#but if we weren’t told they were gods there wouldn’t be a lot to differentiate them and it’s a bummer

[bikananjarrus]

actually i think it’s detrimental that the show hasn’t shown the gods’ as more otherworldly. Especially when they are usually human sized, adding a little flare to show that they are very much not human would go a long way to reminding viewers that they are gods. the purple fiery glow in dionysus’ eyes; ares’ eyes not even looking like normal eyes bc they’re just these pits of fire; hephaestus having little bits of his beard or clothes on fire but not noticing bc it doesn’t burn him, etc. without percy’s internal monologue informing us that their presence feels powerful, they need to do a better job of showing it.

[psychovigilantewrites]

Chapter 14 - A Different Point of View

Summary:  Things that happened that you weren't aware of.

Word count: 9,163 words

A/N: Thank you for being so patient with me. I struggled with this chapter due to its nature. I had to further dive into Bruce and Dick's character that I wasn't too familiar with.2020 was a very tough year for me. I lost lots, learned lots. And I thought that the quarantine would mean I would write more. But I was wrong. Life hit me hard, and I stopped doing a lot of things I used to enjoy.Despite being virtually absent last year, you guys stuck by me anyway. Thank you. I love you all for that.Special thanks to my two beta readers. You know who you are. Here it goes.

(i recommend you guys read previous chapters to refresh coz I had to lol)

Ao3

Masterlist

The roles that people played were false- a mere necessity for their career or survival. Everyone was playing a role, whether it was of their own accord or not.

Bruce Wayne was a role- superficial, fake, yet vital to Gotham. Batman, on the other hand, was a completely different role, born out of exigence and a sense of justice.

Dick Grayson, however, genuinely enjoyed playing his role.

Nightwing felt right to him. Being a police officer felt right to him. And especially, if not ultimately, being an older brother.

He listened to the dial tone of his phone, which rung for a few seconds before you finally picked up.

“Hey,” Dick heard your voice, the usual chirp absent that day.

Dick frowned to himself. Bruce was right about you being troubled after all.

“Hey, sis!” he forced the concern out of his voice. “You busy?”

“Nah, I’m just going over some old case files. What’s up?”

Dick leaned back into his sofa. Aside from the traffic blaring outside, the silence in his apartment made it easier for him to concentrate on analysing your speech patterns.

“Can’t I call just to ask how you’re doing?” he teased, easing into the conversation.

Everyone had always told him how he was natural at talking.

“You already called last week…”

Dick smiled to himself. He could already picture your narrowed eyes regarding him with suspicion.

It was good that you were always on your feet, but it was becoming borderline unhealthy. It reminded him of Jason and how he was always so guarded .

He pushed the memory away.

“I can’t call you again?” he rolled his eyes at no one.

“Bruce put you up to this,” you accused.

That’s because he’s worried about you, kid.

If only you knew how much Bruce had changed for you. Dick was glad that you were being loved by Bruce, yet he still couldn't help but feel slightly bitter that he never got that kind of treatment from his father- not the same treatment he gave you.

But he would rather die than admit his selfish thoughts to anyone.

“Yeah,” he conceded, “He was worried about you after last night.”

“I’m fine, Dick,” you insisted.

How many times has he heard those very same words from Jason?

“Well, if you’re not, then you can talk to me,” he offered.

A short pause.

Your response would be what differentiated you from his late brother.

“Actually, yeah,” you admitted.

There it was. No matter how stupid he knew it was for even comparing the two of you, he found that he always had to remind himself not to.

“How did you deal with it? Did it affect you?”

Dick told you his own experience with gore and dead bodies, how he overcame it, how he coped. There was silence after, and he just somehow knew what you were going to ask next.

“How did, uh, he deal with it?”

Your voice came in a whisper, hesitation evidently clear.

Dick was expecting it, but his heart still sank. He knew how everyone acted when Jason was brought up in conversation- he was guilty of reacting as well. He also knew how you were smart enough to avoid that topic.

It had been years. They should all have moved on, because Dick knew that they were also hurting you.

“He came to me as well.” Dick recalled Jason’s hesitant voice over the phone, never directly saying what was wrong, just rambling about things other than what was really going on in his head.

“Then he gradually called less and less when he learned how to deal with it himself.”

The day Dick noticed it, he was happy for Jason, but a small part of him was saddened that his little brother no longer needed him.

