#but i hate the woman factory oh my GOD!!! i hate both the factories

[not-the-cheese]

one sentence summaries of every TMA episode

(1-60 i'll add more soon)

part 2 up!

world's most effective anti-smoking PSA

man DOES NOT open coffin. everyone claps.

woman is judgemental towards neighbor even though she has hobbies that are just as weird.

book makes multiple people fall off chair.

man finds bag of teeth and decides he absolutely needs to fuck around and find out.

worm sti.

there was a SCARY MAN in the WAR.

fuck this tree

well at least ted bundy was a great father :)

i'm like 55% sure vampires are real and i'm willing to take those odds

bitches be dying. you're next.

we kill this man because he made the soda too warm.

sorry ur husband's dead. maybe get some help.

Unbox with me ! (GONE WRONG)

hah i'm safe from this one because i have decided to Never Go Into a Cave Ever.

man is so annoying about this spider that even his cat can't be bothered

man's bully finds a book about a Bone Turner and subsequently begins turning people's bones.

this guy sucks at DIY home improvement

aw maybe this priest didn't do anything THAT bad!

oh fuck nevermind

THE SKY ATE MY SON.

the worms stole my identity. i haven't left the house in days.

man beats german children at game of bravery and wins a coin (he later loses this coin)

my ex boyfriend gets casted in the muppets and dies

sorry mom, i've abandoned jesus for a new religion : jesus in the dark.

tall squiggly and HANDsome

old man arm wrestles demon through door knob

the buzzfeed unsolved guys finally catch a ghost but it's their sound tech

immortality but at what cost

working at the big meat factory was so traumatizing it made me vegetarian

i go to america and get almost killed by a furry

well if you love that wasp nest so much why don't you MARRY it (and then she did)

antisocial boat crew bands together to exclude one guy from a midnight party. he dies from the rejection.

bone apple teeth

remember when that norwegian guy threw a tantrum about us not digging a hole? turns out we were right to not dig that hole.

babe come over my parents have taken ill and passed away

man fucks around and it costs him everything

HOMOPHOBIC CHINESE VASE

oh god oh fuck the worms are here

thank you for participating in worms! please rate your wormsperience from 1 to 10.

the wormsperience has left me deeply scarred. i'm going to get lost in a tunnel about it.

🎸music makes me loose control🎸

spooky stories to tell at the next police slumber party

child threatens to run away and join the circus one too many times, and now the circus has come to cash in.

these mosquitoes are mad sus

man frequents local barnes and noble and then dies(?) after liking a book too much.

realtor gets eaten by the backrooms twice. it's a terrible shame.

both me and this weird goth dude have an unsatisfying italy vacation

guy who turns people's bones gets a new job where he continues to turn people's bones.

man who should never be allowed to build prisons builds a prison.

Something Big Is In The Water.

what if u heard me about 15 feet behind you fumbling around and calling out ur name 😳 (and we were both prison guards)

i'm going to be honest i didn't retain anything from this episode except that this guy has the silliest old man voice ever

everybody hates the tax man, including these creepy taxidermy animals

hmmgh. ant house.

so turns out being only 55% sure that vampires are real in my career as a vampire hunter has had some consequences.

the only thing keeping you company in space is your abandonment issues

🎶 the snack that smiles back 🎶 (my husband!)

maybe the real treasure was the house siblings we encased in spider web along the way.

your dead brother wrote books about ancient myths and WHAT

Part 2

[sinisterexaggerator]

Headcanon...?

Spoilers for a fic I will write eventually?

Do not read if you do not like made-up, author-indulgent backstories for characters who exist in the GFFA. This one is almost hard to post because it's kind of personal. Like, a story so plot driven that I am nervous people will hate my interpretation and my ships. Oh well, I guess, it's happening.

A discussion in the Duros hoes chat, and then between me and @allsystemsblue, got me thinking about what is Cad Bane's real name? It sure as hell ain't Cad Bane. A lot of the fandom seems to agree on that. "Cad" and "bane" are both words in the dictionary that can be defined.

Cad: a man who behaves dishonorably, especially toward a woman. / scoundrel / rogue / rascal.

Bane: a cause of great distress or annoyance. / scourge / ruin / death.

We shall come back to this.

I have a scene mapped out for Stars Above in which I want Cad to run into his sister. I have a plan for his backstory that does not include this particular fanfic, but another, a series I am working on that will be entitled "Annuals of an Outlaw," and is essentially a collection of works I have outlined that will contain my version of Cad Bane's "story" from his beginnings on Duro in the Descent Ghetto, to after the Clone Wars and beyond.

Yes, it will have smut. And angst. Lots and lots of angst. Many character will appear, including Jango, Hondo, Aurra, Bossk, Embo, Zam, Dengar, Todo 360, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and even Boba at some point. Oh, and let us not forget Shriv Suurgav. :)

Yes, Shriv.

You cannot stop me. Don't even try. This is my magnum opus, and by God it will make sense narratively. Just you wait. Or don't. I don't care. I am still going to write this thing if it's the last thing I ever do.

First of all, I enjoy playing around with Star Wars name generators. That is how I came up with the name of my OC, Zulara. I started sifting through them, piecing last names together with other first names, and voilà, a new name appeared to me that caught my attention.

Originally, I was looking for Durese words that maybe meant something in relation to his occupation or personality, but none of them called out. It appears others had that same idea in the past, so it makes sense to go with something new.

Anyway, my name for Cad Bane is Lumoon Troks.

Here are the outpouring of thoughts I had on the matter before I could stop myself. I came up with this over the last hour or two, and I am digging it so far. Who knows, maybe I will change my mind. It's helping me to fill in a lot of gaps, anyway, that I had in the plot, and I am happy about that.

So, I am giving Bane siblings. Two much older sisters, two brothers who are 1-2 years apart, and a younger sister who is four or five at the time Lumoon finally leaves home.

His siblings call him Lu, or Moon for short. When they want to be annoying, they call him Moody Moon, or "Lemon" because of his sour outlook ( lemons are "canon" in SW, I checked).

To sum things up briefly, Bane's mother was a kindhearted woman and his father was a gruff workaholic. They both were employed in the factories and rarely had time to spend with their family, but had too many mouths to feed.

Cad gets into trouble quite often. He runs wild in the streets from a young age. Maybe he hooks up with the wrong crowd. Nothing too menacing; some petty theft, vandalism, etc, etc.

His father's angry about it. He refuses to take on work in the factories with him. He wants more for himself. He's not about that grind day in, day out life. Things get so toxic between them that he leaves to make his own way, stops coming home, worries his mother sick, and his little sister to boot.

So much so, his little sister ( talking maybe preschool / kindergartener age ) decides she has to "bring Moon home" and takes it upon herself to find him. She loves her big brother and sorely misses him.

This does not end well. At all. The worst possible scenario unfolds. The first of many tragedies in Cad Bane's life. It deeply affects him. He tries to go to his mother; she isn't the same Duros any longer. She coldshoulders him, ignores him, and she suffers from a broken heart.

Cad blames himself. "She went out to find you and never came home." This time, he really does leave and never returns. I am sure there is a final fight between him and his father that maybe seals the deal. He takes up random jobs, anything that pays, from sex work, to being hired muscle, to thieving, to murder, you name it, as long as the pay is good and it keeps his mind off his own problems.

He learns skills along the way, and he also learns from his mistakes. Things start being a little too easy. He's tired of being bossed around. He wants to be his own boss. So, that's exactly what he becomes.

He decides to try his hand at bounty hunting. He begins to make a name for himself, except, he hasn't. He needs a new one, something intimidating, striking, and rememberable. Plus, he doesn't want his birthname floating around; that makes him vulnerable, as well as the rest of his surviving kin.

Bane's mother, in the early days of his youth, used to scold him for misbehaving. She called him the equivalent of a cad in Durese, and it translated that way from basic, something along the lines of "Lumoon! Quit being such a cad, you naughty boy!"

It means something to him. He feels it embodies what he has become. It is also a tribute to his mother as well as a punishment; something he has to live with and that he brought upon himself.

The next thing you know, one of his many enemies makes a snarky comment, saying to him, "you are the bane of my existence," or simply, "you are a bane!" From there, his new name takes shape in his mind. He thinks if you put two and two together, it sounds kind of nice. It sticks. He starts to introduce himself like that, when before he had only referred to himself as Cad.

Another misfortune befalls him, which I mentioned I wanted him to run into his sister. This would happen off-world somewhere, years later, and during the reign of the Galactic Empire. She would say something to the likes of: "Mom died. She never gave up on you. She waited for you to come home, everyday. I didn't have the heart to tell her I had seen your wanted posters."

It tears him apart for awhile. His second great tragedy. Never getting to reconcile with the Duros who raised him and whom he loved. He harbors this for the rest of his life.

Of course, running in the streets, he learns not to trust people. He's jaded. He gets fucked over a time or two, badly, and by people he thinks he can trust. He develops a shell; a way of looking at the world that allows him to keep his guard up for his own protection.

In that same vein, I believe Bane can love and that he can love hard given the right circumstances. One of the many reasons he's kept from saying it, is because every person he has ever cared about has either turned on him or dies. The galaxy is a harsh mistress. He's afraid of a repeat scenario; he doesn't let himself get close. He tells himself he's better off alone, doesn't need anybody; he prefers to run without a pack.

That is, until he meets Jango.

And, that, my friends, is a whole other story, but I want to add that Cad Bane has bad dreams. Nightmares, even. Visions. Terrible things happen, old memories replay, he is haunted by his past. The sister he couldn't save; the mother he thought had stopped loving him; the father he was never good enough to please.

Hondo compares himself to a sun, and Bane is the moon. This would fuck with him psychologically, and cause him to react unexpectantly should the nickname stick - one that is reminiscent of his childhood. It is Hondo Ohnaka in my story that saves Bane from himself after Fett meets his untimely end.

Jango, Hondo, and Shriv may call him moody from time-to-time, or grumpy, but that also does not sit well, either, considering his past.

Once Jango dies, and once he fails at training Boba, Cad is even more a wreck than before. In my story, he also does not get to reconcile with his old partner and mentor after their falling out. He drinks himself stupid in the presence of Boba to the point the boy gets fed-up and they have their duel.

Bane, in my mind, can't accept Boba as Fett's son; he is a clone; he could never accept the clone contract from the get go - it put a rift in their relationship. This adds more fuel to the "look out for yourself" fire that is his quote in the Book of Boba Fett.

Sorry this got so long-winded, but, I had to get that out as it came to me. Now, to actually write the story all these ideas are for!

[fixfoxnox]

Here lemme give you this 👑 for being king of the Paul Jackson writings

Thank you, thank you 😌🤴 and now for this we get a little meme content of Alex and Jackson as twins:

The two hadn't been left alone since Alex had been wheeled into the room after surgery, still passed out. Luckily all of their family was in once place, though that hadn't stopped any of the panicked yells or cries when their mother had received the call that her second son was getting moved into the hospital as well.

Paul had been abnormally quiet the entire time his brother was asleep, just watching him and answering questions only when prompted by the nurse, his parents, or his grandmother. He hadn't shifted back into his normal grinning self until Alex had woken up and groggily greeted everyone in the room.

Since then, the twins had been chatting with family and receiving check-ins occasionally from nurses. It had been hours since any of their family had eaten, none of them had left the room since Alex had woken up. It took both Paul and Alex working together to finally convince them that they would be fine for the thirty minutes that it would take them to get food.

Though their mother had seemed hesitant, they still left the room, leaving only the twins in their beds. Silence hung around the room for several moments, Paul and Alex just observing one another from their beds. After several moments, Paul's eyes narrowed.

"You just had to-"

"Oh my god!"

"All I'm saying," Paul turned so that he could face Alex a little better, "Its a little suspicious that I lose my leg then less than a week later? Guess who shows up and loses more of his leg?"

"I didn't want to get blown up in a Russian gas factory," Alex shot him a glare, "And I definitely didn't want to have another thing for people to confuse us with."

"Liar," Paul accused, "Just admit you like being exactly like your big brother."

"BY TWO MIN-"

"Alex?" Both Paul and Alex looked toward the door quickly, spotting a woman and man standing in the doorway to the room, looking between them curiously.

"Farah! Gaz!" Alex gave the two a grin and Paul was quick to shoot his brother a look. He noted the stars in his brothers eyes and the way he seemed to grin wider at the sight of the woman. His eyes trailed back over to her, taking in her appearance carefully.

Farah stepped into the room carefully, still peering between Alex and Paul with confusion, "Sorry, we didn't mean to interrupt you and..."

"This is my brother," Alex was quick to explain.

"Twins?" Gaz stepped further into the room as well, peering over Farah's shoulder to get a better look at Paul. Paul's eyes latched on to him immediately and he could feel himself flush a bit. The man was a sight to his eyes.

"Unfortunately," Alex sighed and shot his brother another glare. Paul met it with a grin.

"He's just upset cause I got all the looks," he shot a wink toward the two people and his words pulled a laugh from Gaz and a small quirk of the lips from Farah.

"And," Farah looked between their beds carefully, "you both..."

They both understood what she was referring to immediately and Paul jumped in before Alex could, "Yeah, guess Alex just has to be exactly like me in every way. I lose a leg and he's gotta run off and lose a leg." He rolled his eyes playfully, grinning as he spotted Alex shooting him the middle finger.

"As you can tell," Alex turned back to Farah, "He's an idiot, you can just ignore him."

Paul pouted, even as he felt happiness bloom in his chest for his brother. He could see the way that Farah answered his brothers words and looks of adoration with almost shy versions of her own. As he glanced back toward Gaz, he thought that maybe he could get revenge on his brother by dating one of his friends.

"So your friend, Gaz...single?"

"I hate you."

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

If my OC was canon how would the fandom treat them? - for Ella!

Oh boy. My daughter is so much to think about this with

This potentially dips into light spoilers, but oh well. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Ella would get the absolute most rancid discourse. She's selfish and brash and quick tempered with a tendency to lash out, she gets to a point where she thinks threats and violence can solve most of her problems: she's her dad with morals who is capable of occasionally apologizing. Fandom would hate that (God forbid women do anything), especially since she's not really on Rhaenyra’s side anymore after they grow up (purely because of growing apart and them both being fairly self-destructive). There'd be all kinds of half-baked meta stripping her of her nuance to say she's a completely irredeemable villain who's probably abusive to her kids and is an awful, self-serving bitch who's not actually Valyrian since her mom is Rhea Royce. Takes about how she helped Yorick to turn Aemon against their dad and Rhaenyra and Viserys (never mind Aemon is a little hater all on his own) and how she doesn't deserve Vermithor/stole him from someone who deserves him more and trying to paint it like it's a bad thing that Jaehaerys is rolling in his grave about her claiming him (he's doing that because a woman claimd his dragon, regardless of what she acts like, and I think that's beautiful).

On the flip side, she kind of accidentally came fresh from the I Am Not LIke Other Girls So I Think That Makes Me Inherently Progressive self-projection factory, so there'd probably be boocoos fic of the aforementioned Fandom Types writing "fix it AUs" where Ella "gets over her internalized misogyny to defect to the feminist side of the war" because she "realized Rhaenyra is her true friend and that this will honor Laena's memory and also her dad will/does love her."

Just a lot of overall misunderstanding of her character.

Ngl, I sort of struggle to think of what people who like her would do (outside of the "I don't 100% get Ella fix-it fics. Which, if you have those caveats, do you like a character, or do you just like what you want them to represent?). I can only assume half of the Ella Stan's time would be spent defending her from people who try to make her sound worse than she is. The other half is spent on psychoanlizing her and screaming about much they revel in everything that's wrong with her or going frame-by-frame on her tender moments (with her mom, with Vermithor, with her brothers, with her friends, with her husband and kids. It's all fair game)

In terms of shipping, I may or may not have a big document on the notes app of my phone where I have listed all the potential fics I think people would write if my babies were canon. So, looking at the bits about Ella: Harwin or Larys would be her most popular ships (outside her canon pairing, I am excluding her currently unmet husband), I feel that in my bones. Episode 3 would set either of those up & people who wanna ship her with someone besides Ser Robert Tyrell would not let that go. Ella/Laena & Ella/Yarwyck [another OC/her cousin] would probably be pretty well liked too, but given How Fandoms Are, I can honestly see Ella/Rhaenyra being more popular than Ella/Laena even though that one makes less sense (to me). Also, because this is The Targ Show and it's unavoidable (especially with how close they are), I know people would ship her with Yorick/her twin brother (and maybe even her younger brother/Aemon--nevermind that he's 11 years younger than her). I don't like it, neither of them would like it, literally only their dad would like it, but it would be there.

[abbatoirablaze]

TM Tragedy, Season 2, Chapter 5

Word Count:  2.2k

Warnings:  mentions of drug use/selling drugs, mentions of porn, aggression, violence, breaking objects, threats of harm to another person, trauma, PTSD, slight angst

Clay’s POV

"Where's Gemma goin?" I asked Tig.

"CaraCara. Guess Luann is having some sort of stupid meltdown."

"Stupid Bitch," I growled out. I practically ran to my bike so I could chase after her. Last thing I need is Gemma getting involved in that shit with the club, “Watch the jackasses, Tig.”

"I hate it when mommy and daddy fight," I heard Tig mutter from behind me. I saw Chibs and Juice pullin up as I hopped on my bike, “FUCKUPS!  You’re late!”

"Hey Clay."

"Get to work shithead.  TIG.  I changed my mind…come with me" I growled, riding off towards CaraCara.  The ride down was short, but I was plenty angry when I pulled up behind Gemma. She and Amanda got out of the car, "what the hell are you doing here?"

"Luann called," Gemma replied, "she's freaking out."

"This is club business. You got no reason to intervene."

"I won't intervene," Gemma replied, taking my daughter's hand, "We won't do anything. She's my friend and she needs to talk to someone. That's why I am here."

"So what?" I growled out, "When she wants to talk, you what? Drop everything?"

"Jesus Christ, Clay," she groaned, "What are you? Three?"

"Get back to the garage. Both of you. Now."

Gemma's brows raised at my demand, "excuse me?"

"Last thing I need is for you running around, playing diva over a goddamn cum factory. And taking my daughter no less," I growled. Gemma got in front of Amanda, “the nerve you’ve got, woman…”

"Mom?"

"No," she said. Then she turned her attention to me, "Asshole."

She began walking towards CaraCara and I went towards the pile of cinderblocks. I grabbed one and hurled in through the window of the SUV. Tig looked nervous and pushed Tara away from the bike. She ran inside. Gemma dropped Mandy’s hand and ran over to my bike and kicked it, "YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT!"

"I told you to go back to the garage," I yelled, pounding on the hood of the SUV, “LEARN TO GOD DAMNED LISTEN TO ME, GEM!”

I heard clicking of heels and I could feel Amanda trying to pull me away from the hood, "daddy, please. Stop."

"NO!"

She tried pulling me, but I shrugged her off.

"Come on tough guy," Gemma yelled, urging me on, "Just what those arthritic mitts need—a good pounding."

"You wanna see a good pounding?"

"Oh yeah," she yelled, "Come on badass. Lay hands on me. I'll slit your goddamn throat. You are pathetic."

I stopped pounding on the hood of the car and took a few steps towards her. She shook her head and turned to go into Caracara. I reached forward to stop her and she screamed, "DON'T YOU TOUCH ME. DON'T."

I felt Jax push me away from her as she turned to sob against Mandy. Jax was looking at me with an evil glare. The doc was checking on her.

"You should leave, Clay."

"I'm sorry-" I muttered, grasping the whole situation. I began shaking my head. I backed away and went towards my bike, "I'm sorry."

When I got back to the garage Alicia was waiting for me, "Jax called me." 

"Son of a bitch," I growled, “I ought to skin that little weasel.”

"Dad what you did wasn't right." 

I sighed, "I know that.  Don’t you think I know that, Alicia?" 

"Come on." 

I got off my bike and we headed into the clubhouse, "Mikey grab your grandfather the ice packs." 

"Grampa you okay?" 

"I'm fine, kiddo." 

"Mikayla.  Now." 

She sat me down on the bar stool and sat next to me, inspecting my hands.  I tried pulling them away but she wouldn't let me, "I'm fine." 

"Dad you aren't fine.  You-" 

"Here,"  Mikey said, handing her the ice packs.  She nodded, “your hands look really bad grampa.”

"Go cover the office." 

She rolled her eyes, but followed the order, "what's going on dad?" 

I looked at her, then back to my hands.  She grabbed on of the ice packs and put it over my knuckles.  I hissed at the cold sensation.  

"Talk.  Now!" 

"Things haven't been the same with me and Gemma since the car crash.  She and Amanda have been avoiding me like the plague.  But your mom won't come to bed.  She won't talk to me.  I feel like I'm losing her.  And I don't know what the hell I did wrong, or how to make it better." 

"You didn't do anything wrong," she sighed, "mom got in a car crash.  She's traumatized.  Sometimes it's not just a simple 'get over it' you know." 

I sighed.  She was right.  I hadn't been understanding, or even there for Gemma.  After we found out she was okay I, just went with it, and tried to go back to normal, because I thought that was what she wanted. 

"Do you think she needs to talk to someone?" 

"Maybe she's talking to Mandy?" she suggested, "they only really seem to talk to one another anymore." 

"I don't think it's helping either of them out." 

She shook her head, "I think you're right on that." 

"Speaking of people who don't talk anymore," I said quickly, "I don't see you spending nearly as much time around here as you used to.  But Chibs seems to be spending almost every night here." 

"We uh...we're going through something," she said, "we thought it'd be best to take a break..." 

"Any reason why?" 

"Well, it's kind of awkward to talk about this with my dad, so I'm not gonna go into an explanation," she said, laughing awkwardly, “maybe you should just focus on you and Gemma.”

"Trust me," I sighed, "sometimes we just need someone to talk to.  What's going on sweetpea." 

"I haven't..." she began, "I ....I haven't really had  a sex drive since I had Declan...so uh there's not really anything romantic going on between him and I right now.  We've tried date nights and stuff...but it well...it kinda falls flat every time." 

"Oh." 

"yeah." 

"Well uh...if you want to tal-" 

"I don't, dad." 

"Thank god," I laughed.  

She smiled, "i have faith that you and mom will work things out though.  It's just gonna take some time." 

"Thanks sweetie." 

Juice’s POV

"Come on man," Opie laughed, "get dressed already."

"I am getting dressed," I growled back as the guys stared at me in the back of the van. I was struggling to change with Tig, Opie, and Chibs all in the back with me.

"Yer actin like yer in a middle school locker room boyo," Chibs bellowed as I tried to turn to put on the pants, "come on now."

One of them grabbed my ass and I shied away, "what the hell guys."

"Come on," Chibs laughed. I shook my head at them and threw on the ball cap, “hurry up, Juicy boy.”

"All right, I'm ready."

"Good," Tig replied, "now get the fuck out there."

I made sure to move quick. I wasn’t planning on hanging around the lumber mill for a bit before making my way over to the AB dickhead that was trying to push his shit.  I just went straight up to him, rubbing imaginary powder from my nose.

"Got a need brother?"

I nodded, scratching my neck a bit, "yeah. Yeah. You got a 40 bag?"

I added in a few glances and the dealer looked at me, "hey man. Relax. Relax."

"My foreman sees me I'm screwed man," I said quickly, "hey. Over here."

He nodded along, and gave a hand up to his friends, signaling them to stay there. The scrawny fucker thought he could take me.

Asshole.

"Hey, uh this ain't-this ain't that Mexican shit, right?"

The dealer chuckled, "I'm all about made in America man."

I nodded, leading him behind the logging truck. When we turned the corner Opie grabbed him, and gave him a good punch in the gut, then carried him over to the wall, being sure to cover his mouth.

"Where's Darby cooking the crank?"

The guy shook his head and Tig balanced himself on the wall, using a foot to put pressure on his junk, "no? Okay. Let's see what his balls are made of. Glass or steel?"

Tig stepped down and the guy began to scream in pain. He tried to signal he'd talk, and Tig let up. Opie uncovered his mouth, "Charming. Water road. Out by the streams. Shitty red house."

"Good.  Thanks for the info.  Good doin business with ya, kid." Chibs smirked.  Ope gave him a vicious right hook and knocked him out, and we took his shit so he wouldn't have anything to sell.

As we were leaving, we made sure to crush it and leave bits along the highway. The ride back wasn't too loud. Mostly just Opie talkin to Chibs in the front. Tig was staring at his cell phone.

"Somethin good there?" I joked.

Tig looked up at me, "don't you have your own life to be curious about?"

"I don't understand why you've always gotta be a dick to me, brother."

"We both know why," he said in a low voice, "fuck the 2 reasons I tolerate you are the kutte and Amanda. Other than that, we don't have a reason to be best friends."

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Speaking of which, how is your old lady?" he asked. There was a tone in his voice that seemed like he was poking a stick at me, "don't see her much around the clubhouse lately? You piss her off again?"

"You don't care about mine and Amanda's issues," I said slowly, "what are you trying to get at?"

"I care about that girl. You're right," he replied, "I don't give two shits about your life, but her. She's a real one. You know that."

"Like you said," I began, sucking my teeth, "she hasn't been around the clubhouse much."

"Well neither are you," he said quickly, "she move in with you or something, brother?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"Leave the poor bastard alone," Chibs said, finally tuning in, "we're pullin in, and if Amanda hears you two being pussies asking questions she'll kick both yer asses."

Sure, enough when we got out, Amanda and Gemma were working. Amanda was in the shop talking with Dog. I smiled as I walked up to her, "Excuse me miss."

"Sign i-" she began, pointing at the office. But she cut herself off when I took off my cap and she realized it was me, "JC...I didn't know you were here today."

Dog excused himself and I nodded, "I wanted to check up on you. I uh, haven't seen you around in a while...been a few weeks since we really got to spend any time together...seems like since the acc-"

"Amanda, get in here," Gemma said from the door of the office. Amanda gave me a look which was a mixture of sympathy, and relief.

"I uh, I gotta go."

"Yeah..." I said slowly. I went to kiss her, but she already turned, making me miss entirely. I watched as she closed the door. I saw her talking with Tara and Gemma before the blinds went down.

"Girl troubles?"

"Something like that, Dog..." I sighed, "she seem okay to you?"

He shook his head, "been off since the accident with Gemma....but I wouldn't say that to her face."

"Yeah..."

He patted my shoulder and walked away. I was left staring at the door until the guys called for me. We had to go out and blow that shitty house up before the wrap party.

I'd been sitting at the bar all by myself for damn near an hour.  None of the girls bothered me except the one crow eater I'd been with a few months ago.  She'd decided that maybe if she became one of Luann's girls I'd pay her some attention. 

I'd felt a tap on my shoulder a little while after that.

"Not interested," I said, downing another shot, “hit the bricks, sweetheart…”

"Well I wasn't asking if you were interested," she said, sitting beside me, “I’m sitting down either way.”

My breath caught in my throat, "Amanda.  W-what are you doing here?" 

"Dog told me you were gonna be here tonight." 

I smiled, unable to use my words.  

"Can...can we talk somewhere?" 

My heart sank, "you want to talk somewhere?" 

She nodded, "Yeah...somewhere quieter?" 

My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach as I nodded.  She held out her hand and we made our way into Luann's office.   She locked the door behind me. 

"Is everything okay?" 

She nodded and took a deep breath, "Can you sit down?" 

I followed her instructions, "what is it?" 

"Close your eyes."

"Amanda." 

"Just do it," she whispered, "please." 

I sighed and closed my eyes.  She took my hand and put something in it.  I went to open my eyes and look down at what was in my hands but she grabbed my face and kissed me.  My eyes naturally remained closed until she pulled away.  

"What was that for?" 

"I'm going through some shit right now...but you need to know.  I still love you.  We still love you." 

"We?" I asked, "Baby what the fuck are you talking about?" 

"Yeah..." she said, "we love you..." 

I didn't understand what she was saying.  I looked down to what was in my hands.  

 In sharpie she'd written 7 weeks on a white stick with the word 'Pregnant' on the screen.  

