You smiled and bit your lip.

"I never wanted you to find out this way. I wanted to tell you the day you told me about her."

"It's probably for the best."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" You were confused at what he meant.

"Because now everyone we know can see firsthand that you're the one I love," he answered.

You were about to ask what that meant when he tipped up your chin, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as the song ended. When you pulled away people were moving around so that Rebecca could throw the bouquet.

"You know what?" she announced. "I think I just need to do this."

Everyone watched as she marched over and handed you the bouquet directly, causing cheers to ring out around you.

"Now you just gotta say I do!" she exclaimed.

You looked up at Tom and he smiled down at you.

"I did."

§

A/N: okay half of me hates this bc I can't imagine how obnoxious this would be if it happened in real life but also it's kinda 🥺

Lemme know how you feel! Wedding szn had me in my feels again this year so I couldn't resist. If you liked this I'd suggest checking out the objection because it's also got angsty wedding vibes oop

Permanent Tag List

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

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[kosmosian-quills]

Torn Apart

Returning briefly from my hiatus to deliver a short little thing set in @cirianne’s Street Magic Universe! Featuring Charlie making a decision a little too easily.

I hope you enjoy!

POV: Charlie

Tuesdays are normally a quiet day at the office.

With no major Council briefings to attend to, my duty was to attend to the many jobs that my role as the Spokesman for Interior Affairs depended on me for. Speaking with Commanders, scientists, wardens of academies. All people who report to me on findings, of which I then report to the Council itself. And considering the epidemic that magic is on our society, it’s an important job to be sure.

But I really have only one job today.

At 9am sharp, I stroll past my secretary - a brown-haired beauty named Stephanie or something - and into my waiting office. As opulent and spacious as it is, today it feels claustrophobic and sterile. It feels not like the place I am particularly comfortable working in. There is something I need to do before I -

Buzzzzz!

I sigh, shoving my briefcase to the floor and pressing the button on my intercom. “Yes?”

“Councilwoman Pryce to see you, sir,” Stephanie tells me through the metallic haze of noise.

I fight to keep the groan from being audible as I respond. “Send her in.”

I don’t have any time to look more presentable than I already am, and simply find myself stood behind my desk waiting for the Councilwoman to come in. My desk feels filthy today, and I haven’t even started yet.

The door clicks open, and in steps one of the few women democratically elected into the Council - Councilwoman Jillian Pryce.

Pryce is a middle aged woman, newly elected onto the Council and very by the books about pretty much anything. I suppose technically, she is one of the newer Council members, but she has held this job for a few years. She is newly appointed as Speaker for the Council. I truly doubt fun was ever a word in her vocabulary, and I pity her husband - if she has one. Her hair tied up into a tight bun on the back of her head, her arms folded in that dull grey suit of hers. She’s wearing a brooch on the top button of her blouse where a tie would be. The heels of her shoes click loudly on the wooden floor of my office, and I just know I’m in for some kind of stern reprimand from my own colleague here.

I force my lips into the charming smile that I know I am famous for. “Jill, what a pleasant surprise. Sorry I’m not too presentable this morning, but I just arrived and haven’t had my coffee yet,” I reach forward to the intercom again, “Stephanie, will you get me and Jill some coffee?”

“Tea will do, thank you Councilman Atwood,” she replies, standing right in front of my desk, her stare hardening as she enunciates my title.

“Tea, then,” I repeat, “for the Councilwoman.”

“Yes, sir.”

I release the button and stand tall, watching as her stare never falters from my direct eye contact.

“Councilman Atwood, we have a problem,” she states.

“Do we?”

“Yes, we do. Don’t try and pretend you don’t know what I am talking about. This needs to be sorted today.”

“Which problem of mine are you referring to, Councilwoman Pryce?” I ask, taking a seat at my desk and pointedly ignoring the stares on my desk. “I thought I was quite clear in my report that I am disavowing that girl completely.”

She shakes her head at me, her voice stern and even, like a schoolteacher reprimanding a disruptive child. “That is not good enough and we both know it. You can shrug this off as much as you want, but the fact is that the public will hear about this and they will want to see your response to the situation. They see everything.”

“I have made my position regarding her -”

She raises a hand up from her folded arms, and silences me. “No, you have not. Actions speak louder than words Councilman. The situation with your daughter is one that requires you to set an example to the country, and the way I see it, you have two options.”

The mention of my daughter makes me cast a glance at the photograph on my desk, the one that has been staring at me. I reach over and slam it face down onto the desk, getting those once innocent green eyes off my back.

Pryce holds up her index finger as she continues.

“One. You can behave loving and caring with her, you can use her to show off how nice mages can be with the right education in our academies. With the right amount of love and devotion to the government, she can be used to set an impression on the families who have children with magic also. Set them at ease a little, to know that their children are in good hands, and they are valuable to us.”

“Councilwoman Pryce, I cannot make such a u-turn on my very public beliefs regarding magic.” I interrupt her idealistic little speech, and she returns her hand to its previously folded position, “as you said yourself, the public see everything, and for them to see me turn around so quickly when they hear that she was my daughter? They will smell a rat, and I lose my hard line voters. That is unacceptable to me.”

“I thought you might say that.” She shrugs. “The second option is to stick to your line of evil mutants and cut her out of your life completely. No do overs, no second chances. She is out of your life, publicly, and you set the example that you aren’t letting family get in the way of your devotion to your country.”

The door opens and Stephanie comes in holding a tray. My promised coffee, and Pryce’s requested tea, freshly brewing in a ceramic pot, little containers of sugar, milk and creamers clattering on the tray. She doesn’t say a word as she sets it on the desk, places my coffee mug in front of me, and pours out the tea into the little teacup.

“Black, one sugar, please,” Pryce says aside to Stephanie, who diligently made the drink as it was requested. “Option one has the risk of Lilly… shall we say, going Rivera which I honestly don’t consider likely. If you keep her in the public eye with love and support, I highly doubt she would do something like that.”

Going Rivera. Oh please, I highly doubt that the girl would go as far as to even be compared to Rivera. She wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Besides, Rivera was a known terrorist who killed before she was taken to an academy to be dealt with. God, how many years ago was that now? When I had first dealt with her myself, Lilly must have still been a toddler.

Once Pryce’s tea is made, Stephanie takes her leave, hurrying out of the door and leaving us to have our meeting once more.

“Option two has the risk of you losing sympathies among the more family oriented voters - which I do not blame them for - but the hard line voters will be content with your actions. You’d have to do something to try and earn back the family voters, and given the situation it would have to be something big. But there can be no in between, Councilman Atwood.”

I pick up my mug of coffee and take a long sip, hoping for the caffeine to hit me quickly so that I can get Pryce out of my office to deal with this my way.

“I either use her as a prop, or hard cut her out of my life. I understand, Councilwoman Pryce,” I place the coffee down on my desk again, and I finally take my seat. “It’s not like this can be hidden anyway.”

“Which is why you need to deal with this today. Completely. I understand it’s a hard choice for a father to make, but -”

“I already gave you my answer, Councilwoman,” I lean forwards on my desk, “she is forever out of my life.”

Her face remains stoic, not flinching as I said that to her. “I had a feeling you’d go with that option. I would have preferred option one, but you have made your choice. Now you need to do something about it.”

She turns about, and makes her way to the door. I notice the steaming cup of tea is still there, untouched, on my desk.

“Jill, your tea -!”

“Can’t stop for tea, I’m afraid.” She doesn’t even turn to face me as she opens the door, “I have a lot to do today, Councilman, as do you.”

The sound of Pryce’s footsteps clacking down the corridor, slowly getting quieter as she gets further away, leaving me alone in my office with a tea I won’t drink.

Well. She isn’t wrong. I have a lot to do today, and I suppose now is the best time to start.

I grab a hold of the photo frame beside my computer, the one I faced down before, and I look at it properly.

It’s a family photo, taken just barely a month ago. It features three children smiling and laughing up at the camera. Two boys and a girl. All three of them green-eyed, the elder two with blond hair. The younger boy was brown-haired, curly and small. The older girl and boy with wide grins as the boy lifted up their younger brother.

Lilly, Peter, Max.

I open up the back of the frame and remove the picture, carefully tearing through the thick photo paper, right through so that the girl is totally separated from the boys.

I look over the new picture, my two sons having fun there. I place that just underneath the monitor, sticking it there with a tiny piece of tape. I carefully place the frame in one of the drawers by my side.

Without looking, I crumple up the other half of the photo and throw it into the waste bin beside me.

[thedeliverygod]

Okay so… hiatus over? Kind of. Just expect updates to be really slow and random and I’ll try to do my best.

links for ao3 & ff.net

More Than This

As soon as his eyes met with Aiha’s through the front glass, Yato saw her face light up before she dashed off to the back. He let out a sigh as he looked over to Hiyori, “I apologize for… whatever is about to happen.” He could only assume Aiha was shouting to everyone that he and Hiyori had arrived and that she was indeed real after all.

“I mean, since they’re at work they have to keep at least some professionalism, right?” She gave a hopeful smile with a tilt of her head.

“Uh, good luck with that.” He answered doubtfully. Professionalism wasn’t exactly a word he associated with his co-workers. At least definitely not when it came to talking about his personal life.

They managed to get their shopping basket and start down the produce section undisturbed, but it didn’t last for long. “Yato-san!” He heard Aiha’s voice and jumped slightly before turning to her with an awkward smile.

“Hey, Aiha. This is Hiyori.” He waved to his side.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Hiyori added her own greeting.

The pink haired girl gave a wide smile in return, “It’s nice to meet you too! Finally.” She added with slight glare towards Yato, “But I guess I understand why you would want to keep her to yourself, she is a cutie.”

“It was a miracle she wasn’t scared off by my family, so I didn’t want to push my luck by bringing her here too.” He sighed as he reached forward to grab a few vegetables.

Aiha gave a nervous laugh, “That’s fair. Well, I’ll leave you alone now.”

He saw Hiyori reach out to her from the corner of his eye to stop her, “Wait, it’s really okay—”

“Oh, believe me. Tenjin-sama and Mayu-san will talk your ear off, so I don’t want to overwhelm you. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.” Aiha gave another smile before disappearing off into another aisle.

Yato deposited the vegetables into the basket Hiyori was holding before running a hand through his bangs, “Yeah, she’s not kidding. Those two will definitely be the worst.”

She let out a small breath of air, “Great.”

At least she was equally nervous about meeting everyone as he was about introducing them to her. He wasn’t sure how he would have reacted if she had been extremely excited about the situation.

They managed to make it down a few aisles without much distraction, only two other coworkers stopping by to say hi very briefly as they rushed by. About three quarters of the way through the store, Yato finally spotted Tenjin and Mayu lingering at the end of the aisle they were making their way through.

He gave a small nod towards them, warning Hiyori, “Here we go, I guess.”

“Okay.” He noticed her hesitate for a moment before following after him.

“Yato-kun!” Tenjin greeted warmly, gesturing with wide arms, “And this must be Hiyori-san.”

“Yato.” Mayu spoke very matter-of-factly before turning to Hiyori, “No matter what he tells you, my name is Mayu.”

Hiyori blinked in surprise before giving a small laugh, “Believe it or not, he did tell me your real name. But it’s very nice to meet you, Mayu-san, Tenjin-sama.”

“So I finally brought her here, are you happy now?” Yato stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked to them expectantly.

“Not nearly!” Tenjin crossed his arms and gave him a stern look, “I assume you two must go on dates constantly from the way you manage to hide her from us.”

He jerked in reaction before giving an embarrassed look over to Hiyori, “Uh…”

She also looked down to her feet, not making a response.

“...What are those looks for?” Mayu broke the silence, looking between the two in confusion.

Yato parted his mouth to speak but Hiyori beat him to the punch, “Well, between our school schedules, his work schedule, and the tutoring that I do for Yukine-kun, we haven’t, um… had much time for that.”

“What?” Yato could have sworn Tenjin’s jaw almost fell to the floor, “Is this true, Yato-kun?”

He turned his head away, “Well, yeah…”

Before he realized what was going on, he felt himself being tugged forward and Tenjin was nearly in his face, “This cannot do! You can’t date someone as cute as Hiyori-san and not spoil her!”

“Tenjin-sama, calm down.” Mayu pulled him backwards and once his vision was clear, he also noticed Hiyori hiding her face.

“You’re right, Mayu-san. I apologize.” He dusted himself off before pointing a finger towards Yato, “Look. I want you to leave after three o’clock tomorrow and take Hiyori-san on a proper date!”

He threw up in his hands in surprise, “What?”

“You’re joking, right?” Mayu gave a disbelieving look to their boss.

“I’m completely serious. You’re both about to start classes again, correct? This way you have no excuse to not go.” He answered proudly.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Yato blinked in awe, literally speechless.

With a bit of a smirk, Tenjin answered, “A simple thank you would suffice.”

“A-ah, thank you.” He gave a slight bow and he saw Hiyori follow suite.

Waving them off, Tenjin commented, “Well, I should let you two get back to your shopping. It was nice meeting you, Hiyori-san.”

“It was very nice meeting you as well, Tenjin-sama.” Hiyori gave another bow.

As they made their way into the next aisle over, Yato heard Mayu’s voice, “Tenjin-sama! That’s really not fair, is it? How are we going to cover for tomorrow?”

“Don’t worry, Mayu-san. I’ll figure it out.”

Though they were out of ear shot, Hiyori spoke quietly, “Well, that was certainly unexpected.”

“Tell me about it.” He let out a breath of air, “But I guess I can’t complain.”

“Tenjin-sama sure seems like a very nice man.” She gave a smile.

Yato shrugged, “He’s alright. He can actually have a really nasty temper, too. But like he said, you’re a cute girl, so he’ll go out of his way to be nice to you. Old perv.”

Hiyori’s eyes went wide and she fell into a fit of coughs before asking, “Are you sure you should say that in the place where you work?”

“It’s nothing I wouldn’t say to his face.” He grinned back.

“How you don’t manage to get fired with how much you tease and make fun of everyone is beyond me.” She put up a hand to her forehead feigning exhaustion.

“I tease them with love.” He answered simply, “They know that.”

She shook her head, “If you say so. Mayu-san definitely didn’t seem amused.”

“Eh, not my fault that Tomone can’t take a joke.” Yato shrugged as they made their way to the checkout lane.

“Maybe give her a break. Especially if she’s going to have to pick up the slack for you leaving early tomorrow.” Hiyori suggested as she fiddled with the handles of the basket

“Alright, alright.” He threw up his hands in defeat, “I will give her a break. For one shift.”

 “So, your boss really gave you the rest of the day off to go on a date, just like that?” Yukine asked in disbelief as he helped Yato and Hiyori put up groceries.

“Yeah! I’m still in disbelief myself.” Yato shut the cabinet door and grinned down at Yukine, “I really am the luckiest guy in the world to date Hiyori. Look at all the perks I get!”