“I’ll have to look for that cognitive therapy, then. Thank you for calling, Dick. Talking to you helped.”

Did it really? He noticed your voice had changed again. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone on about Jason like that.

“No problem, kid. Call me if you need to talk, okay?”

The familiar beep left him isolated with his thoughts, wondering if you would trail in Jason's footsteps.

When will the day come when you eventually stop calling altogether?

***

He felt indebted to his city- the city he loved. The city he hated. The city that robbed him of his childhood.

He felt indebted to his family- the family he would give up everything for, the family he couldn’t stop hurting.

And he was sorry. God, he was sorry.

Sorry for everything he’s said and done- or didn’t do. But he still couldn’t stop. Because he didn’t know how.

Yet, no matter how much he claimed to love his family, the problem with Bruce Wayne was that he always expected them to be the people he wanted them to be.

Never like himself, though. No, he would never want them to turn out like him.

“That’s an order. Stay-”

The silence that followed the click in his ear represented the first time you had ever disobeyed a direct order.

It was a little late on your side. Dick and Jason had begun to disobey him within their first six months in uniform. But you had always been obedient- which made it easier for Bruce to trust you in the field.

This first time came as an unexpected and unwelcome surprise. And Bruce was…

Disappointed.

He grit his teeth when he saw you on the ground with the warehouse burning behind you. If he had just been a few seconds late, would you be in the fire, too?

“I almost had him.”

Bruce didn’t miss the wince of pain as you got up to your feet.

He had heard those exact words before countless times from J- no.

Bruce shoved that thought away.

“He would have gotten away, and we wouldn’t have known who it was that did this,” you argued, brows drawn together in a frown, mouth downturned. Your respiratory rate was high, and you were having trouble breathing.

When did you grow so tall? So confident?

Bruce silently pointed to the active security camera he noticed the minute he arrived and saw your expression fall- only for a second.

“I still think I made the right decision,” you insisted.

“You disobeyed a direct order.” He hated his own voice. The way he spoke sounded too militant.

“I acted how I saw fit,” you continued, “You always say to follow my instincts-”

“Not if your instincts contradict my orders.” He regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. He thought he had changed. But no, Bruce was still a dictator.

“Wow. Just- wow.”

He could see the little twitches of annoyance within the disbelief on your face. He understood it completely.

You were walking away, clutching onto your side and weakly limping to your bike, adamant on not seeking his help.

He hated seeing you injured, in pain. It was his fault. If only he was faster, he could have stopped Red Hood from beating you up. If only he predicted it sooner, if only-

“I’ll be heading back now.”

He missed what you had said before that.

“Robin,” Bruce forced out, “Have Alfred check your injuries.”

He should have been there.

When you drove away, he lingered at the crime scene.

Bruce flipped a switch in his helmet, and his lense changed. Non-organic material lighted up bright white. He noticed a fractured piece of shrapnel lying on the ground, less than a centimeter long.

He picked it up and placed it into a test tube from his belt. Switching his view to normal, he saw that it was red, maybe made from fiberglass. He could only deduce that it was a piece of Red Hood’s helmet.

Despite Bruce’s frustrations at you for disobeying him, he felt a swell of pride. You probably landed a hit hard enough to crack the helmet just a little bit that you yourself probably didn’t even realise it.

He shone a UV light on it. A small portion of it glowed.

Bruce had always been numb when he played investigator so that he would remain impartial and objective. That was true justice.

But when he pocketed the evidence and sped to the Batmobile, he felt something he had never felt before.

Against all logic and rationality, he found himself dreading to uncover who the blood belonged to.

***

Bruce never drank his sorrows away. It was dangerous, too easy to develop an addiction to. He could have easily drowned in alcohol at any given chance, like when he thought of his parents, or when he thought-no, knew- he wasn’t enough.

But no, he only restricted his drinking for leisurely activities. He was disciplined. It was the reason why he was who he was.

However, in that moment, staring at the results of the DNA analysis after hours of anxious waiting, he wished he allowed himself a drink.

Not because he was distraught, not because he was in grief- but because he just didn’t know what to feel.

It wasn’t numbness. It was just plain confusion, an internal tornado of emotions whirling inside him all at once.

Footsteps.

He tapped on a button once, immediately closing the window of the test results displayed on the screen.

Composing himself, he clicked on another pending case to pretend he wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown. It’s just another role.

“Master Bruce.”

Why was he still up at this hour?