Chapter 6

Tag List:  @lohnes16 @evyiione

[peakyblindersxx]

can you hold your liquor? - tommy shelby x reader

a/n: yes that's right 2 fics in one night!! this one right here is for my tommy bitches it is very steamy and the reader is a badass bitch ok hope you guys like it :)

prompt: you're a businesswoman and tommy needs a favor.

warnings: nsfw!! smut, choking, daddy kink, slight degredation, you and tommy being assholes to eachother

“Fuck off, Shelby,” was the first thing that left your red-stained lips as Tommy Shelby entered your office, looking like a vision, much to your chagrin, in a dark grey three-piece suit with a white striped shirt underneath. You were well aware of the Shelbys, as one of the only female businesswomen in Birmingham, and on occasion, had had drinks with both Ada Shelby and Polly Gray. You were around the same age as Ada, and you called her every so often to chat. From those conversations, you concluded that Tommy, despite his devastatingly handsome exterior, was nothing but trouble.

Tommy chuckled at your outburst, puffing from his cigarette as he poured himself a glass of whiskey from your bar cart. “I see my sister has told you about me, then.”

You scoffed, taking a large sip from your gin and tonic. “What do you want from me, Tommy. I run a fucking bread factory. Only reason they even let me is ‘cause girls can work here. God forbid they’d let a woman tell a man what to do,” you snapped, crossing one leg over another as you took a drag from your cigarette. You were glad that you wore one of your shortest dresses today; a dark red silk number that played well against black tights and a pair of black 3 inch heels, the tallest you owned. A small, but noticeable pair of silver earrings dangled from your ears.

Tommy’s unmistakable blue eyes locked with yours as he puffed at this cigarette, taking a seat across from you. “I need a favor.”

You almost choked on your laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” You gulped down the rest of your drink and stood to get another, hips swaying as you felt Tommy’s eyes on you. As much as you didn’t want anything to do with him, some part of you still wanted him to want you. You made your drink and sat back down, fingers tapping your crystal glass as you took another drag from your cigarette. “What is it?”

Tommy cleared his throat, lowering his voice and leaning in closer. As much as you hated to admit it, his cologne was turning you on. “I have 7 tons of opium I need to get to Glasgow. I happen to know that your bread factory does shipments to Glasgow, eh? Through the canals,” Tommy said, gesturing with his arm.

You took a drink. “Yes, and?”

Tommy groaned. “Fuck, woman! I need you to hide the goddamn opium under your fucking bread,” he whispered through gritted teeth.

You took a long drag off of your cigarette. “And what would I get?”

“20,000 pounds,” Tommy said, leaning back in his chair. “But you’ll need to come with. It’s a two day trip and I don’t trust your employees. Just you, me, and my men driving the barges, eh?”

“Fuck,” you exhaled smoke, weighing your options. Who were you kidding? You had to say yes. With that kind of money, you could buy four more factories. “When do we leave?”

Tommy grinned, knowing that you had a deal. “Tonight.”

“I’ll have something written up and I’ll need your signature,” You retorted.

“That’s fine,” Tommy said, standing and shooting the rest of his whiskey. “I’ll pick you up at 9, yeah?”

“You don’t even have my address, Tommy,” You replied, sipping from your glass.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Tommy grinned, opening the door. “I’ll find you,” he called, shutting the door behind him.

“Fuck me,” You exhaled.

***

You hadn’t been on a boat in ages, not since you were little. Most of your family had died or moved away when you were young, so you didn’t have many people to take you to do things like that. You had been born in poverty, but had worked your ass off to be able to get where you were. You were new to fancy things in that you didn’t find a need for most of them. Of course you indulged in small luxuries, like the newest Chanel pantsuit or silk underwear. You were an owner of an entire company, after all.

You didn’t want to wear a skirt, so you slipped on a pair of black trousers and a plain black blouse over a simple pair of black cotton underwear with a black bra. You put on a pair of lace up leather booties in addition to a tiny pair of gold hoop earrings and a few gold chain necklaces. You heard the doorbell ring, and your maid entered your room shortly, letting you know that a Mr. Shelby was downstairs.

You made your way down your spiral staircase where Tommy was waiting, glancing at his pocket watch before putting it into his pocket and looking up at you. “The driver put your bag in the trunk already,” he said before opening the door for you. He walked you to the car, ushering you through as the driver opened the car door for you while he went to the other side, sliding in next to you on the black leather interior of the Bentley. He smelled like cologne and cigarettes, and it was making your head spin. Something about him was irresistible, but you refused to give in.

The car ride was a short one, the three of you arriving at the canals quickly. The driver retrieved yours and Tommy’s bags from the trunk, driving off after speaking quietly with Tommy. An Irish man on one of the boats tipped his hat to you, grabbing the bags. “That’s Packy Lee,” Tommy said, stepping onto the barge and holding out his hand for you to take while stepping down. “He’s a good man.” You begrudgingly accepted it, stepping down onto the boat.

Tommy led you into the cargo hold, which was dimly lit by a few gas lanterns and contained a single makeshift bed. The small open area was surrounded by sacks and sacks of opium. You couldn’t believe the sheer quantity of it. “Me brothers are in the other ones,” Tommy said, sitting on the bed, gesturing towards the other barges that floated behind you in the canal. “And you’re sure they never check?”

“Not the way that my ships go,” you responded, slumping down a foot away from him. “I’ve never had a problem getting stuff through here, if you understand what I’m saying.” Tommy nodded as he lit a cigarette, puffing from it. He sighed, leaning back against the sacks and producing a bottle of whiskey, popping the cork and taking a swig. He extended his arm, offering the bottle to you, and you accepted, wincing slightly as the dark liquid hit your throat. You took a second swig anyways, your intentions impure. You were in the cargo hold of a boat surrounded by opium with Tommy fucking Shelby, of all people. Tommy abandoned his suit jacket, draping it over the top of the sacks, his sleeve garter chains glinting in the lamp light as he rolled up his sleeves. Getting drunk was a bad idea, but it was too late for that now. You took one last drink for good measure, passing the bottle back to Tommy.

“Can ‘ya hold your liquor?” Tommy’s voice echoed off of the curved wooden walls as you almost choked on your drink.

“Can I hold my liquor. Tommy Shelby, I’ll have you know I’ve been drinking since I was fucking thirteen,” you snarked. “I see why Ada likes you so much. You’re a lot like her,” Tommy chuckled, taking a long drink from the bottle and passing it back to you. You took another swig, starting to feel a little tipsy.

“What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” The question left your lips before you could stop it. Thankfully, Tommy grinned. “God, to be honest? The first fuck I ever had when I got back from France. Purely because it had been so goddamn long,” he laughed, accepting the bottle and taking another drink. His ice blue eyes met yours. “What about you?”

You blushed a little, feeling slightly shy, but the alcohol got the better of you. “Probably this Spanish guy, what the fuck was his name - Raul or something. God, he was good.”

“I bet I could fuck you better,” Tommy grinned, passing you back the bottle. Your jaw dropped slightly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Tommy replied as you took another long drink. “I bet I could fuck you better than what’s his name.”

“Raul.”

“Yeah. Roger.”

You snorted, biting at your bottom lip. “I accept that bet.”

Tommy’s lips were on yours immediately, his hands practically ripping your shirt from your limbs as his teeth nipped at your bottom lip. You rid him of his clothes quickly, flinging them behind you as you ran your hands over his shoulders, kissing him back fiercely. You rolled on top of him, slipping his cock inside your already wet cunt and bouncing up and down causing Tommy to groan.

“You look so fucking pretty riding me, I’m tempted to let you do this all night,” Tommy grunted, his teeth capturing a nipple. “But I promised you something, hm?”

Tommy flipped the two of you over on the bed, ramming his cock inside you at a rough pace as he flung your legs over his shoulder, making your eyes roll back into your head. You couldn’t help but let a moan leave your mouth, causing Tommy to smirk. “You like that, sweetheart?”

“Oh, fuck,” You couldn’t find the energy to form any other words, your head spinning at Tommy’s constant assault on your g spot, sending stars across your vision.

“Look at you, can’t even speak when I’m fucking you this good, can you?” Tommy growled as your pussy squeezed around his dick. “This is what you wanted, from the first thing you said to me, aye? Who knew you’d turn into a pretty little slut for me in bed.”

Your moans grew louder as Tommy fucked you even harder, determined on proving a point. Tommy reached up and wrapped his hand around your neck as you writhed against him, gasping for breath. “You love this, don’t you? I can feel that pretty pussy clenching around my cock.” You could only moan in response, your eyes fluttering back into your head.

“Pretty little thing, fuckin’ made for my cock, aren’t ‘ya? Come on baby, come all over Daddy’s cock, huh?”

“Daddy, fuck,” you moaned, head swimming with lust as you reached your climax.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Tommy crooned, keeping up his insufferable pace as he fucked you through your climax. You couldn't help the sounds coming from your mouth as Tommy thrust harder, groaning.

“God, your pussy’s so wet,” Tommy grunted, hips snapping against yours. “Gonna make me fill you up with my cum, huh?” “Please, Daddy,” was all you could manage. “Please come in me. I want it so fucking badly,” you whined, shocked at the words that were leaving your mouth. Tommy growled, thrusting into you as hard as he could, causing you to cry out, scratching at his shoulders and leaving long red marks. Tommy didn’t seem to care as he took you, letting out a grunt as he finally released inside of you. You felt the stickiness drip down your thighs and you savored the dirtiness of it. Tommy kissed you roughly before slumping down beside you, lighting a cigarette. He took a puff before offering it to you and you accepted, taking a long drag.

“I promise not to tell my sister you call me daddy,” Tommy grinned, letting out a small ‘oof’ when you smacked his chest.

“Fuck you, Shelby,” You laughed, taking another drag from your cigarette as Tommy smiled at you. “We could definitely go again.”

[bokunosimpfiction]

Kidnapped Yandere!Heisenberg x Reader Pt.5

Summary: You feel emotions other than rage and sarcasm oh my god 

A/N: The reason I took a break from this series was because I had no idea where to take it from that cliff hanger, and I felt that character development needed to be done before we dive head first into the plot. This is part of that, but keep in mind it’s not filler like Chapter 2 became. I think it’s funny that this was SUPPOSED TO BE A FUCKING ONE SHOT BUT APPARENTLY FUCKING NOT. I’ll be posting another chapter for this series soon. Also feel free to send me asks about this series. I’ve been getting comments on my ao3 that are a) genius b)hilarious and c)heartwarming. Talk to me. Please! Ask and anon should be open right now let me know if they aren’t!

Masterlist link for previous parts:

Link to this chapter on AO3:

Taglist: @localdepressedvampire​ and one person recieving updates via email

The fresh cold late-autumn air made your lungs sting. And the layers of clothes didn’t help fight the chill you didn’t know you were facing. Has it been that long since you’ve been outside, to see the sun? You stick your arms in your armpits under your outercoat. Well, Heisenberg’s spare trench coat. It was much too big, the cuffs of the sleeves going well past your fingertips and the bottom half an inch from the ground.

You were so used to the fluorescent lighting and the warm dry air of the factory, that your body went into some type of culture shock. It felt like an allergic reaction to the outside world itself. Adjusting to it once you escaped would be hard.

“You’ve clearly become less fit since you started living with me,” Karl says in a matter-of-fact tone. You’d be insulted if you didn’t hear him say weird stuff about the other lords or the occasional brain-washed villager who brought up offerings. One had sewed you a wool and fox-fur dress and brought it up in September, in preparation for the winter. He’d thought it dumb at the time, but it protected you from the November chill better than anything you’ve ever worn.

Did they think you were a woman? Whether they were right or wrong, it didn’t change the fact that it was comfortable, warm, and made you feel better than the clothes you’d been wearing before in the factory or even before. You felt safe.

“Of course, I have, I’ve been sitting on my ass,” you retort.

“Still see that sass is intact.”

“It’s something that’ll never leave me.”

“You’d make a terrible house-spouse.”

“That’s the point,” you sigh hard, and you can see the cold air in front of your face, “I had a whole ass college degree before I came here and got my ass kidnapped.”

Karl whips around and looks at you, tilting his head down to peer at you from above his glasses. “You have a college degree?”

“Why are you surprised? Did you think I was that stupid?” Even if the question is sarcastic and witty, you felt a pang of hurt reverberate in your heart. Did he really think you were that stupid? Apparently so.

“I have two masters. One in aerospace engineering and one in mechanical engineering. Double majored in those fields for my bachelors at Oxford on a full-ride scholarship of robotic engineering.”

His mouth drops open. “And I didn’t know about this because?”

“It never came up.”

He pinches his nose, “you could have been helping me this whole time in the shop, and I let you sit on your ass and play care-taker.”

“More like forced me.” At this point, you’ve stopped walking, and you’d be able to see the manor of Benviento if it weren’t for the fog.

“Besides the point.” He looks stressed. His eyebrows are furrowed, a deep frown is on his face and his whole disposition makes him look genuinely conflicted and upset. “Let’s just go.” He gestures for you to follow him and stomps up the path.

You follow him, trying not to slip in the mud. Converse doesn’t have great traction, you realized. Maybe you should have worn hiking boots. “Listen, dirty Dr. Doofenschmirtz-“

“I don’t want to listen to your dumb nick-names right now.”

You stop again, and your fists ball up at your side around the fabric of the sleeves of his coat. Your coat. The coat you’re wearing.

“Why the hell are you so mad at me!” It’s not a question. It’s an exclamation of emotion. For some reason, it hurts. Even if you despised him, hated him with all your being, having someone love you unconditionally felt nice. He was toxic at best, sociopathic at worst, and yet he loved you so strongly it tore the both of you so part. To feel that admiration has gone missing, even if for a second, sent you reeling. You can’t explain why you softened towards him.

“I’m not.” He keeps walking before he realized you stopped. He turned around to look at you. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just…” He looks for the words. He’d never been good at expressing himself, you realized. Better through actions than words. But you didn’t want him to act on whatever he was feeling.

You wait in silence, eye-watering, trying not to cry.

He sees and rushes over to you. His left arm wraps around you and his right hand gently grabs your chin, his index finger underneath to lift your chin up to look at him. “Don’t cry, you know I hate it when you cry.”

You struggle to take a deep breath, choke on it, and the world feels so much more dangerous. A million malicious eyes gazing into your soul, whispers of panic fill your brain, and flashing thoughts of running right now, of hurting him or you flash through like lightning in a foggy storm. Every damn thing feels hazy and thick and you’re choking on the lump in your throat. “I don’t want to. I don’t want you to be mad at me, I don’t want-“

“Take a deep goddamn breath.” You feel his tobacco-scented breath on your face. You can see panic flash through his eyes for a moment. You hate the smell, and it suffocates you even more. “You need to breath.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat, and your breath shakes like a wasp nest about to fall from the highest branch. “Why are you mad at me?” This time you genuinely ask. You don’t want a reason, but rather a reassurance that he isn’t at all.

His lips form into a snarl that doesn’t come out before he presses them in a tight line. As he thinks. It makes you even more nervous. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the fact that I had an opportunity that went to waste.”

You look up at him. “Okay.”

He wraps his other arm around you and places his chin on your forehead. “Let me know when you’ve calmed down.”

You rest your forehead on his shoulder and breathe.

In. Out.

In.          Out.

In. OUT.

In… out

In.

Out.

 In.

 … out.

“Do you feel any better?”

You wait a moment. “Yeah, I think so.” You ponder for a moment. “I think I had a lot of pent-up anxiety from everything.”

He stays quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

He places a kiss on the crown of your head, his beard ruffling your hair. “Are you not going to forgive me?”

You take a deep breath. “I don’t know yet. It’s…” How do I phrase this? “I worked hard for this anger. This anger to love me, to know I didn’t deserve this, to be kidnapped, to have my head ready to be mounted on a stick.” You continue, “if I stop feeling angry, if I forgive you, I’m afraid I’m losing that. That’s why I tried to escape because I loved myself, I wanted better for myself.”

“Was I… Was I not providing enough for you?” His question strikes you like an arrow.

“I-“ You stumble on you’re thoughts for a moment. “It’s less of you not doing enough, but more of the rough foot we started on.” You sniffle. “When I gave up, I felt like I lost a part of myself, all that I worked for. That degree included. I felt all my efforts, all my struggles that I faced outside this goddamn village had gone to waste. That it wasn’t worth it. That I wasn’t worth it.”

You had promised yourself to keep him at arm’s length, to not give him clues to manipulate you. But you poured your heart out into his. You felt him shake and squeeze you tighter.

“Never. Ever. Feel like you aren’t worth it.” You feel something wet on your scalp. “You deserved better than each challenge that you faced, and each bit of hurt you felt along the way.” It’s his turn to choke on his words. He takes a shaky breath above you, and you can feel his heart pound faster. “You, darling, are worth everything.”

Something small inside you breaks. He’s just as human as you are, you realize. In this desperate attempt to escape, to fuel this hatred that’s worn you down, you’ve villainized a man that’s felt even more pain than you. A broken man, who thinks you’re the glue to put him back together. You shouldn’t feel any obligation to, but you do, because you’ve felt a fraction of the pain he’s felt, that he’s currently feeling, and it’s made your mind and bones ache far after the situation ended.

“And so are you, Karl.”

He unwraps his arms from around you. “Come one butter-cup, let’s go. Ugly-ass-psycho-doll is waiting for you. Says she wants you for a fitting and some tea party with her demented child, Angie.”

“Angie? Who’s she.”

“Well, you’re about to find out.”

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. once the trial plot line is finally wrapped up (at best maybe itll end in december) we still have to deal with apollo, and leto, and thetis, and eros and psyche, AND kronos, oh and you know, the actual hymn to demeter and even just hxp getting together, which is both rushed and dragged out. like how has it almost been four years and still so little has happened and we still have way too many plots to deal with?

2. i see one excuse for LO is "well its free content! dont critique it!" like girl, we know she's making a lot of money just off fast pass alone, not counting books, merch, etc, also she's being paid by the company too as well as ad revenue, so its not really free, is it?

3. LO Persephone is Veruca Salt from Charlie and The Chocolate Factory.

4. lets be very frank here. if rachel was a woman of color pulling the shit she does in comic and on social media, shed be so hated as a regressive person with conservative ideas who is selling a horrible story and messages to her young fans, but because she's a white lady they hold her up as the goddamn messiah. theres so many better BIPOC creators who know what to do with this mythology and make it fresh and interesting and yet shes held up as the authority on it and coddled? sounds about white.

5. i dont get where lo fans claims antis are "apollo apologetics" bc literally none of us like him, we like actual mythology apollo and hate rachel took an interesting and diverse god and made him That Way to push her badly written romance along. No one is excusing him and idk where they're claiming thats from?

From OP: Exactly! I have no clue they got that from. Plus, every “Apollo Apologetic” I’ve seen so far likes LO and/or is active in the fandom.

6. that other anon hit the nail on the head. persephone isnt a character dictating the story like she should be, she's just being pulled along by everyone else or just rachel forcing it, all so persephone cant be held accountable for any action, good or bad, it just happens to her. this wouldnt be a problem if it werent for the fact it claims it's about "empowering" persephone and giving her agency to make her own choices, yet she doesnt even have that in this story, even less than the myths, IMHO.

7. does rachel know having hades be a threatening dick towards his pseudo son thanatos actually makes him less qualified to be a father? you cant tell us his biggest dream is to have a family yet when given the chance to care for a child he mentally and emotionally abuses and threatens them with physical violence over any little temper tantrum hades has. how is demeter seen as the abusive parent when she clearly doted and spoiled persephone, but hades is held up as the one "deserving" of a family?

8. hades' whole 'you should be grateful that i raised you FOR FREE and mentored you' is literally verbatim something my physically and emotionally abusive father said to me. that, PLUS him flinching away from hades/shivering, PLUS hades' constant anger at thanatos. just really rubs me the wrong way.

9. im also confused? bc persephone clearly isnt comfortable with how violent and angry hades is, yet she never pushes back on this, and even if she tries he does nothing but a momentary "apology" at best but goes right back to it, and seems to have only upped it recently much to her discomfort. it's (hopefully unintentionally) like how we saw rhea and kronos, where she only dealt with his anger with her body. idk why but rachel is making a strong case their eventual marriage won't be a happy one.

-----FP Spoilers/Mention-----

10. fp spoilers

dude 😭 i dont have words. badly written characters be like: barely 1 minute in we have perse all “*is forced to share her trauma due to fear*” meanwhile hades: “*has a temper tantrum* *2 seconds later* you should not be consoling me” trash can fire comic.

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Hey, Stranger

alright guys, gals, and non binary pals! I present to you ‘Sex with a Stranger (but not really a stranger)’! so excited to be a part of @berrynarrybanana ‘sex bucket list fic challenge! theres a ton of talented ass writers participating in this, so be sure to check it out!

here is 6.5k words of absolute filth and smut! literally this stuff is filthy i was shook myself

masterlist

A well deserved break was in your favor. 

A long break that had to do with a lot of drinking and perhaps fucking, if you’re lucky enough tonight. 

Work has been stressful lately. Being the CEO of an up and coming makeup brand has its perks. The new season called for a new line of makeup and the whole process would start again. The countless meetings with the design team, marketing team, and the factory; all while hoping everything runs smoothly. 

It was the busiest season of the year trying to come up with new and better ideas for your brand, and hoping everyone likes it. 

Needless to say, you needed a break. A well deserved break at that. 

It’s been a while since you properly went out by yourself. You’re not even sure if you’ve ever been out by yourself, especially to a bar. It was a last minute decision that you told yourself that you were going to step out and have a drink after work, and it would’ve been too late to call anyone up considering it was 8 at night. 

Work had been keeping you at the office later than usual, and you hated it. You were a firm believer of having downtime and taking care of your body and skin after work, but you get home so late that all you want to do is crash; not given enough time to relax. 

But it was Friday night and you thought that a drink to celebrate the end of the working week was enough to go out. 

You walked through the door of the bar, seeing that there were a good amount of people there, but it wasn’t too overcrowded. You took a seat at the counter, and the bartender had already seen you, making his way to you. 

“Hi. Can I get a shot of tequila please?” 

“Sure thing,” he replied and quickly took out a shot glass and reached for the tequila bottle that was at the top of the shelf, and poured it. “Want a lime? Or a chaser to go with that?” He asks as he sets the glass right in front of you. 

“Nah, I’m good. Thank you.” Without a thought, you downed it, letting the burning liquid run down your throat. The bartender was still in front of you, an impressive look on his face. “Can I get another please?” He nods, and pours you another, which you gulp it quickly. He waits for you to ask for another, “I’m okay right now. I’ll call you if I want another, thanks,” he nods and serves his other customers. 

You start eating the peanuts that were set right in front of you as you remembered that you didn’t have much to eat before; just a small salad with coffee for lunch. No wonder why you were so hungry, practically devouring the whole bowl of peanuts. 

“Pretty impressive to down two shots in a row,” a man takes a seat right next to you. You couldn’t help but think how attractive he is. His hair was short and slightly curly at the top along. Overall, his face was just too pretty. 

“Why, were you watching me?” You tease. 

“How could I not when a pretty girl walks into a bar and orders two shots and downs them back to back?” He smirks and your face is hot. The two shots and very little food you’ve eaten had made your face fluster. 

“Wow, that whole thing you said sounded like a song. Are you a musician?” He laughs, genuinely laughs. The whole head thrown back and his fist banging on the counter. 

“Of some sorts. I’m Harry,” he takes his hand out to shake, and you take it.

“Nice to meet you, Harry.” 

“And you are?” 

“Whatever you want to call me tonight,” you smirk. 

“Oh, so we’re playing like that, huh?” His brows raise and you nod, giving him a ‘mhm.’ “Well, if that’s the case, I reckon we’re gonna have a lot of fun tonight,” his eyes turn dark and you have no idea what you’re in for, but oh, you’re so ready for it. 

“Tell me,” he starts and you raise your eyebrows, “tell me what you like being called.” 

“Hmm. There’s a few that I can think of,” you think up, pretending to think.

“Yeah? Care to share?” 

“I think I’ll save that for when it happens,” you tease. 

“And when do you think it’ll happen?” He smirks. 

The sexual tension between you two is insanely thick. With back and forth teasing and smirking, you two are building up the tension and connection, and there is absolutely no doubt that you have a connection with this stranger. 

“I think it’ll happen a lot sooner than you think,” you give him a look as if you’re saying ‘how does that sound?’ 

“Do you mind if I touch you?” He suddenly asks. 

“Quite the gentleman you are when you’re going to tear me up tonight,” you joke, but quite literally meaning it.  

“Always a gentleman out of the bed, but don’t expect me to be nice to you in bed,” he tests. 

“Oh, I don’t expect you to be. Want you to go for it. And by the way, yes you can touch me.” 

Harry grabs your hand, caressing it. It had surprised you because you had expected him to go somewhere less innocent than holding hands. You feel the soft rubs of his thumb, gently rubbing over your skin, and the small touch of his sends electrical sparks throughout your body. You’ve never felt like this. The slightest touch of someone you don’t know and had just met had this effect on you, and it blew your mind. 

“What are you trying to do, Harry?” You take a deep breath as he begins rubbing your leg. He starts off slow, starting at the knee, testing to see if it was okay, and when he looked up at you, he saw you nod and began circling his single finger across your thigh. 

He made all sorts of patterns across your thigh, and you had wished that you were wearing a skirt or shorts just so you could feel it on your actual skin, but the thick barrier of denim was in the way. 

Harry’s face was close to yours and you think he’s about to kiss you, but his face steers him next to your ear. You feel his run closer to your heated core, but not just there yet. He was running his finger in your inner thigh, making you squirm in your seat and hit breaths coming out of your mouth, hitting Harry’s ear. 

“I’m trying to get you ready. Is that okay?” He finally answers your question, and you had totally forgotten that you had asked that due to the distraction of an insanely hot man teasing you to your death. 

“Get me ready for what exactly?” 

“I’m sure you know what.” 

“Hmm, rather have you tell me,” you hear him take a breath in and out. What you don’t expect next was that his finger had made its way in between your thighs, pushing down on your clit. The feeling had totally shocked you, not expecting him to touch you in such an open and public place, but you honestly are far from caring. 

“Wanna lick and eat your pussy when I take you back to my place. I want you to cum all over my mouth that your legs give out. Then I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’re sore. Gonna fuck you till you remember me for the next guy you wanna fuck because let’s face it, darling, all you’ll be thinking about is me. You’re gonna come back to my cock and begging me to fuck you over and over again,” he tells you sensually in your ear, all while pressing down on your clit and moving his thumb around. The friction between your thick jeans and his finger felt amazing, and it took so much in you to not buck your hips into his finger. “How does that sound?��� He says, coming face to face with you. 

The dominant side of him is showing heavily. But you were one to not put down a fight. 

“That sounds great, in all honesty, and I would absolutely love that. But I’ll believe it when you show me. You could be all talk for all I know,” you’re practically challenging him to your death. You know this guy would fuck you good. Hell, the way he’s just talking to you is leaving you a stain on your panties from your arousal. 

“You’re testing me, darling,” he shakes his head. “But if you really wanna know, how about I take you to my place right now and I’ll show you?” He stands from his stool. 

You shrug your shoulders, “okay,” you stand as well, grabbing your purse. “But aren’t you gonna kiss me first?” Harry raises his eyebrows, shocked this woman is even asking that when he’s literally about to fuck her brains out. “What? All I’m thinking is that what if our first kiss is horrible when we get back to yours? So if the kiss is horrible then the sex will definitely be worse,” you know you’re on his last nerve, and you’re surprised he hasn’t moved on to the next girl to pull his moves on, but he seems to be enjoying the bantering. 

“Okay, that’s fair. Can I kiss you darling?” Harry asks just like the gentleman he is. 

“Yes. Please kiss me,” you plead. 