Hiyori sent a brief glare his way before commenting, “I’m just going to pretend I didn’t hear that last part.”

Yukine also rolled his eyes before asking, “So what are you two going to do tomorrow, then?” Met with silence from both sides, he replied, “Wow.”

“Well, what do you want to do, Hiyori? Since I’ve apparently been neglecting you?” He glanced over to her eagerly.

“Oh stop, you have not.” She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes in annoyance, “And I don’t know? Maybe just go out to dinner?”

“Boooring.” Yukine commented, surprising both of them, “C’mon, you have almost the whole afternoon off! Do something interesting.” He sauntered off towards the living room.

Yato raised an eyebrow, “It seems like you really want to get us out of the apartment for most of the day.”

“I honestly don’t care.” He groaned in annoyance, looking back over his way, “I’m just saying you should take advantage of it since it’s something you don’t really get that often. Maybe go somewhere you actually have to get dressed up for once—I mean that for Yato, not you, Hiyori.”

While Yato gave a huff in response, he answered, “Yeah, I guess the only like… fancy thing we’ve done together was the new years eve party for your family’s hospital.”

Hiyori grimaced, “And that wasn’t too great of an experience for obvious reasons.”

“I don’t know if it’s exactly fancy or anything like that, but I’ve always kind of wanted to check out the art museum downtown…” Yato admitted, tapping his fingers against the wall frame in thought as he continued to try and think of other places they could go.

Hiyori leaned in towards him excitedly, interrupting his thoughts, “Then let’s do that!”

Smiling sheepishly and dropping his hand back down to his side, he asked, “Are you sure there’s not somewhere else you’d rather go? I kind of just said the first thing that came to mind.”

“Like I said yesterday, you hardly do enough for yourself as it is. So, if you’re interested in something, I definitely want to do that!” With a bit of a laugh, she ran a hand through her hair and commented, “Though I honestly didn’t expect art.”

Yukine piped back in, “He’s actually really good at drawing.”

“Really?” Hiyori’s eyes shined in excitement.

Yato scratched the back of his head, “I mean, I guess. I obviously don’t have a lot of time to practice anymore.”

“Still, will you draw something for me sometime?” She held her hands together, pleading with a wide-eyed look.

He shook his head and looked away as he laughed. He reached out to cup her cheek, gently rubbing his thumb across it, “You know I can’t say no to you, Hiyori.”

She flushed and stared at him for a moment before she reached up to take his hand in hers, asking quietly, “So the art museum it is, then? And I guess dinner after?”

“All while dressed up, yes.” He nodded, “Make sure to charge your phone so we have photographic proof that we went.”

Hiyori nearly snorted, “Yes, I will.”

“I’m honestly really surprised Capypa Land wasn’t brought up at all, I gotta say.” Yukine mentioned as they made their way to the table to sit across from him. Looking up at Yato, he teased with a grin, “Finally growing up?”

“Capypa Land is for people of all ages, thank you very much. But also, you have to spend the whole day there. It’s not an evening kind of place. But,” He looked between them, grinning widely, “I do definitely want to go with you guys sometime.”

Hiyori smiled softly and nodded, “Sure.”

Yukine rolled his eyes, “Do I have to go?”

“At least once. If you don’t like it then I won’t make you go again. But you can’t stay a Capypa Land virgin forever.” Yato waved his finger and made a ‘tsk-tsk’ sound.

While Yukine choked on his spit, Hiyori turned a shade of red, “Um, Yato? Wording?”

“Oh, come on. That wasn’t dirty at all! It’s not my fault if you two have your brains in the gutter.” He gave a dramatic sigh, “I’ve always gotta be the mature one around here.”

“…Mature… right.” Yukine coughed out his sarcastic reply.

[wordgirlappreciation]

Wordgirl Fanfic Recommendations Masterlist

Thanks for 250 followers, guys! I appreciate you all very much!

At long last, here it is! A full compilation of my personal favorite Wordgirl fics! All fics are complete and in English. Please don’t forget to reblog and review to support fanfiction writers!

Additionally, this blog will post and promote all fanfiction links submitted to it. 

Wordgirl & Doctor Two Brains 

Title: The Doctor Is In | Author: otempora16 | Words: 23k | Rated K+

Becky Botsford may be an alien, but she's never had any trouble living on Earth - until she's struck with a bizarre disease that no human doctor can cure. Only one person has studied Lexiconians enough to have any hope of saving her. Unfortunately, he's trapped deep within his own mind, under the control of a malevolent mouse...

This is the best Wordgirl fic I’ve ever read. It hits everything I wanted to see from this show--the bond between Wordgirl and Dr. Two Brains, Dr. Two Brains struggling against his own darkest impulses--coupled with fantastic writing and pacing. Everyone is in character while balancing a more sophisticated and darker tone. I’ve read this one at least five times. 

Title: Awake in the Night | Author: Laura Latts | Words: 10k | Rated: K+

Two-Brains is fighting with himself again. The results? He's losing. But how could Steven be coming back from the supposed dead? And how can Wordgirl help him win before the sun rises?

Absolutely heartbreaking fanfic centered around Wordgirl’s relationship with Steven as Dr. Two Brains attempts to stifle him. Steven can only take control at night, and attempts to build a machine to separate himself from Squeaky, only for Two Brains to wake up and stop him every time. It’s brilliantly written, very in-character, and it just might make you feel. 

Title: Much Abides | Author: otempora16 | Words: 3k | Rated K

Before she heads off to her first year of college, Wordgirl has a few loose ends to tie up. Oneshot. Sort-of sequel to "New and Subtle Shades."

Wordgirl’s last conversation with Two-Brains before leaving for college. Sweet and heartbreaking even if it could’ve gone a little deeper. Brief mentions of past Steven. As their last WG fic, it’s a nice send-off. 

Wordgirl/Tobey (or Tobecky)

Title: New and Subtle Shades | Author: otempora16 | Words: 6k | Rated K+

Growing up is hard, and growing up a superhero is harder. But amidst all the stress and struggle of her freshman year of high school, Wordgirl starts to realize that support, friendship, and fun can be found in the most unexpected of places. Oneshot, focusing on an older Wordgirl's relationships with her villains.

Once again, the otempora16′s dialogue is on point. This fic focuses on WG’s relationship with The Butcher, Leslie, Dr. Two Brains, Chuck, and finally Tobey. It’s incredibly sweet and charming, and shows Wordgirl and Tobey in the earliest stages of a relationship in an entirely believable way. Also featuring Dr. Two Brains as an overprotective father figure. 

Title: Green World | Author: otempora16 | Words: 3k | Rated K+

Becky Botsford's superhero duties have run her off her feet lately, and she knows she needs to crack down on schoolwork if she wants to finish junior year strong. But when warm summer breezes are blowing, the carnival is in town, and Tobey McCallister is standing outside her window ... well, some nights are just begging to be seized. 

A fun and delightful fic of Becky and Tobey having a good time. 

Title: From Good to Rotten | Author: Laura Latts | Words: 25k | Rated K+

After the amnesia ray, what if Two-Brains didn't forget everything? What if he was just waiting? Waiting for the perfect moment to get Wordgirl once and for all... 

Dr. Two Brains remembers Wordgirl’s secret identity from a previous episode where it was revealed, and uses a special ray to turn her evil and use her to do his bidding. Highly interesting, and written in the style of the show (with a narrator, defined words, and a similar style of humor). Features the rest of the villains saving Wordgirl from herself and Dr. Two Brains being a bit of a jerk.

Title: Something Hidden | Author: HibiscusAngel15 | Words: 137k | Rated K+

Tobey just can't shake the feeling that Becky is WordGirl, no matter how many times he's been wrong before. The only question is of how to prove it.

Nothing to add. Just a great fic. 

Title: Have You Seen My Robut? | Author: HibiscusAngel15 | Words: 3k | Rated K

Today was just not Tobey McCallister's day. After his latest robotic creation to help the city malfunctions and runs off on him, he's left with no choice but to work together with his nemesis WordGirl to find it. But how can the two even hope to work together, especially when she's a supervillain? An AU one-shot where Tobey and Becky's roles are reversed.

Interesting concept I’d love to see explored more. I’m always a sucker for Wordgirl as a villain, and Tobey as a hero was nice to see. Additionally, Wordgirl is the one with the crush on Tobey in this universe. I thought it stayed true to both characters and was well-written. 

Title: Saving Tobey | Author: Night_N_Gail | Words: 92k | Rated: Gen

“I’m telling you, WordGirl, that kid is a time bomb. You think he’s a menace NOW? Wait until he’s a teenager and his emotions are running wild. Wait until he’s an adult and he’s not afraid of his mother anymore. It won't be pretty, I can promise you that." -:- Post-series

Slowburn relationship with Tobey gradually going over to the good side. First part of a three part series by the same author. I have not read the sequels, so I can’t recommend them, but if you like “Saving Tobey” give them a try.

Dr. Two Brains/Lady Redundant Woman

Title: A Provocloniversary | Author: Unbalanced Enigma | Words: 3k | Rated: K+

A Dr. Two Brains and Lady Redundant Woman fluffy one-shot taking place at a villain convention. It works off the assumption that they've already been an item for awhile, six months to be precise. The doctor wants to celebrate the events, but awkward and silly interruptions ensue. This features a wide variety. Rated K for a little suggestive romancing.

This fic is really cute and well-written. The characterization is spot-on for everyone and has plenty of humor. I especially enjoyed Tobey getting back at Two-Brains for the events of Mousezilla. As someone who did ship Provoclone back in the day, this fic is a definite recommend. 

Dr. Two Brains, Squeaky, and Steven

Title: Descent Into Madness | Author: Laura Latts | Words: 1k | Rated: K+

No one really knew what happened. What he went through during the incident. What happened when Prof. Steven Boxleitner became Dr. Two-Brains?

An interesting exploration of the time between Steven’s “Oh no, this is going to sting” and him running into Becky and TJ. Short but dark and interesting.

Title: A Science Experiment Gone Horribly Wrong | Author: 3LNR | Words: 2k | Rated: K+

This fanfic is a detailed description of Steven's thoughts and feelings before, during, and after his fateful experiment. It includes Two Brains' and Squeaky's viewpoints as well. The day starts out very normally, but gradually becomes more creepy and intense as the story progresses. Rated K+ for somewhat disturbing but non-graphic content.

For a fic I wrote 6 years ago, I think it holds up pretty well. Give it a read if you’re a fan of Two Brains.

Title: When I Don’t Remember You | Author: 3LNR | Words: 3k | Rated K+

Dr. Two Brains goes on a mysterious trip to a place he had almost forgotten.

Another angsty fic I wrote six years ago, where Two Brains briefly reunites with Steven’s parents. It does not go well. Song title is inspired by the song of the same name from the series “Adventure Time”.

Title: Take Care of Them | Author: orphan_account | Words: 1k | Rated: Gen

After a stupid mistake, Two Brains and Steven have a heart to heart while Two Brains dies. (Squeaky dies too)

Sad fic in which Steven gets his freedom at the expense of Dr. Two Brains’ life. Short but memorable enough to earn a spot on the list.

Title: A Late Night Chat | Author: Donotquestionme | Words: 1-3k | Rated: Unknown

“Remember, whatever I say, don’t open this door until morning, got it?” The henchmen shuffled their feet anxiously. They never quite understood what went on behind that heavy, padlocked door, and they weren’t sure they wanted to. All they knew was that, every once in a while, their boss would lock himself in that room and, for the next few hours, muffled shouting could be heard coming from behind the door. Even stranger, sometimes they swore they could hear crying.

This might be the first WG fic I ever read, so it holds a special place in my heart. It was also written by someone with a fantastic ask blog that’s been on hiatus for years now (ask-dr-two-brains) who has a perfect grasp on the character. This fic is about the unanswerable question of whether Steven could bring himself to kill Two Brains if he had the chance to set himself free. I wish this person had written more, but it's fabulous nonetheless. 

[astra-musings]

catch a break, part 1

requested? yes! by @faithiebrock01 (thanks for being my first post-hiatus request, sorry for the long wait!) check out her wattpad, @/niallforever15

this fic includes: owen grady x reader, fluff, I would say a little bit of ooc? hopefully not too much. a failed attempt to follow JW’s storyline

warnings: none really, other than dinos eating mice 

summary: you train and take care of the raptors on Isla Nublar alongside your husband, Owen. you found out you were pregnant very recently, and have a little trouble letting him know. typical Jurassic World chaos ensues, making it even harder.

word count: 1.3k+

a/n: i’m back! i think? got an extremely long break after my mock exams cause of coronavirus (stay safe out there) and i have t i m e on my hands :) be nice please, this is my first fic in two years,, enjoy! spare me a reblog/like if you liked this, follow me too!

part 1.5 // part 2

masterlist

Watching your husband work was, debatably, your favourite pastime. The way his (ahem, your) raptors seemed to respond to his every command made it seem as though they were a band of puppies-in-training, rather than bio-engineered animals from 65 million years ago that could definitely rip you to shreds in a heartbeat.

Your hand subconsciously moves to cradle your lower stomach as Delta catches the rat Owen throws down to her. You’d found out you were pregnant a little over two weeks ago. You were thankful you weren’t showing as of now; you didn’t know how to tell Owen just yet.

Dusting his hands off on his already muddy trousers (thank god he wore the brown pair today), he looks over in your direction, eyes searching briefly before landing on your serene form. A soft smile stretches across both of your faces as you move towards one another.

Gentle greetings are whispered into your hair as he pulls you in for a too-short hug. "How long were you standin' there for? Should've waited in the shade, love." His hand moves up to your forehead, blocking the noon's blinding sunlight from your eyes.

You swat his hand away in feigned irritation, "Only for an hour or two; not like that's ages in this heat or anything..." You pout slightly and tilt your head up towards him in a silent plea for a kiss.

Owen dips his head down to meet you halfway, pecking your lips in an attempt to kiss your pout away. "Don't pout, love. You know my heart can't handle it." 

"Maybe I should pout every hour of every day if it gets me kisses from you," you say defiantly, before standing on your tiptoes to pull him in again.

Owen laughs, the hearty kind that makes your heart swell, “You’d get kisses from me regardless. You do!”

You’re interrupted by the clank of a pair of boots on the metal of the catwalk. Barry marches towards you, frown dragging on his face, "Hate to be that guy, but Hoskins wants to talk. Again." 

–

"For the last time, Hoskins, they're not weapons! They're living, breathing, walking animals. They're in my care, and no way in hell am I letting you touch them!" Owen's face is scrunched up in anger and frustration as his conversation-turned-argument grows more heated. The light grey material of his athletic shirt gradually darkens as his sweat collects from his training with the raptors along with the undoubtable irritation he felt. You opt to retreat to the shade of the cage – despite wanting to calm Owen down, you knew he was much too passionate about the wellbeing of the raptors to be talked down at this point. Plus, it was Hoskins; the man annoyed you with his mere presence within a five mile radius. It wouldn’t hurt for him to get a lecture from the man you loved.