“Yes, Alfred,” he turned to meet the butler’s tired eyes- just as tired as his own.

Tired because of him.

Alfred was always up because of him. Because Bruce was a disease, constantly burdening others, dragging them down, keeping them up at night.

“I made some sandwiches. They’re light. Please do eat them,” he set the tray on the cluttered desk, simply pushing aside the numerous stacks of papers.

“Go to bed, Alfred,” he told him. Alfred was too old to be up at this hour. And whose fault is that?

“In due time,” he responded calmly, “What of the blood results, if I may ask?”

“Inconclusive,” Bruce lied.

“I see.”

Suspicion shrouded Alfred’s voice.

“How are her injuries?” Bruce asked, the pain finally creeping in, seeping into his bones.

“I commend you for asking about your daughter’s injuries after only four whole hours of staring at the screen, Master Bruce. You would definitely win father of the year.”

“I was occupied,” he sighed, “Please.”

“Her injuries are only superficial,” Alfred said, “Surface contusions at most.”

He still hurt her.

“Thank you, Alfred. Now go to bed.”

“It was only a little more than two decades ago when I was telling you the same,” he grumbled away.

Bruce made sure Alfred was gone before pulling up the results on the screen again, the glaring ‘MATCH’ sign staring angrily back at him as if it were shouting at Bruce, yelling in rage.

And Bruce understood completely. He had failed Jason Todd. He had betrayed him. And now he was back, vengeful, and full of resentment.

But that didn’t matter to Bruce.

Because despite it all, his son was alive.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

***

What did my son do to my daughter?

Bruce watched in horror as you lay unconscious on the hospital bed, hooked to the IV bag. He couldn’t stop staring at the bruises littering your neck.

Bruises that were far too small and evenly shaped to be the effect of a mere throttling.

He knew how the people close to him viewed him. He knew they thought he was strong, unforgiving, cold, emotionless. Especially when they put him side by side with Clark.

But he forced himself to be those things, because if he didn’t, he would have broken down years ago.

He was used to it. The pain. The darkness.

But this time, he felt like he was being crushed.

He felt like he was hanging on by a thread- no. A delicate strand of thin, brittle hair.

“It’s okay, doctor,” you had said, “I know what you’re going to ask me. No, my genitalia does not hurt. He didn’t do anything to me.”

He felt a wave of relief crash over him.

Jason wasn’t that far gone, then.

But as Bruce looked at your neck again, he still couldn’t help but feel nausea crawling into his core.

He still touched her.

Jim left after his questioning, and you drifted to sleep. He went over to you and looked down at your face, taking everything in.

Since when did you look so mature? When did you get so beautiful?

He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. Even in sleep you had your eyebrows tugged down, as if you were angry that you had to go to bed. He didn’t know why he never saw that small part of you that shouted rebellion despite you almost always following his orders.

He realised that when he watched you sleep, you looked a bit like- no. Don’t ever compare the two.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to your forehead, trying to convey all of his feelings to you.

He was sorry. So god damned sorry for dragging you into this, for hurting you, for pulling you down to the depths with him.

Hoping you didn’t feel the teardrop that fell to your forehead, he quickly wiped it away before leaving for his press statement.

***

“Master Bruce, please!”

Another crash.

Alfred’s plea snapped him out of his blinding fury, his crushing pain.

He was standing at the hallway near the Manor entrance, glass and broken wood shattered at his feet, feeling the walls closing in and narrowing as Alfred looked at him in alarm.

“I-I’m sorry, Alfred. I-” he stammered, feeling like the small, helpless boy who watched his parents die before him.

He remembered the time when he was little, only a couple of months after the tragedy. He had done the exact same thing, taking out his anger and anguish by destroying things, triggered by something he had long forgotten about.

At that time, Alfred had held him closely in his arms as he stained the butler’s suit with his snot and tears. Again, a burden to the man who raised him.

This time, he refused the old man’s offer of comfort, walking past to descend to the cold darkness of the cave he was so familiar with.

Bruce didn’t usually drink his sorrows away, but this time, he did.

***

Dick wasn’t a good person. He was far from it.

Case in example, it was the first time he saw you after your kidnapping.

He meant to come sooner, he really did. But he was just so busy in Bludhaven, he couldn’t spare any time to rush over the moment he heard his sister was hurt. He tried to justify it in his head by thinking that you were probably handling it fine.

But he was just trying to make himself feel better.

What a great brother he was.