Harry wastes no time in connecting your lips together. Soft lips that mold together when they become one. The taste of alcohol on each other’s tongue can drive you both drunk; drunk in one another’s taste, lips, hold. You had wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he wraps his around your waist. The two of you both kiss each other in the middle of the bar, not giving a single fuck that people are still around and they can obviously see. You’re so caught up in him, he’s so caught up in you that neither of you don’t care to stop. 

The only thing that does make you two stop was the drop of glass shattering, startling the both of you to pull away from one another. Some random guy had dropped his drink, making a complete mess on the ground, and all the attention was turned on him. Luckily, away from you and Harry. 

“How was that?” He asks, in hopes that you would still let him take you home, 

“It was good. Really good.” There was no point in playing with him if he’s actually good in bed. You knew that the first time he sat next to you. But god, that tongue is driving you crazy, and it’s sending so many thoughts of what else that tongue can do to your body. 

“Then let’s save the rest for later, darling. Reckon we put on a show,” he chuckles, placing his hand on your lower back to guide you through the door. “Really not gonna tell me your name yet?” 

“Hmm, nah. Maybe after you fuck me. I believe you’re already too attached,” you tease. 

Harry laughs and shakes his head, and thinks this girl is gonna be the death of me. 

The ride to his house was anything but awkward. Harry had called his driver, not wanting to risk driving even though he’s only had one drink, but really he just wanted to be close to you. You’ve never met someone who has their own personal driver, and it amazed you how much money this guy has. Not like you were interested in the money because frankly, you were only in it for the hot sex you’re about to have with, but damn! Hot stranger with hot sex and hot money? Why the fuck not. 

As soon as the door shut and the car started moving, he grabbed your face and pressed his lips against yours. He told you that he was saving the kisses for later, but he couldn’t help it. Your lips were irresistible that he needed to feel it against his again, along with other places, but he’s only a handful of minutes away and then he’ll be graced with the beauty of her lips around his cock. 

His aching and hard cock, to be exact. 

Once the car comes to a stop, he thanks his driver and leads you out the car and to his front door. You stand behind him as he tries getting the right key into the slot, but he’s shaking and anxious because of his excitement. 

You made the bold move to reach over and palm his bulge. Harry’s breath hitches in his throat as he continues fumbling with his keys. Your front is pressed to Harry’s back, squeezing him through his pants. You can tell he’s big and ready to be taken care of. 

“Never gonna get in the house if you keep doing that,” he moans out, finally relieving some of the pressure that went straight to his cock. 

“Sorry, couldn’t help but notice how hard you were when we were in the car, so I had to feel for myself,” you say against his back, kissing him through his shirt. He turns his head to the side, so you could hear what he’s about to say loud and clear. 

“Keep it up or I’m fucking you against the door that you’ll be screaming my name so loud that you would wake up my neighbors.” 

“You act like I’m opposed to that,” you giggle, but he takes your hands away from his dick, practically throwing it off.

He turns around slightly towards you, and his eyes darken, “be good.” You practically go silent after that as he turns back around.

He finally unlocks the door, pulling you instead to his house before smashing your lips against his. The quick movements had shocked you as you tried observing his wealthy home, but didn’t get a chance to due to his lips. 

Heated kisses dominate your mouth as your back hits the closed door. His tongue repeatedly touches yours, making your knees weak, and if it wasn’t for Harry holding you so tight, you would have definitely fallen. 

It was like you were finally waiting for this moment to come. The tension at the bar was so sharp that just upon meeting each other, there was a pool in your panties and a hard on in his pants. 

And to which, the arousal you both had are both hot and ready to devour one another to pleasure. 

“Can I touch you?” He one last time, knowing that this time you were turning in your full permission and submission. He already knew you were weak for him when you had said yes the first time, but again, he is a gentleman. 

You nod and lift the hem of his shirt up a bit, raking your nails on his love handles as you earned a moan from his that directed to your mouth. Harry unbuttons your jeans and pulls down the zipper, not finding enough time to fully take your pants off before his hands are down your pants already. His fingers find your clit, rubbing it gently in slow circles and he feels your wetness lubricating his fingers. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispers out. You only nod, not wanting to speak but only wanting your lips to be occupied by him. His finger finally touching your raw and bare pussy sent shivers down your spine. You were waiting for it ever since he had gotten close to you. 

He pulls his lips back from yours and starts kissing your neck as he undos the buttons of your shirt, and lifts it up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra and jeans. He trails down to your collarbones and works the latches of your bra, unhooking it to reveal your breasts. 

“Your tits, holy shit,” he immediately takes on your nipples, sucking and biting it while grabbing the other and fondling it, and switches and does the same. Once he’s done, he kisses his way down to your stomach, pulling your jeans down fully along with your panties. 

You had worn a red lace cheeky panty, feeling the most confident in sexy underwear. “Gonna have to see you in that another time, love,” the thought of him saying another time had made your heart drop. You couldn’t deny the connection between you two. Although not knowing him well enough emotionally, the physical connection was so strong. 

“Fucking lick me already,” you pant out breathlessly, already feeling heated from his teasing kisses. 

“Alright, alright,” you had expected him to lick you up already, but he still continues with kissing your skin and sometimes sucking on it, leaving a hickey. He kisses your pubic bone and thighs before hiking one leg up to rest on his shoulder, and starts licking a strike up your heated core. 

Harry flicks his tongue on your clit many times before sucking on it as you're a moaning mess standing above him. You grab a fistful of his curls before slightly bucking your hips, grinding against his tongue. The sensation running through your body is powerful, and you're lucky your leg is on Harry’s shoulder or else you would have collapsed. 

“Fuck, yessss,” you moan out as you continue grinding on his tongue. Harry stops you from moving by pulling back a little before inserting two fingers inside your pussy and continues flicking his tongue on your clit. His fingers curl up to meet the spongy spot inside of you, taking you to the brink of your orgasm. “Keep doing that,” he doesn’t stop fingering you and you continue with your motion from before, needing to feel pressure on your clit with his tongue. 

“Taste so good, baby,” he says quickly before proceeding to lick and suck your clit. 

“Mhm,” you whine out, “I’m gonna cum, baby,” you say as your hips buck. 

“Cum on my face, please. Need it,” he urges out, continuing to curl his fingers into your pussy. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you had felt like a water balloon inside you had exploded, feeling the overwhelming pleasure of your orgasm. Harry lets go of your leg that was resting on his shoulder and kisses your clit once more and the inside of your thighs, before kissing up to your lips. When you put your foot down on the ground, you were welcomed by a wet floor. You tried looking down at the mess you’ve made, but Harry’s lips caught yours, and you feel his wet chin that’s dripping your inside fluids off of his chin and down to your chest and the taste of your orgasm on his lips, making the scene so erotic and filthy. 

“Be careful, you might slip. Let’s go to the bedroom, yeah? Maybe you can make a mess on my sheet like you did my floor. Didn’t know I got squirted in my hands,” he grabs the back of your thighs, hoisting you up and your legs go around his waist. You were about to kiss him, feeling lost without it, but he needed to watch his step as he turned out, not wanting to slip and hurt both of you. 

He carries you to the bedroom as you kiss his face and his neck, and it takes so much in him not to just fuck you where he’s standing. Once he finally sees the bed, he makes sure he’s close enough before he practically throws you on it. A squealing yelp comes out of your mouth as you giggle slightly. 

Harry was still fully clothed as you’re fully naked, but you wanted to change that as soon as possible. You motion him to come towards you with your finger, and he walks towards the edge of the bed, standing above you. You sit on your knees on the bed, and lift his shirt up halfway so he could take it off. And once he does, you admire his body. His beautiful body that you’ve been aching to see. The one that doesn’t compare to anyone else, and all you want to do is love on him and fuck him. 

“Fuck, look at you,” you breathe out before you kiss his neck and trail down to his chest. His tattooed chest was something you wanted to look out forever. You wanted to kiss each and every single one of his inked designs, but you do that to what is right in front of you. You kiss the swallow tattoos, kissing down the middle and stopping at his pecs. You lick one of his nipples and do the same to the other, and Harry had not expected you to do that at all, but he isn’t complaining. You then trail down to the butterfly on his stomach, kissing it loads before going down to the ferns that lay at the bottom. His body is so sexy, so magnifying, and you wanted to engulf every single inch of him. 

You managed to get his belt off, and start working on the button and his zipper, pulling it down just enough to see the entirety of his underwear. Harry quickly takes off his jeans and kicks them to the side as he stands in just his underwear. You continue kissing his stomach, deciding that you weren’t done leaving a trail of your lips all over his body so he wouldn’t forget about this night. You fondle him over his briefs, relieving some of the pressure that is his hard cock, and Harry moans. 

A smile is present on your mouth, happy to hear his sensual moan. “So hard for me already,” you look up through your lashes. 

“Been hard since the moment I laid my eyes on you,” he looks down at you, and you smile, blushing at his statement. 

You finally release the restraint that is his underwear, and his dick springs up. You lick your lips hungrily, looking up at him. “You’re so fucking big, holy shit.” 

“Stroking my ego, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, and stroking your cock,” you lick your hand and grab a hold of him, stroking your hand up and down, working him up. As your hand works against him, you suck the skin of his hip, leaving multiple hickeys on his skin. 

You finally lick up his cock from base to tip, and take his tip inside your mouth, sucking lightly. You then take more of him, hollowing your cheeks. 

“Yeah, baby. Do it like that,” Harry groans out. He pushes all of your hair to one side, so he could see your face. You were in an all fours position, and it was hurting your back and neck, but you didn’t care; only wanting Harry to feel the pleasure right now. 

You start taking more of him, feeling the tip hit the back of your throat and your nose pressed up against his pubic bone. Harry moans get stuck in his throat and you release him. 

“Like that? Like when you can feel the back of my throat? Like when you’re in my mouth? Huh…daddy?” The name had slipped and you didn’t expect it. But it had turned you on even more, and you were hoping it did the same to him. 

And oh, it did. 

His eyes turn dark as he looks down at you with his cock in your hand, pumping it. He smirks, grabbing a fistful of your hair, bringing you up to his lips. Your forehead is pressed against his and his lips graze yours, and you want to desperately kiss them. And you try to, but he tugs your hair back. 

“You wanna call me daddy? Yeah? Be a good little girl and suck daddy’s cock, and let’s see if you have the honor of calling me that. Got it?” You nod, not trusting your voice and also surprised how fast his tone changed. He pushes your head back down to his cock and you take him back in your mouth. Your mouth works on him, having to move from side to side because of the position you're in, which causes your whole body to move as well. 

From Harry's view, he’s got the view of your naked back and your ass. He lets one hand go from your hair and reaches forward to slap one cheek causing you to moan around him. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl,” he whispers out, feeling the vibrations from your moans straight to his dick. 

The second time he said the pet name, it made you clench. It caused your thighs to slightly close and make you moan around his cock. And Harry notices and he thinks he hit the jackpot.

He pulls out of your mouth again and brings your face to his with both hands on the sides of your face. 

“You like that, huh? Like being called a good girl? Didn’t wanna fucking tell me your name because you wanted me to call you good girl. Think you were being a good girl? I certainly don’t think so. Do you think so?” Your hair was a wild mess, mouth still wide open like his big cock had jammed it open. He slips his thumb in your mouth, “answer me.” 

“No, don’t think I was.” 

“Exactly, I didn’t think you were either. But since you wanna be called that so bad, prove to me that you are by sucking me good,” he lets go of you and you bend down to continue sucking him. 

He starts bucking his hips, fucking your mouth, and hitting the back of your throat causing you to gag around him. It had felt amazing to him, having you gag around him, but decided to stop, not wanting to hurt you. 

“Do it again? Want you to fuck my mouth,” you beg. He doesn’t hesitate to thrust into your mouth, starting off slowly though, not wanting to push you. 

After a thrusting a few or more times, he starts holding your head when he reaches the back of your throat and your face is pushed up against his body. You tried your very best not to push away; opening your mouth wider than ever and relaxing your throat. Harry pulls you off of him and a string of saliva hangs from your lips to his tip. 

“Fuck, you’re fucking mouth, baby,” he pulls your face up to meet his, giving you a heated kiss. “You may call me daddy. Your mouth is so filthy already. Sucking me so good. You definitely are a good girl.” He kisses your lips and moves down to your neck. 

“Thank you, daddy.”

Now that foreplay is out of the way, he can’t wait to stuff himself inside of you. He had gone to get a condom, but you told him that you were clean and was on the pill, and said that he could go bare as long as he was clean. He immediately agreed and told you that he was clean and he just recently got tested, and if you wanted to see the result. You laughed, telling him no and that you trusted him. 

You lay on your back against the pillows and he hovers over you, giving you a few kisses before he reaches between you and lined himself up with your pussy. 

He finally pushes in and you both let out a moan in a sigh of relief. The feeling of the two of you connected, increased your arousal as Harry started thrusting in and out of you. Your hands were placed on his hips, pulling him close if possible; wanting him close as he pounds into you. 

“Feels so good,” your head throws back onto the pillows. Harry grabs both of your arms from around his waist before lifting them up above your head, holding your wrists in one hand. The other hand places a hand on one of your breasts, squeezing it harshly. 

“Yeah? Who feels good, baby?” He drives even deeper into you. 

“You, daddy. You feel so good,” you practically scream out. 

“God, baby girl, you feel amazing,” his head is thrown back in ecstasy, feeling you coat his cock with your arousal. 

“Thank you, daddy,” you bite your lip and innocently look him in the eye, but you’re far from innocent, 

“No, thank you. Just met and you’re already calling me daddy. Fuck, where have you been all my life?” He continued to thrust like there’s no tomorrow—harder, deeper, and all you could do is take it and moan. 

“Been so…lost…without you. Harder, please.” You feel yourself start slipping. Your head begins to feel dizzy as he relentlessly attacks your pussy with his cock. The pain and pleasure had taken over your mind, swirling and jumbling your words and thoughts. 

“My good baby girl wants it harder, huh?” You nod as you shut your eyes, feeling so much pleasure as Harry starts thrusting harder and faster, making a moaning mess out of you, his chest slightly sweaty from the movement and your back damped from the writhing above the sheet.

“You’re here now, aren’t you?  You’re here and you’re mine. Right, baby? You’re mine now?” Harry’s dominant side is seeking through, needing the praise and the reassurance. 

“Mhm…here and yours.”

“That’s right. Wanna be a good girl and ride my cock?” You nod and he pulls out of you, a whimper leaving your lips from the absence of him, and lays right next to you before pulling you on his body. You barely had any time to register what was happening, because it was all happening too fast for your liking, you found herself straddling him and he immediately lined himself up again, and pushed you down to sink onto him. 

You slowly start grinding on him as you were still in her hazing state. Everything was so fuzzy, but you continued to bounce on him, wanting to make him happy. 

“Good, baby girl. That’s so good,” he moans out, gripping your hips hard as he guides you up and down his cock. His hands trail up your stomach, stopping at your breasts to give them a harsh squeeze. He then reaches up to suck on them before covering them again with his hands. “Love your fucking tits.” 

Your hands cover his big ones grabbing your tits, and it’s a sight for Harry. His baby girl was riding him, eyes closed, mouth open, him touching her tits, and her touching his hands touching her tits. He was practically in heaven. 

“Gonna cum, daddy,” you whimper. You open your eyes and fall on his chest, all while still moving your hips. “Please, let me cum? Please, daddy?” You’re nose to nose with him, pleading to let you feel pleasure to the full extent. 

“Hold it, baby. I’m nearly there,” he says, kissing your cheek. A pout formed on your lips and you whined a little, feeling like you’re going to explode anytime soon. But you wanted Harry to reach his high too, so you don’t say anything and you hold it. 

“Fuck me then? Please, fuck me?” 

“Hold on tight, okay?” Your arms wrap around his neck and your face is buried right next to his head. The gaps were closed between you two, and you’re so close to him that it was starting to get hot, but in the best way. 

Harry wraps his arms around your torso, hugging you to him as he plants his feet onto the bed, and starting fucking up into you. His thrusting is fast and hard with skin slapping against each other and moans were only heard, and he’s there. He’s on the edge. 

“Daddy…” you say softly in his ear, practically begging him to give you his permission. “Please.”

“Go ahead, baby. Cum for me, yeah?” And with that, you cum…hard. So does Harry; shooting his hot cum deep inside of you with a loud groan of relief escaping his lips. “God, yes.” 

You softly grind down on him, riding your orgasm out until you feel a familiar squirting between your legs and on Harry's stomach. 

“Mmm,” you whine out. 

“Doing so well for me, baby girl. Cumming so hard for me, right?” You only nod, continuing to cry out. 

He pushes you off of him and you whimper, feeling lost without his body pressed up against yours, even though he’s inside of you still. You’re sitting up, straddling him, and you start feeling pressure on your clit. Harry’s thumb presses against it and starts rubbing it fast. 

“Ohh…” the feeling gets you to your next orgasm, grinding down on his cock as he rubs your clit. 

“One more, yeah? Got one more in there for me?” He challenges.

“Mhm…for you, daddy.”

“That’s right. For daddy, yeah? Come one, baby. Squirt for me again.” 

And you do, you squirt until your legs are shaking, and Harry’s body and sheet are covered in your juices. Your cries are loud, but it’s full of pleasure and the feeling of overwhelm. This just takes you more into a headspace, and with the shaking of your legs, it makes you even more dizzy. 

You collapse on Harry’s chest, wrapping your arms around him, wanting to feel him close as possible. You bury your face in his neck, practically crying against his neck, and you feel his hands rub your back and his lips against your temple. 

“Hey, hey. Why’re you crying?” He tries pulling your face out of his neck, but you whimper, not wanting to let go. “Come on, look at me, please?” His eyes had gone soft for the crying figure on top of him. He knew you were probably too overwhelmed and sensitive from all the pleasure, especially the full and hard orgasms. 

After a few minutes, you pull your head out of his neck and he’s met with glossy eyes and damped cheeks. He kisses your lips quickly, before asking, “what’s wrong, baby?” 

“Don’t wanna leave, daddy. You’re gonna kick me out now,” you sniffle. 

“What? No, I’m not. Baby, you live here too. Not gonna kick you out,” Harry frowns. 

“Yeah, you are because I’m supposed to be just a one night stand, and Daddy doesn’t do sleepovers and we just met.” 

“Hey, I’m Harry, alright? Come back to me. It’s Harry. You know Harry, right?” You only nod your head. “Your brain is all fuzzy, thinking I’m just daddy and I’m supposed to kick you out. No, it’s not like that, okay? We were just playing, remember?” He scratches your head. 

“Daddy’s not gonna leave or kick me out?” You look at him with your glossy eyes, begging him for you to stay.

“Daddy or Harry’s not gonna kick you out. Nor are they going to leave you. Ever.” He could feel you starting to relax on him, taking deep breaths rather than hearing your cries. “Come on, miss my girl. Want you back. It was nice ‘meeting’ you at the bar, but I miss you so much,” Harry says in soft and a hushed voice. He cradles her and hums, trying to get you to come back to the world. 

After a few minutes, he’s sure that you’ve fallen asleep in his hold, but you lift your head up, and he smiles. 

“Hey there, pretty lady.” 

“Harry?” 

“Welcome back, stranger,” he kisses her nose and you smile at his affection. 

“I went under again, huh?” Your face looked so defeated, like you were embarrassed. Sometimes you hated being in subspace because you have no clue and no control of how you’re acting. 

“Yeah, but it’s okay. You’re completely safe when you are and stop worrying too much. There’s nothing you could do or say that would make me leave you. Married you, so you’re stuck with me.” You nod, feeling slightly better. Harry was always so good with reassurance and aftercare when you’re in subspace or not. He’s also so caring and that’s one of the many reasons why you love him. 

“Thank you,” you say softly in his neck. 

“Of course. Always gonna take care of you,” he hugs you closer for a moment, relishing every moment he gets when you’re in his arms. “Now, let’s go take a bath? Let me wash you up before we sleep.” 

“Mmm. Don’t wanna move,” you say as you get comfortable on his body. “Feel so empty without you.” 

“Not going anywhere, love. You could cling onto me while I get the bath ready, how does that sound?” He moves your hair, so he could see your beautiful and tired face. You lift your head up to look at him. 

“No, what I meant was: I’m empty without you in me,” Harry’s mouth opens as if the realization just hit him; a soft ‘oh’ comes out. 

“Want me in you? Without the fucking, huh? Just wanna feel warm and nice?” He smiles, often loving when you go into subspace because a little cockwarming is in his favor. 

“Mhm. Please? Just for a little bit then we could take a bath.” 

“Okay, whatever you want. We could also do it in the bath too, but let’s stay here for a moment,” you nod in agreement. 

He reaches between you, stroking his dick to get it a little hard before lining himself up once again. His hips bucked and you pushed your hips down on him, both moaning in the relief of feeling full again. 

“Feel so good, even like this, baby,” you say against his skin. 

“Yeah? Keeping me warm, huh?” You nod and he kisses your face. “We should do this more often.” 

“I always keep your cock warm though,” Harry laughs at your vulgar language, but he’s not surprised. 

“I know that, but I didn’t mean that. I meant we should plan some nights where we don’t know each other and we meet up at the same place. Remember we always did that when we were dating? Got some of the best surprises out of each other.” 

“Yeah, I remember. Back when I was able to fit into my maid costume,” you sigh.“But sure. I really liked today. I was going for something else, but daddy just slipped out and I know how much you love being called that, so I just went with it,” you start scratching the back of his neck, and he feels like he could fall asleep anytime, but he’d rather stay up and talk to you. 

“Don’t deny that you don’t like calling me daddy either,” he sarcastically scoffs. 

“You’re right. I do,” you giggle, knowing that it’s your favorite thing to call him besides your innocent pet names for him. “I’m gonna surprise you for what kind of role playing we’re gonna do when we pretend not to know each other.” You kiss his chest and he hums. You both feel so relaxed that you feel Harry getting soft inside of you, but he still feels warm. 

“Okay, sounds good to me. As long as it’s with you then I have no reason to complain.” 

You smile at him, feeling so loved and grateful you’re married to him. As you two lay close to one another, chest to chest, and sexually and emotionally connected, you’re appreciative for the stranger that’s not really a stranger, holding you in his arms. 

feedback is very much appreciated! pls let me know what you think!

[dresupi]

Darcy/Steve - Truth Pollen - Speedrun Prompts

for @littleplebe​

Rated T

Truth Pollen - Accidental Declaration of Feelings

~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Captain Asshole, fresh outta the Asshole Factory, here to ignore me and talk to my computer screen.”

Steve stopped short in the doorway of Darcy’s office, surprised as hell, and maybe a little bit amused. “Excuse me?”

Darcy, for her part, had clapped both hands over her mouth. “Oh my god, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I’m sorry you heard that, not for saying it because it’s true… shit.”

Steve had to stifle a laugh, and attempt to keep his composure, swallowing before speaking. “Darcy, I had no idea you felt that way. I had no idea you felt any way at all, but I definitely wasn’t expecting that…”

“Oh really? You weren’t expecting that? I thought you were always prepared for everything, Boy Scout. Good to know you have expectations of me, not that I care. Asshole.”

“I take it Bruce is still testing that aerosol mood affector? Tell him to turn down whatever it is that makes you irritable, or we won’t have to actually attack anyone, just wait fifteen minutes for them to do it for us.”

“He’s not testing that,” Darcy said slowly.

“What?” Steve asked, still laughing even as he quizzically caught her gaze. “What is it, then?”

“Don’t make me say it,” she groaned, letting her head fall to her desk. “It’s that Truth Dust.”

“Wait… the stuff that makes you tell the truth no matter what?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said shortly, sitting up and shrugging. “Not sorry about it. I mean I’m not sorry. I mean bite me. Fuck.”

“Wait…” Steve frowned. “So you think I’m actually an asshole? Darcy?”

She shrugged. “Can you blame me? You never talk to me except to look over my shoulder at my computer screen… plus you look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like Apple Pie personified. It’s annoying that you don’t like me.”

“I never said I didn’t like you,” Steve countered, sort of hating how shrill his voice had become.  “You’re the one who called me an asshole.”

“Because you act like an asshole!” Darcy argued. “And it’s obnoxious, because not only do you make me grit my teeth, you make me like… wanna clutch my pearls too…”

“What?” Steve asked, blinking. This woman was the human equivalent of whiplash. One minute she hated him, the next she was complimenting him…

“I mean, look at you, dude. All Dorito-y, looking like something I’d hurt myself riding.” Her eyes got wide when she said that, pressing both lips together and shaking her head.

“Hurt yourself riding?” Steve echoed, smirking a little. “Well, just to make this even… the reason I don’t look at you is because I think your lips look so kissable, I don’t want to embarrass myself. And when you look at me with those big blue eyes, I want to do everything for you. Everything…” He made certain not to break eye contact, because not only was he being sincere, it was electrifying to watch how he affected her. “And I’m only snarky because I want to keep up with you. I thought we were flirting… but I guess I need to be a bit more forward. Dr. Lewis, I think I’ve got a fever. You wanna make a house call and check it out sometime?”

Her face reddened in stages. Pink to Magenta.

“I’m not that kind of doctor, but if you think I should take a look...”

“I really think you should… And for my part… I’ll try to be a little nicer.”

“Oh, this is plenty nice…” Darcy murmured.

[tainted-wine]

(Snapped a pic because I lost the darn ask)

Thank you, anon! She didn’t exactly forget in this case, but bear with me. This crack is basically a happier ending to Spring Bird Survival Guide. It was supposed to be a couple sentences long. I don’t know how it turned into nearly 3,000 words. I...I wrote a whole fic.

....Enjoy?

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

(NSFW)

“Why did you stop taking them?” He sounds more confused than you’ve ever heard him, the slight shake in his voice betraying his fear.

You didn’t mean for him to catch you in his bathroom, positive pregnancy test still in your hands. Your plan was to figure out when would be the appropriate time to tell him, assuming that he didn’t catch on to the constant nausea added to your pains. At least this saves you the trouble of keeping secrets.

“Because…the Commission can go fuck themselves.” You take his hand and place it right above your womb, hearing his breath hitch. “Let’s start a family, Keigo.”

Hawks knew that this was beyond stupid. It was stupid of you to put yourself in this position, it was stupid of him to even be considering this, and it was stupid of both of you to attempt such a thing behind the Commission’s back.

But his birdbrain didn’t care about any of that right now.

He pulls you in for a suffocating kiss. “My little hen is about to become a mother hen.” He takes you to bed and claims you out of pure joy.

—————————————

That buzzfood article was frankly right. Mutant bodies didn’t make any sense, and what they could do to other people’s bodies made no friggin sense either. As time passed, not only was his seed growing inside of you at an alarming rate, something felt off. These weren’t the kicks of a single fetus, it felt akin to a strange cluster of objects crammed into your womb, shifting about in a way that sometimes made you shudder.

You haven’t been able to see a doctor at all—Hawks wanted you to stay in his house at all times and away from the public’s eye—so there was no way to properly check, but it didn’t take too many guesses to figure out what was happening.

“You didn’t tell me that I’d lay eggs!”

“I didn’t know!” Hawks swears that he didn’t hatch out of an egg himself and had no way of predicting this.

The development of the eggs only took about a month. When it was time to birth them…

“I hate you! God, I hate you so fucking much for putting me through this!” You screamed in pure agony as tears streamed down your face, using every ounce of strength in your body to keep pushing.

Hawks was kneeling between your legs, caressing your thighs lovingly as he watched his offspring’s vessels emerge from your stretched hole. “I’m sorry, baby. You can chew me out all you want later, alright? Just keep pushing. You’re doing great.” Oh fuck him. Fuck him and all of his comfort, making you do this on his own bed, without the security of doctors who actually know how to do this properly. Squeezing out three baby-sized eggs was like a temporary vacation in hell.

Once the eggs were all brought into the world, Hawks wrapped them up in blankets and placed them under a lamp. He knew that there were actual incubators for couples like the two of you, but he’d rather keep them cozy with his personal belongings instead of some lifeless factory-made device.

“I’m not farming chickens that I’ll eat later. These are our kids.”