Leaning against the bars of the opening to the enclosure, you find a brief moment of solace from the cool material of the metal. You knew you were safe from any too-close experiences with the raptors as they had retreated to the shelter of the trees as soon as their session with Owen ended. You close your eyes, attempting to focus on the sounds of nature around you rather than the still ongoing argument a few feet away. Your trance is broken when the crunch of dry leaves sounds from behind you. A swift turn towards the direction of the noise alerts you of Blue's presence. Your lips involuntarily pull into a smile; ever since you'd gotten suspicious of a potential and literal human growing in your belly, Blue had grown more affectionate with you. Her eyes lingered a little longer on you when Owen called for her attention with his clicker, and she would always gravitate towards your spot on the catwalk mid-training. A low purr echoes from her throat as she attempts to squeeze her snout in between the much too narrow bars of the enclosure. Breathing out a laugh, you slowly move your hand towards her, just out of reach enough that she wouldn't be able to actually hurt you. Blue's jaws open in a low purr once again, razor-sharp teeth on display. You could probably see remnants of her last meal in there if you looked hard enough. The tip of her snout just manages to meet your fingertips, and you couldn't help but coo at the slight nuzzling movement she makes towards them. "Cutie... think you're some big, tough dino, huh?" You mumble under your breath, entertaining her for the briefest of moments before retracting your hand.

"Whatcha doin' there, sweetie? I walk away for a second and you get too close to Blue again," Owen's voice draws from behind you, prompting you to turn towards him, "I know you think they're cute, and I find that cute, but they can still rip your arm off in a literal millisecond."

"Oh, hush. I'm just missing her, is all. Haven’t seen her in a while. And, actually, you were away for about," you feign a look down at your empty wrist, "100 hours?" You smile, moving to circle your arms around his waist, drawing him close. You tried to subtly move the both of you away from the cage to draw Owen's attention away from your interaction with Blue, who was still following your actions like a wide-eyed child. Owen glanced behind you for a second before his eyes fell on you again. He had definitely noticed a change in your interactions with the beta in the last few weeks; despite you being co-alphas with Owen (admittedly not an official term), Blue still paid more attention to Owen than she did you. Lately, it seemed, your mighty alpha-of-a-raptor-pack husband was reduced mere background noise whenever you were around. He noticed the way Blue would look at you whenever you moved from one place to another, as if she was making sure you got to your destination safely, even if it was just a few steps away. 

He pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind, not wanting to overthink. Just as his mind jumped to thinking about lunch, a white SUV pulls up to the small clearing outside the enclosure. Curious and a little cautious after Hoskins's visit, both you and Owen step towards the vehicle, only to break out in smiles when you see your good friend, Claire, step out of it. 

"Claire!" You jogged up to her, giving her a short hug. "What brings you to this area? I thought you were working in those big, shiny offices now."

She smiles at your faux insult, "Hey, Y/N. And so what if I do? Can't visit my two closest friends?"

"More like your two only friends." Owen jokes, bringing her into a hug as well. Claire narrows her eyes into a mock-glare.

“I do love to be insulted by the two of you – constantly.” She smiles warmly before straightening herself up again – business mode. “I need you both to come with me. Mr. Masrani needs the enclosure for the new asset- the Indominus," she corrects herself as soon as she notices Owen raise a brow at her diction, "inspected. Come with me?" She gestures towards her car.

"Owen and I can make our own way over, actually. Give us a few minutes to wrap things up here and we'll follow you, yeah?" You say, partly because you want to spend more alone time with your husband, and partly because you really didn't want to get caught in the middle of any unresolved tension between him and Claire.

"Yeah, of course. I'll wait here." Claire leans against her car, already pulling out her phone. Conference call, probably.

"Ready to see the Indominus, my love?" You glance over to Owen, who is currently muttering under his breath about not being able to 'catch a break on this goddamned island', which prompts a laugh from you.

"What kinda stupid name is 'Indominus', anyway?"

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Communication Issues (AT:TTSIMBCMEOAYSFIL)- Chapter Two

Ao3,   MasterPost,   Chapter One, Chapter Three

Relationships: (eventual) Romantic Analogince

I’m finally back from my impromptu hiatus!!! My laptop, like, just fuckin broke... but now I’ve got a new one so it’s okay!!! And the first thing I did with it was make these little characters Hurt.

Warnings: Repressing Emotions (k i n d a), food mention, self-isolation/avoiding one’s friends, general angst, cursing, unreliable narrator (maybe??? by that I mean Logan is stupid and has no idea what’s actually going on.) 

Word Count: 5,244

To the best of your knowledge, the three of you are close. To see the facts: you, Roman, and Virgil spend the majority of your time together, partaking in a number of activities that all of you find fun. Comparing your time with them to how much you see, say, a friend like Janus- it becomes apparent that the three of you ought to be considered ‘best friends’. 

However, you had preferred to be 100% certain of this, as you like to be with all things. It was a few weeks after Roman’s New Idea when you finally gave in to this preference (more of a need, really). You asked outright the nature of your dynamic with them.

Roman laughed at you. The abashment you felt was, unfortunately, a very familiar thing.

‘Is the idea of us being best friends really so humorous?’ you challenged, masking the sting you felt with indignation. Virgil had elbowed Roman sharply, explaining to him that you were seriously asking. His laughter stopped at once. ‘Of course we are,’ he’d said. ‘I thought you were kidding, because it seemed so obvious,’ he’d continued. 

All you could manage was a small ‘Oh’. 

So, yes, you’ve determined that your bond is more meaningful than on average. That hardly irks you; it’s a positive thing, in fact. It’s been good for you to have some kind of affection, even if the thought still makes you want to roll your eyes. It’s what’s just beyond that affection that’s causing an itching beneath your skin when the three of you ‘hang out’, as you so often do. That itching, those crawling little mites figuratively burrowed under your skin- it’s all been prevalent in your interactions over the past weeks.

Go over the facts, then, Logan. 

Fact one: You aren’t used to intimate friendships.

Fact two: You have established an intimate friendship with Roman and Virgil

Fact(?) three: Roman and Virgil’s intimacy with each other is quickly turning away from ‘friendship’.

This brings you to the evidence, which gets a little fuzzier; some conclusions might have been jumped to, but you find that irrelevant.

Evidence (?): They share these Looks. A Look when Roman says something abhorrently stupid, but when Virgil jumps to insult him he sounds nothing but adoring. A Look when Virgil comes up with a particularly creative biting remark, and while Roman is just as quick to fire back with a playful tease of his own, there’s that obvious elated expression of pride that he holds just for the anxious trait. 

That on it’s own wouldn’t amount to much, you’ll admit, but you’ve always been a careful observer of body language (out of necessity, given how words fail you when there’s subtext to be found). Their hands brush frequently, to the point where it cannot possibly be incidental. They not-so-subtly lean into each other when they probably think you aren’t looking- though perhaps you shouldn’t be looking anyway. While you are well-accustomed to platonic physical affection in not only your relationships with the two of them, but with all of your ‘coworkers’ (the bulk of it coming from Patton and Remus, predictably), Virgil and Roman’s physical affection exudes such romantic tension that you’re surprised Roman himself isn’t going haywire, because of the overload of feelings that fall into his area of expertise.

Your third piece of evidence comes from just last night. You’d returned from the kitchen, arms loaded with snacks for you all to share, only to find Roman threading his fingers through Virgil’s hair while the embodiment of anxiety carefully sketched on a folded sheet of paper. Virgil’s eyes had flicked up briefly, widening when he saw you as though you hadn’t only left the room for seven minutes and twenty-three seconds.

“Oh, hey,” he greeted with a tiny wave. Something odd and envious and just a bit bitter simmered in your chest, but you denied it whatever it seemed to be hissing for. You gave your friend a nod, setting down the food you’d brought onto the coffee table and seating yourself a good few feet from him and Roman on the couch. 

“V and I got bored waiting,” Roman explained, “So we’re doing a little art collaboration. The rule is that we aren’t allowed to see what the other one draws until it’s done!” He seemed enthusiastic about the game, and Virgil was clearly invested in his work. You saw no reason to interrupt them, quietly deeming your original plan to watch blue planet together defunct. But you could still contribute to this new activity! You knew plenty of art history, thankfully.

“There’s actually a name for that- it’s called Exquisite Corpse. The term was coined by surrealist artists in 1925.”

Roman waved his hand, almost dismissive, and your heart- figuratively- sank. 

“Yeah, yeah, in Paris, I already know. Yves Tanguy, Marcel Duchamp, et cetera et cetera. Art’s my whole thing, remember? Do you wanna play or not?”

“Oh, I- I don’t care for drawing,” you have never understood and will likely never understand most forms of visual art. 

Roman shrugged, but before he could respond Virgil was folding up the piece of paper and handing it to him, blank side up. The vigilant trait pushed his bangs back and shook out his shaggy hair, which stuck up at odd angles due to Roman’s tangling.

“Whatever you want, L. You can put on that documentary you were talking about now,” Virgil said, reaching for the food piled up on the table. Your first instinct had been to agree, of course, and get back to the original plan for the day. As you took the remote, however, you couldn’t help but notice just how close they sat, plenty apart from you. It felt like a fitting analogy- and you’ve always had distaste for analogies.

“That’s alright,” a lie, “I’m feeling rather restless now- I think it would be best if I got some work done with this energy,” a half-truth. 

You’d left before they could respond, trying to ignore the envy seething under your skin. It didn’t even make sense- you hated having your hair touched! While the history was interesting, Surrealist art did nothing but frustrate you! You don’t like drawing games, or people’s hands on your face, for goodness’ sake. 

Presently, you stare up at your ceiling and reflect on your friendship, feeling it all start to click. You do not want it to click. You push your glasses up on your forehead and press the heels of your hands against your eyelids, soaking in the ache that results from the pressure. You’re so fucking sick of thinking, thinking, thinking- but the other option is leaving your room- which you’ll have to do very soon anyway- and interacting with other people.

It’s easier to handle with everyone else around to distract you, rather than just Virgil and Roman. Easier, but not easy. You groan, pushing yourself into a sitting position and letting your glasses fall back into place. You cannot just stew here forever, much as you’d like to.

Yet- It doesn’t make sense. You don’t want to see Virgil and Roman, sitting as close as they do now, dancing around each other so frustratingly. But you want to be around them so much that you feel you can’t help it, desperate to be caught between them like usual. But, no, you don’t!

You wish they could figure themselves out and actually get together, to save everyone the headache- but is that even really what you want? For them to officially be romantically involved, thereby distancing themselves from you even further? And then you’ll truly be the ‘third wheel’, as it were? 

What do you want, you ask yourself repeatedly.

  For things to go back to normal, you answer yourself. 

You shake your head, no, because what does that even mean? Do you want them to not have feelings for each other, just so they’ll pay more attention to you? Now that doesn’t add up at all, because first and foremost you want them to be happy. Happy, and also spending time with you as much as each other. Yes, that’s closer to the point, you think. You want that closeness to be equal between the three of you, that makes perfect sense. So, logically, it follows that what you want is-

What you want is… 

God, no, God, your eyes widen and your fists clench and, fuck, you almost shake as you try to hold back the encroaching realization.

You want-

There’s a knock at the door. 

You breathe shakily, your hands tensing and untensing. There’s a knock at the door. The door of your room, because you are in your room, sitting on your bed. You’re here, and now, and you can breathe.

Dazedly, you stand, moving as though you’re wading through honey. You swallow back whatever feelings had been building in you only for the moment. You aren't willing to actually harm yourself by repressing them, merely holding them at the reigns in order to actually function enough to talk to whoever’s come knocking.

You click the door open, pulling it back to see a worried Patton. You are immeasurably relieved that it is him specifically.

“Heya, Kiddo. It’s been a while since any of us saw you today. I was just coming by to let you know we’re about to start picking a movie for tonight. Do ya feel up to joining us?”

That’s something you appreciate about Patton: he keeps in tune with others’ emotions with almost supernatural accuracy. Remarkably high-empathy being a power granted to him by his aspect, he knew when things were off, and he knew when someone did or did not want to talk about it. He didn’t barge up to your room and throw the door open with the enthusiasm he might usually express if he saw how you were uneasy, knowing that such an action could be overwhelming. Rather, he was checking in, quietly offering you an out if you needed it. 

But you’re about to directly contradict yourself about that appreciation! Because this means that you have to decide what you do; because you maybe kind of want to be forced to see your friends, rather than forcing yourself to avoid them. You aren’t exactly sure you have the strength to be around them on your own, but you can’t imagine a fate worse than isolation in the wake of this emotional discovery that you totally aren’t focusing on right now dammit answer Patton.

“Yes, I must have been a tad preoccupied today. I’ll be down in a moment,” the answer’s out before you think about it. You regret it, and also you don’t. 

Patton grins warmly at you, obviously relieved, and promises to wait for you to head down before they start. He disappears back through the hall and down the staircase in an instant, humming tunelessly as he walks.

It’s only after arriving downstairs that you become entirely sure that you’ve made the wrong choice. Roman is practically in Virgil’s lap, his head tilted into the facet’s neck while they playfully bicker with each other. When he spots you, his head shoots up, and he waves you over. In an amazing example of self-control, you sit one cushion away from the pair.

Throughout the night, you keep your eyes trained to the screen, trying to ignore however sappy Roman and Virgil get. You need space to think about this issue and find a way to solve it, and they need more space from their little tricycle anyway. 

The movies pass in a blur. You think Virgil tries to say something to you before you go upstairs, but you don’t catch it. Your ears are ringing.

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

It’s predictable as hell, considering his semi-self-isolation before The Incident, that Roman is desperate for attention. He’s, in the simplest terms, clingy as fucking fuck. Something that’s mildly less expected than that is just how little you mind it. If you’re honest, with all the hugs and brushes and small comforts, it kinda rocks. Which might be an odd way to describe emotionally and physically intimate friendship, but hey. Shut up. 

You and Roman’ve become a little attached at the hip because of this- though you hold tightly onto the excuse that it’s just cuz you want Roman to get the attention he needs, and totally not because you actually like the affection, too. You know the truth, though. The truth that it all… fulfills something in you, something that’s been craving attention that you didn’t even know about. It’s weird. Not bad, just weird.

You digress; the point is that you and Roman have a Thing With Touching, and that’s not exactly a shocker. Something you’re only recently coming to notice, however, is that this preference is one shared by your other closest friend, Logan. You could’ve sworn he’d be touch averse, and while he definitely has very specific boundaries (he wouldn’t tolerate touches to his hair, neck, or most parts of his legs), he’s exactly the opposite of averse, he’s just way too stubborn to initiate anything or admit it.

Who knew that only knowing a grand total of six other beings for your entire life- most of said beings disliking each other for a good portion of that life- would leave everyone involved more than a little touch-starved? 