“So, why are you obsessing over violent crimes?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from breaking.

Desensitization was one thing when you worked in that field, but obsession was a whole other problem. And he didn’t want to see his sister walk down that path.

“A lunatic just kidnapped me a couple weeks ago, Dick, maybe this is my coping mechanism,” you huffed, giving him your signature eye roll.

A lot of things start with just a coping mechanism, kid.

Dick knew it about it all too well. The people he brought in on an almost daily basis, high as kites. The accident last week on the highway at three in the morning, two innocent lives taken because of a drunk man who had started drinking three years ago to cope with his mother’s loss.

The man downstairs in the cold cave, who was just a little boy when his parents died, now living with the trauma while going out night after night to beat up criminals, sleeping only three hours a day at most.

“I don’t want your pity, Dick,” you huffed, “I’m fine.”

Yeah, you were. And that was what worried Dick the most.

“I know you are,” he tried to smile, “Which is why I don’t think this is your coping mechanism.”

You talked to Dick about Red Hood, sharing your concerns about him. This is what made you, you. Opening up to him, offering your thoughts and feelings. It was something he never had with Bruce or Jason. The both of them were similar in that sense.

“He won’t tell me either,” Dick huffed, “It’s always been like that with him. No matter how hard I try to get closer to him, sometimes it feels like he’s getting further away.”

It was the same with Jason as well. Did everyone he cared about just end up running away from him?

“I can relate to that,” you sighed.

“But I have a feeling that he will tell you eventually,” Dick tried to comfort you, “It seems too important not to.”

Dick knew better. Bruce had always excluded information from him, whether it was important or not.

“And,” Dick hurriedly tried to change the subject, “I heard from Alfred that you’re not talking to Bruce. May I ask why?”

“So that’s why you’re here,” you eyed him suspiciously. . “I came to check up on you,” he stated, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come here right after, but my little sister did just get kidnapped.”

When are you going to stop putting your guard up around me, kid?

“I told you, I’m fine,” you insisted.

“Then you’re fine enough to tell me why you haven’t been talking to Bruce,” Dick pushed, “I won’t judge. I’ve had my fair share of cold shoulders and fights with him too. I know first hand how frustrating he can be. So come on, tell.”

He saw you hesitate for just a moment, before conceding.

“We fought,” you began, “It was when I got back from the hospital. He wouldn’t tell me who Red Hood was. And he- he called me ‘Jason’.”

Ah, fucking hell, Bruce.

“Jesus,” he whispered, “What did he say exactly?”

“‘Back down, Jason’,” your voice cracked.

Dick saw the way Bruce spiraled after Jason’s death, and he would never tell you this, but deep down he was against Bruce adopting you so soon after. He thought that Bruce was using you to fill up the hole he too felt with Jason’s absence.

You were so like him, yet so different. Still, Bruce must have been really distracted if he could slip as badly as he did.

Dick would ask later.

“Now that’s something I haven’t heard in years,” Dick chuckled humorlessly.

Jason arguing with Bruce about using excessive force. Jason sneaking out to go for patrols whenever he was grounded. Hell, even Jason stealing whiskey from the cabinet at the age of fifteen.

He could still remember it so clearly. Jason with his dark hair poking into his eyes that were full of fury, cheeks puffed up and red as he pouted angrily at Bruce for making him stay at the Manor on nights Bruce insisted on going alone.

Dick tried to shove the past away. He knew he was making you even sadder.

“Has Bruce made any attempts to reconcile?” Dick remembered the conversation he was having with you.

“Yeah, but I’m still mad at him,” you pouted.

“And you have every right to be,” Dick nodded, “But Bruce, well, you know Bruce. He keeps these things to himself, but obviously he’s still hurting.”

You have know idea how much he’s hurting, Little Wing.

You avoided Dick’s eyes, looking down at your fumbling thumbs as the room became silent.

“I’m seeing someone,” you changed the subject.

“You are?”

Interesting.

“Yeah,” you blushed, “It’s still very new, and we’re not official yet or anything. But we’re definitely testing the waters.”

“That’s great,” Dick grinned, “Who is he? Tell me the deets. Spill the tea.”

He sort of loved gossip. It wasn’t a secret.

“I met him in the library a while back,” you excitedly said, “We exchanged numbers. Started texting, meeting up from time to time. He’s really cute.”

Ah, young love. What Dick would give to be at that age again.