You’ve been too exhausted to argue, having lost a frightening portion of your body weight. Hawks was having a little too much fun in gorging you, trying to hand-feed you meats of all kinds.

Another month goes by, and you think something must be wrong because those eggs shouldn’t be cracking already, right? But amazingly, you watch as gooey newborns flail about until they have fully broken out of their protective shells. Hawks sadly missed the hatching, but when he comes home and sees his three sons for the first time, he cries.

Somehow, you’re still surprised when they grow quickly. It was concerning. Is that healthy? Three more months pass, and all three of them have fully feathered wings. Hawks teaches them how to fly and use their quirks, and they learn with carefree laughs and smiles on their faces. Healthy or not, you’re going to do everything you can to keep these little fledglings happy.

—————————————

“Let’s have more.”

Your eyes nearly pop out. “More? Already?”

You both sit on the roof of the house, your three boys chasing each other across the starry sky. Both of you have to always remind them to stay quiet and within Mommy and Daddy’s sight when they play outside.

Hawks places his hand over yours. “They could use some more siblings, don’t you think? I’ve got more than enough to provide for them.”

It sounds stupid. Doing any of this was stupid, honestly, and you’re not looking forward to carrying more of his eggs. Yet, a simpler part of your mind wanted this, to take as many of his children as possible, and you decided to listen to it.

“Alright.”

—————————————

The Commission was destined to find out sooner or later, though you’re not sure how. You were eventually fired after your long absence that you refused to give them an explanation for. It’s possible that they still managed to spot your kids while they were outdoors, despite you and Hawks’s many precautions.

You were watching your new clutch of eggs—four of them this time—when the winged hero arrived, the features on his face pressed into a tranquil fury that made you shiver.

“He wanted to take them,” he said lowly through gritted teeth. “He wanted to take our kids and turn them into heroes. Into fucking weapons.”

You held him, feeling his anger ebb with your soothing rubs across his back, right between the base of his wings. “What do we do? We can’t hide from them. You can’t talk them out of anything. Oh god, Keigo, what do we do?” You felt completely helpless, knowing that you couldn’t stop them if they decided to take your little angels away.

Hawks looked to the pile of sleeping boys, having worn themselves out after a hyper game of tag that required you to keep a close eye to ensure they didn’t break anything. At just a little less than a year old, they could be mistaken for being around the age of ten. “They’re really skilled fliers already, aren’t they? Even have great control of their feathers.” He nodded to himself, lost in his own head. “Yeah...I’ll show them weapons.”

The sinister air around him was scaring you. “Keigo?”

His face returned to a cheerful smile as he planted a kiss on your head. “Don’t worry, mother hen. I’ve got this under control.”

“But what about the deputy? He’s going to come for our kids!”

You felt his whole body shake from his deep chuckle. “No he’s not.”

And that’s when you noticed it. The dried specks of reddish-brown on his jacket, almost like a splatter. Blood.

“I killed him.”

—————————————

It won’t be long before the Commission goes after Hawks for killing one of their own, so he wasn’t going to give them time to plan.

You didn’t appreciate him taking the kids behind your back, and you had no idea what danger he was putting them in until you heard the news.

The Hero Public Safety Commission HQ had been attacked and overwhelmed.

—————————————

By the time your second clutch hatched, Hawks already had full control of what was once the HPSC. He gave you a tour through the remodeled building, your kids roaming the halls excitedly as if they didn’t just overthrow an entire organization. Some of the employees greeted you warmly, some gave forced smiles. One of them bowed respectfully with a twitchy grin.

“I’m happy to be a part of the Hawks Hero Force, ma’am. We are going to make great changes.”

You...didn’t know what to say to that.

You stuck to raising your kids while Hawks did whatever diabolical shit he was doing, but it was hard to ignore the growing tension in the city. He and his kids have been holding off opposing heroes for weeks, all of them trying and failing to bring down the rising power of the number two hero. You saw the debates on television. People were arguing whether the dissolution of the Commission was for Japan’s benefit and that Hawks should be supported, or question if Hawks should be trusted at all for disposing of the very people that got him where he is today. What was even his game plan?

You didn’t care much yourself. The only insight Hawks has given you was that he was setting up a city that would be safe for all of his children. Sounds good enough to you.

In just a few more months, your other four kids were eager to join their father’s cause. You and Hawks no longer mention the rapid growth of your offspring...and the short lifespans they likely possess. There was no point in letting those fears resurface.

You hug them all, telling them to visit Mommy on weekends and always keep their feathers clean and sharp for battle.

“Don’t worry, Mommy! We’re gonna teach those heroes not to defy Dad!”

—————————————

The part of the HQ building Hawks led you to was like a bizarre fusion of a love hotel room and a nursery. It was such a strange setup, that you almost forgot to question the young lady that has been following him around.

He gives her a few pats on the shoulder. “This here is Hina, one of my most loyal followers. She’s been on my side since the beginning.” Hina gives a polite smile and bows in your direction.

And then Hawks lays it all on you. How he wants kids at a quicker rate, and his female supporters would be perfect for this...you’re dumbstruck. Your belly was already swelling with his potent seed for the third time, and somehow that wasn’t enough?

“I promise you there’s nothing else to it. Isn’t that right, Hina?”

The woman stood tall and nodded. “I’m only here to help Hawks in his cause.”

Hawks gave her an approving smile before turning back to you. “And if you’re not convinced, just stick around. I welcome the audience.”

The suggestion catches you so off-guard that you agree to it. You take a seat on one of the beds (holy shit this was a goddamn breeding room) and watch him and Hina settle on one right next to you.

“All fours, missy.” Hina obeys his command and prepares herself on her hands and knees.

You watch. You watch Hawks rub her moistened folds while stroking himself until fully erect. You watch him slowly push in, hearing the sharp intake of breath from Hina. He stays at a moderate pace, holding her hips and gently rocking her with his thrusts. It’s…odd, watching the men you’ve had seven (so far) children with take another woman to bear more.

The girl that was a complete stranger to you was sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, but that still wasn’t enough to hold back her moans. Still, it was hard to pay attention to her, because Hawks’s eyes were locked onto yours. Even as his breaths and movements quickened, even as Hina began to shake and collapse onto her elbows as she reached her climax, he never tore his gaze away from you. He finally did when his eyes shut tightly as he buried himself balls-deep into his dear follower, blessing her with several spurts of his sperm into her welcoming womb.

You couldn’t help but rub your own belly at the sight.

He unfolded the sheets and helped the dazed woman get settled into the bed. “You should get cleaned up later, but for now, just rest.” He said softly.

Hina mumbled nonsense, already half-asleep.

Hawks straightened himself out before walking over to you, excited to rub the stomach that cradled his chicks. “I’m gonna give you all the children you could ever want, baby. And remember,” he gave you a kiss of pure love and passion. “I’ll always only have eyes for you.”

You smiled and hugged him tightly. All of the children in the world…Keigo’s children. “Sounds perfect.”

“Soon, I’ll have all of these beds filled.”

—————————————

Hawks and his children have amazingly lowered Fukuoka’s crime rate by a significant amount. You never imagined living in such a peaceful time. You didn’t understand the interviews and articles, the ones that expressed fear and outrage over being attacked by winged individuals for doing anything that can be perceived as villainous. There were heroes still trying to destroy the Hawks Hero Force, creating alliances of their own to face this new dominating power. They were usually taken care of pretty quickly—all it takes is a flurry of sharp feathers from several pairs of wings to crush the foolish rebels.

You don’t understand why they resisted so much. All they had to do to avoid Hawks’s wrath was be a law-abiding citizen, and also not harm his kids. Oh yeah, anyone—hero or not—that made the mistake of injuring you and your man’s angels had this weird habit of…disappearing.

You had about fifty of them by now. Fifty winged beauties that keep the peace with proud and innocent smiles. Not all of them were yours—they had many mothers now—but you treated them all like your own.

One would expect Hawks to start losing track of his precious eyases, but he remembers every single one of them like they hatched yesterday. Each name…every voice…every face…he didn’t forget any of them, and loved them all equally. When they weren’t enforcing laws, they were cuddling and playing with their father or mothers.

You wandered through the incubation room, looking over the many nests that held your future. The mothers-in-the-making were resting in their beds next door, their bellies growing each day.

This is what paradise looked like.

—————————————

3 years later...

Buzzfood.com

(NOTICE: Buzzfood would like to remind citizens that next Saturday is Skewer Saturday of this month. Please be prepared to offer a chicken skewer to any descendants of Hawks that are currently residing in your neighborhood. If you need help searching for the best skewers to purchase in your area, take a look at our recommended restaurants here. Citizens that do not participate in Skewer Saturday will be taken in by the Hawks Hero Force and punished accordingly. Show your appreciation for our crime-free country!)

Great Hawks Celebrates His 1000th Child

By Yuki Burushito

Another great day in Fukuoka! But this day in particular just might be the greatest day yet! Why, you ask? Our beloved leader Hawks has brought his thousandth child into the world! A public ceremony was held to welcome this beautiful girl on this earth and, more importantly, this blessed country. Hawks and his wife were in tears, and I must say, seeing this vulnerability from such a powerful man moved me like nothing else. May your precious daughter one day join her brothers and sisters in the eternal battle of keeping the peace!

Speaking of peace, we must not forget that even though Japan is enjoying its best years in history, our peace is still being threatened every day. There are villain groups lurking in your city’s slimy cracks, plotting to destroy everything Hawks has worked so hard to create. They even have the audacity to call themselves heroes. We all know that the only heroes needed today are the noble winged ones that fight to keep us safe and comfortable. One group in particular insists on giving Hawks a hard time whenever they can: the One For All Alliance. The majority of the members in this gang are former students and teachers from the now-defunct U.A. High School. Their influence may be spreading, but our love and support for Hawks will always smother their poisonous lies!

We must do our part in ensuring that Japan retains its place as the World’s Paradise!

—————————————

You find him on the roof of his house, watching your three eldest boys fly freely as the orange dawn painted the city’s skyline. Only three years old, yet their bodies were strong and hardened, one of them sporting facial hair similar to their father’s.

He of course panics and scolds you when he spots you trying to climb with your bulging stomach. You only roll your eyes as he helps you up. You’ve gone through this reproductive process more than enough times to know your body’s limits.

“They wanted to reminisce for a while,” Hawks explains, back to watching the playful flights. “They make three years sound like it was ages ago. Then again…” His proud gleam twisted into something sadder, his mind entering that dark pit he tries so hard to avoid.

You cover one of his hands with yours. “No matter how long they have, we’re going to keep working to make sure they enjoy every minute of their life. You’ve given so much to all of your children. Be proud of how great of a father you are.”

The smile he gives is soft and warm. You’ve been seeing those more than his cocky smirks lately.

The sun continues to rise as you both kiss under its morning rays, lost in each other’s love. He only pulls back to speak again. “How about we gather some of the youngsters for a trip to the amusement park? It’s been a while.”

You can’t hide your worry at the suggestion. “Are you sure? Villains love to strike when you’re not active.

He gave a smug grin. Ah, there’s the old him. “They do, and they still get their asses kicked. My kids can handle it. I’ve got all the free time in the world, my little hen.” He holds you close and you both return to watching your darlings fly.

“More free time than I know what to do with.”

[baubabble]

“Subtle Differences” Final Part - Hotch x F!Reader

PART I    PART II

Summary: You and the rest of the team head to take down the Unsub as the search for the killer and Allison Wilson comes to a close. You and Hotch team up to take the loft, having each other’s backs. With all the unresolved tension between the two of you, will you finally make the first move? Or will he? Final Part of Subtle Differences. 

Word Count: 4064

Warning: CM Violence, Blood

Song I Wrote To: “Next To Me” by Imagine Dragons

Note: Thank you all for sticking with me on this one! I was only planning on making this a one-shot, but I had too much to say! My next CM work is going to be Reid x Reader and will be just one part, but I have other ideas too. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. 

-------

Standing in the locker room of the SPD, you struggled with your bulletproof vest. 

Frustrated, you tore it off and started again. “Let me.” Hotch’s soft voice reached your ears as he walked up behind you. You let go of the straps and he tightened the vest around your torso. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he fastened the velcro straps, his hands pressing along your stomach and shoulders. 

Hotch trailed his hand down your spine and you let your eyes close at his touch. He then rested his forehead against the back of your head, closing his eyes as he took a moment to be calm. Slowly, you reached your hand towards him and after hesitating for a second, you grabbed his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers with his. 

This was the most physical contact you had had with him. You stayed like that and something felt so intimate of just being in each other’s space. You could hear his breathing and feel the way he leaned into your back. This was much more than just a few gazes or smiles on the odd occasion. 

Aaron was touching you as if he had been waiting to do it for a while. Maybe it was because you were about to put yourself into the line of fire or because he was finally willing to take a step in your direction. Whatever it was, you were drinking it in.

Moving your hair off your neck, he flattened the last strap, letting his hands linger on your shoulders for a moment as he pressed his nose into your hair. Delicate fingers traced the skin at the top of your spine and you shuddered beneath his touch.

Neither of you said anything as you stilled in your small moment. 

Eventually, Aaron released your hand and leaned back. “Are you okay?” he asked and at the worry in his voice, you turned around to face him.

He was already outfitted in his vest, his earpiece hanging around his neck while his sidearm sat on his hip as always. He looked down at you with concern in those beautiful eyes of his. In that silent locker room, all you wanted to do was hold his face between your hands, but you had a job to do.

“I’m fine,” you assured him. 

“Are you sure? If you need more time, I can have you run communications from here,” he said. You gave him a small smile, fighting to keep your hands at your sides. 

“Aaron,” you breathed and his eyes locked onto yours, nearly taking your breath away entirely, “I’m okay. I promise.” Hotch nodded and then handed you an earpiece. 

“Alright,” he said, smoothing his hands down your arms before stepping away. “Let’s go. You’re riding with me.”

————

Following Aaron out to the SUVs you placed your earpiece into your ear and double-checked your weapon. Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Perotta were taking one SUV, while you, Rossi, Reid, and Hotch took the other. Sliding in next to Spencer, you pushed up your sleeves and caught a glimpse of the scar that now permanently marked your arm. Spencer was watching you, but you ignored him as Hotch started the engine and began driving towards Belltown. 

On the way there, Garcia called the entire team. “Okay, superheroes,” she said in greeting, “I have the 411 on our guy. Alan Rhett, thirty-two-years-old, born in Spokane and moved to the big city only a couple years ago. He’s worked for Ground Express for the past six months and before that never really held a steady job.”

“What else?” JJ asked. 

“Well, this guy is smart and by smart, I mean crazy smart! He holds two degrees, one in art history and the other in structural engineering. I wouldn’t put it past him to have his place enforced with some kind of fancy doodads,” said Garcia.

“I hate when they’re smart,” Rossi said and you smirked. 

“Garcia, is there any history with a woman in his life?” Reid asked. 

“Definitely, my tall friend,” Penelope said. “When Alan was seven, his mother went missing for almost two weeks. It turned out that she had fallen into a vat of chemicals at the factory that she worked at. It ended up preserving her body until the foreman found her a week and half after she died. Yikes, it says she drowned in the stuff.”

“Well, there’s the stressor,” you said. “But what was the trigger? It couldn’t have just been that one painting.”

“From the medical reports I am seeing, it looks like after his mother died, dad just shoved him onto his grandmother who wasn’t the nicest of people. She blamed Alan for his mother’s death and even abused him at times. Oh god, she used to burn him with hot candle wax,” Garcia said.

“Garcia, what happened to the grandmother?” Hotch asked. 

“One second,” Penelope said, “oh, she died one week before Mason Walker was killed.” 

“There’s the trigger,” Spencer said.

“When we get on scene,” Hotch began, “Dave and Prentiss, I want you to take the Westside while Morgan and Perotta take the East. JJ and Reid take the back. (Y/L/N) and I are going to go through the front. Our priority is finding Allison. There is a good chance she is still alive.” 

“One more thing,” Garcia said. “It seems there is a firearm registered in the unsub’s name and according to his bank records, he bought ammo for it just before Mason’s abduction.”

“He won’t hesitate to shoot his way out,” Morgan reminded everyone. 

“Which makes him that much more dangerous,” said Hotch. “Everyone needs to be vigilant and remember this usub is smart and is unhinged.” 

“Stay safe and come home,” Garcia said. 

“Always,” Rossi said and then you arrived at the loft. 

————

The team split up into the designated teams and after speaking with SWAT and Perotta’s men, you entered the building. 

The loft was a solitary unit on an abandoned street. Everything else around it was either torn down or foreclosed. You kept close to Hotch as you two entered the front of the building. SWAT officers took the side corridors as you and Aaron moved into the main building. 

Keeping your guns up, you had his back, keeping the both of you safe as you cleared each room. At the end of the main hallway, a pair of double doors stood ajar. You ran ahead, bracing your hand on the door handle. You waited for Hotch’s signal. He kept his gun balanced and then nodded to you.

With a swift pull, the door opened and Hotch rushed in. You followed close by, ready to cover him at all costs. However, when you both entered the secondary hallway, it was empty of threat. Though, something else had made you both pause. “What the hell…” you whispered as you slowly lowered your gun. 

The dark corridor was speckled with electric torches that created an eerie glow. The walls were painted a dark charcoal color and dripping down every inch of them was thick, red wax. The same wax that Rhett had covered his victims in. 

“Do you think he considers this art?” You asked Hotch as you began walking again. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Aaron said, keeping away from the wax. The entire scene looked like something out of a horror movie. You suddenly felt very closed in as if the walls were moving toward you. Swallowing thickly, you tried to stay focused as you followed him. 

At the end of the hallway, there was another door. Light was coming from the crack at the bottom and you could smell something...putrid. You and Hotch moved towards it. Aaron’s face was full of determination as he scanned your surroundings. The rest of your team were speaking in your ears, explaining that they were clearing rooms. 

The two of you had stayed silent since entering the wax-filled hallway. Pressing your ear against the door, you tried to hear anything that would indicate what was on the other side, but nothing was reading through the thick wood. You shook your head at Hotch. You then tried the doorknob and it didn’t budge. Stepping back, you gave Aaron some room. He braced himself and then with a sharp kick of his right leg, the door gave way and Aaron rushed forward.

The next moment moved in slow motion. As soon as the door flew open, you had a split second to react. Reaching out, you grabbed Hotch before he even realized why you were doing it. Dropping your weapon, you took hold of his arm and pulled him backwards into you. He stumbled but held onto you as you steadied him.

You were flush against him as you gripped him tight. He was breathing heavily, as were you, as you stared at one another. Your breath mingled with his as you tried to keep your heart rate under control. You failed miserably. His eyes were on yours as if he was drinking you in and for a fraction of a second, his gaze turned to your lips that were slightly parted. 

You wanted to enjoy the moment, but the air hit your nose and it was near acidic. Breaking the gaze, you looked to your left and your mouth fell open. “Hotch…” you whispered. You reached up and took hold of his chin, turning his face towards the open doorway. 

Confused, he fully turned and saw what had you shocked. On the other side of the door, the ground was nonexistent. The floor was dug out significantly and now resembled a very deep Olympic-sized swimming pool. The red wax-filled this room as well and at the bottom of the pit were four skeletons and two other bodies that were well beyond recognition. All six sets of remains had been coated in the unsub’s signature blend of wax and clay. 

“Morgan and I were right,” you whispered in horror, “he’s been doing this for a while.” Hotch shook his head in disgust as he looked around the hallway behind you when he spotted something the two of you had missed.

“There,” he said, gesturing to another door that was ajar just to the right of the mass grave you now stood above. Hotch leaned down and grabbed your gun, placing it in your hand. “Are you with me?” 

“Always,” you said without hesitation, and then the two of you disappeared through the door as the smell of death and decay followed after you into the darkness. 

———

The rest of the hallways were void of the horror show from the first. 

Whatever the building had been before Rhett had taken it as his home, it definitely wasn’t usually inhabited by people. Rats scurried at your feet and you fought the urge to shoot every single one. Pushing through the final set of doors, you met up with Rossi and Prentiss who had entered from the other side. 

“Anything?” Prentiss asked.

“We have more bodies,” Hotch explained. “He’s been doing this for longer than we thought.” Prentiss grimaced and then a muffled cry drew your attention followed by a crash. All four of you ran towards the sound that came from behind a partition at the far side of the room. Rossi and Hotch tossed it aside and there, lying on a surgical table, was Allison Wilson. A funnel was placed into her mouth as she was strapped down and fighting her restraints. 

You ran to her side, pulling the contraption out of her throat as Emily released her bonds. Allison was crying as you held onto her. “It’s okay, Allison, we’re the FBI,” you told her, helping her sit up. 

“Thank you, thank you,” she sobbed. 

“Where is he?” Hotch asked. Allison pointed to a stairwell.

“Roof,” she croaked out. “He has a gun.” Prentiss took hold of Allison, calling for medics while Rossi urged you and Hotch to go after the unsub while he secured the scene. You and Aaron raced for the stairwell. 

“Rhett is heading to the roof,” Hotch said to the others over the coms. 

“On our way,” JJ said back. You took the stairs two at a time as you prepared yourselves for what you were running into. Breaking through the roof access door, you were immediately met with gunfire. You and Aaron dove for cover behind the air conditioning unit, hitting the ground hard. 

“You okay?” Aaron asked, checking you over. You nodded and then rolled to the other side, ready to fire back as needed. You took calming breaths as the phantom shots were now very much real. Aaron gestured for you to flank Rhett from the left and you move silently along the roof.  

“Alan Rhett!” Hotch yelled. “It’s over! We found your other victims and we have Allison!” 

“You have nothing!” Rhett yelled back. 

“We also have Terry Owens!” you said. “Remember him? The man you tortured?” 

“He was a coward. They all are!” 

“Who is ‘they’, Alan?” you asked. 

“Everyone!” he shouted and you peeked around the corner and saw Rhett was waving his gun back and forth, trying to target you and Hotch. His hands were covered in the wax and his eyes were wild. 

“How did you get the women to cooperate, Alan?” Hotch asked. “Did you threaten them?” 

“It was easy,” Rhett said with a laugh. “I knew where they lived with their precious families.” You cringed at his words. His ruse was simple, threaten the victims’ family and you’ll get them to do anything. It was textbook. “Doesn’t matter. They were going to leave their families anyways!” 

“Like your mother left you?” Hotch asked, getting to his feet and moving to be in Rhett’s line of sight. You followed his movements on the other side of the unsub. 

“Shut up!” Rhett yelled. “Don’t talk about her!”

“It was an accident, Alan,” you said as he looked wildly at you. “She didn’t leave you on purpose.”

“She did! They all do!” 

“Is that why you kill the women the way you do? To preserve them as art?” you asked, taking a couple of steps closer to him.

“(Y/N),” Hotch warned, but you ignored him. 

“You wanted them to be beautiful and for them to be eternal like paintings. Right?” Rhett was nodding. “I saw your work downstairs. It was very nice,” you said, trying to find a thread to pull on.

“You think so?” he asked, his gaze falling on you as if he wasn’t quite looking at you. 

“Yes, Alan,” you said. “You are a true artist. Why don’t you put the gun down and you can show me more?” Rhett was smiling at you now, but his gun never wavered. 

“They were my best work,” he said. “I worked so hard on them, but I never did seem to be able to get them just right.” Hotch moved in closer as you faced down the killer. “You know what? You would be so perfect,” Rhett said before turning his gun on you. You didn’t have time to react as a gunshot echoed around you. 

However, when it was over and you checked yourself, there wasn’t a scratch on you. Instead, Rhett lay on the ground with a single bullet hole in his forehead as Hotch stood with his gun raised, breathing hard. “Hotch!” Morgan’s voice came as he, JJ, Perotta, and Reid came running across the roof from the Southside. 

“We’re okay!” Hotch yelled back. Morgan reached you first, grabbing your arm. 

“I’m okay,” you promised him. He then went to check on Hotch as Reid and JJ went to you. “Son of a bitch was gonna shoot me,” you said. 

“You seem to be making that a habit,” Spencer said, giving you a hug. “Let’s try to break that, okay?”

“Yeah, Doc,” you said, squeezing him back. “I like that idea a lot.” 

------

Once you were back on the street, you went to find Allison. 

You got there just as the medics were loading her into the ambulance. Emily was with her, holding her hand the whole time. The ringing of the gunshot was still fresh in your mind, but you were slowly calming down as everything was coming to a close. The killer was dead, Allison was safe, and now you had the opportunity to give closure to even more families from the victims you found on the first floor. 

“Not a bad first case back,” Rossi said as he joined you. 

“If you say so,” you said with a shrug. Rossi pulled you into his side and you rested your head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked. 

“For being you,” you said simply. Rossi squeezed you tighter. 

“Any time, kid.”

Spotting Perotta, you excused yourself and headed over to the detective. 

“Detective Perotta,” you greeted. He turned to you with a smile. 

“Good work, Agent (Y/L/N),” he said. “I can’t thank you and your team enough. I can’t even imagine what would have happened if he had continued.” 

“You would have caught him eventually,” you assured him. 

“More people would have died without the BAU and for that, I am grateful for your help,” he said and then offered his hand. You took it, shaking it twice. 

“Good luck with everything, Perotta,” you said and then turned to go. As you headed to the SUVs, you caught sight of Aaron as he spoke with the police chief. Your eyes met his and you smiled at him. He gave you his signature smirk and nodded. Ducking your head, you got in the car and let all the tension in your body sink into the leather seats. You were ready to go home.

-------

You were the first one on the jet. 

You sat in your seat, leaning back as you waited for the rest of the team. When the door opened, you expected to see Emily or Spencer, but instead, it Aaron and he was alone. “Hey,” you greeted, sitting up straighter. Hotch placed his bag down and then joined you, sitting next to you in the plush chairs. “Where is everyone?” 

“They’re on their way,” he said, peeling off his jacket and laying it over the back of his seat. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I just needed a moment alone, you know? Collect my thoughts,” you said and he nodded. 

“How are you really?” he asked with a knowing look. You sighed, unable to resist him, especially when he looked at you with those wonderful eyes of his. 

“I’m still a bit shaken,” you admit. 

“I figured,” Aaron said softly. The two of you just sat there for a moment, listening to the pilot doing his pre-checks and you were reminded of the moment in the locker room. It now seemed like a lifetime ago rather than just this afternoon. Aaron had never been so...open with you. You longed for his touch now. Even if it was something as subtle as tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. The thought alone made your skin feel as if it was on fire. “You did well today,” he complimented, taking you out of your thoughts. 

“So did you,” you said. 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he said, and then his fingers trailed along the scar that spanned along your arm. His touch felt like electricity as he moved back and forth. 

“Thank you, Aaron,” you said softly. “Thank you for having my back today.” His fingers stilled on your arm and then they moved towards your hand. His movements were methodical and he was taking his time just as he had earlier at the precinct. 

“We make a good team, don’t we?” he asked, looking at you from under his lashes. Just as you had before, you rotated your hand and laced your fingers with his. 

“Yeah, we do,” you said and then swallowed thickly. Aaron’s thumb began rubbing circles along the back of your hand and then he slowly lifted his other hand to your cheek. You didn’t breathe as he moved in closer. Aaron pressed his nose against yours, tilting your head up so he could get a better angle, and then, he kissed you. 

It was as if fireworks were going off inside your head, replacing the barrage of gunfire with bright colors. Aaron kissed you with a tenderness you didn’t even know he was capable of. His hand left yours and came up to cup the other side of your face. Instead of fire, all you felt was warmth as Aaron Hotchner held you. You kissed him back with as much emotion as you could muster at that moment. 

Eventually, he pulled back and his warm breath cascaded over your lips. Leaning his forehead against yours, he smiled. “It’s about time that happened,” you said with a smile of your own. Aaron chuckled, leaning back slightly, but keeping his hands on the sides of your neck. 

“I’d have done it sooner if I had picked up on your...subtleties,” he said, his thumbs rubbing against your skin. You tilted your head to the side slightly, looking up at him. 