Oh well. No time like the present to fix that, you figure. This is all just your long-winded way of saying that whenever you’re in the room with Logic or Creativity, you’re 99% guaranteed to have at least one point of contact with them. 

Which totally wouldn’t be a problem, if you weren’t falling irrevocably in love with both of them. But, unfortunately, you totally are. 

When everything started, it was just Logan. He was too considerate and too goddamn caring not to make you feel things, the bastard. He understands you, almost perfectly, all the time- even though people understanding you completely goes against your aesthetic- and you feel like you get him all the same. In a way, your love for him makes sense. It always has, really, all the way back when he gave you that first glimpse of friendship. It’s always been Logan.

And that all would be horrible enough on its own, but then Roman blind-sided you with his teary eyes and deeply-rooted insecurity. Neither of these are technically ‘attractive’ traits, but dammit if you didn’t find yourself sympathizing to a painful extent. You not only comprehended his (gradually lessening) pain, you’re also surprised to note just how badly you want to help him through it, if only because you knew that you really could help. You can’t bear to watch Roman suffer, because the both of you, despite all the differences, are exactly alike. You find sympathy in his sadness, and affection in his joy. 

It’s disgusting.

The plan was simple; you’d keep all the feelings inside, and then one day you’d die. You’d hold them all at bay and let the infatuation fade to a dull ache against your ribcage, settling into a bittersweet friendship with the two temperamental traits. It’s easy to push down when all six of you spend family time together, hell, you hardly break a sweat when it’s just the three of you, because you can just use one to deflect off the other! You are a fucking pro at ignoring your emotions.

Then movie night happened. You have no clue what specifically did happen, but you’ve managed to track the weird behavior back to that evening. Logan was stiff as a board all night, sitting as far as he could from you and Ro. He didn’t even look back at you when you tried to talk to him before he left. He didn’t answer the door when you tried to check on him later. 

To say that Logan hadn’t left his room since would be a gross oversimplification. Oh, he’s venturing out, alright, but strategically. He comes down for meals. He comes down when Patton, Remus, or occasionally Janus ask for him, indulging them without complaint. Sure, he’s conveniently busy whenever it’s you or Roman knocking, but he’s already done so much with everybody else that day. No one could be concerned, because clearly Logan wasn’t avoiding anything.

Yeah, bullshit. He’s just diverting everybody else’s suspicions, but you know him too well for that.

He doesn’t work in the commons anymore. He doesn’t rise up in the living room, accompanied with a laptop or a kindle or what have you, just to have the quiet company of someone else while he works. He doesn’t seek you out to explain something he read on Tumblr, and from the looks of it, he doesn’t attempt to infodump about poetry with Roman anymore. And the nail in this coffin is this: when you attempt to confront him, he plays dumb. Logan plays dumb.

Logan avoiding you means two things: 1. one of your most trusted friends who you’re absolutely besotted with won’t talk to you, which is its own special kind of agony- and 2. you spend the majority of your time totally alone with the other friend that you are in love with, which is obviously not ideal.

By this point, you are well-acquainted with the various personal problems of your ‘co-workers’. Statistically, at any given point at least one side is having some kind of an emotional crisis. You figure that it’s best to get a headstart on solving this one, before you can talk yourself out of it. 

But obviously you can’t do it alone.

“Roman.”

The side in question shrieks, spinning around hastily with wide eyes. You don’t even blink, staring him down from the kitchen doorway until he has the sense to stop screaming. He cuts himself off with a cough, clearing his throat and returning to whatever it was that he was doing. After an appropriate awkward silence, he shoots you a sheepish smile. 

“Oh, ha- I- I didn’t see you there, Virgil,” he huffs a tiny laugh, his mouth twitching. It’s such a soft little expression, a bit embarrassed but mostly- Dammit, Virgil, you’re here for a reason! Keep it together, you useless homosexual.

“I guessed that, yeah,” you trudge into the room, lifting yourself up onto the counter beside the stove. “How are you?”

He pauses for a moment. It’s a simple question, but the both of you understand its true significance. You’re expecting an honest, no-nonsense answer as to how he’s been feeling. It’s sort of a system, to help prevent all that bottling up of emotions that you’re all so used to. 

“I suppose I’m… a little out of it. I got rather caught up in sculpting for a good few hours,” as he explains, you notice him absently digging clay out from under his nails, “So I figured it was time for a lunch break.”

“Good,” you tell him, because it’s important that he hears things like that. He’s staring vacantly into the water that’s beginning to bubble on the stove, but you know he will return the check-in question to you in his own time. Technically, you could have just walked in and began with what you really wanted to talk about, but this method gives the conversation a more clear-cut structure. Greeting, followed by question-response, followed by question-response; it’s properly outlined. 

“What’s going on with you, then?”

“I feel like garbage,” you see him blink in surprise, but he waits politely for you to continue. “I’m worried. I mean- I'm usually worried, but in this specific circumstance, I’m worried about-”

“Logan?” He looks up when he says it, his gaze searching. 

“Yeah- um, yes. You noticed it, too?”

“Oh, please,” there's an obnoxious clanging as Roman idly swings around a slotted spoon, “I may not be as observant as you nerds, but you could stand to give me some credit.”

You settle him with A Look. He huffs.

“Okay fine! I only caught on when he… ugh, it's embarrassing, but we like to write. Together. On Wednesdays. But he’s been ditching.”

You already had a hunch about your friends’ little poetry sessions, as neither are particularly subtle about anything, at all, ever. It's super dorky, but it’s a very them thing to do. This development is concerning, to say the least.

“Wait, then why haven’t you brought it up?” 

Roman squirms a bit, clinking his slotted ladle against the stovetop repetitively. You regret the interrogative tone that found its way into your voice.

“I didn't want to be, you know, needy. He said he was busy- and like, it was a little sketchy when he was only busy when I wanted to hang out- but- I just assumed he’d maybe gotten bored with it. I didn’t want him to get even more distant with me, so I didn’t say anything.”

Well, okay, you totally fail at not being distracted by that. Scooching a little further down the counter, you bump Roman's hip with the side of your foot.

“Hey.”

He doesn't look up. 

“Roman.”

He groans, throwing his head back and glaring up at the cabinets.

“I know! Saying it out loud, alright, I know he wouldn't do something like that- it's just- I forget sometimes, Virge.”

You don't ask him to elaborate. He doesn't need to. He shifts away from the stove and drops his head onto your shoulder, leaning against you. 

“But if you've noticed it too, then something must really be wrong, huh?”

You give a short laugh.

“Yeah. He's upset about something, I can tell. It’s fuzzy, though, that’s the weirdest thing. It's like, I can feel the anxiety from, but it's being overpowered by something else in there. I have no idea what, so it's gotta be out of my jurisdiction.”

He hums curiously. 

“What’s the plan then? Drag him out of his room and make him hang out with us?” Roman's voice rumbles against your shoulder, and it's so comforting that you can't help but hook a leg around his waist to keep him near you.

“Great idea, I'm sure that he’ll really appreciate that,” your sarcasm (hopefully) takes the impact out of your downright cuddly nature. Roman is unfazed.

“That is literally what the both of you did to me mere months ago. I'd say that turned out pretty well, hmm?”

He tilts his head to the side, dragging out the hum with his face pressed against your neck. It's a concerted effort to snark at him instead of purring from the feeling. 

“I doubt that L would appreciate something like that, just because you- Jesus,” you cut yourself off when Roman fucking nuzzles you, ew gross- “Oh my fucking God, can you- prrr- can you st- prrrrr- stop for one second? You're- re- rerrrrrr- distracting me!” You push him off of you, feigning disgust. You don’t want to, but you have to at least try to stay on track.

He just chuckles, dropping away from you if only to take his food off the stove. 

“Sorry, sorry, it's just so hard to resist. You’re a kitten!”

“I know you're God-awful at genuine conversations, so I guess I'll let it slide this time.”

You see the offended look spread across his face, and hastily hold a hand up to interrupt.

“Logan.”

“Right, yes. Logan.”

“I mean, what would he say?” you drag your hand down your face, wracking your brain for any of his advice that you could apply to the situation. “He’d be all ‘the logical course of action would simply be to confront me, Virgil, because I am a stubborn little bitch and I will dance around the issue indefinitely,’” You nod, satisfied with both your impression and the conclusion it brought you to. Roman shoots you a comically wide grin.

“That was scary, how much you sounded like him.”

You shrug, offering a hum.

“So we should just… what? Walk up to his door, knock knock,‘what’s going on with you, man?’, and see what happens?”

“As crazy as it sounds, maybe this would be easier if we didn't prolong it for three weeks and complicate it like we do with everything else?”

There's a clatter as Roman struggles to reach the top cabinet for a bowl. You drop down from the counter, reach over his head, and hand it to him. 

“When you phrase it like that, I suppose it sounds obvious,” he takes the ceramic and fills it up- without a thanks, the bitch.

“Okay. We do that, then.”

“Okay.”

You hover in the kitchen, watching him grab his meal and begin to walk away. He tosses his head over his shoulder, giving you a look that you can't quite place. 

“Are you just going to wait there while I eat my lunch? We’ll go up in a few minutes, but I'd rather not pass out from lack of blood sugar in the middle of what's sure to be a whole production.”

“Oh- right.”

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

At your knock, there is absolutely no response from the other side of Logan’s door. You knock again- not so much as a footstep! You push down your immediate frustration at the nerve of him, knowing that you must keep your cool (but you also know that he has everyone’s knocks memorized; he knows it’s you!). 

You spare a glance to Virgil. He stares back at you, lip worried between his fangs, hands twisting themselves at his sleeves. He’s slouching so much that he looks nearly as short as you. 

“Is it… is it that bad?” your knuckles are still barely pressing against the inky-blue door, lingering. He nods. 

“Fuck, dude, whatever he’s feeling is intense. But, I can’t figure out what the hell it is,” he makes an attempt at whispering, but it sounds more like screeching TV static than anything. 

He’s in there, and Virgil isn’t the only one who can sense it. It’s electric; whatever Virgil isn’t picking up on seems to have fallen into your domain. Unfortunately, it must be one of your non-primary side functions, because you have no idea what the specifics are. You curse the fact that you aren’t nearly as in tune with these things as he, by design, is. 

“We gotta get in there, Roman.”

The use of your proper name startles you. You grind your teeth, turning his suggestion over in your mind a few times before shaking your head sharply.

“You were the one that said we needed a subtle approach, you- Virgil,” you catch yourself before a nickname slips out, trying to share in his sincerity for the moment.

He gives a shaky sigh.

“I- I know what I said, but- Fuck, Ro, it’s bad.”

Now, it may be just because you’re a contrary bitch, but you have flipped on your original stance as well, leaving the both of you at odds. The worse this feels, the more you need to hesitate. If he’s avoiding you- both of you, the mini-him in your head reminds you, mind your mental filtering- then there's a reason for it. A reason to do with anxiety and you, which could easily be the ‘passion’ part of you, and that gives the strong implication that he’s deeply angry and hurt. In which case, you know that you could easily do something to make it much worse. You are very good at saying the wrong thing.

And so. You stare blankly at his door. Immobile.

Virgil elbows you.

You wrap your knuckles against the door and send him a glare. He groans, ramming his shoulder into yours.

“Okay, Roman, out of the way-”

“I’m getting some bad vibes-”

“Yeah, me too, that's kind of the point!”

“Well, there’s no reason to get snippy!”

“I don’t need a reason anyway, now move-” 

At a light shuffling from behind the door, you both snap your mouths shut. It’s dead silent as you wait, more patient than you've ever been before, as the muffled footsteps draw closer to the door. They stop just short of it, and for a moment you don't breathe.

“I can hear you,” came a muffled, barely-audible rasp. 

You fall against the door at once, pressing the side of your face into its cool surface. Virgil appears beside you, his claws suspended just above the knob. They hover like he’d be burned if he touched it. His voice is carefully measured, and he nearly sounds normal when he speaks.

“L, buddy, can you let us in? Can we talk?” 

You nod along, realize that he cannot see you, and then enthusiastically proclaim your agreement with the statement instead.

There's a long pause. You fear that Logan’s left again.

“Is this… necessary?”

“I’d really like to know why you aren't talking to us, so yeah,” you try not to snap, you really do, but you can tell that you’ve failed as soon as the words leave your mouth. You hope he'll understand how you really meant it. 

There's a sigh, and yet another silence. Virgil makes eye-contact with you, face twisted up with concern.

“It was not my intention for you to think me angry with you, if that's what you’re worried about.”

“That’s not it, Lo,” well, Virgil can speak for himself, because you were kind of worried about that. “I know something's going on. I know you.”

“Virgil,” his voice sounds much clearer, closer, as though he's pressed against the doorframe like yourself, “Virgil, your voice.”

“Don't know if you can tell, man, but I'm pretty anxious right now. And I know that not all of it is mine.”

At the next lapse, you don't wait for Logan to speak.

“Specs, hey, listen to me: I don't have a clue what's going on-” you let yourself smile, knowing that he can hear it in your voice, “Which is kind of my usual state, really- but the point is, it doesn't matter. We're here for you, no matter what. The three of us- best friends, right? Bee-eff-effs.”

“Best friends forever,” he mutters.

“Ah! I’m glad you agree!”

“No- it’s- I was correcting you, abbreviations have no place in verbal conversation- especially in place of simple phrases such as that one.”

“There he is,” Virgil chuckles, the distortion finally edging out of his throat. 

Logan sighs. You hear a bump.

“I suppose, if you two are really so concerned,” the lock clicks, “Then it would only be hypocritical of me to refuse to speak with you on this matter, given how I encourage you to do the opposite almost constantly,” the knob twists, pushes forwards an inch, halts abruptly, “Although… I can’t promise you full transparency. I don’t- I don’t think I’m quite ready for that conversation.”

Well that is ominous. But, then again, progress is progress.

You step back, and the door swings open. 

You fail to stifle your gasp.

Logan stands in the doorway, his head up, spine straight, and his hands behind his back- his usual stance. The posturing does nothing, however, to hide just how bloodshot his eyes are behind his glasses. He trembles, almost, when he looks from you to Virgil, and then back again. As soon as you meet his gaze, he glances down to the carpet, tapping his foot on the floor compulsively. It’s a state you’ve seen him in plenty of times, but the knowledge that this time you were somehow responsible for it pushes daggers under your skin. 

“Well,” he falters, “Come in, I suppose.”

[kirishibi]

Drunk

[smallsecrets-sanderssidesau]

Part 3

AN: the hiatus is over everyone :D! Have this new part and keep asking!

Patton kneeled in front of Roman and Dorian, Virgil was on his hands ”What are you doing all the way here?”

”We were just talking Pat, we didn't want to wake you” said Roman

”Aww, you don't have to worry about that, c’mon let’s have breakfast” Said Patton, leaving his free hand on the floor for Roman and Dee to climb it.