“I bet he is,” Dick teased.

“What’s with that face?” you laughed, “He is! He’s slightly older, and he’s got this sexy bad boy look, you know?”

“I thought you liked the nerdy types?” Dick responded. He saw a picture of you and your classmates on your Instagram. Typical prep school kids.

“I never had a type, you ass!” . “You’re right. I thought you were completely uninterested in boys,” he wondered out loud, “Is he nice, at least?”

“Yeah he is,” you smiled to yourself, “He didn’t know I was Wayne until 2 weeks ago. Before that, we were mainly texting. Now we’re meeting up more. I feel like I can be myself with him. I don’t know, there’s just something about him that makes me trust him.”

So you still have some of your walls up with me, but you trust a stranger? Who is this guy?

“I’m not going to tell him anything!” you quickly added, “I’m not stupid. I know I shouldn’t trust someone I just met. It’s not about the confidential stuff. It’s the little things like how I feel, and my problems, and just- stuff, you know?”

The thought didn’t even cross his mind. Dick trusted you enough with their secret, just as how Bruce did.

“I get it,” Dick tried to rationalise, “You don’t know what it is about the person, but you feel like the two of you just click, am I right?”

It had been like that with Barbara. It had been like that with Kory.

Now Dick was alone, and deep down he knew that they saw him as how he truly was. Selfish.

“Exactly,” you smiled, “Been with anyone like that before?”

“One or two,” he brushed it off, “People like that- whom you just click with- they’re hard to come by. You should see where this leads. Who knows, maybe he’s one of those that would stick around, huh?”

What he would give to have at least one person who would stick with him.

After he met with Gordon, Dick went to the cave to see Bruce who was, of course, facing the computers.

“I know what you’re going to say,” his father’s voice echoed without even turning to look at him.

“Then you know how much you’ve hurt her?” he crossed his arms.

Bruce did turn around to face him, and Dick suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.

He knew that Bruce hardly ever slept, but this was different. He looked disheveled, his complexion pale, his eyes more bloodshot and the dark circles even more prominent.

Alfred did say how badly Bruce took the kidnapping, finding him passed out on the cave floor with an empty bottle of scotch in his hand, but he thought that Bruce would have gotten himself together by now. It was surprising to see him that way, and Dick felt… Uncomfortable.

Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just the kidnapping, nor his fight with you.

“You found out something,” Dick narrowed his eyes, “Something important. What is it?”

He caught a flash of guilt in Bruce’s eyes. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Bruce,” Dick groaned, “This is why you keep on hurting her.”

Hurting us.

“I’m protecting everyone.”

“You can’t use that excuse with me anymore,” he sighed, “I don’t need your protection. So tell me.”

“No.”

That was his final word, and he knew that Bruce would never budge.

“Fine,” he let out a breath, “Did you know that she’s seeing someone?”

Bruce frowned.

Which made Dick frown. Since when did Bruce miss things? What the fuck was going on with him?

“Name?”

“Dunno. Didn’t ask. And no, don’t you dare,” Dick pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Do not do a background check on him. She deserves privacy. Hell, don’t even bring it up. You have no right to go poking into her relationships.”

Dick was being defensive, but that was because he was trying to convince himself as well, which was why he didn’t ask you for a name. He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“I wasn’t going to,” Bruce reassured, “She… She deserves a life. A normal life. Not this- not-”

Dick knew then he had to leave, because Bruce’s voice breaking meant he was far from okay, and he knew that Bruce hated to show his vulnerability to anyone.

“Bruce,” Dick said, this time softly, “You’re not alone, you know. I’ve been with you since the beginning, and I’m still with you now.”

And with that, Bruce turned his back towards him again, silently going back to his goddamned computers.

“He’s been that way ever since the kidnapping,” Alfred informed him when he walked up to the manor.

“I don’t think it’s just the kidnapping, Alf,” he frowned at the butler, “There’s something more to it. Did he figure out who Red Hood is?”

“Perhaps,” Alfred pursed his lips, “But he refuses to tell me.”

“That means we know him personally,” Dick theorised, “Who the hell could it be that he’s so adamant on keeping it a secret?”

“I do not know Master Dick, but it can’t be anyone good if he’s got Master Bruce drinking during the day.”

***

Bruce knew that he was wrong to call you by his dead son’s name.

But his dead son was supposed to stay dead instead of haunting him with that glaring red bat across his chest, and having that thought in his head all the time, he slipped up.