“And I thought you were a profiler,” you teased. Aaron raised a brow, leaning in again. 

“Funny,” he said, “I thought the same thing about you.” His lips met yours again and this kiss was anything but tender. Hotch gripped you tighter as he kissed you with a fierceness only he had. You gripped him by the shoulders, pulling him even closer to you. Aaron nudged your lips apart as he explored your mouth further, savoring the way the two of you just fit perfectly together. Your hands crawled up his neck, fingers cascading through his dark hair.

You had imagined many times what it would feel like to be kissed by Aaron Hotchner, but nothing had prepared you for the real thing. He was gentle and passionate and every move he made had you sinking into him further. It was the best kind of high you had ever experienced. 

When you both had to breathe, you pulled back, and with kiss-swollen lips, you pecked him once more. “So, does this mean that I pass my eval?” you asked with a smirk. Aaron rolled his eyes. 

“It was never in question, (Y/N),” he admitted, “I just needed an excuse to be close to you.” 

“Weren’t very subtle about it, Aaron,” you teased. 

“I knew you’d catch on eventually,” he said with a smile. Aaron kissed you again until he heard the team approaching and then he pulled back with a sigh. “How long do you think we have before they all figure it out?” he asked. 

“Rossi already knows,” you said, leaning away from him.

“Does he?” Aaron asked, amused. 

“Apparently, I am a lot easier to read than I first thought,” you said with a shrug. Aaron reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his touch linger before pulling away. 

“On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read.”

“Is that so?” you asked, intrigued. He nodded.

“However, I am very much looking forward to learning how.” You smiled at his words just as the team boarded, talking animatedly. The two of you smoothed your shirts and hair before anyone noticed anything, but Dave had caught you immediately. Rossi winked at the both of you and you thought you would die of embarrassment right there, but then, you felt a warm hand on your leg. Hotch gripped your thigh, rubbing it soothingly and you felt calmer already.

The rest of the team followed Rossi onto the jet, completely oblivious to what had just transpired onboard. Rossi sat across from you and Hotch so you could be close to one another just in case another member of the team caught something. You would have liked at least the next six hours to be just about you and Hotch and hopefully, they would be. 

Leaning back in your seat, Hotch kept his hand on you at all times and as you flew across the country, light began to shine through the small breaks in the window shudders and at that moment, you had never felt more at peace.

“Sunrise is the reminder that we can start new beginning all over again." - Rupal Asodaria 

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Locked and Reloaded [Ch. 5]

Marvel AU

TW: Language, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood, Gun Violence, Implied Abusive Household

Genre: Action, Light Comedy, Angst

Pairing: NCT Dream x Reader

YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her)

(5/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

[Main Masterlist] | [Locked and Reloaded Masterlist]

Word Count: 6.5K

Notes: It’s about time these members entered the story. I’m dropping this now instead of a Saturday upload because I’m getting my second dose of vaccine in about nine hours, and from how both of my parents reacted something tells me that I’m going to be incapacitated for the next two days, so I decided to finish this bad boy up now! Currently next on my list to work on is Infatuation, so I’ll see you in that update!

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in or condone these actions. I would never wish any of these actions to occur to the Idol(s) mentioned in the writings of these stories, nor do I wish any harm on them.

“That’s stupid,” you told your older brother. Baekhyun just laughed. You had just finished ranting to him how a majority of the premise of chemistry was ridiculous, being founded on one key theory that could be amended at any moment, something now set in stone or put to law. It was a theoretical science that clashed with the lawfulness of physics and the puzzle of biology. “Chemistry is literally the weakest link.”

“I don’t quite think so, songbird,” the nickname was sweet in his voice, it was one you had had for as long as you could remember. He leans against your desk and he points at the picture. “It’s just atomic theory.”

“Yeah, and it’s stupid. Imagine, all of this work, all seven hundred of these pages and countless other books could get proved incorrect if someone disproves it.”

“You read this entire textbook and that’s all you have to say about it?” Baekhyun raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Wah, you’re so amazing and you don’t even know it,” he hugged your head to his stomach and you pushed him away.

“Ew, you’re so gross,” you wiped the sweat from your face. “At least shower before coming into my room! You’re disgusting when you use the gym.”

“And miss my darling sister? No way, that and I came to congratulate you!” He points at the certificate on your desk just under your coffee mug. “Not every day you win the science fair… again.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” you put a textbook over it. He was right, but it was hardly an achievement for you at this point, it was an expectation.

“What did you do this year?” None of them even showed up, the only person there to help you with your project was Jeno, but he was always there whether you liked it or not.

“You don’t know?”

“I was at the conference, remember?”

“Oh, right,” you sighed. “It was just an observation on bees.”

“Whoa! Bees are great! They’re so helpful for pollination, for honey, and so much more!” Baekhyun smiles. “Hey, your birthday’s coming up, right? Fourteen? Oh god, oh no, my songbird? A teen? I don’t think I can handle this.”

“You’re overreacting! It’s not like I’m going to be any different. Plus, I’m already a teen.”

“Oh, (Y/N), you have no idea. Thirteen is the one year free trial before you start having to pay to be a teen. Once you turn fourteen, ugh, I don’t even know how to say this,” Baekhyun fake cries and wipes away the invisible tears. “It’ll be like you’re a whole different person.”

“Stop that! Why are you acting so weird?” You laughed and turned to him. Baekhyun crossed his arms over his chest and your smile dropped. You knew that look on his face better than anyone. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I leave tonight,” he says.

“How long?”

“Maybe a week this time, dad wants to show me the properties over in Zone 8.”

“Seriously? What for?” The factories that far out from the city were nearly ghost factories, they just handled building the smaller removable parts of the weapons your father developed. You couldn’t think of a possible reason why Baekhyun would have to go out that far.

“I have no clue, maybe he just wants me to see the Byun system at a smaller scale,” Baekhyun sighs. “Will you be okay here?”

“Will I be okay here? Don’t make me laugh,” you slammed your textbook shut and stared at him. “She hates me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“She does! You’ve seen the way she talks to me when you’re not around, Baek, I genuinely think that woman wants to get rid of me.”

“She’s your mother.”

“No, she’s your mother.” You didn’t mean for it to come out as accusing as it did. But you could genuinely say that you never felt anything from her aside from the obvious disdain she must have held for you. But what could you do? You’d hate you too. If one day your husband showed up at your doorstep with a kid you didn’t recognize telling you to treat her as if she was your own, you’d despise that child’s existence. All you were was proof of infidelity, and your stepmother made that very clear. You were her daughter on paper alone, but in reality, you were nothing more than a freeloader. “I’m just the bastard kid from dad’s mistress.”

“Do not,” Baekhyun held a finger up and stared at you with an intensity you’ve never seen on his face before. Seriousness wasn’t something that Baekhyun often used, especially around you. “Do not ever reduce yourself to that. Do you understand? You are so much more than that and you can’t let anyone who says that to you bring you down, you cannot let that weigh on you. Who even told you that?”

“She did. Who else?”

“God…” Baekhyun looked away and huffed. He held his hand to his forehead and sighed. “Keep in touch with me, okay? Just one more year and I can take it to court.”

“Forget it, Baek,” you waved your hand. “It would never work. We have no proof.”

“Well,” Baekhyun pressed his lips together and placed a tape in front of you.

“A tape? Seriously?”

“Don’t hate on old tech, they’re still around for a reason. I have a walkman in my room, second drawer on my desk. Listen to it later, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you placed the tape in your own drawer, out of sight and out of mind.

“Just wait for me, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“(Y/N), I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be back, okay?”

“Okay, just go, dad’s probably waiting for you,” you opened your textbook again and stared at the passages on it. You had a really bad feeling about tonight, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it.

“Love you, songbird.”

“I know.”

~

“Sungchan! Four o’clock!” You shouted towards the agent. Sungchan, moving a second too late was met with the spine of a book to his face, promptly knocking him out. “Aw, geez,” you shoved your bag under a table, hoping that it would be somewhat okay after the fight, and threw a metal tray, the circular object blocking one of the flying weapons from hitting Shotaro on his way to Sungchan.

“Thank you!” He shouts. He leans next to his best friend and tries to wake him up while the fight continued.

“I’ll try to keep you guys covered, but you might need to fill in for me eventually, Reaper’s not doing too good over there,” you stumbled over to the two and handed Shotaro one of the pillows from the couch. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, just knocked out, but I have to watch him just in case… you know.”

“I do, just make sure he’s fine.”

With Jeno’s sudden appearance the Sanctum became a new battleground. Ancient artifacts were being used left and right for battle, whether they were used correctly or not, and with incoherent shouts filling the previously calm room. Strange was doing his best to prevent anything potentially world-threatening from happening, the Sorcerer Supreme understanding the laws of the universe, as well as any of you did, while the Maverick worked to bring down Vulture. The surprise attack rendered them at an unfortunate disadvantage. Strange was more concerned with keeping the battle within the Sanctum than he was helping any of you out, which was entirely understandable.

“I got it!” Peter shoved back the bookcase that was about to fall on you.

“Thanks, Peter.”

“Just so you know I am so sorry I did not mean for any of this to happen I didn’t know.”

“Oh goodness, no hard feelings, Peter, it happens to the best of us,” you said to him. “There’s no way you could’ve known.”

“Thanks, (Y/N), that means a— Watch out!” He pushed you out of the way just as a shield lodged itself between you, you turned towards the source and saw Vulture, and you had to stop yourself from getting any more frustrated than you already are.

“Fucking hell,” you clapped your hands together and jogged in place. “Stretching before fights is good for you, Peter, don’t forget that,” you said to him. Then you saw Cap waving his hand. You pulled the shield from its spot and threw it back to him.

“Nice arm!”

“Don’t lose your shit!” You moved your head to the side just as a bullet whizzed past you. “And watch where you’re aiming!” You dodged another bullet as it ricocheted off of one of the metal artifacts of the Sanctum.

“I am,” Jaemin’s voice was steady despite the chaos. “Reaper!” Jaemin tossed one o the artifacts towards the other, particularly a sharp one, and Jeno drove it into the wall next to Vulture, just barely grazing the Follower. Vulture grabbed onto the back of Jeno’s neck, the razor claws on his hands emerging and sinking into the half-demon before Vulture slammed Jeno’s head through the wall.

“Urgh, I felt that,” you rubbed the back of your neck as the phantom pain shot through it. You quickly stepped back just as an eldritch whip snapped in front of you.

“Mr. Wong?!” Peter gasps.

“That one isn’t in our database,” Jaemin grabbed onto the whip as it went towards you again, ‘Wong’ staring at him with a slight confusion, to which Jaemin just tugged it away from the other’s hands, watching the concentrated energy dissipate.

“Well then add him later, dammit,” you charged towards Vulture but soon felt something wrap around your ankle. You looked at the portal next to your foot and the hand around it. “Ew! Oh my god!” You yanked it out of ‘Wong’s’ grasp and shot towards him, the bullets disappearing before they could get anywhere close. No wonder it was so fucking convenient, you hoped whoever the real Wong was and where he was currently wasn’t too horrible.

“We should name this guy,” Jaemin dodged the eldritch disk that nearly sliced his throat. “I’m thinking Frisbee.”

“Oh come on, let’s stay true to tradition and wait for Hyuck,” you pulled a sword from the suit of armor next to you and blocked the whip again. You turned the hilt in your hand and smiled. “Ooh, I like this. You know my ex used to be an expert fencer.”

“I almost forgot about that one,” Jaemin hums. “What’s with sleeping beauty over there?”

“Got hit in a face with a book.”

“Oh that’s good, one less bomb we have to worry about.”

“That’s rude,” you scolded him.

“Can someone help me over here?!” Jeno’s pissed off voice came from the office. He pushed himself up from the rubble and cracked his neck before his knuckles. “I’m going to kill this guy, fuck the Agreement.”

“Does the Agreement even apply this far out?” You asked. Jaemin pulled out his phone briefly. The Agreement was offered by the D98 Avengers, basically promising not to do any dimension altering things, but it was just a promise, nothing was set in stone and thus was lacking in any legality. It was a gentleman’s promise, so to say.

“Technically it doesn’t, D62 is far out of D98 bounds. And since none of the Avengers are here…” Jaemin let Jeno fill in the blanks himself.

“Good,” Jeno tapped his wrists together, a blood-red magic circle appearing between them.

“Wait, do you guys hear that?” You looked around while skillfully parrying evil Wong’s attacks.

“Hear what?” Shotaro was nursing the passed out Sungchan while blocking any projectiles that made their way towards him.

“It kind of sounds like screaming,” Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows.

“No, it sounds like… no, of all the members to send,” you groaned. Then the sound of doors crashing open accompanied the chaos that was the Sanctum while a familiar face ran in head first, literally, screaming his head off, and rams into Dr. Strange.

“I got this one, V! Don’t worry!” Chenle shouts.

“You idiot he’s on our side!” Jeno grabs a polearm from a nearby suit of armor and whacks it over Vulture’s head, the polearm breaking in half right after and really just pissing off the Follower more.

“Oh is he? Sorry!” Chenle detached himself from the sorcerer.

“Looks like we’ll be having a change in plans,” Strange murmured and disappeared from the room.

“Did the wizard just dip?!” You yelled.

“I think so!” Chenle yelled back, despite being right next to you.

“Why are you even here?!”

“We were talking to Fury when Jeno just fell into a sudden pool of blood! I followed your tracker here because I figured you’re in trouble. Be grateful!”

“I never said I wasn’t?!” You heard a pang next to you and turned to your side, a circular shield blocking your vision for only a brief moment before connecting with Other Wong’s abdomen.

“Thanks,” you nodded towards Steve.

“No problem,” he says. “But where’d that bullet come from?” Cap looks around the room. Jaemin rushes next to you and grabs something, pointing it upwards. Within a few moments, someone materializes next to him. A classic cloaking spell, of course, right when you needed it most.

“Monsieur,” her voice was hoarse.

“Lynx,” you saw him grimace while the woman drove a knife into Jaemin’s side and twisted it harshly. A loud groan left the man’s throat while you darted next to him and tackled the woman to the ground.

“I like your D62 version better!” You pressed your gun to her head and she threw you off before you could pull the trigger.

“Nat!?” Steve blocked another gunshot from her with his shield.

“Not Nat,” Bucky answers.

“Where have you been?”

“This thing’s still glowing,” Bucky held up the crystal.

“Give that to me!” Chenle appears next to them and grabs it. “You meaty idiots don’t know what to do with this.”

“Was that an insult?”

“Apperio!” Chenle ignored the Captain and chanted the charm, a magic circle appeared around the crystal. Following the ripple of two blue circles that expanded throughout the room, two more people appeared.

“There’s more of them?!” You shot Vulture in the leg. Before you were two other notorious members of the Elite. Arachnid, who you fought before, and Dead Shot, someone you were hoping not to run into in this dimension. “Someone get Parker out of here as soon as he touches Arachnid it’s over!” You shout.

“Oh please, I wouldn’t even try that. What good is this mission if any of us blow up the dimension while we’re at it,” Arachnid catches the flying dagger and flings it back towards Jaemin, who easily dodged it.

“We have orders to keep you alive, Vendetta, comply and the others will live,” Dead Shot spoke in his trademarked mechanical voice.

“Fuck that,” you pointed your gun at Arachnid and click. Click, click. “Well, this is awkward,” you chucked the magnum at Arachnid, the handle of the gun hitting the area between the mutant’s eyes and stunning him briefly, while Dead Shot released a flurry of bullets. You ran along the wall to dodge them, looking for something to shield yourself with now that Cap and Bucky were busy with Lynx, Jeno had Vulture busy, and Jaemin moved over to Arachnid so that Peter could handle Evil-Wong instead.

“Surrender or be forced to, Vendetta.”

“Well, shit,” you held a book in front of you while Dead Shot went through consecutive rounds.

“How could you not know a Follower was here?!” Jeno was pushed back next to you while deflecting Vulture’s attacks.

“How the hell was I supposed to know?! I didn’t even know that those three were here until a couple of minutes ago!”

“Are you kidding me?!”

“No, I’m not kidding you because if I was we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“It has been thirty minutes! I let you and Jaemin go for thirty minutes and this happens!”

“In our defense,” Jaemin gets pushed back to the other side of you and clears his throat. “Peter brought us here.”

“I said I’m sorry!” Peter brushes off the embers on his suit. “Aw man, how am I going to explain this to Mr. Stark?”

“Explain? Have you been reporting us to him?!” You asked.

“Uh… no,” Peter’s phone goes off and he answers it. “Hi, Mr. Stark, there’s kind of a situation going on right now—”

“Tell them not to come here! If any of the other Followers show up it could tear the fabric of reality apart!” Chenle shouts. A magic circle appears under Peter’s phone and it short circuits. Chenle adjusts the watch around his wrist, a much larger magic circle appearing from it.

“Vocavi te ab umbris,” at the utterance of the words the shadows in the room gathered together to a much larger amalgamate. “Go, Vendetta, I’ll keep them handled.”

“Fuck,” you spotted your backpack, which was pushed up against the wall on the other side of the room.

“What now?” Jeno asks.

“Backpack.”

“What about it?”

“There’s something really important in there,” Jaemin sounded disappointed. “We could hole-in-one it, V.”

“We could,” you said. “But that risks shaking it up too much.

“Hot potato then?” Jeno offers.

“Who would start it?”

“The closest person is Shotaro, if he throws it far enough I could probably catch it,” Jeno says. “Pass it over to Jaemin.”

“Then I’ll pass it to you. But by then you need to be in that hallway,” Jaemin says.

“Got it, I can do that.”

“And if anything goes wrong?”

“Wing it.”

“We’re going to die in this dimension, aren’t we?” Jeno frowns.

“On the count of three, break,” Jaemin says, ignoring his best friend’s words. You hand Jeno the old sword, which he took without question. “One.”

“What do I need this for?”

“Well, I certainly don’t need it.”

“Two.”

“Wait, are we even on the same page?”

“I don’t know, are we?”

“Three!” Jaemin shoved you forward and you took off, dodging literally everything on your way to get out and probably get some more help.

“Shotaro! Pass me that backpack!” Jeno shouts over the gunshots. Shotaro perked up and grabbed the black bag, chucking it towards Jeno, who caught it easily. “Monsieur— Fuck, too far, Apollo! Pass this over to him!” Jeno tossed the backpack towards Chenle, the heavy bag slamming into the magician mid-spell.

“What the hell?!”

“Pass it here!” Jaemin knocked over Lynx and used her head the propel himself up and grab the backpack after Chenle threw it. He ran over towards you and threw it. Right as your hand grabbed the strap, it was yanked away from you.

“Fuck!” You looked back at who had it now, seeing your backpack in the hands of the last person who should have it. You were about the run over to him, but the bullet that landed too close for comfort reminded you that you had to leave now. “Arachnid has it!” You’d just have to put your trust into the three that were already here.

“Got it,” Jeno bashed his knee into Vulture’s head, finally incapacitating the Follower and switched targets. You turned around and ran into the hallway. You just had to call one of the other members to run over here with some extra materials. You hit the side of your phone, which only frizzed at the motion. Chenle must have jammed the signals to prevent more reinforcements from coming, great. You couldn’t run around forever, Dead Shot always hit his targets in the end, you continued down the hallway, not bothering to look back, but when you found yourself cornered against a hallway, you forced to figure out a solution. With the smell of smoke and the sounds of bullets hitting the ground— Wait a second. You looked down the hallway, bullets hitting metal and ricocheting towards you but never hitting any intended destination, there wasn’t even a bullet hole in sight, instead there were just empty shells on the ground. But in your analysis you failed to notice the stray bullet that was right in front of you. Then you saw someone’s closed fist in front of you.

“Did I get all of them?” He panted. He opened his hand and twelve bullets fell out of it.

“Oh my god, Mark, you’re just in time, I don’t remember you being this fast either,” you caught your breath and hugged the speedster, separating quickly. Mark pat down the smoke on his boots.

“I don’t think I’ve ever run that fast…” He stretches his back and kicks the bullet shells aside.

“How’d you even get here?”

“The sorcerer guy called Baekhyun and asked us to come right away. I had a feeling it wasn’t anything good so I came first, told them I’d scout the area. It’s a good thing I came, otherwise you’d look like Sponge-Bob…” He laughs awkwardly. “You’re at your quota, aren’t you?” He looks down at your feet. You followed his gaze and saw the rusted knife sticking out from it, then you noticed the bloody trail you left behind. You sighed and pulled the old thing out.

“Remind me to get a Tetanus shot.”

“You are at your quota,” he gasped.

“Can’t afford to possibly die right now,” you shook your head. “I thought since the dimension was far enough it’d get me some leeway, but I guess not,” you grimaced.

“Shit, it really is a good thing that I came just in time,” Mark looks over his shoulder. “Dead Shot should be on his way, you didn’t make it hard to find you.”

“Don’t smart-mouth me right now, Mark.”

“Right, yeah, sorry about that,” the speedster ruffled his blue hair and unzipped his jacket, pulling out a book from it. It was heavy, no doubt, leather-bound with metal embellishments around it. The book had lived through as many eons as it did dimensions. You had asked Mark to try to get it for you if he could, but nothing more than that. Better to leave him in blissful ignorance. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time to say this,” he says while he hands it to you.

“Just spit it out.”

“I was looking into that thing you asked me about and here, this is all I got,” he says. “Whatever you need it for it’d better be important, I almost got turned into a frog for it. The guy I got it from warned me not to read it though.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, something about corrupting the person who reads it.”

“Oh shit, I should have Jeno read it then.”

“True, you can’t corrupt a demon.”

“But then again he is only half.”

“Look, (Y/N), I only got you the book because you were so insistent on it. Just reassure me and tell me that you won’t do anything stupid with it.”

“I won’t, I won’t, I may be stupid but I’m not that stupid, Mark. When are the others coming?”

“I just gave them the signal to enter, they’ll be taking care of the Follower problem here in a bit. But you’re going to have to explain why you’re here to them, and I’m afraid that it might involve you revealing your identities this time.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Why else would you be in D62 being housed and paid by this dimension’s Avengers?”

“Fair enough—” you were cut off by the bullet grazing your ear and landing in the wall behind you. Another one rang out and Mark grimaced, holding his hand to his shoulder

“Argh! Come on!” He grunts. He puts a hand on your back and one behind your neck.

“Why?”

“Whiplash,” you blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the Avenger’s Compound.

“Mark, don’t you dare!”

“Sorry! Jeno’s orders! I’d rather a pissed off you than Jeno!”

“Mark, I swear if you zoom out of here—” but the speedster was already gone by the time you turned around. “Dammit!” You kicked the wall and winced immediately, you completely forgot that it was the same foot that had a knife driven through it earlier.

He was right, you’d reached your quota. There was a certain amount of times you were allowed to “die” until it would be too much, and you knew you’d be at this quota when your body would stop healing itself, it was getting ready for its original host to return. You just didn't think you’d reach it soon, and who knows until the number resets? It was always a varying number, and until it did you had to lay low. It was such a hassle that you always tried to avoid it, but coming to this dimension seemed to have expedited the whole thing. You heard a bag of chips drop behind you.

“(Y/N)? When did you get here?” Jisung stared at you while he picked up the bag.

“Mark.”

“Mark’s here? Where?” Jisung looks around.

“There was a complication at Dr. Strange’s place,” you limped towards him, he rushed over to you and reached for your hand to help you, but you tugged it away. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay,” Jisung gave you a little more space, but still walked next to you, sporting that easy-to-read concern. “Do they need help?”

“No. The Avengers are coming.”

“Oh… oh no,” Jisung caught onto why you were being short now. “Oh no, oh no, we won’t have a choice then.”

“No, we won’t,” you heaved the large book under your arm. Jisung looked at it but chose not to question you. “I’ll be in my room, I have a lot of thinking to do before we explain ourselves to the lapdogs so, if you need me, I’ll be in there,” Jisung says.

“Oi, (Y/N)!” Haechan held his hand up and Jisung furiously shook his head. Hyuck pressed on regardless. “Think you need this,” he waved the small box in his hand and you did a doubletake.

“Where did you get that?!” You rushed forward and snatched it out of his hands. “Be a bit more gentle with it!”

“Whoa! What’s got you pissed? Jeno drowned and dropped this. Changmin said to give it to you so I figured it’s important, damn.”

“The Avengers are coming.”

“Like… these Avengers?” He points around the room. “Or our Avengers.”

“The second one,” Jisung nods. “Right, (Y/N)?” You didn’t answer, you were already halfway to your room. You tossed the book on your bed and you opened the small box, pulling the vial of iridescent liquid from it. You twisted it open and downed its limited contents in one gulp. You felt all of your muscles relax at once and you sat on the bed. The wound on your foot closed quickly.

“Postponed, at least for now,” you stretched your arms. “But not permanently,” you placed the vial back in the box and you grabbed the book. As you held the two sides in your hands, ready to open it, you recalled Mark’s warning. Then you remembered the words of the Demon King himself.

“If you know what’s good for you, and what’s good for the world you reside in. Do not seek more than you already know about yourself.”

The times you spoke to Jeno’s father were limited, and your best friend liked it that way, preferred it actually, but the times you did talk they were always pleasant. Save for that warning. He knew something you didn’t, the both of them. You acquired this book without any of their knowledge. For years you just went with it, there’s a quota for death, there’s a reason why you can’t die, there’s a reason why you should avoid stepping near the Seraph, but now in this new universe, you had to know. There was something calling out to you in this dimension, it was very faint, and you didn’t truly notice it until you walked into the Sanctum.

You put the book away, sliding it under the bed.

Trust is mutual, if two very powerful beings are telling you to stay in your lane you probably should. You knew the bare minimum of your condition, so to say, you knew what you had to. Die too many times too close together and something else will come and reclaim its host, and all you knew about that entity was that it was some eldritch creature that took a millennia to finally contain, and for some reason, it had some affinity for you. That is where your knowledge stopped and your curiosity began. What could be so powerful that even the all-powerful Demon King wanted to keep it contained, and what did it have to do with you? Your answers were under your bed. But you risked too much by simply opening the book on its own. You hit your head lightly on the wall behind you. The liquid in the vial would extend your quota by at most three, you had to use them carefully. If you were going to attract a horrific monster, it would probably be best to not do it in a world that you didn’t belong to.

There was a knock at your door.

“What do you want, Renjun?”

The door opened slowly, and someone else stood at it.

“Is now a bad time?” Stark asks. You shook your head.

“It’s your building, come in,” you sighed. He walked in at your invitation, sitting at the table to the side.

“So this is what S.H.I.E.L.D. meant by living accommodations,” he laughs.

“What did you need, Mr. Stark?”

“Tony’s fine, thanks,” he says. “Sorry, it was eating away at me, I had to ask.”

“You wanna know about what you’re like in my dimension, right?”

“I’d appreciate it, but, something tells me I should come back later.”

“Oh, no, no, it’s fine.”

“Where are your friends?”

“Probably getting their asses kicked, but I’m here instead,” you shrugged. “Honestly, you’re not that different. Maybe a little less depressed, but that’s about it. For what it counts, to our knowledge, you aren’t a Follower. You work closely with the Seraph, if they found out then you would’ve been executed on spot, at the very least.”

“Oh yeah? Crazy leader or rational one?”

“Bit of both,” you leaned forward on your bed, kicking the book further under your bed. “Want to know anything else?”

“I was wondering if you could walk me through your Traveler of yours, is it anything like Time Travel?”

“Let’s call it two sides of the same coin.”

“How so? What do you use? Cosmic strings? Möbius strip?”

“Have you heard of the infinite cylinder theory?”

“Also known as Tipler?

“Yes!”

“Then yes, I’m aware.”

“How about Schrödinger’s Equation?”

“We’re talking hamiltonian operators?”

“Bingo. If you can manipulate those two concepts, you can get time travel, but it’s not perfect. So manipulate them differently, add a few more concepts because you have to take relativity into account, and bam. Dimensional Travel.”

“That easy?”

“Yeah, well, no, but in theory sure.”

“And you never went to high school?”