When they were on Patton's hand, he stood up and walked to the kitchen, leaving the three shrunken boys on the counter while he made pancakes for breakfast.

Virgil walked to Dorian “how are you doing?”

“Better, Roman helped me to realize it’s not my fault” he said, then he turned to glare at Patton, who was distracted cooking “It’s his”

Virgil grabbed Roman’s arm and pulled him close “fourth stage?” he whispered into his ear.

Roman nodded “fourth stage”

Dee looked at them and raised an eyebrow “what?”

“You’re in the fourth stage now, anger” explained Roman.

“Again with that stages thing? Of course I’m angry! You should be too! Patton shrunk us and he keeps us in a dollhouse, telling us we’re his boyfriends when he treats us as some kind of pet! And the only thing we did was fall in love with him!”

Roman grabbed Dorian’s shoulders and looked at him “Listen, we understand what you’re feeling right now, but letting is out is not going to do anyone any good”

Dorian frowned “This should be ready in a sec” Patton grabbed a chair and sat next to his boyfriends “I thought we could play some board games today before I store them! Or you can help me finishing packing! What would you three like to do?”

“Board games sound nice” said Roman smiling up at him “we should relax instead of thinking abut the moving”

Virgil nodded, knowing Patton was going to ask him what he wanted.

He smiled ad turned to Dee “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah” he said crossing his arms and looking away “Whatever you want is fine”

Patton raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend’s behaviour, the small oven sounded “Toast are ready!” He stood up and left the toasts on a plate "You'll have to go on my shoulders okay?" Patton left his hand on the counter and waited until two of hem climbed on it "Sorry Ro, it seem's you'll go on the other one"

He left Virgil and Dorian on his left shoulder and then put Roman on the right one before grabbing the plate and some toppings and walking to his room.

Since they were so close to Patton's ear, Virgil just leaned on Dee's shoulder and rubbed his back, trying to comfort him, Dee smiled down at him and leaned on Virgil's head, sighing heavily.

Patton entered his room and left the food on the table before putting the boys back on the dollhouse "Your toasts as always guys?" He asked to Virgil and Roman who nodded "Dee how would you like it?"

Dorian shrugged "I'm fine with jam"

Patton nodded and prepared the food, again bothered by his newest boyfriend's behaviour, he cut the toasts on small pieces and left them in different little plates before leaving them in the table for the others to eat "Bon apettite!"

The three shrunken boys sat at the cushions and started to eat.

"I heard there's a school near to our new apartment that's looking for a new art teacher!" That sounds like a great job right?"

"You haven't painted in years..." said Roman

Patton shrugged "I just have to practice again, the classes wont start until a couple of weeks, I have time to catch up, oh! You could help me! And I could teach you how to paint in the meantime, doesn't that sounds fun?"

"Could you stop Patton?" Dorian left his toast on the plate "Stop pretending everything is normal"

"W-What are you talking about?.."

Virgil and Roman looked at each other and then at Dee as he stood up, this was not going to end good "You don't even see the problem here"

Patton left the plate and his food on the desk "I don't understand..."

"And that's the problem! You shrunk us and keep us here like we're some kind of pet!" Patton opened his mouth to speak again but Dorian interrupted "And don't say we're not, because it doesn't matter what you think, we clearly are! You expect us to love you and be a nice little family but is not going to happen! Virgil hates you! Roman hates you! And I hate you! We don't like being here!"

Roman stood up and covered Dee's mouth "Don't listen to him Pat... he's just overwhelmed"

Dorian uncovered his mouth "I'm not and it's true! I'm not going to keep acting nice just because he wants us to!" He took a deep breath "you know what? I'm done with this" he turned to the other shrunken guys "I'm done with you two acting like everything's fine" he turned to Patton "and I'm tired of you"

"Dee..." Patton was at the boarder of tears "Are you...?"

"I'm breaking up with you"

Patton's heart shattered for a second "Dorian darling please... d-don-"

"This is over Pat! So you better grow me back to normal and stay out of my life forever, because I don't want to see you again!"

Patton took a deep breath and frowned "Okay then, if that's what you want" he stood up and walked out of the room, cleaning his tears as he walked.

Dorian turned to see Patton's boyfriends "See? You just had to straight up said it"

Virgil held Roman's arm tightly "I don't think getting Patton mad was a good idea... he doesn't really think when he's emotional"

"I don't see what are you so worried about, he surely went for the thing that's going to grown me, but don't worry, once I'm back to human size, I'll force him to grow you too"

Patton went back into the room, the tiny humans saw he had something on his hands, but it wasn't clear what, he got close to them and reached his hand into the dollhouse, Roman and Virgil backed away but Dee wasn't as fast, Patton grabbed him and lifted him on a fist.

Dee was startled by the sudden movement, but in less than a few seconds he was put down again on a glass surface, he looked up and noticed he was on a jar, Patton left it on a high shelf “I think you need some time to think Dorian”

“W-Wait you’re not going to leave me here are you?” He asked leaning on one of the jar’s side.

“I’m sorry hun, I really wanted you to be with us this weekend, but some time alone will be good for you”

“No, no, no, no, no, you can’t leave me here!” Dee hit the jar as he yelled.

Patton looked at him with pitying eyes “I’ll get you out once you apologise, until then, we’ll be in the living room” he walked to his desk and scooped Virgil and Roman up, leaving them on his right shoulder before grabbing the plates that still had a bit of food on them “You really hurt me Dee, and I want you to be part of the family more than anything, but it won’t work if you act like that” the normal sized human turned around and walked to the door.

“Patton!” Dorian kept hitting the glass “You can’t leave me here! Let me out!”

He glanced briefly at his boyfriend, before getting out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Dee sighed desperate and sat at the end of a jar, a simple jar was enough to keep him contained with no chance of escaping, and the way Patton easily trapped him kept repeating on his head, constantly reminding him of how small he really was now.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added)

@slutty-cinammon-roll

@tiny-peter-rabbit (I figured you would like to be tagged, let me know if it’s okay or not ;))

[mrsbhandari]

Artsy as Fuck - Cups

A/N: Hii!! so I was actually going to put this series on hiatus because I wasn’t really getting super inspired by it, but then @lovehugsandcandy​ commented something that made me think!! so yeah thank you so much for your lovely thoughts on this series as it lives on another chapter!

Word count: 2245

Warnings: language

Summary: Colt has a conversation with both of the Wheelers. He can see a few similarities.

Tag List:

@omgjasminesimone, @edgiestwinter, @bucketofsoup, @donutsgirl36, @desireepow-1986, @lovehugsandcandy, @troublemakerinspace, @client-327

Masterlist

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

“My mother liked it here.” Colt’s eyes snapped up to hers, meeting an open and vulnerable gaze across the table. 

“What?”

“My mom. She died when I was young. Murdered in the street. This was her favorite restaurant.” All at once, Roze’s stare hardened and her tone changed to defensive and cold. For a split second, Colt was scared. “It’s not important.”

“Well, Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not like we’re dating or anything,” she mocked, a twinkle of amusement replacing the stony hatred in her eye and easing some of the tension. Colt wondered how long she had been doing that; confronting her pain only to hide behind a mask. “I thought that coming here would be good, so we can get to know each other better.”

Flashes of the morning crept into his mind. “I think we’re very well acquainted, don’t you?” He silently cursed himself for not taking anything seriously, but the small giggle she hid behind a stained hand erased the thought from his mind like an undo button. Her other hand covered his own and his heart began to race.

“How about….emotionally acquainted?” she said, ripping her hand away when she thought harder about her words. “You know...to be more convincing for Ingrid.” She cleared her throat, leaving Colt to hope that it covered the sound of his heart dropping to his shoes. “Ask me whatever you like.”

Looking at her encouraging smile slightly downplayed the rush of scenarios depicting this going horribly wrong that raced through Colt’s mind, but not by much. Nonetheless, he sighed and thought of an easy question with little to no consequences. “Favorite color?”

“Seriously?” Colt shrugged. “Purple. Yours?”

“Black.”

“That’s not a color.”

“Don’t go all ‘pretentious art student’ on me.”

She laughed again, but it was fuller this time. It formed a hazy bubble around Colt’s mind. “Fine. Your turn.”

“This is a game?”

“Just ask questions. And make it uncomfortable this time. Don’t be scared.”

“Uh...okay, what was your first impression of me?”

There was a flash of surprise in her eyes that was quickly replaced with a long, thoughtful look as she tried to come up with an answer. Colt considered if she was debating lying or not, but she finally came up with an answer. 

“I thought you were arrogant and conceited.” Her tone was certain and obvious, as if she hadn’t spent time to arrive at a response. 

“Explain.”

“It’s not your turn.” A playful gleam accompanied the deep brown of her irises.

“It’s not a question, and I’m not asking.”

“Mm,” she hummed, and he decided not to mention the shiver he saw go down her spine, electing to tuck it away for later instead. “Well, you were naked, so I wasn’t completely in the right headspace. But you were naked and seemed to be fine with it...which is fine, it’s just…” she trailed off, eyes flitting between his to try and find the right words between his eyelashes. “You had this smirk.”

Colt raised an eyebrow.

“I saw it and immediately thought, ‘Wow, this guy’s an asshole.’” She popped another piece of chicken into her mouth, surely cold by now. 

“Hm.” Colt gave a smirk. 

“There! That’s the one. I was right about it, you know.”

“You think I’m arrogant?”

“Yup.”

“And conceited?”

“‘We need to prove to Ingrid that you can get a guy as hot as me!’” she imitated, dropping her voice and mimicking his smug smile. He hated that it was actually a pretty decent impression. 

“Alright, alright,” he surrendered, holding his hands up. “I’m exactly what people think I am: an asshole.”

“Mm…” She pursed her lips. “I think there’s more to you. I’m coming around. Although that first impression was forever captured in that drawing, I’m afraid.”

Colt recalled the haughty, regal look she drew with her first assignment and smiled at the memory. “I don’t know. I kinda liked how you made me look. Plus, you’re crazy fast!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Everyone else only did my body, but you had time for face and everything. Very impressive.” She liked the way his eyes lit up at the thought of her art; it filled her stomach with butterflies. “It’s your turn.” 

“Oh! Uh, why do you not like cars?” Colt’s eyes dropped to his empty plate and his eyebrows furrowed. He stayed silent so long, Roze worried she hit a nerve, but he finally opened his mouth to speak, looking like the action pained him. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I can ask another question.” He nodded, giving her a small smile that eased the tensions in her shoulders. “Well, what was your first impression of me?”

“Innocent,” he answered, no hesitation. 

“What?!” Her surprised face sent him into a fit of boisterous laughter, face flushing as he caught the attention of other customers at surrounding tables. 

“Your….face!” he wheezed, face filled with uninterrupted glee. Even though he was laughing at her, she couldn’t help but laugh with him. He had an unexpectedly contagious laugh, one that he rarely let out in public--or ever. She took a sip of her water, hoping that it would cool down the heat that spread to her neck. “Ah, that was priceless!”

“How about you tell me why you thought that, meanie?” She picked off a piece of asparagus and threw it across the table at him, hitting him harmlessly in the cheek before falling to his plate. 

“When I got undressed and was posing and stuff, you got really flustered. I figured that you hadn’t really seen...anything like that.” He wiggled his eyebrows, cheeks still red. “I was wrong, judging by your lovely performance this morning.” 

“Tch. Whatever. It’s your turn.”

“Hm...why do you pay cash for everything?” 

“What?”

“You always pull out cash when you have to pay. At the garage and here. Why?”

“Oh, um.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “My dad is...weird about my money. He’s just protective, but he tracks my accounts and stuff. It’s just a habit to pay with cash so he doesn’t worry about it.” Colt hummed, not wanting to push her. “I’m not like...rich, or anything like that. Did you think I was?”

It was Colt’s turn to shift in his seat. “Well...kind of. You would just pull out wads of bills and I thought--” He cut himself off, trying to avoid offending her. She nodded. 

“No, I understand. I must’ve looked really pretentious, huh?” Her voice sounded small, and Colt knew that this was a sore spot for her, so he didn’t want to patronize her. Luckily, their conversation was cut short by her phone ringing, a soft piano melody rising from her purse. 

“Dad, hey! What’s--Yeah, I’m with him.” Roze gave him a small wink, trying to lessen the awkwardness of Colt listening to the one-sided conversation. “Bring...him?” Her eyes went wide as they met Colt’s. “Uh…” He frantically shook his head, trying to convey that it was not a good idea. “Sure!” Colt gave a look, eyebrows knit and mouth partially open in shock. She finished her call and gave a sheepish smile. 

“Roze, I don’t do parents.”

“It’s only one.”

“...I don’t do parent.”

“I hope not, that’d be awkward.” Colt sent her an exasperated expression. “It’s not that bad!”

“What have you even told him about our...unique situation?”

“That I was seeing a guy from my art class, that’s it.”

“That’s what you told him? He’s going to think I’m some artist guy.” She shook her head slightly, asking him to elaborate. “I’m a mechanic, Roze. Far cry from ‘cool artist worthy of your daughter.’”

“It’s technically true that you’re from my art class, so you have no reason to worry.”

“What if he doesn’t like me?”

“It’s likely.”

“Roze!”

“I’m preparing you! He’s a detective and very...gruff. He’ll have to warm up to you.”

“How do I get him to do that?”

“Be yourself.”

“Bullshit.”

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

“Roze and friend! Come in.” The man, Mr. Wheeler, greeted them with a warm smile that made Colt wonder if Roze lied just to see him sweat about making a good impression on her father. The couple walked in, hand-in-hand, and Colt looked around, loving the small, cozy feeling of the house. It really felt like home. Roze detangled her fingers from his own, and he felt the feeling dim ever so slightly.

“Hello, sir. I’m Colt.” He grasped Mr. Wheeler’s hand in his own, nearly wincing at the death grip the older man had. Looking closer, Colt realized that the smile didn’t reach her father’s eyes. Shit.

“So I’ve heard; Rosemary doesn’t stay quiet about you.” Colt held in his surprise at hearing her full name.

“Dad!”

“Oh, come on, Roze. I have to embarrass you.”

“Mhm.” 

“Can you get us some drinks? I’ll have a beer,” he requested, eyeing Colt as if testing him. 

“Just water for me, I drove.” A slight flicker of approval in Mr. Wheeler’s eyes told Colt he passed. Roze walked to the kitchen, leaving the two men alone. 

“Yes, drove a motorcycle?” 

“Yes, sir.” Colt sat with almost obnoxiously good posture, trying to discreetly wipe his sweaty palms on the pants of his overalls.