He prided himself with his contingency plans and detective skills and preparations, but no amount of time could ever prepare him for when he found out his dead son had sexually assaulted his daughter.

You seemed to have dealt with it surprisingly well, exceeding his expectations. In fact, Bruce thought it was a bit odd that you weren’t as affected by it.

And then he saw it.

He saw what he thought was the internalized anger you felt finally bursting through the seams of your tightly lidded emotions.

And he wasn’t prepared for it.

Bruce didn’t think you had it in you, or else he would never have made you Robin.

But there you were on the ground, beating a man beyond recognition.

He couldn’t dread this moment because he never saw it coming. Not from you. Never from you.

He hurriedly ripped you off the man, flinging you away with force.

Pulse was present, but weak. Flail chest. It took him only a few seconds to observe the damage you did to the man’s face. It didn’t look good.

“Stay back,” he growled at you when you came close.

He couldn’t look at you. He didn’t want to.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” he heard you whisper.

“Call an ambulance,” he ordered.

There was no other choice. He had to take the fall for you.

“NOW!” he snarled at you again. In the background, you were on the phone, but Bruce’s thoughts were elsewhere, calculating what needs to be done.

You moved-

“Leave. I’ll deal with this.” You needed to go. You couldn’t be here when the ambulance and police arrived.

“Batman-”

“I said leave,” he snapped. He couldn’t even hear your voice.

He waited for the ambulance to come before leaving, making sure they saw him escape. Making sure he would be the one the media would attack.

And while he drove back to the Cave, he decided to give his son a call.

“Bruce?”

“Dick,” he sighed. He knew he had always been unfair to his eldest, giving him so much pressure to perform, pushing him to be his best- and ultimately away. He knew that he never showed it, but he was proud of Dick. He always had been from the very beginning.

“What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t a surprise that Dick picked up immediately that something was wrong. If it wasn’t for the fact that calling him out of the blue was what gave it away, Bruce himself trained Dick.

“She- she crossed the line tonight,” he tried to explain, “Jerome Miller. She attacked him. The damage she’s done to him is irreversible. I suspect he will be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life.”

“Jesus,” Dick breathed from over the line, “Why didn’t you stop her?”

“I wasn’t there,” he grit. He thought he could trust you.

But deep down Bruce knew that it was all his fault after all. Who was he to act so righteous when he was the reason your parents died?

“I don’t know if she’ll talk to me, Bruce,” Dick sighed, “Not about something like this. She’s probably beating herself up over this already.”

“As she should.”

“Bruce.”

“Please,” Bruce asked, “I’m worried. She isn’t herself and I can’t blame her for it, but the chances of her talking to you are much higher than if I were to try.”

“I’ll try,” Dick agreed.

“Report to me after.”

“Bruce, we’ve talked about this,” Dick grumbled, “I am under no obligation to report to you. I’m doing this for her. Not you.”

He was trying not to go back to the man he was before, but sometimes he couldn’t help it.

They’re your children, not your soldiers.

He had to remind himself time and time again. It was easier to be just a father to you as compared to Dick and Jason, yet even then he made slips.

“I know,” he apologised. “Thank you.”

Click.

And then Bruce was alone again.

***

Bruce watched you from the corner of his eye when you came back. He noticed that you had put more effort into dressing up when you left the house that day.

There was a slight bounce to your step and a small smile that played on your lips.

Dick was right after all. There was someone you were seeing.

But no, he couldn’t look into it. In fact, it would be hypocritical of him if he did. Dick had many girlfriends and flings, and Bruce didn’t want to know about any of them. Mainly because Dick was his first, and the thought of a boy he raised maturing and having relationships made him feel confused about parenthood.

Not that many of them lasted too long anyway.

Jason was a little different. While Dick had girls lining up after him all the time, Jason was much more subtle about the girls he liked, and that made Bruce more curious- but not enough to investigate.

He thought about when Barbara had caught Jason looking at her, making him turn red. He wondered if Jason would like you.

A tight squeeze in his chest.

He didn’t let his mind linger there.

Bruce felt obligated to protect you, which tempted him to investigate the boy you were seeing. It could be a trap, it could be someone using you for fame and money, or something even more sinister. Hell, it could be Jason himself after that stunt he pulled off.

But there was no evidence, and Bruce wanted to be a father to you this time instead of Batman the mentor. So Bruce would have to trust you on this one.