“What’s that got to do with it? If you need a degree to prove you’re right then you’re probably not the sharpest tool in the shed,” you shrug. Tony opened his mouth to retaliate, but couldn’t think of a good comeback to that. “Something tells me you want to ask me something more specific though, Peter let slip that he’s been sending you updates, so I’m sure you’re here for a different reason.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why help us?”

“Don’t really know how to answer that one, Tony,” you placed your ankle on your opposite knee and rolled out your ankle. “Usually we just take whichever job pays the most, but Changmin asked us personally to take this one, so how could we say no? The guy rarely ever asks us favors, and it was the least we could do.”

“That simple?”

“What? Did you want me to say that we wanted to meet you guys? I mean, it’s certainly a plus. Most of your team happen to be carbon copies of the same one who wants to kill us, so there’s that, we’re observing the ways you act, maybe it’ll help us in the future, maybe not. It’s like a two-way deal, you get your Traveler, and we get data.”

“Data,” Tony scoffs. “I can see why you’d come to that conclusion.”

“What can I say? It’s helpful. But, I can definitely say that we might be relieved of our duties soon, we’re technically here illegally, I’ll have you know,” you said to him. “We’re supposed to get official approval from the Secretary of Travel before jumping dimensions, but we’re not exactly law followers so we never did. But now that an official government team is on their way, hoo boy, my greatest rival is yet to come. Paperwork,” you made light of what would otherwise be a very very bad situation.

“I heard, so we get to meet the other Avengers.”

“Yup. And, let me tell you right now, they’re not the nicest people.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, just you wait until I tell you about them.”

~

The shadow amalgamate shattered into what it once was, scurrying back to their original positions, once Chenle had the wind knocked out of him by Lynx. He landed harshly on Jaemin, who then lost his balance and sent the two tumbling down to the first floor of the Sanctum.

“Sorry,” Chenle rolled off the top of Jaemin.

“It’s fine, call it even for the incident with the banshee.”

“Agreed, ugh, my head’s doing cartwheels…”

“Cartwheels? I feel like mine is being churned,” Jaemin holds his head. Chenle and Jaemin lay next to each other for a moment, trying to stop their spinning heads when someone stood over them.

“Are we bothering you, gentlemen?”

“Ugh, these fuckers are here,” Jaemin covered his eyes with his arms. “Tell me when they’re gone, Apollo.”

“That’s kind of mean,” Mark frowns. Jaemin moves his hand.

“Mark’s not a bad person, actually, Tony. I feel bad because I encouraged him to join the Avengers when they asked, but the other guys saw it as a complete betrayal. But he’s loyal, he doesn’t hate us and we don’t hate him, or at least I don’t.”

“Oh look! The traitor!” He lazily points at him. “Do you know how much shit we’ve been through since you left?”

“All the dishes we’ve had to wash?”

“V won’t even let us take your room because she thinks you’re coming back! You dumb traitor, what happened to our friendship bracelets, Mark?! Huh?!”

“You guys, don’t call me that, come on! Look I’m still wearing it!” Mark whines.

“Go away! You left us for your cooler friends who can legally blow things up, go! Go have fun with them!” Chenle points an accusing finger towards the speedster.

“Just leave them there,” Mark whispers.

“We’re looking for Strange,” a deeper voice says.

“Oh my god, is that Wong Yukhei?” Jaemin asks, his blurred vision not helping him at all. “You know, Vendetta has a cardboard cutout of you, I think she talks to it sometimes,” he laughs, his words slightly slurred as a result of the head damage received when he fell on the hard floors in the first place.

“Flattered,” Yukhei responds.

“Wong Yukhei, decorated soldier from the order of war and the first in the super-soldier experiments. Actually not a bad guy, but feels the need to flex his bravado every now and then because of the team he’s on, and honestly, I kind of relate to that.”

“The hatless wizard is somewhere upstairs,” Chenle points up and lets his arm drop to his side. “We’d help, but you guys look like one big ugly walrus right now.” Jaemin starts cracking up and the two high five.

“Do we have to work with them?” Another voice snapped.

“Li Yongqin, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, Lee Youngheum, he has too many names to remember so people usually just call him Ten. He was a perfect student in the military academies, which I’m guessing where his nickname comes from. But he’s pretty impatient, rather ill-tempered from my experience."

“We don’t have a choice,” a more suave on this time.

“Ooh, Lee Taemin. He's an interesting one, Tony. We’re actually pretty close, or used to be at least. He’s very good at what he does, he has years of experience under his belt, but it’s pretty scary. He’s probably done his research by now, be careful, he knows you better than you know yourself. Don’t argue.”

“Gentlemen, let’s end this, we have clearance from the Seraph to exterminate the Followers,” a more powerful one.

“Oh, oh, Lee Taeyong! He’s great. I’ve seen him work a couple of times, I think he’s shot me in the head before. Don’t ask. I have a great deal of respect for him, but he’s kind of anti-social, not easy to get along with him, but I think it’s all miscommunication in the end. I think if we really got to know each other we’d hit it off, but otherwise, I think I’m just a person with a bounty on her head in his eyes.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jaemin pushed himself up, his eyes finally focusing. “Exterminate? Yeah, you guys do that, but let the Maverick leave first, we don’t want to get caught up in your deathmatch again,” Jaemin hits the side of his head a few times.

“Where’s the Vendetta?”

“Not here! She left because Reaper was being a little bitch!” Jaemin laughs again and Chenle joins him.

“We’re wasting our time here with these idiots,” another person says. Chenle squints his eyes to make out the figure.

“Now there’s Kim Jongin, he’s one of the people who started the Avengers project and got them all together. He’s an indispensable member, in my opinion. But when you’re in a team with that many star-studded members who are constantly in the public eye, it’s easy to get lost in the lights. But he knows how to keep things according to itinerary.”

“Who are you again?” He asks. “I thought the Avengers only had six members,” he stifles back a laugh.

“Dude that’s low!” Jaemin cackles. Mark swallows down a laugh when Taemin looks over at him, both of them trying to be respectful to their teammate.

“I know that’s why I said it!” Chenle hits his teammate’s arm and Jaemin winces, but the two continue in their little circus.

“Forget them, let’s just go,” Jongin. The team ascends the steps.

“Enter, the Avengers,” Baekhyun smiles.

“And finally there’s their leader. Byun Baekhyun— yes, he’s my older brother, no we don’t talk, and I don’t think he even knows I’m alive. He’s similar to you in some aspects, he pays for all of their shit. But he’s manipulative. He knows how to get into your head. Be careful with him.”

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[vislorrturlough]

Scaramouche!

"Of course, this assumption of responsibility does not mean that we are not conditioned genetically, culturally, and socially. It means that we know ourselves to be conditioned but not determined. It means recognizing that History is time filled with possibility and not inexorably determined-that the future is problematic and not already decided, fatalistically."

- Paulo Friere

For as long as Loki can remember, tapestries have lined the walls of Asgard's palace.

When Loki was a child, the Allmother sat by his bed one night and explained the significance of the tapestries that lined the walls of their home.

“The Norns weave the tapestry that assigns our roles,” she told him. “So that we may fulfill our fate and serve Midgard as we are meant to.”

The tapestries stretched across all the walls of the palace, covering vast miles of golden wall with breathtaking imagery depicting life and death and love and hate and everything in between. They pictured Loki too, who moved from boy to tragedy to a vicious and cruel man.

“So I have a role too? And Thor?” he asked. She smiled at him with fondness. The Thor on the tapestries seemed brave and strong - Loki could never imagine his brother, still a boy himself, to become that hulk of a man someday.

“Of course, Loki,” she said. “We all have roles. I am a mother, and a magician. Thor will be a great hero. Your father, a beloved and wise king. This is what is sewn into our destiny, to be enacted until Ragnarok and again after that. In a cycle, unending and unwavering.”

He yawned, obscuring the nervousness bubbling in his chest and curling the silken covers around his shoulders. He knew what the tapestries said Loki would do. He had hoped that maybe - “What’s my fate, mother?” he asked quietly.

Her smile, previously relaxed, became firm and serious. His heart was racing, thinking of that man, and of the awful cruelty that was depicted to come at his hands. “We all have a part to play, my dear. And every story has a villain for a reason.”

--

Despite common misconception, Loki Laufeyson never lived in the moment. In fact, Loki found the moment particularly difficult to pin down. Once you begin to think “Hey, I think this is the moment!” it wasn’t the moment anymore, and Loki already had four tabs open on his phone about the relativity of time and he didn’t need anymore.

Loki lived in the future, which was why he was that very moment getting his fair share of serotonin from the Schrödinger’s Night Out with Sigurd and Lorelei he was planning. 

“Sigurd definitely won’t come out if Lorelei isn’t,” he explained to Verity as he paced hurriedly around their absurdly fancy flat, which he paid for entirely and in return, Verity didn’t ask where he got all the money. “Which means I need Lorelei to agree first. One problem with that!”

“Lorelei hates you?” Verity asked, as she planted an orange tree in Stardew Valley.

“Lorelei hates me!” Loki agreed. “Which means I need to sweeten the pot.”

Verity glanced up at him suspiciously. “How are you going to do that?”

He grinned, and picked up a pen so he could start dramatically gesticulating. “Bisexual women! They’re always fascinated with me. And by the end of the evening, I’ll have established a system where I transport their attention from me to Lorelei and get her many dates. Like a Ford factory.”

She glared, turned back to her game. “You’re a walking hate crime.”

“Was that a lie, Verity?” he teased, collapsing on the couch and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She tried just barely to shrug him off. “Was it a lie when I said bi women are fascinated with me? Was it?”

Verity narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t say anything, and in response he burst into cackles of laughter.

—

Lorelei claimed to be very insulted that Loki thought bisexual women liked him more than her, but he knew well that she knew well that she looked like the straightest girl alive and really, that was her own fault. Once Lorelei was a confirmed booking, Sigurd swiftly followed, because he’s nothing if not a simp, and thus Loki had now established the perfect evening. A pricey club, two people who could barely stand him, and himself. 

Although he never really enjoyed it. He’d never planned to.

Anticipation was a drug, really. And as previously established, the moment was very boring indeed. And this moment, Loki found himself crammed against Sigurd, who while very attractive and an owner of some very firm abs, was covered in sweat, and only slept with Loki when he was desperate anyway. Loki squinted up at him, and tried to figure out if he was desperate tonight.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Sigurd shouted over the music. 

Loki smiled at him genially, and proceeded to turn quickly around and elbow his way to the smoking area.

The initial smack of fresh onto his face was divine. He closed his eyes and smiled in satisfaction, continuing to move forward. The music was more muted out here, and the sound of voices and laughter blurred into itself until nothing was anything anymore. Peace! The lights were all different shades of pink and green, and they cast an ethereal glow over the throngs of young people with cigarettes in their hands, all here, all living now.

Loki bumped into someone.

“Shit!” he yelped, watching in horror as  her cocktail spilt down her crop top. “I’m so sorry! Oh my God!”

She’d flinched a bit during the incident itself, but the alcohol had seemingly tempered any stronger reaction than that. Lightly brushing at her (now soaked) top, she only laughed lightly and smiled at him. “No worries, dude!”

He pulled out his best prince charming grin (practiced in the mirror and finely tuned). “Please, let me at least buy you another drink.”

“I’m not going to say no to a drink!” she laughed shyly, and they traipsed inside to the bar. Sigurd seemed to have vanished, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Lorelei getting very close to the DJ, so maybe if Loki had any luck he was crying in the gents or something. Usual affair, really.

He bought them both mojitos, and they fought their way back through the crowd to return to the smoking area. “I like your necklace,” he said, because his mother had always said women liked having their jewelry complimented. Sif had later said that they didn’t, but Sif was as much a woman as Loki was a man, so her opinion didn’t count.

The girl giggled. “Thanks, it’s a crucifix.”

“Oh sorry!” Loki said. “I’m not from around here. That’s the catholic thing right?”

“Do you guys not have catholicism in Britain?”

Ugh, mentioning Asgard would dance a bit too close to the possibility of ‘Oh man, anyone ever told you you look like Thor’s evil brother?’. Loki chuckled instead and rolled his eyes. “I was pretty sheltered. It was like, a weird cult?”

“Oh wow! That’s so interesting.” She had a sympathetic sort of look on her face, and Loki quickly buried the irritation that bubbled up in his chest. The sympathy wasn’t for Loki anyway, just some fake man who grew up in a cult. Did he think Asgard was a cult? God, he was glad he didn’t have a therapist

“Yeah, I don’t really believe in it now, you know?” he lied easily, smiling at her. “It’s hard to have faith when it’s like, you never see any proof.”

She nodded understandingly. “Yeah, lots of people say that nowadays, what with superheroes and Asgard and all. I don’t know, I kind of think the fact I don’t have proof makes it more important.”

“Oh yes?” Loki asked. “What do you mean by that?”

She looked up at the lights, placed her free hand on the crook of the elbow of the hand holding her drink. For a second, Loki saw ancient and revered philosophers! He decided that they’d had it all wrong. Screw the forums, they should’ve done all their philosophising in smoking areas.

“It means something, you know?” she explained slowly. “Like, of course we believe in the ground and the sky and all. Those are right in front of us, we can’t deny that. Same with science, or aliens, or Asgardians. But believing in God requires a certain kind of faith. I’m going beyond seeing and believing. I’m just believing. God has a plan for me, and I believe in that.”

Loki nodded slowly. A fate? One set, but controlled by a benevolent creature and entirely unknown? It wasn’t true or real of course, but there was a beauty to it, that Loki, who’s path was clear and determined, appreciated. The alcohol (he and Lorelei made a habit of spiking drinks they bought on earth with Asgardian liqueur, so they’d, you know, work) was beginning to blur his awareness anyway. “That’s beautiful,” he said kindly.

She giggled, quickly touching her necklace and looking at the ground. “Haha, sorry! I study theology, it’s kind of a thing.”

“No, no!” Loki laughed, giving her a wide grin. “It was very interesting! Where do you study?”

They got into a long conversation about Sarah’s (her name, Loki found out eventually) degree, NYU dorms and a guy she hated in her seminars, before he noticed Lorelei making a beeline towards him, her hand around Sigurd’s wrist. 

“Hey,” she said, before frowning at him and glancing at Sarah. “I’m going home with a girl named Angelica. She’s goth and plays bass. So you need to take Sig home.”

“I’m literally an ancient hero. Of legend,” Sigurd interjected.

Lorelei turned and glared at him instead. “Well, you need to take Loki home.”

“Oh well, come on then Sig!” Loki said loudly, ignoring his scowl. “Thank you for such a lovely conversation, Sarah darling. Have a nice night!”

“Thanks Luke!” she laughed, not being not obvious about checking Sigurd out. Oh God, she probably thought he was dating Loki. Yuck, how mortifying. “See you around!”

“Go get a taxi,” Lorelei told him, before wandering off to a girl with a septum piercing and docs, which Loki considered quite basic, especially for Lorelei.

They didn’t get a taxi. They walked five minutes until Loki ducked around a corner, ignored Sigurd saying “Aren’t we getting a taxi?” and grabbed his arm before dragging him through the spaces in between the universe and dropping him on the bean bag in his living room. A solitary pringles can rolled quietly and hit Loki’s foot.

“Ugh, you’re disgusting,” Loki muttered, kicking it away.

“I hate you,” Sigurd growled, pinching his nose and clearly trying not to throw up. Loki didn’t know why, it wouldn’t be any major downgrade from how the room was currently. “And I hate that. You’re such a fucking prick Loki.” 

Time to make his exit before Sigurd regained enough strength to cause him bodily harm. “Bye honey!” he trilled, and Sigurd’s growl was cut off as he made his way to his own apartment. He didn’t wake up Verity, she had work tomorrow, so he just kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed, surrendering to unconsciousness.

--

Verity and Loki had moved in together for two reasons. 

1) Loki spent most of his time at Verity’s. He had a separate shelf in her fridge for his energy drinks and his salsa, and a special place at the bottom of her spice cupboard for his snacks. He told Verity she had full ownership over all the snacks and could have them when he’d left, but she never did. Instead she got the little clip things she used and pinched the bags closed carefully, putting them to the side for the next time he came over. It was thoughtful, and Loki didn’t know what to do with it, so he never mentioned it. He got bored quite easily anyway, and most of his ‘friends’ had a very limited tolerance of him, so most days he found himself on Verity’s couch, playing Uno and eating Oreos.

2) Verity’s flat was bad and small and Loki’s was perfect and expensive, and if he spent all his time with Verity, they may as well hang out in his sketchily acquired penthouse. Plus, paying her rent made him feel useful. It was like a payment for all the little clips on his packets of Doritos.

He didn’t regret it. Except he thought that perhaps he might be as close as he could get to regretting it as he lay in bed listening to her pounding viciously at his door. 

“Are you alive?” she yelled through the mahogany. He groaned just loudly enough to be heard, and she banged one more time for good measure before her footsteps quickly petered off towards the kitchen.

He sighed in frustration, rolling off his bed with just enough basic athletic ability to land on his feet. His vision blacked out for just a second, and his head very much rejected the idea of being on his feet. Had he shifted through space while drunk? That was so dangerous. He should have gotten like, a driving ticket. A magic driving ticket.

He stumbled into the kitchen and stared blearily at Verity. “What are you cooking?” he mumbled.

“Eggs,” she replied without turning. “Want some?”

“Hmm.” He stares at the clock. One in the afternoon? That wasn’t too bad. Verity must have just gotten in from work though, which made him feel bad. Oh, how he missed the days when he had no shame and also no friends. “No thanks, I don’t want to throw up.”

“I thought alcohol didn’t affect you?”

“Human alcohol doesn’t.” He sat down on one of the tall swivel chairs at their counter and spun around. Ow, oh fuck, that wasn’t a good idea. He grimaced and placed his pounding head in his hands. “Lorelei and I spiked our drinks with something we got from Asgard.”

“Huh.” Verity sat opposite him, eggs piled onto the plate she set down in front of her. She’d cooked the yokes, the heathen. “Did you have a good time?”

Loki stared at her. “I feel like I’m being interrogated by my mother.”

“Oh honey,” she teased, grinning through a mouthful of eggs. “Oh sweetie. Wear protection!”

Loki dramatically re-enacted retching, and she choked on her eggs. A just punishment for her crimes, he thought.

“Ew,” he moaned. “I had to see Sigurd’s flat last night. It was disgusting.”

“I wasn’t being serious?” she stared at him. “I didn’t know you actually slept with-”

“Ew, ew, no,” he interrupted. “I was just detailing how he’s far too disgusting to ever consider as a sexual object. I would probably sleep with Lorelei though.”

“As if she’d sleep with you.”

“I’m forever alone!” he cried “Like the meme!”

“If you think referencing memes from 2008 is going to help you get laid-” she got up, pulled the dishwasher open and put her plate in without washing it off. Awful dishwasher etiquette, and Loki was from a place where they washed dishes with magic, so she had no excuse. “-then I think you might be beyond help.”

“I’m waiting for the right person,” he mumbled, squinting in the light streaming in from their egregiously large windows. “Like America. I ship America and myself.”

“America’s a lesbian,” Verity said.

“I’m a woman sometimes!” He got up and opened the fridge. “It’d be perfectly possible if she could tolerate me.”

“Which she can’t.”

“Yeah,” Loki said in faux-disappointment. “Ergo, forever alone, I’m mister lonely, involuntarily celibate, and sent to the friendzone.”

He shut the fridge, no bacon in sight, and stared at the front of it trying to consider his next move. He could head down to the store, but also he couldn’t, because he couldn’t imagine bringing himself to put on something other than the shorts he was currently in that said ‘BAD WITCH’ in bright green, metallic lettering on the back (a gift from Kate) and also he was pretty certain a drink had been poured on him the night before, judging by the smell of lager and the way his fringe had congealed into a hard point overnight. He wasn’t in any fit state to walk down the street. He had standards to maintain.

Yes, he was an illusionist, but he was a hungover illusionist with a headache, thus he opened up DoorDash and ordered McDonald’s. 

“Vee?” he called down the hall. “Do you want anything from McDonald’s?” 

“Ew,” she called back. “No.”

He placed his order and looked back up at the fridge. They had a shared calendar printed out on that kind of slippy photo paper so they could use whiteboard markers on it and make sure to not double book having people over. Last time it had happened, Verity’s cousin had to top-and-tail with Thor on the couch, which was a weird experience for everyone, but mostly for Daniel. Currently, the calendar was pretty sparse, since it was early April, but Verity had written something in for Sunday. ‘Easter - Mom’s House’.

He stared at it, confused. He didn’t turn when he heard Verity’s feet pattering back into the kitchen. “Hey, I didn’t know you were religious.”

“Huh?” Verity had flopped onto the couch and was fiddling with the remote control, probably trying to turn on Dr Phil. “Not really, what do you mean?”

“You’re going to your Mum’s for Easter?”

“Oh I guess.” The Judge Judy theme song streamed from the TV. Loki stood corrected. “I don’t believe in it or anything. It’s just tradition.”

“Huh.” He glanced out onto the street. It was lively. They were in pretty central Manhattan, and usually when you looked onto the road it was hard to see a part of the path that wasn’t covered in black throngs of city goers. He sometimes wondered where they were going, had they plans, or were they just wandering, aimless and free? Loki had always thought it would be night to wander off and see where his feet would take him if he didn’t walk with direction or intention. “Had an interesting conversation last night.”

“Yeah?” Verity responded mindlessly, staring at the TV. 

“About religion. With a girl in the smoking area.”

“Dude.” Verity leaned over, effortlessly butch. “Conversations about religion in a smoking area? I’m putting my foot down. Either you download Grindr or find a therapist.”

“Both of those options are severely limited by the fact that I am a divine being and a world renowned criminal,” he replied. “Do you think guys on Grindr are into my evil vibes, actually?”

“Guys on Grindr are definitely into your evil vibes.”

“Thanks Verity,” he said, turning and heading towards the door. “You always have my back. Maybe I’ll find a bae after all.”

He grinned at her sounds of indignation and headed to his room to sleep his headache away.

--

Loki had always been rather a superior child. He had no need for childish matters of ‘bravery’ and ‘heroics’, instead favouring his intellect and insight. His mother said he was a bright young man, thank you. So he cared little about Thor informing him he was too small and weak to spar with him and his friends. However, he had in return let Thor know that he would be instead spending some time with his very close friends, who Thor did not have an acquaintance with and who thought Loki was very cool and interesting indeed. Thus, appearances had to be upheld.

He peered around the corner of the great, awning entrance to the Bifröst control room. Lord Heimdall had his back turned, but Loki was not a fool. A child, but not a fool.

“Your Highness,” the Watcher called out, turning to face him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He inched forward, the tips of his fingers trailing the chilly gold-plated walls of the gate. “I was bored,” he lied.

“Very well.” Heimdall set down the Key and sat heavily down onto its platform. “Would you be able to keep me company during my break?”

Loki lifted his chin, glanced around himself and headed to sit beside him. “I suppose I can grace you with my presence, for some time at least.”

“Have you a full schedule, your Highness?”

Anger and indignation built in his chest. Loki whipped around and scowled at him. “I’m very busy.”

Heimdall’s playful expression sunk with practiced ease into something serious. “My apologies. Of course you are, my prince.”

Loki crossed his arms. He knew that Lord Heimdall knew all his business, all of everyone’s business, but it struck him like a spear to his chest to have been mocked over his… lack of desirability. How dare he? Loki may be a boy, but he was his prince. It was not Heimdall’s place to mock him. 

He struggled to think of something dignified to reply, and the pressure of the silence between them built into a garotte that tightened around his neck. He daren’t look at Heimdall, imagining a mocking grin staring down at him. It was unlikely, and would be utterly out of place on the man’s face, but Loki would rather avoid the possibility altogether.

“How is your brother, your Highness?” Heimdall said to break the silence.

In a fit of rage, Loki slammed his palm against the platform. His eyes watered with the pain of it. “Why does everyone only care about what Thor is doing? How Thor is? I am not a vessel through which people may be updated about my brother’s status!”

In his anger he’d turned to glare at Heimdall, and was horrified to find the man’s face transformed by pity. Loki scowled in disgust, and stared at the wall in the opposite direction.

“I did not mean to imply anything as such, your Highness,” Heimdall explained carefully. “I merely asked out of having nothing else very interesting to say. Perhaps I should have asked how you are?”

Loki hesitated, glanced back up. “I’m well,” he mumbled shortly.

“That’s good to hear,” Heimdall replied, staring ahead, out the gates and down the Bifröst. Loki wondered if he saw that which lay in front of him with more clarity, or if what his tangible eyes caught was nothing different to everything else he saw. “Is there anything in particular you would like to speak about?”

Loki was silent for a moment. A topic had been weighing on his mind, one he hesitated to bring to his mother. A heavy topic indeed. “Heimdall?” he asked. “Why am I destined to be a monster?”

It had been a burden to bear, acknowledging what was written upon the tapestries spun deep in Nornheim. When mother had first told him of his destiny years ago, it had seemed like a childhood game, but everyday the gravity of his situation held him just a little firmer to the ground. All has its place, his mother had told him, and your place is important. It is against you that others will shine.

It coloured everything he did, and how others treated him. Thor still loved him as a brother, but everyday his pride in his own journey grew and Loki could only stand and watch as he looked on his brother with a little more suspicion, held him at a slightly further distance. Loki’s cruelty had been encouraged, not in a direct way, but in the ways in which his parents and carers were cruel towards him. Like a knife being sharpened. 

Heimdall did not move. “Everything has its duty. Our world is not much but an elaborate play, and we act according to our roles so that the other realms may live in our image.”

“But why me?” Loki pressed. “Why can’t I be the hero?”

Neither mentioned what lay between them. A man and a child and a destiny for two corpses, having slain one another, to lie in the middle of their world as it burned.

“I’m sorry, my prince,” Heimdall said quietly. “Perhaps take some relief in the fact that you needn’t worry over who you will be. The Midgardians in particular struggle with virtue.”

“Really?” Loki muttered, head in his hands. “Isn’t it very freeing for them?”

“Not as such,” he replied. “In return for their agency, they are burdened with the duty to be ever kind and charitable to one another, or be damned for their failure to do so. It's simpler for us. Our fate is predetermined, and while you may be the villain, you are doing your duty as such and can rest easy knowing that it is a moral and just thing for you to be.”

Loki was silent for a second, staring morosely ahead. “But I don’t want to be the villain.”

“I’m sorry, Prince Loki,” Heimdall replied, resting a hand on his shoulder. “But the tapestries have already been spun.”

--

The Allmothers, in their omnipowetful ability to be incredibly annoying, always called him when he was in the middle of doing things. In this case, a lovely girl named Amelia who had told him he looked like Timotheé Chalamet.

She screamed, causing Loki to whip around with a curse only to find Gaia staring at him through his mirror, disgust on her face and her right eye covered by Loki’s Blondie postcard that Verity had bought him from some emo shop.

Gritting his teeth, he looked down at Amelia, who seemed to be sinking into some form of shock. “Oh man,” he said. “I’m so fucking sorry. Uh, I kind of have to take this. Another time maybe?”

She looked up at him in speechless horror before turning quickly and climbing out from under him. Before he could even look up at her he heard the slam of the door. He glanced up. Huh, at least she’d taken her shirt with her. Loki was a feminist after all.

With a sigh, he turned to face Gaia. “My Lady!” He greeted with gritted teeth. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She held his gaze for a few awkward seconds.

“Okay,” he said. “I would say, if anything it’s your fault that you decided to just turn up in my mirror without any prior warning. Really? You can’t expect me to be celibate. I’m Loki.”

She graced him with a performatively regal sigh and a significantly less regal eye roll. “The Allmothers have a task for you to complete, Loki.”

“Don’t you always?” He grumbled, pulling a hoodie on to cover up some of his nudity. Amelia may have only lost a shirt, but Loki was already down to his boxers. He was a feminist, after all.

“There is a great treasure in the belonging of one of our own, one who dwells in the realm of Midgard.”