“Hm.” Mr. Wheeler’s face barely changed, but Colt could feel the judgement radiating off him. To avoid digging himself further into any holes, he elected to stay silent and let Roze’s father do all the asking. Briefly, Colt thought of how he didn’t need to impress him; this is all fake. Roze isn’t really his girlfriend. There was no reason he couldn’t just walk out of this house right now. He remembered the feeling of her hand in his and thought hard about what exactly he was doing here, but Mr. Wheeler interrupted the discussion Colt was having with himself. “You ever had an accident on one of those things?”

“No, sir.” Colt could hear the noise in the kitchen and prayed that Roze would come back. Until she did, he tracked her sound to help distract from the icy glare that was so far removed from what he associated with his girlfriend, he wondered if she was adopted. 

“Never?” Clink! Roze was taking a bottle out of the fridge.

“No, I always take the utmost care with my bike. It was a gift from my mother.” A soft ksh. She closed the fridge. 

“Your mother?” Psh-psh. Roze’s bare feet on the tile as she walked through the kitchen. 

“Yes, she’s on the east coast. I used to live with her but moved here to be closer with my dad.” A hollow thunk. A plastic cup being set down on the counter. 

“What does your father do?” Multiple high pitched taps. Ice being put into the cup. 

“He owns a garage, I’m a mechanic there.” Colt pointed to the small logo embroidered above his name tag on his outfit, focusing on the loud shh from the faucet. Roze was pouring the water. 

“Ah,” Mr. Wheeler nodded his head in understanding as Roze walked back to where the two men were sitting in the dining room. “You’ll have to forgive me for not connecting the dots with your outfit; I thought you were a stripper.”

“Colt had been sipping his water as his anxiety had dried his tongue, but Mr. Wheeler’s admission made him choke and sputter. “Sir?”

“Dad!” Roze sent her father a glare, and Colt realized that her cold expression was actually pretty similar. 

“What? C’mon, I’m just playing with the kid. Plus, you said he’s from your art class, and I read that art pays so little that some do have to resort to that line of work.” He casually took a sip of his beer while Colt sent confused glances over to Roze. 

“He’s not an artist, Dad. He’s been the model for a few classes. I’ve drawn him; that’s how we met.”

Her father perked up, sending an interested glance towards Colt, who prepared himself for anything else completely random that could possibly be said. 

“Nude?” Mr. Wheeler asked, a playful smirk complemented by a dangerous look in his eyes. 

“Okay! That’s enough chatting. Colt needs to get back to the garage, right?”

“Uh, yes. It was a pleasure meeting you, sir.”

“Likewise.” Mr. Wheeler waved a bored hand as Colt was dragged out the door and across the street by a fuming a ranting Roze.

“--so disrespectful, I can’t believe it! He always does this and acts stupid! Stripper? Because you don’t make money with art?!” They reached Colt’s bike, Roze’s voice rising until Colt was sure that her father could hear her outburst from inside. 

“Hey, hey,” Colt cooed, pulling her flush against his body without a second thought. Hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around his wrist, nuzzling her face into his neck as best she could. The hug was tender, far more tender than Colt every believed he could be with another human being. They stood like that for minutes before she wordlessly pulled away, face flushed. Colt gave her a small wave as he climbed on his bike and secured his helmet, riding off with a small “see ya.”

She crossed the street and slammed her door shut after entering, sending another glare her father’s way. He was still on the couch, looking at her with an amused smile. “Was that really necessary, Dad?”

“I liked him.”

[ourkarlanicoleuniverse]

Sweet Nothing (MHA Staff AU Fanfiction)

Chapter 14

A/N: Sorry for going on a whole month hiatus with the story. I was swamped with college work and then I had slight writer’s block. But hopefully, that’s all over now. I’ll try to update more frequently. Thank you for being very understanding.  

Warnings: None, swf. Long chapter. 

Shouta Aizawa x OC  (Mai Montoya, Pro Hero Zion) 

If you want to read of the events before this chapter here is the Master List 😊

I heard a thump in the next room and a groan in pain; I rushed over to my guest room to see Aizawa dropped a box on his foot. I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Mic, Vlad, and Midnight came rushing in to see the commotion and were confused to see me dying of laughter while Aizawa sat on the floor holding his foot.

“What happened?” Vlad asked.

Midnight took joy in seeing me laugh at Aizawa, “Clearly someone is a sadist. Mai is laughing at Aizawa’s pain.”

I wiped my eyes and held my stomach, “It’s not my fault. I told him not to handle heavy things because he barely recovered. He didn’t listen, and now he got hurt.” Once I composed myself, I grabbed the box he dropped and moved to unpack it, “Nemuri, I have ice packs in my freezer. Can you grab Aizawa one?”

Nemuri left to the kitchen while the two men were still standing dumbfounded. Aizawa glared at them, “You guys can go back to hanging stuff on the walls. We’re fine.” Mic threw his hands up while Vlad huffed. I couldn’t help but grin a little. Aizawa scooched over next to me to help me get the stuff out of the box while trying to figure out where to put everything. Nemuri came back in and gave him the ice pack not without kissing his cheek and leaving to go back to my room and organize my desk area. “This whole box is just books. Why did you bring all of this if you knew it was only going to be a year?”

“Because I didn’t trust my cousin with my books. I’ve collected them since before I started school. They’re my babies.” I hugged the books I had in my hands and slightly cradled them.

Aizawa just shook his head at me while taking more books out. “I’m almost positive you haven’t read all of them.”

“Yes, I have…. Okay, maybe at least more than half of them.” I pouted. “I’ve been busy.” Aizawa simply huffed and nodded in response. “I am going to go check in on Vlad and Mic. I’ll send you a picture of how I had my bookshelf back at home.” I heard a scoff come out from him as I walked out and texted him the photo. I simply ignored it.

Walking into my living room, I see Vlad adjusting a large frame with a picture of our graduating class, all while Mic was sitting on the couch. “Do you think I should move more to the left or the right?” Vlad called out.

“Honestly, I feel like the spot is okay. You just have it crooked.” Mic sat comfortably with his feet on the couch and a bottle in his hand.

I glided off the ground to go and help Vlad readjust the frame marking where the corners met the wall as Vlad went to grab the hammer and nails. He snuck a quick kiss on my forehead as he hammered away, “Thanks, Mai. I’m happy to have help.”

I giggled slightly and lightly slapped his shoulder, “You’re the one helping me out here. I should be thanking you.” I almost instinctively went in to kiss his cheek but was interrupted by a slight grumble coming from the blond laying on my couch. I turned over to Mic and pursed my lips, “Yes, Mr. Yamada?”

He took a swig of his beer, “Don’t call me that. But anyhoo, please refrain from being all cutesy in front of me. I didn’t even know you guys were a thing.”

“Who’s a thing?” Midnight walked in with an empty box.

“Mai and Vlad. I just saw them making out.” Mic cringed.

“I highly doubt they were doing that. They’re very reserved. But that's cute that you guys are together. I’m happy for you.”

I slowly went back to the ground and was a blushing mess, “Well, uh... “

“We haven’t made it official; we just been on one date, really. It’s mainly just us flirty back and forth. We thought that with the extra time from work and the students this week. We could squeeze a few more dates.” He draped his arm around me and smiled excitedly.

“That is, if nothing happens with any of the students during their work-study, I’m responsible for them if things occur because I am their counselor.” I shrugged. I motioned Kayama to come outside with me to show her where to put the empty boxes. I felt Mic’s eyes on me. It felt like I was doing something wrong. The judgment seeped through my skin.

I set the box on top of a stack of other boxes in the storage unit behind the building, “Don’t worry about Yamada. You know he gets protective of you.” Nemuri reassured me.

“I know, but it feels like it’s a different kind of negative aura. Almost like he was annoyed by the idea of Vlad and me. It’s barely anything like Vlad said. He doesn’t need to get so crabby.” I shrugged and hung my head low.

“He’s probably madder about Aizawa than about you.” Nemuri let out a small grin. Her hand reached over to rub my back. Nemuri was always like a big sister figure for all of us in the group, so I guess it’s just natural to play things off like it's nothing because she’s seen it all before.

“Why would he mad at Aizawa? This has nothing to do with him.” I looked up at her like a confused child looking at an older adult.

“Oh, just Aizawa pissed him off about something, so he’s just a little annoyed, is all.” She brushed off, but I could tell she was holding something in. “But honestly, it's good to see you see someone romantically for once. Even if it isn’t much right now, things like relationships grow anyways.” I simply nodded.

“I feel a little weird about it, to be honest,” I admitted. I liked the attention Vlad was giving me but it kind of felt off because of my circumstances. I only ever dated two people briefly, and the rest were casual hookups because I never really felt like I could be committed to someone. Between my hero work and then my own personal issues, it's hard to believe someone would even want something serious with me.

“Why?”

“With what happened to Lily, and, you know, me planning to leave at the end of the year. I just don’t feel like it's appropriate to start dating someone. Even if it just happened and I’m actually pretty happy with it.” I switched my gaze to the view of campus, “I feel like it’s not a good idea to be dating.”

“Then maybe communicate that with Vlad. He’s a very logical and understanding person.”

“I guess you’re right…” Beep. Beep. Beep. I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and saw a call coming from an unknown number. I decided it was best to ignore it. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Maybe you should answer that.” Nemuri giggled.

“I don’t know the number.” I sighed and answered the call, “Hello?”

“Mai?” An all too familiar voice rang through my ear. A voice that I shouldn’t hear from at all.

Gemini. “What do you want, Brandon?” Nemuri looked a little concerned, but I quickly shook my hand to let her know everything was fine.

“How’s Japan?” Is he serious right now?

“It’s fine, you do know you, and I aren’t allowed to be speaking during my suspension, right? Or did Captain Celebrity give you too many concussions that you forgot?” I rolled my eyes, trying to conceal the annoyance in my voice but failing miserably.

“Oh no, I am very well aware. I just had to know how my little poppy flower is doing? No suspension can prevent me from wondering.” I heard the evil smirk running across his voice. “Missing me? Or are you still pretending to act like a victim?”

“I’m hanging up. Go fuck yourself, Brandon. You’re better off by yourself and away from other people.”

“Now, that’s not very nice, Poppy. I just wanted to let you know that I can’t wait to have you back at work under me…” I hung up my phone and decided to text Nezu about getting a new phone number. Not even a stupid suspension and judge sentence can get that man off my back.

Nemuri gently grabbed my hand. “Mai, you’re shaking. What did he say to you?”

“It’s nothing. I’m just annoyed that I have to change my number again.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “Let’s just go back inside and finish up my apartment; please, I have a lot of emails to go through from teachers and parents.” Nemuri simply nodded but kept her hands in mine as we walked back into the apartment.

We walked in as Aizawa stormed out and shoving Nemuri and me into the door. We both turned over to look at Mic. He hesitantly spoke, trying to figure out how to explain what happened. I knew better to know that he was trying to find a way to cover for his best friend. “Um, apparently he needed to help with a case, and you know he’s not injured, so he’s a little excited to be working again.” He let out a nervous smile.

I let out a groan and ran out to catch up to Aizawa, “Recovery Girl told him that he still needed time before he did patrols; why is he like this?” Too bad, the man quickly vanished. “Idiot. I swear if he ends up injured again, I’m not taking care of him again.”

I made my way back inside with awaiting eyes watching me. I simply huffed and shrugged, indicating to them that I couldn’t find him. Mic approached me as I went into the kitchen to grab a water bottle. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “He was fine until I mentioned you and Vlad we sort of a thing.”

I met with the emerald eyes that were peering into me, “Yeah, I kind of figured it wasn’t actually patrolling. He even said during lunch today that he wasn’t going to be patrolling any time soon. That he was going to take the week off from teaching the class to build up his strength.”

Mic huffed, “So you and he weren’t having any weird hang-ups? I can’t think of any reason why you and Vlad would piss him off.”

I took a sip of my water and shrugged, “Beats me. I don’t know everything about him.”

“Don’t you two have some unspoken connection?” Mic pursed his lips in genuine confusion.

“No, we don’t. If anything, he’s just grumpy to see Vlad happy. Remember, they have a weird competitive colleague relationship going on.” I tried my best not to sound so irritated. But I wasn’t in the mood to be dealing with Aizawa’s shenanigans after my little call from Gemini. “I thought you guys knew everything about each other.”

“Well, we kind of do, meaning I know about your little panic attack after the festival. And you know the almost kiss…” He raised an eyebrow at me condescendingly. As if I was a child being ratted out for misbehaving. “So, why are you dating Vlad instead of Aizawa?”

“Because I like Vlad and that almost kiss? It was just a reaction due to emotional stress and old feelings. Nothing too serious to focus on. Nothing happened after that. Plus, Vlad is nice to me.”

“Bullshit, what about this morning?” This morning? “In the nurse’s office? Longing pause between you both, you in his arms, the slow leaning in with the undying urge to mold into one another? Doesn’t ring any bells?”

I scowled at him, “That was nothing. You weren’t even there. How did you even know about that?”

“If it’s nothing, why are you mad that I know anything. Face it. You guys still have feelings towards each other.” He grinned like a mad man, “And if you guys do, then that’s good. I always felt that you guys were the closest thing to soulmates.”

“Soulmates, my ass. The guy ditched me in third year and then never wanted to keep in contact with me for fourteen years.” I couldn’t help but laugh in annoyance at Mic. “Stop trying to paint Aizawa out to be a nice person. He still did all of that and never fully apologized for it. If you were my friend, you would be happy that I’m starting something with someone that has only treated me well.” I stared into his eyes with nothing but sternness. “I get that Shota is a good person, with a lot of baggage. But so does everyone else. I’m sorry that I can’t look past that he’s treated me wrongly because of the few times he’s treated me like a human being since I’ve been back.” My eyes were slightly stinging at this point, “If I forgave so easily and didn’t hold it against people for what they did wrong to me, then I would be like all the other female pros in the U.S. being used and abused. And I’m tired of all of that. I’m tired of having to be the bigger person. If he has a problem with me being with someone else, that’s his own problem, not mine.”

Hizashi’s face fell in concern as he moved to wipe the tear falling from my eyes, “Okay. I get it. But maybe you shouldn’t be falling for the first person that does treat you the way you want to be treated too. You are worth more than that.” It’s hard for me even to believe that I am even worth anything at this point. I can’t wait to have you back at work under me…

“Vlad isn’t the first. And it's new, so don’t act like it's so serious.” I took a breath and wiped my face.

“And maybe you shouldn’t be dating with that mindset either; that’s not fair to Vlad. But if you’re having fun and enjoying yourself with his company, I guess that’s all that matters. Just please stop leading on Sho.”

“I’m not the one leading anyone on,” I grumbled.

“Well, I don’t know about that. You are a natural flirt. You never know when you have someone falling for you.” Hizashi moved a few pieces of hair out of my face and kissed my forehead.

You are a natural flirt. You never know when you have someone falling for you. That’s not really something I needed to hear right now.