“In English?” 

The Allmother paused. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Your first language is the tongue of Jötunheim.”

“It’s just a-, it’s just a phrase, okay? Anyway, can you get to the crux of it? I was busy.”

“You aren’t busy anymore.”

He threw his arms out dramatically, making sure his irritation was painted clear on his face. “Thanks for that, by the way!”

“We would like-,” she continued, gathering her composure. “-for you to retrieve the ancient sword, Gram. It’s power is too great for us to allow it to remain out of our grasp. We have waited too long already, and time is of the essence.”

“Gram?” Loki asked. “You mean Sigurd’s sword?”

“The legendary sword Gram does indeed lie in the hands of the hero Sigurd-”

“But Sig loves his sword,” he interrupted. “He’s going to hate me if I take it for you. That’s narc behaviour.”

“This is your duty, Prince Loki, to your people,” Gaia said sternly. “You are, and have always been, a narc.”

“Hey, fuck you-”

She was gone in the next second, and Loki was left staring at his face in the mirror, and the way the skin underneath his eyes was grey and sunken, which made his eyes pop in a sort of consumption-chic. He looked a bit like Maleficent, he thought in an attempt to distract himself from the dread of the task that now lay before him and the inevitable broken friendship (he didn’t have many to break left).

But without all the milf energy. Loki didn’t have any milf energy, which was probably the source of most of his problems

--

Often, Loki found the easiest way to avoid all of his issues was to pretend he was a funny, quirky little guy living a funny, quirky little life. Oh Loki, he’s the token evil teammate, the funny comic relief in stories about other people, relegated to side character (but hot enough that all the fan art and fic was going to centre him). This allowed him to get away with his faults, which were many and numerous, by playing them off as the work of that darned scamp, Loki. This situation however, was one that worried Loki, as Sigurd was nothing if he wasn’t two things; 1) absolutely unenamoured by Loki and everything Loki had going for himself, and 2) in love with that fucking sword.

Loki sat down cross-legged on his bed and contemplated the choices he could make here. He could take the sword, and try to manipulate the situation to make Sigurd look like he was overreacting. Take the sword to the flat and mess around while he showed it to Verity. But, he knew, Verity wouldn’t play along, because her moral compass was ever on the straight and narrow and anyway, she’d know he was lying. 

Lorelei would side with Sigurd over him, because she didn’t trust the Asgardian establishment and they all knew that the tentative little bit of control that let them languish in something resembling a real life on Midgard rested on Sigurd having enough power that Asgardia would rather leave him alone than bother. Losing Gram would put that in jeopardy, and Lorelei wouldn’t trade a shoelace for Loki, nevermind her happy ending. He knew well enough that this theft would be unjust, would put all of the power into the hands of the already powerful. He knew this, and he knew that Sig and Lorelei? Wouldn’t hurt a fly, really. For all the three of them pretended to hate each other, Loki knew they were good people, and they just wanted to live their lives in peace.

He could simply refuse. Not take the sword, let the Allmothers deal with it some other way. He could say it was above his pay grade, which it was.

Except, he couldn’t. Not really. He had duties that Sigurd and Lorelei couldn’t possibly understand. That idea couldn’t push its way forward from the back of his mind, as if constrained by something, writhing back and forth to break free. Or was it? Or was that an excuse, a claim to someone that he was trying, still, to do the right thing, and that it wasn’t his fault when he failed to.

He sighed, and stood up. His wardrobe was a mess, but it was an organised mess, and anyway it was a bright, sunny day outside and he could find his dragon scale armour easily from the way it glinted in the light at the back of his slogan t-shirts. 

--

Sig had moved all the dirty washing from his desk chair. Loki didn’t have high hopes that it was for any reason other than playing PC games though. Sig was really into, like, Call of Duty and Halo. Were they PC? Loki didn’t know. He preferred superior gaming experiences, like Professor Layton.

Lo and behold, Loki found the mysteriously disappeared dirty clothing on Sig’s couch. For a guy whose feats and adventures were written down in legend, he really had some drab taste in furnishings.

Loki moved silently through the flat, letting just a little bit of his seidr seep into his steps to cushion the noise. He didn’t turn on any lights, instead relying on a little bit of patience to let his eyes adjust to the dark. His Jotunn heritage, dare he say it, came in handy at times like this due to the Jotnär having pretty decent night vision. This was in order to do crimes and eat children, his nursemaid had informed him when he was small. Well, Loki was doing crimes, but the jury was out on the eating children bit.

Loki was an expert catburglar, tales of his stealthiness were scribbled on the walls of ancient Midgardian caves, the remnants of long extinct societies, all of which he had outlived. Thus, he cleverly noticed the Guitar Hero™ plastic guitar and stepped over it.

Loki knew one thing about Sigurd. He was paranoid. Thus, Loki had a suspicion about where he would put Gram, and if he was correct he knew this job wouldn’t be easy.

He eased open the bedroom door, and watched as the hero of the stories he had been told as a babe snored while laying on his front. Huh, great ass.

Loki mentally smacked himself. Bad!

His attention was then quickly snatched by the gleaming sword that lay against the left bedpost. Ding ding, we have a winner! Sigurd both expected his sword to be stolen and expected to have to fight off home invaders, and so he kept his greatest asset (other than his ass) right next to him in his most vulnerable times. Loki was his worst nightmare, well usually, but even more so at this moment.

He crept forward, stepping carefully over strewn clothes. Wait, was that Lorelei’s blouse? Ugh, he didn’t want to think about that. He’d much rather they remain entirely celibate in his mind.

Loki crept closer, and reached out to grasp the hilt of the sword silently.

“...What the fuck? Loki?”

He should have run, probably. Teleported, gone invisible, maybe should have even jumped through the window. That might have thrown Sigurd off the scent right? Prince Loki, God of Trickery and Harbinger of Ragnarök wouldn’t have just leapt through a window. Well, the window was seventeen floors up actually, so maybe a regular burglar wouldn’t have either.

Anyway, what happened was he stood stock still, unable to move a muscle or turn to face Sigurd, as if he were labouring under the delusion that Sigurd was a creature that tracked prey by movement. He looked like something out of Looney Tunes, which wasn’t fantastic for his dignity.

“Loki,” Sigurd snapped again.

He turned, and winced at the look of outrage on his friend’s face. Sigurd was sat up on his elbow, his other arm on his comforter. He looked like he was ready to attack someone. Loki was pretty sure he hadn’t expected it to be - well, Loki.

“What the fuck were you doing?” he said. “Were you stealing Gram? Why? For who?”

Ouch, that hurt. He may have been stealing it for someone else, but it was a bit upsetting that Sigurd had immediately disregarded the idea he was working in his own interest.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. “The Allmothers send their regards,” he finally admitted drily.

If anything, Sigurd’s outrage grew. “How- How could you?”

A bit dramatic, Loki thought. Sigurd leapt out of his bed, and Loki didn’t have the chance to step back before his shoulders were in Sigurd’s bruising grip and his back pushed hard against the wall. “You know what this means,” Sigurd said, his disgust evident. “You aren’t stupid, Loki. You know what you’re doing.”

Oh, that was it, wasn’t it? Loki wasn’t evil because he did evil things. He was evil because he knew they were wrong before he did them, and he did them anyway.

“I have to,” he mumbled weakly. Was that a lie? Verity would know. “I have no choice.”

“Yes you do,” Sigurd said, releasing his grip and stepping back, “Yes you do, you’re just too much of a coward to admit it. You’re so desperate to play happy families. I can see it in you, and so can Lorelei. All you want is to be useful to people, even if it’s for the Allmothers, who treat you like shit. You do their fucking dirty work and they kick you around and you love it, because you get to be part of their rotten little story.”

Loki stared at him, suddenly feeling utterly, entirely tired beyond belief. Sigurd could not tell him anything that he did not tell himself.

“You’re a coward. You’re a fucking coward who does everything the Allmothers ask of you. One moment you sneer at them up there, in Asgard, and pretend that you and me and Lorelei are all in the same boat, but the next moment you bare your neck to them. One day they’re going to ask you to hurt someone you really care about, and you know what? You’ll do it. They’ll ask you to hurt Thor, or Verity, and you’ll do it without a second thought because you’re a coward, Loki, and you always will be.”

His breath caught in his throat. “I wouldn’t hurt Verity.”

“Yes, you would. If someone put it on a tapestry you’d do it in a fucking heartbeat.”

“I see, well,” he paused, looked to his right to avoid Sigurd’s gaze. “I’ll let you get back to sleep I suppose.”

Sigurd reached out to grab him, but he was gone before he had a chance.

—

Received FRI 2:08

Verity: hey u coming back tonight or what

Verity: im assuming ur working

Verity: if u are there’s leftover pasta bake in the fridge. Ik you hate leftovers but its on offer. Im off to bed, night!

Received FRI 11:02

Verity: hey called lorelei to check in on you and she says you and sig aren’t talking. She didnt seem thrilled w you either. U ok? 

Verity: call me if you get the chance ok

Received MON 15:47

Verity: yh ok this is cringe but please call. Im worried

Verity: you usually lmk when youre gone this long and sig was being suspicious

Verity: i asked him if hed seen you and he like laughed

Verity: idk maybe hed be more concerned if something had happened but u guys dont exactly have a normal expectation for health and safety in the workplace

Received WED 23:21

Verity: please call i’m worried

Verity: please

Received THU 18:54

Verity: you’re a fucking idiot

Verity: I hate you

Received THU 19:02

Verity: i didn’t mean that

Verity: sorry.

Verity: please do call. please

--

Verity wasn’t the only one texting him, which would have done wonders for his ego if it had been anywhere near still intact, but she was the only one who’s texts he kept re reading, scanning them obsessively and trying to convince himself he was doing the right thing.

The thing that nagged him though, was how would he know what the right thing was?

All his life, the right thing was whatever was in stride with where he was determined to end up. The path had been laid out for him - all he had to do was walk it. But, though the Norns had written out his beginning, his end, his great misdeeds and stories, they hadn’t written about things like whether he should get KFC or not, whether he’d be good at Mario Party or what dog breed was his favourite (alsatian). They had never had the name Verity Lewis brush their lips.

Because this world was untethered. It simply wasn’t important enough for the Norns to have seen. Did that mean that they were free, here? Was that bad or good? To Loki, who despite everything had spent an eternity comfortable in the knowledge that he knew what would happen, and that the future was clear to him as long as he could stand in the halls he’d grown up in and stare at the tapestries on the walls, the idea of absolute undetermined fate was deeply terrifying. It caught in his throat, wrapped around his heart, squeezed the warmth out of his chest. 

But Sigurd was right, and so he had a decision to make.

There were people walking around under him, where he sat perched on the roof of a Soviet era apartment building in Brno. They didn’t know what would happen to them, how many kids they’d have, whether they’d marry or how they’d die. They didn’t know any of that, and that meant they could decide.

Huh.

--

He stumbled when he flashed in, and his hand reached out steady himself against the wall. The lights were off, but after a couple of seconds he heard a slight clutter from Verity’s room. Taking a deep breath he made his way to the kitchen and sat down at the bar. He didn’t bother to switch the light on, instead just collapsed into the chair and placed his head in his hands.

The lights switched on. “Loki?”

He peeked at her from between his fingers. Verity stared at him as if she couldn’t quite decide whether to be angry or happy. She was squinting (she wasn’t wearing glasses - she must have been asleep). He must have looked suitably miserable because instead of launching into a tirade she narrowed her eyes and slowly moved to sit opposite him, as if trying to tame some vicious creature. Apt, perhaps.

Their silence hung very heavily. “I’m sorry,” Loki eventually said, mortified to hear a crack in his voice from disuse.

She watched him carefully. “I forgive you,” she replied. Not ‘it’s okay’, because Verity found lying, even unconsciously, very difficult. “Can you tell me what’s up?”

By ‘can’, Loki knew that Verity was asking as if this was something related to his work for the Allmothers, but he found that even though this wasn’t any secret mission detail he was forbidden from sharing, he still found it hard to describe.

“I mean,” he muttered, breaking away from her stare. “Where would you like me to start?”

“Wherever you want to?”

He swallowed. “I had to steal something from Sigurd. Gram-” She opened her mouth and he jerked his shoulders defensively. “Please let me just explain. The Allmothers asked me too. I knew that if I did it it would put Sig and Lorelei’s relative safety at a significant risk. But,” he paused, bit his lip, horrified by the lump in his throat. “Even though I knew it was the wrong thing to do, and that all of you, all of my friends, would think less of me because of it, I had to do it. I had to do it because if I don’t do things that are wrong, that are bad, I am not filling the role that I am set out to fill, that I have always been set out to fill.

“There are tapestries, in Asgard,” he explained, a wobble entering his tone. “They’ve been there since before me, before my parents, before anyone. They were woven by the Norns, who see all of the past, the present and the future. They were woven so that we, who will be images of all the people of the Nine Realms and who will serve as a reflection of their large and varied communion, could know where we fit and what roles we are to play. And I’m a villain, Verity. I am the bad guy, because someone has got to be. There are people who actively choose to be bad and evil and selfish all over the shop, and someone has to represent them in the grand scheme of things. And, mainly, I have to keep everyone’s hands clean by making mine dirty.”

Her hands reached steadily out, grabbed one of his and held it between them. They were tears threatening to fall now, and they choked up his voice.

“So I do what the Allmothers ask me to, and I antagonise Thor, and I play my part as the bad guy of the story so that one day that story may be told to children as they are tucked into bed, so that they know that immorality causes you nothing but strife. I am supposed to have that strife, and through this my immorality is good and right, because I am an example.”

He paused. “Sigurd said I would hurt you, if they asked me to.”

“Would you?” she asked.

A second passed. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d rather not risk it, but I thought you at least deserved an explanation for my sudden disappearance.”

She leaned back then, stared out their windows and onto the road beneath them, still busy despite the hour. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Dare I ask?” he chuckled wetly.

Her voice was firm. “I think that’s bullshit. I know you’re telling the truth, that you might hurt me if your Moms asked you. But I think you don’t know that that’s not true, which is why it’s registering as right to me.”

He squinted at her in confusion.

“You believe it,” she explained. “Which is why it’s registering as true to me. But that doesn’t mean you would, it just means you don’t think you’re a good person, and that’s not news.

“You see yourself as some kind of cut-out character with one trait, a yin to Thor’s yang or some shit, but you only think that’s all real because people have told you it is. Who’s to say those tapestries are anything? I think that you - all of you Asgardians - are terrified of being unmoored, so you make up shit like this so that you don’t have to grapple with morality.”

He tried to interrupt, but Verity continued. “You’re all terrified of life, so you pretend it’s one big play you’re putting on for our benefit, with roles and lines so that you needn’t make ‘em up. But you know what? Why don’t you just try? Try to improvise. Break away from it all. Maybe those tapestries do mean something, but maybe they just come true because you all keep doing what they say.

“You’re not the bad guy in a play, Loki,” she told him, her voice full of emotion and her hand rubbing his. It was just enough to keep him tethered to reality, he thought. “You’re my friend. You’re funny, and flippant. You don’t like to talk about your emotions. You don’t have great self-esteem and you kick ass at Jenga. You’re playing a part, but you know the thing about actors? They have lives when they get off the stage, and you could too.”

--

His boots echoed across the ground as he climbed the short hill to his destination. It was dust, not dirt, that he trod on, and the air was stale and cloyed in his lungs. It was the kind of air that felt like it didn’t blow, but just hung in the air for eternity, older than you by indescribable amounts.

No one went here. It was unplottable by some working laid down long before even the beginning of Asgardian history. It had taken Loki four days to crack, because 1) he’d spent all of his non-eating, non-sleeping time in the last couple of days focused on it, 2) he’d already made a groundwork as a teenager before his mother had told him off for meddling in things he shouldn’t have been and 3) he was pretty fucking good. Really, the only reason he hadn’t touched it before was because as he became a man, he grew to respect the Norns. Things had changed.

“Hello!” he called, not surprised to find the three women staring at him, likely well aware of his arrival for at least eternity, or something.

“Liesmith,” Lady Verdandi spoke in a low, powerful voice. “You have come to rattle the chains that you feel resting upon your shoulders.”

“Yep,” he responded, popping the ‘p’.

“These chains,” Skuld said in a tight voice. “Are imaginary.”

“No actually,” he said, beginning to pace around the room. “You see, I don’t really care if they’re ‘imaginary’ or whatever. I actually am just here to let you know that I’m just going to be kind of doing my own thing from now on.”

“Your ‘own thing’?” Urd sneered. “ You do not have your ‘own thing’. The fate we have laid out for you is everything you are.”

“Everything I am is just a mask.  A mask that you put on me!”

“Oh? That implies something on which a mask can be put. Is there anything under your mask, Loki? Do you even know?”

“Well, I guess I’m going to find out,” he ground out. They were sat down, staring up at him, and he felt unnervingly like he was still a child who had been summoned to his father’s study to receive an admonishment for troublemaking.

“You will find out,” Verdandi explained calmly. “That you are mistaken, and that you will play your part in the fate that will become and will end and will begin again, whether you try to fight against it or not.”

“So that’s it then?” Loki said softly, although his voice still echoed across the ancient walls that enclosed him. “There’s no path to grace for me. I’m your villainous fool, cast in this grand play so that your heroes may show their virtue in my vanquishment. I’m good when I’m bad, and I’m bad when I’m good.”

He paused, and stared her down.

“Well, I’m afraid I’d rather be bad on my own terms, actually.”

Verdandi had opened her mouth to say something else, probably something even more patronising, but before she had the chance Loki had stepped between reality and left Nornheim and its frigid, stale air behind him.

--

“Saw you coming,” the Watcher said when Loki stepped out in front of him. 

Loki smiled. “Naturally,”

Heimdall sat tiredly on the Bifröst’s lock. Loki noticed with a sort of jolt that Heimdall was getting old. Maybe they all were. “What is it you would like from me, my prince?” 

“Oh nothing really,” he answered. “I just thought I should let someone know that I will be unable to complete the most recent mission that the Allmothers have given me. In fact, perhaps you could let them know that I’m putting in my two week’s notice, so to speak? Although I’m not really giving them any notice, let alone two weeks.”

“Oh? Might I ask what has brought this on, your highness?”

Loki crossed his arms. “I’m trying this new thing called ‘making your own destiny’. All the cool kids are doing it.”

Heimdall nodded. He wouldn’t have been able to have viewed Loki’s conversation with the Norns, but he would have seen what Verity had said. “I wish you luck, dear child,” he said softly.

Loki’s smile turned quiet and genuine for just a moment, before he turned away and took a few steps. Wait! He had something else to mention.

He looked back at Heimdall.

“By the way, maybe I am going to kill you someday,” he said. “”But I promise that I’m going to try my damndest not to.”

With that, he stepped back into New York, and headed towards Dominoes to pick up their pizza. They were doing movie night, he and Verity. They were going to watch Legally Blonde. Loki thought about - What was her name? Susie? Sarah? He thought maybe she was right, in the end. Maybe it was a gift to believe in what can’t be seen, and thus a gift to follow darkened paths. But the path that brought him home felt warm and reliable, just like it always did.

[lovelywingsart]

Pretty Lies

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They) --

This one was... interesting to write. I had an idea and went with it, so I'm not sure how it'll turn out?? Also an irl friend fucking hates me for it since he read it and it tortured him, so ENJOY HAHAHAHAAAA

**Small reminder that I have a small 'Masterlist' for these!**

-----------

*Warning?: Hella angst, mentions of blood/slaughter, mention of/somewhat active kidnapping, arguments

Summary: Emelia had never experienced a village 'purge' before, until now. A surprising discovery, followed by a very, VERY unwelcome guest and a painful lie.

The small village was eerily silent. The Lycan attack had done a number, rendering the buildings destroyed and previously untouched snow stained with blood. Footsteps disrupted the remainder of the snow as Emelia and Heisenberg made their way through the silent carnage, both of their heads on a swivel as their breath came out in plumes of vapor. A thick, hooded fabric rested over Emelias shoulders partially keeping her warm, and an old eyepatch covered the left side of her face. She hadn't worn it in quite some time, but the temperature change was too severe not to. She still shivered lightly, but any irritation from the cold was replaced by sheer surprise and... even the slightest amount of horror.

"Bloody hell..." she muttered, pausing her movements to look at a particularly mangled corpse before shivering again and tugging the fabric to pull the hood more over her head. The man behind her only kept moving, his eyes drifting over the mess nonchalantly as he puffed at the cigar between his lips.

"You get used to it." He said quietly. "Purges aren't often. Its a fear tactic if the villagers get too... 'rowdy' and 'non-believing'. Or, that's what she wants them to think."

"MIRANDA does this??" She asked, a hint of disgust in her voice. He shrugged.

"Nothing we can control. Spread the fear and gather blood for the Cadou, that's what we do."

Emelia kept her eye on him as he walked past her, the massive hammer over his shoulder gathering the white substance as snow flurries fell around them. He clearly wasn't exactly happy... Sure, the man loved his destruction and bloodshed, but only when done by himself and himself alone. Or maybe her if she was lucky or if necessary, or even for simple amusement. But she remained silent, jogging slightly to meet him again. Even with him... Even working on Soldats, she had never seen this much blood. Even fighting the zombified creatures in the factory and Lycans herself didn't prove to be this bad. She didn't know how to feel about it... She was used to blood, of course. But only with a single body or two at once... Not an entire village.

She stuck close to him, almost bumping his shoulder as they continued to walk, eventually averting her gaze to stare at her feet. She couldn't... She couldn't look at them. Even she felt the weight of the dead villagers on her shoulders, and she had nothing to do with it. They only walked a few more steps before a sound made them both pause, their heads turning simultaneously towards a small patch of snow free from flesh and gore. Heisenberg gripped the handle of the hammer and took a step forward, only to stop as Emelia held out her hand.

"Wait..." she nearly whispered, training her eye on a small moving figure. He curled his lip.

"Do you know what she'll do to you if it's not dead?" He growled, nodding to the figure. She shook her head and focused, only for her breath to catch in her throat as she realized what it was.

A child.

"Oh my god..." she said quietly, her hand lowering.

"Emelia-"

She took off before he could say anything else, working to a light jog in the snow before she reached the now cowering child. The boy seemed to have rags for clothing, the fabrics stained and torn from what she could only assume came from the attack. He nearly stumbled back as she approached, holding up her hands as if to show she meant no harm.

"Hey..." she said quietly, pausing as the child whimpered. Near frozen tears stained the boys cheeks as he looked up at her in pure fear. She frowned, crouching onto one knee. "I won't hurt you..." she continued. "Where are you from...?"

The boy didn't answer, only backing away once another shadow appeared next to her. She glanced over to see Heisenberg give a disapproving scowl.

"We have to go." He said simply. Emelia simply shook her head, looking back to the child.

"Was this your home?" She asked, relaxing somewhat as the boy finally nodded.

"Monsters came..." the boy whimpered, his shaky hand reaching up to rub at his face. "Mommy and daddy are gone..."

"Gone?"

He meant 'dead'.

Another nod from the boy. Emelia frowned for a moment. She didn't think there was a survivor from this... Why did the Lycans leave him? Did they even know he was here? A groan from behind her alerted her to the metal man's shift in posture.

"Emelia, we NEED to go." He growled, now sounding somewhat impatient. "Just leave him and-"

"No. I'm not leaving him." She snapped suddenly, glaring back at him before giving a huff. She then looked back at the child. She offered a light smile and held out her hand. "We can help you find them."

"'We'??" Heisenberg said, his lip curling into the slightest bit of a snarl. "What are you-"

"Shut up, you twit!!" She growled again, watching the man roll his eyes and shake his head.

While still clearly afraid, the boy stood and slowly approached her.

"Can you find them...?" He asked, almost letting out a new choked sob. Emelia nodded.

"Yes. And of we can't, we have somewhere warm to get you out of the cold. Does that sound alright with you?"

She gave a warm smile, and the boy nodded before suddenly throwing his arms around her shoulders. She returned the hug carefully, feeling a light fluttering in her chest from her own Cadou from the sudden cold feeling. Maybe if she could help just one...

"Come on..." she said quietly, lifting the boy with ease and holding him on her hip. She covered his shoulders with her own cloak as he kept his arms around her shoulders. "Stay strong, boy. You'll be alright..."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Heisenberg finally piped up, his irritation evident as she turned to him with the boy in her arms.

"WE are going home." She said matter-of-factly, lifting her chin. "After we... 'look' for his parents- Hold on, sweetie."

Emelia covered the boys head with the cloak and pressed her palm against his ear. The child only snuggled to her with a sniffling nod. Heisenberg rolled his eyes.

"You're JOKING." He said, gesturing around them. "They're probably dead just like everyone else here. Lycan food or taken."

"Or they could have hidden."

"These purges leave no one alive, that kid isn't an exception."

"Well obviously he is!" She huffed, watching as he neared her ever so slowly. He pointed at the boy in her arms.

"We're not taking him back. YOU'RE not taking him back." He growled. "There's enough to worry about in that goddamn factory and I'm not adding a KID to it, much less one that's supposed to be DEAD-"

"And how would you like it if it were you?!" Emelia snapped, baring her teeth at him as he physically recoiled. "If this were you, wouldn't you want a warm place after witnessing this destruction? I never said we would keep him-"

"I-... Stop- stop saying 'we'. This is not a 'we' situation, Emelia." He managed. She shifted on her feet slightly.

"Fine then. I never said I would keep him. But he is coming with."

"No, he's not-"

"Yes he is! You of all people should know how it feels to be a scared child!"

Another recoil. Another growl.

"STOP bring me into this-"

"I will not until you realize how bloody wrong you are." She nodded to the child. "He hasn't done a thing wrong. I wouldn't want to be left in the cold like this and neither would you, and you know it. Hell, I don't even want to be out here in the first place. But if I can help-"

"He's going to cause trouble-"

"He's a CHILD!"

Heisenberg nearly threw his hands up in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose after removing the his glasses. She HAD to be fighting him on this. She just had to come with, and she just had to find the kid, and she just absolutely HAD to add HIM into her thought process.

And he knew why. He knew EXACTLY why. He knew why she threw him into the mix, and he hated to admit that she was at least somewhat right.

He hated this too.

"Emmy, PLEASE-" he started, rubbing his temple.

God damn her... She kept her hard glare at him as he looked off to the side. Why was he ACTUALLY conflicted about this?? It was just a kid... A village kid. He had never cared much about the villagers before. There was no reason to. They were simply a few of many pawns in Miranda's clutches, slaughtered and taken like livestock every however many years, because that's all they were to her. So why was the woman in front of him making him question it-

"God damn it..." he muttered, closing his eyes and leaning his head back slightly. One look at her almost proved she had at least somewhat of a maternal instinct, and it admittedly tore him up just a little. Only in a few seconds did she make a much better mother than-

"He is coming with me, Karl. I don't care what you say." She replied finally, glancing at the boy for a moment with a genuine sadness. "I can't leave a child out here alone... He at least deserves a chance for living through this..."

"You are absolutely right." A sudden voice came from behind them. Emelia froze, absolute fear turning her veins ice cold as she watched Heisenbergs eyes widen behind his glasses.

No.

Oh NO.

She turned slowly, terrified, only to meet the winged figure of Mother Miranda mere feet behind her, the black and gold coloration of her clothing standing out heavily against the snow. The woman's face had been covered in a metallic veil as she reached out a hand towards Emelia and the child.

"... M-... Miranda..." she nearly whispered. The tall woman chuckled, but not out of amusement. Emelia could vaguely see her eyes from behind the metal piece over her face- they were cold and emotionless, just how she remembered them. She felt more fluttering from her Cadou as her heart sped up, fighting back the parasites automatic response to mutate. She almost flinched as she spoke.

"Please, leave the child with me. I can guarantee warmth and safety far better than anyone..." Miranda's eyes flicked between her and the man behind her, who she could nearly physically feel stiffen. "Isn't that right, Heisenberg?"