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Taglist: 

@multifandoms916​ @inumorph​ @thatgirlwithcamera​ @mel-sanch​

[slyscenarios]

allure

prologue words: 2.3k member: park jimin an:  hihi uwu. i’m back from the dead hehe. here’s something i wrote a while back when i was on my hiatus. i don’t know if i’ll be continuing this or not but if you guys demand it enough, then maybe i will :) i hope you enjoy reading this!

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During the end of senior year in high school, you had planned and searched for a place to live on your own in order to attend the top university you dreamed to go to. After your acceptance, your parents had agreed to you living on your own. Now, you were quite excited to have moved out of your parent’s home and live in your very own apartment. The complex you were living in was quite nice and your neighbors, the ones you’ve met so far, were also friendly. You lived close to the campus and didn’t mind the few minutes walk to campus, so all was well. That was until nightfall.

The first week of living alone was what you had expected, the freedom to do what you want without your parents nagging you. You loved the independence and will to do what you desired without being scolded. Although living alone meant no home-cooked meals (since you didn’t really know how to cook), you were always up for some cheap, delivered pizza. 

As the darkness of the night grew, you found yourself sitting at your desk while working on your first project for the semester. You had figured out your major already, focusing on psychology and narrowing what job you really wanted for your future. Breathing a sigh of relief, you smiled while setting your things aside. Taking out your earbuds, you close the lights before running towards your bed and wrapping the blanket around yourself. Inhaling deeply, you lay on your side while trying to rest. 

As sleep began to overcome you, the faint sound of a woman’s voice was heard. The sound soon becoming clearer as you laid in bed, confused. Please don’t tell me what I think it is. 

“Fuck, Ji-”

Taking your extra pillow, you covered your ears in order to tune out the “noise”. You were quite confused but more annoyed as to why this had to happen to you, especially during the middle of the night. “I’ll just have to inform that woman tomorrow to do her business in quiet throughout the night.” You whispered to yourself before completely falling asleep.

Waking up around noon, you finally get ready and wash up, thankful for your evening class schedule. You tie your hair back into a low bun, putting on a pair of leggings and a white tank top as you wear a long green cardigan over. Grabbing your backpack and keycard, you lock the door to your apartment as you proceed to walk down the hall. Stopping in front of the door of who you assumed was your neighbor, you rung the doorbell in hopes of a woman answering it. Instead, you were met with a man who looked as if he just woke up.

“How can I help you, love?” His voice was raspy and deep, unusual for his appealing face. You scanned him top to bottom, noticing the wrinkled jeans he probably threw on last minute as the fly was down. Although he had just woken up, his face was quite flawless. 

Snapping out of your thoughts, you simply smiled at him. “Sorry to bother you, it’s just that I recently moved in and thought that today would be the day I greet my neighbors.” He rubbed his eyes before a smile formed on his face.

“Well, I’m sorry you have to see me like this. If I knew, I would have at least dressed for the occasion.” He chuckled as you shook your head.

“No, there’s no need for you to look nice. I mean, your fly is down and you could have at least combed your hair, but that’s not the point.” He interrupts with a laugh before turning his body around to zip up his fly, then facing you again. 

“Thanks for informing me.” He grins before taking a step towards you, his face closing into yours. Inhaling sharply, you feel his breath tickle your ear. “Hopefully this isn’t your first impression of me.” 

Taking a step back into his apartment, he faces you with a charming smile before you hear a familiar voice. 

“Baby, what’s taking so long?” A feminine voice calls out as the man turns around in response.

“Give me a sec.” Yelling back, he then turns back to face you. “Well, duty calls.”

“I have to leave too, as a matter of fact.” You blurt, pointing towards the direction of the staircase as he nods.

“You have someone you need to court as well?” Raising a brow at his question, he laughs again before shaking his head. “I’m just teasing you love. I’m sure you’re going to class or something.”

“Oh, how did you know?” You tilt your head, questioning him as he chuckles. 

“A lot of students attending that close by university live in these apartment complexes.” He grins at your awed response, resting on the doorframe of his apartment door. “So, I assume you’d be going to class and all, your backpack being a hint as well.” He points out as you realize yourself.

“You’re pretty smart for someone who just woke up.” You say aloud as he chuckles.

“I’ll take that as a compliment young lady.” He winks at you playfully. “Anywho, I don’t believe I got your name love.”

“Oh, you can call me Y/n.”

“Pretty name, love. I’m Jimin.” He grinned at you charmingly, making you look away briefly. In the awkward moment, you pull out your phone to look at the time before looking up from it.

“Well, Jimin, it’s time for me to go.” Your eyes catch onto his plump lips, taking note of his lip bite. “It was, uh, nice meeting you.” Your eyes move up to meet his as he quirks a brow before chuckling.

“It was nice meeting you too, Y/n. Let’s talk more in the future, yeah?” You nod in response before taking a step back, your eyes unable to move on from his. 

“Goodbye.” You gently say, snapping out of your trance as you both exchange waves. While walking towards your school’s library, you had gone over the discussion that had just happened, throughout your head.

“Pretty smart for someone who just woke up? Why am I so dumb?” You groan, facepalming yourself as you continue your walk towards the library entrance.

As the day came to an end, you had just finished your last class, Luckily walking home as the sun began to set, the vibrant colors distracted you from your drowsiness and hunger. You entered the building, making your way up the dreadful stairs as you paused in front of Jimin’s door, wondering if the man was inside at the moment. 

“I still can’t believe I said that.” Remembering the awkward afternoon encounter, you move forward and quickly head to your own apartment. Making your way to your room, you collapse upon your bed as you pull out your phone. Your professor had just canceled class the next day, so you proceeded on not doing any homework, having no motivation to even start it in the first place. 

Checking up on time, you notice how late it got. Changing into a tank top and shorts after your quick shower, you heard a faint female voice coming from the room beside you. “Come on, again?” You groaned in annoyance as you finished up changing. Once you were rested in bed, the voices grew louder. A woman, someone who sounded much different than the one from the other night, had been crying out loud. You decided to ignore it, knowing for a fact that it would not stop any sooner. You were able to tune out the woman’s voice for a while until you heard a particular choice of words repetitively throughout the night. 

“Harder Jimin.”

Laying onto your back, you stare into the ceiling, hoping that what you’re currently experiencing is a dream. Closing your eyes, images of the charming man show up, making you flustered at the whole situation. Getting out of bed, you grab your blanket and pillow before making your way to the living room. Plopping onto the couch, you close your eyes, hoping to fall asleep quickly.

When you awoke around noon, you groaned as your back ached from sleeping upon the couch. Scratching your head, you get up and head to the kitchen, fixing yourself a glass of water. Taking a big gulp from the glass, you take a deep breath; trying to forget the vivid experience from last night. While finishing your glass of water, you jump in place at the sudden knocks coming from your door. Raising a brow, you walk over to the entrance of your apartment. Cracking the door slightly open, you squint with your weary eyes before being greeted with your devilishly handsome neighbor.

“I take it that you’re the one that just now, woke up.” He laughs, his hands resting behind his back as you fully open your door. “If that’s the case, good morning Y/n.” His cheekily smile had made you awfully suspicious as to why women were screaming his name out at night. 

“Is there something you want from me, Jimin?” You question, leaning your body along the doorframe as you rest your head upon it. He grinned before moving his arms towards you, an envelope in his hands. 

“I believe this is yours, love.” Grabbing your hand, Jimin places the envelope in your open palm. “I’m sure it got mixed into my mailbox, it happens.” You look down to the envelope before quickly looking up to meet his eyes. 

“Are you sure you didn’t ask the mailman for a mail of mines in order to talk to me or something?” Raising a brow, he smirks before removing his hand from yours. 

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” He shrugs before laughing, digging his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “Weren’t you looking forward to talking to me too?” 

“Okay, first and foremost: although you’re quite handsome, we just met yesterday. Therefore, how could I have been looking forward to talking to you today?” Folding your arms, he opens his mouth to speak before you cut him off. “And secondly: are you flirting with me?” You tilt your head, waiting for his response. 

“Wow, you’re pretty bold love.” Licking his lips, he takes a step closer to you. “What if I was flirting with you? What would you do?” Frowning, you poke his chest and do your best to push him away.

“If you plan on flirting with me, it won’t work.” You purse your lips at his lip bite, adjusting yourself to stand properly. “I don’t fall for womanizers.”

“What?” Jimin quirked a brow, dipping his head to stare you down. Inhaling sharply, you bite your inner cheek before clearing your throat. 

“I’ve heard many of the women moaning your name throughout the multiple nights I’ve been staying here.” In all honesty, you’ve only heard the woman from last night moan out his name, but you weren’t about to let this fine ass man take over your heart. A smirk appears from his lips as he looks away briefly before meeting eyes with yours. 

“Love, I’m not really sure what you’re talking about.” He says, tilting his head as he smiles. Scoffing, you step into the hallway to stand directly in front of him, looking up to him as he was much taller than you.

“Don’t lie to me Jimin.” You exclaim. “I haven’t been able to sleep recently due to the multiple women screaming your name at night.” You await his reaction only for him to quirk a brow at you.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about love.” He smiles at you innocently. You furrow your brows, a pout forming on your lips, upon the frustration of the situation. Before you were able to speak again, he snaked his hand upon your bare arm, making its way to fix the loose strap to your tank top. “How old are you?”

“Why all of a sudden?” Taken aback, you then feel his arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you closer to his body. 

“Just answer me, love.” His voice was deep.

Hesitating, you bit your bottom lip before responding obediently to him. “I’m turning 20 soon.” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you feel a cold touch on your back; his hands making their way underneath your tank top.

Eyeing the movement coming from down the hall, you push Jimin away from you before stepping back into your apartment, making way for the random woman to pass by. Glaring at Jimin, he lifted his head, proceeding to give you a cocky smirk. As the woman passes by, you open your mouth to speak before being interrupted by his act of “kindness”.

“Love, you should really wear something warmer.” He gently speaks, taking off his hoodie and to your surprise, he was able to put it on you easily. “The days are getting colder.” 

“Okay, I will admit that you’re quite the charmer.” You hold a hand up in defeat to see him smile. “But, that doesn’t mean your charms are working on me, mister.” You stand your ground to see him laugh, this time he takes a step into your apartment, his hands passing by your head.

“Stay warm, love.” He grins before pulling the hood over your messy hair. “I’ll see you around.” He whispers before shooting you a wink. Pursing your lips, you watch him leave your apartment before making his way to his own. Leaning against your doorframe, you raise a brow as he knocks on his own door before seeing it open up by itself. Your eyes widened a bit as you saw a slender hand reach out for his shirt, tugging him back into the apartment. Jimin looks back to you for a second, a slight smile forming upon his lips before he entered his apartment, closing the door behind himself. 

“Fuck.” You groan, throwing your head back before closing the door to your own apartment. Throwing the envelope onto the kitchen counter, you sit on your couch before deeply sighing. “What have I gotten myself into?” You pull the sweater off from you, tossing it beside you in frustration as his scent was now stuck to you. His scent was synthetic and strong, along with a faint hint of lavender, although it was quite faded.

Of course, that night and almost every other night was spent sleeping on the uncomfortable couch in your living room. You would hear countless women screaming at the top of their lungs due to the fact that his room was right next to yours, you figured. You tried your best to avoid the handsome man but always ended up bumping into him as he was your next-door neighbor. During those situations, you would most likely give him small talk in order to leave the awkward scenario. Other than that, you would focus on your schoolwork, really trying your best to finish your first semester with the best grades. 

Unknowingly, living next to Jimin was one way your life would change forever. 

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

In Chains (Chapter One) Intertwining Paths (Trafalgar Law)

A/N: Written as a throwback to the Alabasta arc, this story has some similarities, but it's completely original. Please enjoy.

---

"He did not," Shachi muttered as he leaned against the railing of the upper deck. It was a particularly warm afternoon; hot enough that he had to trade his boiler suit for a pair of breezy slacks. His captain wouldn't mind. Law was held up in his office, busy with what Shachi could only describe as work.

He wanted nothing to do with this. Instead he'd rather sit outside and enjoy the day; no idea as to when he'd see the sky again. The Polar Tang was completely stocked and the log pose was nearly set – coordinates to the next island were being debated over at this time. All that was left to do was to wait.

In any case, Shachi was content with even a little downtime – the crew had their share of hard work since the Summit War. He only wanted a moment to breathe, though he knew the calm would not continue long. The Heart Pirates were already weeks behind the other Supernovas – excluding the on hiatus Straw Hats – who by this time were in the New World, steps closer to finding the elusive One Piece.

Trafalgar Law had his reasons for staying on the Paradise side – he claimed – but no one other than himself knew what they were. It brought alarm to some of the crew. Shachi, who had known him for quite some time, was not concerned. He understood that Law was on to something and would tell the crew once the time was right. Giving surety to the crew, Shachi hoped that some of the panic would dissipate. This still didn't bring to an end to it. For instance, a certain frizzy haired woman – the crew's only female – was running off at the mouth at this very moment, venting all her worries to luckless Shachi.

He could barely understand her, even though she was talking loud enough for him to hear. All her words sounded foreign to him; the red haired man clearly wasn't following. He had to stop her before his ears began to bleed – as if they might. Tossing up his inked arms, Shachi covered her mouth and glared at her from behind his sunglasses.

"Did you not hear me? I just said that he didn't. Why in the hell would you think our captain would go and do a thing like that?"

Her brow twitched in annoyance. For some reason his hands smelled like fish; it disgusted Ikkaku. She staggered back a step, freeing her nose from the sudden assault and tried to answer him, but once she opened her painted lips, he again interrupted her.

"And speak so that I can understand you; clearly."

"Use your ears, dunderhead. I was just about to tell you before I was rudely interrupted," Ikkaku snapped. She huffed a sigh and continued. "It makes sense doesn't it? Captain is amassing bounty posters. He asked Uri to grab him a newspaper from the last island and when he gave it back, all the posters were missing. Don't you think that's a little odd? I mean, it's not that he's bored and is looking to start a hobby in collecting."

That is odd, Shachi agreed. Even so, he couldn't assume the worst just because his captain was doing something a little out of character. Like making a deal with the Marines – as she was suggesting. For all he knew, Law was merely trying to keep track of the other Supernovas by following their bounties. This was the most logical explanation he could think of anyway.

"Remember when we left Amazon Lilly? Captain told us to follow his every order; that he'd one day steal the proper throne. We cheered for him, and I have no doubt that all of us believe he'll do it too." Shachi glanced out at the open sea, captivated by its unnatural, beckoning afterglow. It was indeed a stunning sight to look on. "He has a plan … and hell I don't know if collecting bounty posters has anything to do with it, but he knows what he's doing."

Looking back at her, he asked. "And what kind of crew would we be if we started doubting him?"

Ikkaku said nothing. What was there to say? She knew that Shachi was right – it left a sour taste in her mouth admitting this. Crossing her arms beneath her chest, she pushed out her slender hip and glared at him; a coy smirk raised his lips. "Suck it up, dunderhead. Maybe try washing your hands every once in a while; you reek. No girl is going to want to be near you smelling like you do."