"... Yes, Mother Miranda." The man replied quietly. Emelia jumped, turning back to see him nearly at her side. Wait, when did he get so close? More importantly, did he just AGREE??

"W-Wait..." Emelia tried, only to be silenced by a warning glance from the him. The boy shifted in her arms, his gaze settling on the robed woman in front of them. A recognition seemed to spark in the childs round eyes as he repeated the name, though Emelia held him tighter.

"I assure you he will be cared fore under my wing." Miranda spoke again, taking another step forward. Emelia attempted to take a step back, only to be stopped by Heisenberg.

"She was gonna help me find my family..." the boy finally spoke up. All three heads swiveled towards him, and Emelia felt a wave of guilt through her chest. She opened her mouth, but Miranda beat her to it.

"That is awfully... kind of her." She spoke, giving a questioning glance to Heisenberg, who froze in place. This woman was going to get them BOTH killed, he thought. Miranda continued. "Thankfully there is no need... I know where they are, young man. They are safe and sound in the mountains and worried dearly about their son... Now please, come with me. I can take you to them."

"You can...?" The child asked, his small voice hopeful. He looked at Emelia once more as if asking permission, who then forced a smile under Miranda's hard gaze. She knew she couldn't deny... She had no choice.

"Y-Yes, um... Yes, she can..." she forced the lie through her teeth, though attempting to sound as pleasant as possible. She felt a gloved hand around the back of her neck as Heisenberg prevented her from moving, while also simultaneously attempting to clam her down as he gave a gentle squeeze. He always did when her own anxieties were high, or if a certain memory or nightmare plagued her mind... And it usually worked.

But it wasn't working right now.

"Please." Miranda insisted, keeping her hand out. The boy looked at her before returning his gaze to the woman holding him.

"They're all safe...? You mean it?" He asked, earning a stiff nod.

A few moments of tense silence passed before Emelia finally put the child down with a shaky breath, crouching to settle on her knees and reaching forward to wipe any remaining tears.

"You'll be alright..." she managed quietly, forcing a calm smile as the boy nodded before looking up at Heisenberg, who had to look away from the boys gaze.

"Promise...?"

Another rush of ice cold and fluttering.

"I promise." She nearly choked out.

She stayed where she was as the boys hand was taken by Miranda, causing them both to jump. The woman leaned down just slightly, meeting her eye with that of near suspicion. Emelia froze, her own eye widening. She had never been this close... Her hair stood on end with an odd fear as Miranda seemed to examine her, that fear only increasing as the dark robed woman stood straight once more and took the child into her own arms.

"Come now, child. Your future is a bright one... You will have a family again." She said, taking a few steps back. It wasn't until she locked eyes with Heisenberg that she spoke again. "Heisenberg, learn to control your... 'workers'. I will not ask again."

"Yes, Mother Miranda..." the man ground out, though forced a 'pleasant' smile before nudging Emelias side with his leg. "Come on."

"But-" her voice was lost to her as she watched Miranda walk away, the child peering over the woman's shoulder. It wasn't until he gave the smallest wave that she felt stinging at her eye, shakily lifting a hand to wave back before the woman and the boy disappeared with a sudden flurry of feathers.

She nearly sat in the snow, her gaze on the ground itself. Why did it hurt... Why did she feel guilty? She could hear noises surrounding them, seeing dark figures in the corner of her vision. Low growls were distant to her ears, alerting her to the Lycans that slowly began to fill the village once more. They wouldn't hurt them, she knew, but it gave her a horrible anxiety she had rarely felt. It wasn't until Heisenberg nudged her again that she finally felt a white hot tear roll down her cheek, making her flinch.

"Come ON, Emelia..." he almost growled, clearly straining. She didn't move.

"... Why..." she managed. He looked at her.

"Don't start, Emmy-"

"Why couldn't you stop her?"

"You know why." He grumbled, taking a step back. She glanced up to see a Lycan nearing her, but the creature stopped once she caught it's eye.

"No. I don't." She growled suddenly, her voice wavering slightly. "You HATE her, Karl. You KNOW what she's going to do with that child, why can't you stop her??"

"If I try, she'll-"

"She'll WHAT?! WHAT WILL SHE DO?!" She yelled, standing and tuning to face him with her teeth bared. Any semblance of growling around them stopped. Heisenberg stared at her, exhaling though his nose.

"She'll kill the both of us." He said simply, frowning. "Look, Emmy, I hate the bitch. I fucking despise her. But even I'm not stupid enough to take her head-on!"

"Have you ever TRIED?!"

"And throw away everything I've worked for?!" He yelled back, though she didn't flinch. "If the kid wasn't killed by the Lycans, he would have been taken by her anyway if the cold didn't get to him first! It happens every time there's a purge, there's no stopping it!"

"And you can't try to save ONE child?!" She took a step closer, feeling her arm twitch. "You can hide ME, but you can't hide a simple bloody child?! What the hell makes me so special?? What makes YOU so special?! Why can't you save just ONE if you know how it feels-"

"BECAUSE WE HAVE CADOU!! WE'RE NOT HUMAN!!!" He roared suddenly, causing her to draw back slightly. The air was dead silent before he sighed. "Emelia, I know your memories. I know your... 'attachment' to your human life. You've shared every little bit with me, it's hard to forget." He started, setting down the hammer and taking a few steps closer. "But you can't get attached to a single human child you found when you know damn well that bitch is around every corner ready to take them like she did-..." he paused, only to shake his head. "The point is, we aren't human." He continued. "A human has no place with us. With you, with me, with anyone. The most you can do is accept it and move on until my army is strong enough, and then you can go on with as much revenge as you want. But right now, we can't do shit."

"... Have you even tried?" She managed, her voice breaking just slightly. His brows furrowed in irritation.

"No, I-"

"Then how do you know?"

More silence. His eyes widened slightly at the look she gave him. She may have been as cold as he was to the outside. She made killing almost a second living next to her mechanic work, and regularly tore the other creatures to shreds when angry without remorse. But the look she gave... It was pain. Pain and anger. It wasn't often he saw that spark, the the last time was when she told him... When she told him...

It was then that it hit him.

She had only told him a week ago.

"Emmy..." he sighed, finally moving to stand in front of her. "Look. We can't stop this right now. As much I would like to... and I REALLY want to," he shrugged, "You can't have the life you wanted. You're not human anymore, no matter how hard you try."

"But he is. He's human. And he's a CHILD." She tried, tightening the cloak around her shoulders. "I couldn't give a damn about the adults, but he... He's innocent... He doesn't deserve to be like us. Like THEM." She gestured to the Lycans, who had more or less focused on the argument.

"Yes, I know, and that makes it... difficult." He managed. He sighed as she averted her gaze, flinching as he reached for her face. "Hey. Look at me."

He managed to take ahold of her jaw, making her look at him. The anger in her eye almost made him feel... bad.

"We will keep working. The army will grow. And we WILL crush her." He assured quietly, looking around them. "That bitch WILL die, and this won't happen again..." He only paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "... Kids won't be taken anymore, and you'll have a chance."

Emelia stared at him. She didn't know if he was serious or trying to make her feel better... But she wanted to believe him either way. When Miranda was gone, none of this would happen... right? Would they all be safe? She kept her eye on him before letting out a shaky sigh, reaching up to wipe her cheek while still keeping her face pressed to his hand.

"... I hate her..." she muttered. She sniffled lightly. "I hate her for this... I..."

"I know." Heisenberg sighed. "Soon, Emmy."

She was silent for a moment.

"... Am I stupid for hoping he's alright...?" She asked, looking down as he removed his hand. He shrugged.

"Unfortunately yes." He admitted, walking back to his hammer. She looked back up at him, watching as he reached for the handle.

"Would you have said yes? To taking him?"

She watched as he froze, his fingers touching the handle. He was silent, lowering his head slightly. Would he have? The Lycans had more or less scattered among the wreckage at this point, though few remained. Emelia glanced at the one close to her as it approached slowly with a low, questioning growl, and a new thought popped in her mind- Would she meet the child again like this? Her eye shot back to Heisenberg as he suddenly grabbed the hammer and slung it over his shoulder, his body stiff with it's movements.

"Would you, Karl?" She asked again, her voice more firm. But he said nothing, starting to walk forward. Was that a yes??

"Let's go." He said simply, not even turning back to look at her. She let out a huff.

"Answer me." She nearly yelled, starting to jog after him. He only stopped as she nearly jumped in front of him. "Would you have said yes?"

He jerked back, only to to give an irritated sigh.

"Emelia, let's just go-"

"Not until you answer me."

"I don't have a reason to."

"Bullocks."

"What reason, then?!" He growled. She suddenly stepped forward, their chests nearly touching as she glared at him.

"Because I need to know you're not entirely the monster you pretend to be around her." She stated. He twitched, and she continued. "Because if you are, that means I am too. And I refuse to acknowledge myself as that much of a creature thanks to her, because that's what we've been reduced to around her."

She pointed to the Lycan that had trailed her. Heisenberg followed with his eyes, watching as the Lycan stood and backed away with a light growl once he looked at it. Hearing her compare them to these beasts almost sent a rush of anger through his chest. No, they WEREN'T beasts like them. Of course they weren't. Beasts of a different sort, maybe. But not like those. He looked back at her, the smallest bit of anger in his face from the suggestion alone. But she kept her stare.

"Would you have said 'yes'." She repeated, her tone still harsh as her lip trembled. Even she couldn't tell it if was from the cold or the threat of crying again, and she hated both options. He seemed to hesitate before shaking his head with a grumble.

"... Maybe." He mumbled, glaring at her from behind his glasses. "ONLY maybe. That's all you're getting."

She couldn't help take a deep breath, lowering her arm slowly. He said... Even though it wasn't quite what she wanted, she didn't actually expect him so say anything close. 'Maybe' wasn't 'yes'... but it also wasn't 'no'. He nodded to the side and stepped forward, and she simply followed. She watched as he walked past, almost too stunned to move.

"For the last time Emelia, let's go." He said sternly, not looking back at her. She was silent, but quickly followed.

The snow continued to fall as they walked in silence, and she shivered. It seemed to get colder by the second no matter how much closer to the factory they were... Heisenberg glanced over at her as she kept her head down.

"You really won't let that dream die, will you...?" He asked quietly, the suddenness of his voice making her jump. But she took a breath and shook her head.

"Not while I'm alive." She replied, though looked up at him with near insult as he chuckled. "What...?"

"You're an odd one..." he said simply. "You're stupid for trying to keep it alive. But I admire that."

"It's what gives me a goal to survive this." She mumbled, shrugging the cloak closer over her shoulders. "If that dream is what keeps me going through a fight with her, then so be it. If she wants to ruin families, I won't die until I have my own."

"Hm."

He gave a light hum, keeping his eyes forward. 'Family'... She wanted so desperately to fight for one. How she held on to that tiny bit of hope was strange to him. It was strong enough to nearly take an orphan child as her own almost immediately... He couldn't help but feel what he could have only assumed was pity.

"You might see him again." He mumbled, his voice the tiniest bit thoughtful. She finally glanced at him with a frown.

"That's a sick joke..." her voice was low. He shrugged, but stayed silent. She shook her head. "The next time I see him would be a Lycan sighting if her ritual doesn't work..." she muttered, hugging her arms. "Which it never has... None of it ever..."

She trailed off, feeling a lump enter her throat. Heisenberg glanced at her before sighing and reaching over, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and bringing her to his side a bit roughly. She let out a surprised grunt, nearly stumbling. She didn't have to say a word as she looked at him, feeling the warmth of him through their now somewhat wet, snow-covered clothes.

"It's cold, you shouldn't be worrying about that right now." He mumbled, the grip on his hammer tightening. "I'll put together a few things for you to destroy back home, yeah?"

She said nothing for a moment, only to pull away and walk slightly faster.

"I think I'll stay in the Foundry..." she replied quietly, not turning around as he paused his footsteps. "Or take a walk."

"... Alright then." Heisenberg muttered, returning his arm to his side.

Silence returned to them as they walked, Emelia keeping her head down while staying a few feet in front of him at all times. All she could see in her head was the boys face... The small bit of hope behind his bright eyes. The small bit of hope she had in hers, ripped away once again. Maybe if she had run with the child immediately... Maybe she could have gotten back to the factory before Miranda had arrived. Could she? Would she have been able to with Heisenberg at her heels? Would he had even let her IN to the factory with the child? Was there even the slightest possibility she could save just one whenever the next purge happened, if it happened? Or maybe... She shook her head. No, no... She couldn't let any of these thoughts plague her much longer... It would fuck with her work. With THEIR work. One wrong move and the plan would go down in flames...

She had to keep trying. To keep hope. To keep up with their plans to destroy the woman. She already knew Heisenberg planned on utilizing her and his army, and she wanted nothing but to accompany him to watch Miranda burn. And once she was dead... Maybe. Just maybe, she could finally have her dream.

She could only hope.

[sanktaleksander]

I didn’t know you did Rick/Shane oh my god can I get an 18 please?

I am sorry this took fucking forever (gotta love when the mean ol’ mental illness factory in my head doesn’t want to do one thing correctly and help me get things done). But I adore you and I hope this isn’t too mushy or OOC for your taste😅 I have precisely one Sharick fic on ao3 and I haven’t written for TWD in quite a while but I sure as hell gave it my best shot. I really hope you like it❤️

Side note: if you see this and sent in a prompt that hasn’t been filled, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten you, I am going to do my best to get yours done❤️

Enjoy❤️

Rick/Shane + 18. Playing with hair

“You look like shit, cowboy.” 

The glare Shane got in return would have made most people shrink back but Shane Walsh was definitely not most people and Shane knew it was pretty half hearted. He also wasn’t one to mince words and Rick did in fact look like shit. Warmed over shit maybe, but still shit. It had been above ninety for at least the fourth day in a row and the King County sheriff’s office was not known for having the most top of the line cruisers. It may have been late but the heat and humidity in this part of the country did not abate all that much after the sun went down. Rick had also just pulled a twelve hour shift in exchange for a bit more vacation time, which they both were stockpiling for their honeymoon after they got married, so Shane supposed his fiance had a good excuse for looking like a husky that wasn’t adjusting well to life in rural Georgia. 

It was approximately midnight and Rick had been gone since noon twelve hours earlier and Shane knew he didn’t have to stay up to wait for Rick to return, they were both used to not always being able to see each other as much as they would have liked, but Shane didn’t mind the odd hours. He was pretty adept at catching cat naps when the need arose. 

He came up to offer Rick some iced tea, kept cold until Rick got home. Normally he would’ve gone out and gotten him some iced coffee but it was late and Shane knew the other man wouldn’t want to be hyped up from the caffeine and unable to get some decent sleep. Rick took off his hat and hung it up on the hook by the door, exhaling deeply as he took the glass from Shane and brought it to his lips, drinking a good bit before giving the glass back so he could get out of his boots and unbuckle his duty belt. He was already beginning to feel a bit better, the cool feeling of the air conditioned apartment and the iced tea settling in his belly helping to at least begin to cool off his tired body. Rick didn’t mind taking the longer shift but every time he did he came home reminded that he wasn’t the youngest anymore, though he didn’t exactly consider himself an old man either. But he had one failed marriage and two kids to his name, so he definitely had some milage behind him. 

It certainly didn’t seem to bother Shane. His fiance had once just been his best friend, someone he’d known practically since they were born. When you grew up in a small town, you pretty much knew everyone around your age in one way or another, usually going to school with each other, but he’d actually spent most of his childhood and teenage years with Shane by his side. They were practically attached at the hip most of the time. If you found one of them, it was a pretty safe bet that you’d find the other sooner or later. It had been an odd sort of relationship honestly, since both of them differed in several ways. But it worked somehow and Rick trusted Shane more than he trusted a good portion of the people he knew.

But, as they got older and graduated high school, things started to change. Even as they both decided to enroll in the police academy, Rick found himself falling in love with a woman from a neighboring town and starting a family, whereas Shane never really got around to the whole family thing, instead choosing to bed whatever woman he chose, keeping them around for as long as he liked before he felt the need for someone new. 

Despite this, they remained close, working together and spending time off together when they could even though his wife had never really liked Shane or even approved of Rick being friends with him. That was the first in a long list of things that his now ex would come to dislike and disagree with. 

By the time he had two children and the nice house that he’d always dreamed of having, his relationship with his wife wasn’t something he could easily deal with anymore. He also could not simply act like there was nothing wrong between them, something he had tried to do in favor of starting some sort of disagreement that inevitably turned into an argument. It didn’t help that he was becoming increasingly aware of a part of himself he’d been denying since he was young, practically since he’d been old enough to understand what it meant to care for someone else beyond friendship. 

The night Lori left, taking both of the kids with her, Rick had felt like his world, which had already been hanging by a thread, had now well and truly fallen apart right before his eyes and no matter what he’d done to try and keep things together, it just hadn’t been enough. 

He couldn’t remember what exactly had brought Shane to his door, if he’d texted him or maybe called him and what he said if he did, but he could recall how Shane had dropped everything to come to his house that felt so empty without his family. 

Shane really didn’t have much experience with this type of heartbreak and he tended to not let feelings interfere with his relationships with the women he dated, but that didn’t stop him from trying to do everything he could for his best friend. He ordered them Rick’s favorite takeout and got them some beer, not the cheap shit they usually drank either, springing for a nicer brand. Rick hadn’t felt like drinking all that much and it was hard to enjoy the food, even though it was indeed his favorite, but he could see that Shane was trying. So he sat with him on the living room couch and did his best to at least take a few sips of beer and some bites of food. Shane did most of the talking, which wasn’t unusual in any circumstance, but it did help Rick focus on something else besides how terrible he felt as Shane told him whatever bullshit story he could think of. It was soon getting late, their food now cold. That was fine with Rick, he had lost what little appetite he had and he didn’t much want any more beer either, though he hadn’t really drunk much. As the tv played some movie he didn’t know, he couldn’t help noticing how close Shane was, the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his thigh where it was pressed against Rick’s own. He was surprised by how much these simple observations made him ache on the inside and not just because he was missing Lori even though he was sure she wasn’t missing him. 

He ignored it as best he could, just like he always did anytime he felt feelings like this rising up inside him. He said something to Shane about it being late, that he was grateful he had come over but he should head home and Rick would try to get some sleep, though he doubted he would do much but toss and turn. It had been quite a long time since he’d slept in a bed alone and he wasn’t looking forward to it. 

Recalling it afterward, Rick didn’t know if it had been the look on his face or if Shane had planned to say something before that moment. But suddenly there was a warm hand on his thigh and Rick found his heart had started to pound. The hand that was on his thigh moved to trail down the side of his neck before carefully getting him to turn his head so their eyes met. His skin was still tingling when Shane kissed him. 

Shane asked him over and over if he wanted to do this, if he was sure that he wanted it for the right reasons because he knew Rick would hate himself afterward for saying yes simply because he was lonely and hurting. But Rick knew it was more than that, that he had wanted this for so long, denying it over and over, even as it became clear that Shane was the one person in his life who had always been there, who never judged him or found things to dislike about him. Shane was his one constant through practically his entire life. He’d been more devoted to Rick than his own wife. He’d been right there the whole time, just like he’d always been, just like he was right then and it had taken Rick this long to finally allow himself to acknowledge what he’d wanted for years. 

So much of that night, Rick would never forget, not as long as he lived. He’d never been with someone where every touch felt so good, so perfect and his lack of experience did not deter Shane in the least. If anything, the other man seemed to like it, got off on the fact that he was Rick’s first experience with another guy, that he was getting the opportunity to teach Rick some of his many tricks. 

Even years later, Rick could still hear Shane’s deep, rumbling voice in his ear, begging to be fucked, telling him he knew how badly Rick wanted this, could see it so clearly on his face. Rick hadn’t ever expected Shane to ask for that, to trust him enough to do that, but it ended up being better than anything he could’ve imagined. Seeing the look of utter bliss on Shane’s face when he came, hearing him moan like that and call Rick’s name was definitely something he thought about for weeks after and still did on occasion even now. 

When he woke up the next morning with his head tucked under Shane’s chin, the other man sleeping soundly, his arms wrapped almost protectively around Rick as they lay cocooned under the blankets, Rick knew that this was how things were supposed to be, how they should’ve been all along. He’d spent years with his wife and not once had he felt this good after they’d slept together, so relaxed and simply happy. And she had never looked so pleased to see him when she woke up, not the way Shane had. Those brown eyes lit up as soon as he’d woken enough to remember what they’d done and realize Rick was still in the same place he had been when they’d fallen asleep. They spent the morning sharing quiet kisses, though considering who he was in bed with, Rick wasn’t surprised when the kisses soon became a lot more. 

They’d spent a lot of mornings like that since then and a lot of nights like that too. Shane was definitely somebody who, no matter how old he got, was always interested in anything to do with sex. He also looked ten years younger than he actually was though, so Rick supposed it made some sort of sense. After they’d gotten together that first time, Rick had wondered on more than one occasion if Shane would get tired of him eventually, just like he had with basically every woman Rick had ever known him to be with. They would be around for so long and then Shane would grow bored and break up with her, ending up with another girl sooner or later. They were still here though and Shane hadn’t strayed, always coming home to Rick every day and more than happy about it. 

Rick hadn’t known that Shane often slept with guys back then, though he made sure each was more a one night stand sort of thing or sometimes friends with benefits. He’d never been able to allow himself to been seen in their small town with another man on his arm, no matter if he’d found a guy he actually was into for more than just sex. He’d also hoped Rick would want him one day, though it had seemed less and less likely. He’d felt like that night Lori left had been his last chance at showing Rick he wanted him, that he could be what the other man needed and he wasn’t about to throw that away. Maybe that was why Shane never got tired, why someone who had been known for his promiscuous ways for so long was genuinely happy about getting married. He got to have the man he’d always wanted every day and of course he wanted that for the rest of his life. Marrying Rick just made sense. 

Rick was pulled from his thoughts by Shane coming back up to him, slipping his strong arms around Rick’s waist and bringing him close, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Did you miss me, sweetheart? Or did you miss the air conditioning more?” He teased, a small smile playing on his lips. 

Rick chuckled softly, “I’m definitely happy to be home, but not just because of the A/C.” He relaxed just a bit more when Shane leaned to kiss him, allowing him to shed a bit more of the day’s troubles and just focus on the fact that he was home and Shane was home with him and he didn’t have to think too hard about much else for a while. 

“How about you go and take a shower? Maybe we can have a little midnight snack after, yeah?” The younger man asked when they parted, Shane’s hand combing up to smooth Rick’s curls back. 

“That sounds nice, but I think I’d be happier if you joined me.” Rick offered, pressing another kiss to Shane’s mouth. 

Shane openly grinned at that. “Yeah? Are we thinking about a little more than just getting clean, sheriff?” 

Rick chuckled, “Maybe. Why don’t we find out?”

Shane more than happily pulled Rick through the house and into the bathroom off their bedroom. They traded kisses as clothes came off and the water was turned on so it could heat up. Shane made sure it was warm but not too warm, knowing Rick was probably still a little overheated from his long shift. 

Rick exhaled deeply once they were finally under the warm spray, grateful when the water began to help loosen some of the knots and tension he was carrying in his tired muscles. He practically melted when Shane pressed up against his back, sliding his arms around his waist. The other man’s lips kissed over his shoulder and along his neck. Rick hummed softly when Shane nipped at his ear, “Does this mean you missed me too then, huh?” 

“I always miss you, sweetheart. There’s nothing better than getting to be around you, to feel your body against mine, to feel you inside me…” Shane chuckled, kissing the back of Rick’s neck. “And as much as you play the well mannered, straight laced southern boy around everyone else, you and I both know that you’re just as dirty as I am.” He was not subtle as he ground his hips into Rick’s ass, letting his partner know exactly what was on his mind if his words hadn’t been enough of an indication. 

As tired as Rick was, he was still very much interested in what Shane was offering. Just hearing the other man talk like that and feeling his growing erection grinding against his ass had Rick’s own body becoming excited. He may have had a long and rather exhausting day, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find the energy to take care of his fiance. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want to either, not when Shane was involved. He was always in the mood when it came to Shane. 

Rick quickly turned, catching Shane’s mouth with his own. He couldn’t help noting the pleased expression on Shane’s face when he was manhandled into place. The other man exhaled softly when Rick slipped his arms around him, soon followed by a deep moan as Rick pressed inside him. 

There was nothing better than hearing Shane like this, hearing how much he enjoyed every time they were together. He was definitely the more vocal of the two of them, not at all afraid of letting Rick know he was feeling good and that his lover knew how to turn him on and get him off. Not that Shane himself didn’t deserve some of the credit, he always knew how to get Rick in the mood and make sure they both enjoyed themselves. Soon Rick had switched their positions so he could kiss Shane properly while they fucked, holding him as close as possible as they rested against the wall, not wanting an inch of space between them. It wasn’t long before Shane fell apart, nails digging into Rick’s back as he begged his partner to cum inside him. Rick was more than happy to give Shane what he wanted, kissing him hard as he rode out his orgasm. 

Rick’s brain was pleasantly quiet and fuzzy afterward and he leaned into Shane as they cleaned up, letting his fingertips trace over the tattoo on the other man’s chest until they were running out of hot water and reasons to stay in the shower. Shane had been nice enough to pull out some clothes for the both of them to change into once they were out and dry. The softness of his favorite pair of sweats and one of Shane’s old shirts that still smelled like him made Rick feel cozy, especially when Shane tugged him into their bedroom and invited him onto the bed.

The lights were dimmed down to a soft glow and Rick soon found himself laid out against the pillows, Shane pressed to his side, the other man’s head resting on his chest. Rick reached up to let his fingers card through Shane’s hair. He’d let it grow out recently and it was beginning to curl. Rick let his eyes close, getting lost in the feeling of Shane’s curls slipping through his fingers and the comforting weight of the other man’s body resting against his own. He’d spent so much of his life trying his best to make everyone around him happy, trying to be what everyone else expected when this is all he really wanted, quiet moments like this with someone he knew really loved him. He still felt a little guilty that he hadn’t realized Shane’s feelings sooner, that he’d spent so much time denying himself when he could’ve been happy with the person he should’ve been with all along. But he was grateful for what he had now, that things were finally falling into place and he had found some modicum of peace within himself. 

Shane shifted, worming his way in closer, tucking his head under Rick’s chin. He hummed softly, tipping his head up to kiss Rick’s jaw. “You know I can’t wait to marry you, sweetheart? I can’t wait for you to make a proper woman outta me.” He chuckled, leaning into Rick’s touch. Before Rick, moments like this with the people he’d been with had never felt quite right, never made him truly happy. But this, something as simple as holding Rick close and enjoying the affection the other man gave him, this felt right in a way he couldn’t quite describe. It definitely felt like he was meant to be here, that this was where he’d always belonged. 

Rick let out a soft laugh and Shane noticed the warm smile on his tired features as he reached over the other man to turn out the lights. When Shane laid back down, Rick turned and kissed his head, fingers still playing with those soft curls. “Promise me you won’t kick me to the curb when I’m old and gray while you still look half your age?”

Shane couldn’t resist lifting his head to kiss Rick properly. “Never. You’re stuck with me for good, old man. I’ll still be bitching about those cowboy boots of yours when we’re both in the grave.” 

Rick returned the kiss, allowing it to linger. “As long as I’m with the love of my life for the rest of my life, I’ll be content.” 

It was Shane’s turn to smile. “You’re turning soft on me. That’s okay though, I love you, no matter how soft you are on the inside. My big tough sheriff husband with the heart of gold.”

Rick rolled his eyes a bit, as much as he could manage with sleep rapidly pulling him closer. He turned on his side, wiggling his way into Shane’s warm embrace. The other man was practically a space heater no matter the season. Combined with the feeling of the blankets Shane pulled over them contrasting with the cool air in the room around them thanks to the A/C, Rick couldn’t have felt more at ease.

“Goodnight, love.” Rick murmured, already drifting off. 

Shane hummed softly, slipping an arm to wrap around Rick’s waist to keep him close. “Sleep tight, cowboy.”