This brought a frown to his face. Scoffing, the insulted red head shot her the bird and pushed himself off the railing, marching towards the staircase.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Shachi mocked her beneath his breath. He didn't care how mad she was; he needed to get away from her before she ruined his otherwise peaceful day – perhaps buy a newspaper in town and drink himself stupid.

--

Only alive; worth almost a million in belly for her return. Samira huffed in annoyance, crumpling the poster in her tight fist. How very thoughtful, she believed – the currency was foreign to her, but Samira had no doubts about the validity of such a price. Still, the newspaper – delivered via News Coo – made it as far west as Slab town, a bizarre and lawless place on the Paradise side of the Grand Line.

The adaptable young woman had arrived at the docks earlier, received the paper, and was shocked to see her picture amongst the faces of notorious pirates. She needed to restock her supplies and leave. To where, Samira wasn't sure, but she had to keep moving.

A saloon in the middle of town caught her eye. Samira figured the bartender could provide her with some information and possibly a cold drink. She entered, not expecting much from such a foreign drink house, but was pleasantly surprised to see how clean and lively the establishment was.

Very few people were inside, eating delicious smelling foods and drinking. Calm music played in the background from a self-playing machine that Samira had never before seen. She stared in awe at it for a moment, then approached the bar.

Taking a seat, she noticed a series of wanted posters on the wall, and was horrified to see that her picture was amongst them. Samira quickly veiled her face beneath the hood of her desert cloak and waved down the bartender.

"Can I get ya anything, sweetheart?"

She seemed like a civil woman – dressed in tight clothing that left nothing to the imagination. Samira eyed her foreign yellow hair – overflowing from a tall, leather hat – and bobbed her head.

"A water please, and maybe some information." Samira sat the correct amount of currency on the table and hoped the busty woman could understand her. The language of her people was much different from the assorted dialect that she had heard while traveling the sea.

"Sure thing, but what kind of information are ya wantin' to know? We don't get many visitors 'round here, other than bounty hunters."

"Bounty hunters?" She'd never heard of them before.

The woman briefly gestured with her head to a table in the far corner of the bar. "Like them fellas over yonder. They hunt bounties and turn them into the Marines for belly. The more dangerous the pirate, the higher the bounty."

Samira nodded to show that she understood. She just assumed that the Marines hunted their own, but it made sense. This just meant that she'd have to be careful of the hunters from now on. Samira peaked over her shoulder to take a glance. Other than being armed to the teeth, the hunters looked like regular people. She frowned; nothing was ever simple.

"Are you a hunter too?"

The woman puckered a brow. At first, she didn't understand, but once Samira gestured to the posters on the wall, she knew exactly what she was asking.

"Oh no. Them are just for show," she chirped. "The owner puts them up to please the bounty hunters who pass through. No one here has the guts to lift a finger whenever one of them pirates comes into town."

I suppose that's why it's a lawless town. The pirates don't bother them, and they don't get the Marines involved.

Samira accepted her mug of water and took a long sip. She didn't want to seem like a glutton, chugging it down, but she was real thirsty. Which brought about her next question.

"Where can I buy supplies around here? And about how long will it take for the log pose to reset?"

"About a day or two," the bartender answered with a laugh. "As for supplies, the shop at the end of the street is about as good as we have. Tell old man Rider that Lula sent ya, and he should give ya a good deal; Lula is my name by the way."

Samira gently smiled – some of the people she'd met during her journey weren't so bad. Lula seemed pretty nice. She felt sort of bad for not introducing herself, but she had no option. Instead, she offered the helpful blonde an extra belly and drank down the remainder of her water. It was about time for her to depart; she'd wasted a lot of time talking to Lula, and Samira still had much to do.

Giving her thanks, she waved so long and ambled towards the saloon doors. A man with a large bird cage on his shoulders nearly backed into her as he stumbled about intoxicated, but she dodged him easily. Sadly, while her attention was diverted, someone with a newspaper in front of their face walked in and sideswiped her, knocking her onto her side – a heap of articles fell on top and around her.

"Damn … sorry. I was––

The lumbering man cut himself off as Samira glanced up at him, cursing in her native language. She could see that his cheeks were pink.

"You're real pretty," he said suddenly. A brown skinned goddess with hair the color of snow – Shachi had never seen a woman so exotic as the one staring up at him in annoyance. He snapped out of his stupor and realized that he had made a mess of his paper and hastily tried to pick it up. Bounty posters were everywhere.

"Let me get these off you. I feel like a complete assho––

This time, it was the man with the cage on his shoulders who cut him off.

"That's her … you're the girl on this picture." He waved the bounty in front of him, catching the attention of the hunters in the bar.

Samira gasped in shock. She didn't realize that her hood had fallen down, revealing her face to the patrons of the saloon. Rushing to pull it back over her face, she jumped to her feet and hurried out the doors.

--

Shachi was still in awe as the bounty hunters rushed out of the saloon after the strange, beautiful woman. The bartender shouted at them to pay for their food and drinks, but they were already gone. He glanced down at the floor, seeing the abandoned poster of the woman and picked it up to read it. Shoe prints decorated her frowning face, but he could still make out her golden brown skin and deep red eyes.

Her name was Amunet Samira, and she had a bounty of almost a million on her head. The only thing Shachi felt was odd about her poster was that the disclaimer read: alive only. She was no pirate, and because of him, the hunters were going to capture her and turn her into the Marines. He cursed and bounded up, racing out the swinging doors.

The streets were crowded with curious people, so it didn't take him long to figure out which way she and the hunters had went.

Hold on, pretty lady. I'll save you.

--

Cornered; she was cornered.

The hunters had chased Samira half way across town and into a dead end street. She couldn't return to the harbor, because the log pose hadn't set yet. Even if she managed to detach her tiny boat, she couldn't navigate without her log pose. This was all she could think to do; run and hope she could lose them. But she couldn't.

Each of the hunters surrounded her, weapons drawn. The man with the bird cage stayed at a distance from her, while the others coordinated in a language she couldn't keep up with. Trapped in a corner, Samira felt like a wild animal. She didn't know where else to go.

"Leave me alone," she hissed. Her fingers tightened around the extendable, steel baton attached to her belt. "I mean it. Turn around and go away."

A man with a sword approached her, clicking his tongue. "Don't be like that, sweetheart. The boys and I will take good care of ya. Be a good girlie and come here; make it easy for yerself."

They weren't listening. Samira let the swordsman get close enough to reach out and touch her before she pulled the pin that kept her weapon condensed. Pivoting it hard to the right, she whacked the hunter upside the head, grimacing as his teeth shattered and flew out of his mouth with a spurt of blood.

His body fell to the dirt ground, knocked completely out. She wasted no time and sprang over the fallen swordsman, swinging her baton at the closest hunter – a man with nasty scars on his face. Samira managed to strike him on the shoulder, and hit another dead center in the chest with the point before someone from behind snatched her weapon, causing her to lose her balance.

All at once the hunters seized her. She cried in anger as her baton was tore from her hands and discarded. They shoved her roughly into the giant bird cage and locked it tight, staring through the bars at her as she kicked and shook them in an attempt to free herself.

The anger in her rose, and she tried so very hard not to let it consume her, but she was desperate to be free. Collecting her bounty was the only thing the hunters cared about – they had no idea where she came from and where she'd go back to if they turned her in. Samira couldn't return home; she just couldn't.

Her tender hands began to send out chaotic energy, a red and black force that wavered like unconfined flames. It danced across her skin until her entire body was consumed. Focusing on her anger, she knew the energy would release at once in an unlimited scale. It worried her that she would hurt the hunters, but like a frightened animal caught in a corner, she had no other option but to fight.

At the peak of her gift, however – and while the hunters were stupefied by her magic – someone crept up and attacked them. Samira gasped in shock and forced the energy back inside herself, breathing deeply to calm her anger. She collapsed in exhaustion against the bars of the cage and watched the stranger beat down the hunters with kicks and fluid movements that she had never before seen. The man carrying her cage decided to abandon her on the dusty, warm ground, and ran for it. She too would have, if not for the exhaustion coursing through her body. Her strange ability took a lot out of her.

With all of the hunters defeated, Samira was left alone with her foreign savior. She was pleasantly surprised to see that he was the same man from the saloon; the red head with the blue and red hat.

Shachi dusted off his hands and directed his eyes towards the toppled bird cage. Samira was inside, watching him with uncertainty in her deep red eyes. Heat spread across his face again.

"Got to you just in time," he said.

Approaching the barred prison, he set it upright and bent down to her level. The door was sealed with a padded lock.

What to do? What to do?

He searched the ground, hoping that one of the hunters had dropped the key in haste, but he assumed the man who got away was the one who held the object he needed to release her.

"I don't suppose you have a spare, do you? No … that's okay. I'll figure something out."

Shachi laughed at his joke. He was trying to make light of the situation, but he could see how awkward he made it by the look on her scared and worn out face. Assuming that he only had one option, he stood and stared down at the lock. It looked a little rusted, so he hoped that his idea would work.

"Lean as far back as you can," he ordered. When she didn't respond, he smiled gently. "Trust me, sweetheart. I'm going to help you."

Samira was still unsure. It was his fault she had been captured in the first place, but if this was his way of making it up to her, the red eyed woman had no reason to complain. Not like she was in the position to anyway. Samira scooted as far back from the opening as she could manage and curled her legs up against her chest. A bit of curiosity filled her.

Once she was safe and out of the way, Shachi balanced himself on his left foot and spun around, booting the lock. It fell apart like he had hoped and clattered to the ground.

"Tada!"

"How did you do that?"

Samira was in awe. She pulled herself from the cage and stretched her sore limbs – her body was a little wobbly still.

"Martial arts; it's no big deal." Shachi was proud of himself. He gestured to the swordsman knocked out on the ground. "You do that?"

She bobbed her head. Martial arts. She'd never heard of it before. "I've had some training, but nothing like your style."

"Pretty cool, isn't it?"

Again she nodded. Nearly forgetting that this man saved her life, Samira extended her arm and offered it to him. "I am Samira. It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for saving me."

Shachi shook her hand. "Pleasures all mine. Shachi is my name, and no need to thank me. I'd never forgive myself if I let a pretty woman like yourself get hurt because of something I brought about."

"It was an accident, but thankfully it's all over. We can get back to our responsibilities now," Samira said. She took back her hand, feeling how reluctant the man was.

"Going so soon?"

Samira replied with a nod. "I have places to go." People to be away from.

"All on your own?"

He knew that he was being nosy, but honestly he couldn't help it. This was the first time a woman had reacted to him – apart from Ikkaku – and he didn't want to say his farewells so soon.

Again, she nodded. Samira collected her fallen baton and clipped it back onto her belt.

Shachi caught a glimpse of ink around her bare waist before her cloak fell into place.

She has a tattoo … so cute.

As she faced him again, embarrassed heat spread across his face. She was gently smiling at him.

Samira moved in front of him and stood up on the tip of her toes, softly kissing his face. He was stiff as a statue, unspeaking, so she left him there.

"Farewell, my brave."

--

The northeast harbor where Samira docked her boat was silent upon her return. Like a ghost town in a horror story, everyone seemed to have vanished. The curious woman checked her wrist, looking at the arrows on the log pose spin uncontrollably – it made no sense. Where were all the people? Their ships were still secured to the dock, but not a soul was onboard.

Samira slowed down her pace and searched for her little boat, sensing that something was not right. Seeing it near the end of the pier – right where she left it – she moved towards it, craving a few hours of sleep after the hectic events that transpired today, but something odd caught her attention; something small was fluttering near the bow. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see it better.

A butterfly? Its wings were orange and black with ashen spots. Nothing seemed unusual about it, until Samira caught a glimpse of its dark brown hair and thick fluffy tail. She knew exactly who this was. But it can't be her.

Samira tried to slowly back away, but the unusual creature vanished. She made a quick grab for her baton, wrapping her slender fingers around it, until a high pitched voice halted her.

"That was a very clever plan," said the woman. "Stealing that log pose. I doubt those poor fishermen even realized that you had switched them."

Samira felt a light weight on her shoulder – the woman was standing on her. "I had no choice. The last island was a three day wait. I couldn't risk it; not with you on my trail."

"Have you any idea how much of a nuisance you are? We had to dirty our hands just to catch up to you."

We? Before she had time to figure out who the creature was referring to, the dock shook with a sudden impact and knocked her over. Samira rolled onto her stomach and tried to calm her unsteady heart. However a hole in the wood beneath her revealed the question from earlier she had been trying to figure out. Where were all the people?

They were beneath the surface of the water, anchored to the ocean floor.

Samira gasped in shock and bounded to her feet – all those people were massacred, because of her. She felt anger and remorse swell inside of her, but not wanting to lose control, she tried to stay calm.

"The hell was that for? You almost blew me away, dunderhead."

Samira stared at the two. The tailed woman curled up her pointed nose and struck at a short and very obese man with black hair.

"Very sorry, Miss. I did not see you there, ribbit." His large, round eyes narrowed in remorse. He reminded Samira of a frog with his round cheeks and obtrusive makeup. "But have you already forgotten what our mission is? The Boss would be very upset if we failed because you forgot."

Again, she struck at him. However, her punches seemed to be ineffective, as the frog man stood and took them with no indication that he had been harmed.

"I know what the mission is. Don't lecture me," she hissed. Fluttering her wings in annoyance, she landed on his shoulder and gave Samira a spiteful look. "Our mission is to capture the brat, and she wont be escaping us this time."

Samira reached for her baton and pulled the pin, holding its extended form in front of herself. This made the short woman snicker in laughter, but she ignored it.

"I don't want to hurt anyone else. Can't you understand that? I just want to be good."

The frog man croaked. "Why do a silly thing like that? You are a weapon, ribbit. Just look at the people you have already hurt, and you have not even raised a finger."

She knew what he meant without even having to look; the bodies they hid beneath the water. He was right though; she got them killed. If she had not tied her ship at this dock, they would have not been in danger. It hurt more than she could handle, being held responsible for such a tragedy.

A familiar sensation came to life in side of her, and before she could pacify it, the chaos peeked and released itself. It came in waves and destroyed the dock, knocking Samira back. Her baton fell into the water with a loud plop.

Feeling worn down and ready to collapse, she urged herself to get up and run. The two hunters seemed too busy to notice as she ran up the hill towards the cliff side. Samira wasn't sure where to go, but she didn't stop, not even when a sharp pain tore through her right leg.

The world around her seemed to spin, instantly merging colors that made her feel dizzy and sick. She stumbled around aimlessly until her feet went numb and she collapsed. Except, her body did not meet the ground like she expected. It fell straight down; straight off the cliff side towards the water.

The last thing she remembered before she passed out was the sound of a familiar voice calling out her name.