***

There was something holding Bruce back from telling everyone the truth about Jason.

And because he is who he is, Bruce knew what it was.

Guilt. He blamed himself for what had happened, and telling others about it meant owning up to his mistakes. Bruce never ran away from his fears and feelings despite what others might think. On the contrary, he held to them very strongly, using them as a motivation to fight head on.

This time, though, he felt more self destructive- the worst he had ever felt since he carried Jason’s corpse from the rubble- and so he tried to delay the inevitable.

But time was running out. He had enough time to wallow in self pity. It was time to pull himself together, and the first step began with Alfred.

The Cave was colder than usual that night, air thin and darker despite the illumination he had provided. Bruce was slumped in his usual wheeled chair, cowl resting on the desk after patrol, the weight of his suit almost crushing him in his weakened mental state.

“Alfred,” Bruce sighed, “Please, take a seat. I have something to tell you.”

“I assume this is about the identity of one criminal who has been terrorizing your daughter?” Alfred retorted, sitting down anyway.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded, “This… This won’t be easy, Alfred. I suggest you prepare for the worst.”

“And the worst being..?”

Bruce wheeled himself closer to the butler, leaning forward. “It’s Jason.”

Alfred merely blinked. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid my ears have caught up to my age. I must have misheard you, because for a moment, I thought you said that Red Hood is Jason.”

“You didn’t mishear me, Alfred. It’s him.”

Bruce saw the confusion in Alfred’s eyes, the frantic search for reason. “Our Jason? Jason Todd?”

“Yes, Alfred.”

And then, Bruce felt it. The pain he had been suffering with for weeks spreading to the man who raised him. Alfred clutched his chest with one hand, the other clenching tightly over the armrest of his chair, his breathing quickened.

“Impossible,” he whispered, “Jason died. How?”

“There was an event regarding The League and Superboy punching reality. I won’t get into details, but I suspect that was what caused the initial resurrection. The restoration, however. We know of someone who has been continuously restored time and time again.”

“Ra’s Al Ghul,” Alfred concluded, “But why? Why on Earth would he restore Jason?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce frowned, “But it is an almost perfect revenge plan. I would like to entertain the idea that he has brainwashed Jason into thinking we are the enemy, but I can’t put it past him to develop a hatred for me. I… betrayed him.”

“Master Bruce, this is not your fault,” Alfred rose to his feet, “If it is indeed Jason, we can still help. I have faith in the boy.”

“Me too, Alfred. Me too.”

Bruce didn’t miss the sob that echoed faintly through the cave when Alfred ascended back up.

***

As if in slow motion, he saw every change of emotion on Dick’s face. The way he blinked once in confusion, the surprise approaching as he widened his eyes, and then his eyebrows stitching together in a deep frown, his lips downturning and nose flaring in anger.

Bruce saw the punch coming, but he did not do anything to counter it. Gladly, he took the right hook Dick gave him, appreciating the sting that radiated from his cheekbone to his jaw.

“How long have you known?” his son shook in anger.

“Dick-”

“HOW LONG, BRUCE?!” Dick roared, fists clenched, voice echoing in the cave.

“Since the night he blew up the warehouse,” Bruce replied.

“Jesus, fuck,” Dick ran his fingers through his hair, “Jesus, Bruce. That was over a month ago.”

“I know.”

“We-” he choked on his words, “We deserved to know.”

“I know.”

“So why the fuck didn’t you say anything?!” he slammed his fists on the desk. Bruce caught a few drops of tears that fell to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce apologised, and meant it. But he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything more.

“You’re sorry?” Dick looked at him with eyes far too cold than he knew, “He was my brother, Bruce. He told me things he never told anyone else. We shared secrets and jokes. We went to the same diner once a week to catch up. He asked for my help and I asked for his. And then he died. Just like that, because you couldn’t keep him on a leash. And now he’s back, and you knew it was him, and you’re just sorry?”

Dick’s eyes were wet and red, and filled with contempt. Bruce couldn’t blame him. He hated himself, too.

“Does she know?” he whispered, “Does she know that the man who attacked her is your son, and is my brother?”

Like always, he pushed the pain away efficiently, logically, objectively.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “I told her this afternoon.”

“And she’s not angry?”

“If she was, she did not show it,” Bruce described, “In fact, she looked… Worried.”

“Of fucking course she would be worried,” he snarled, “She’s worried that she’s going to be irrelevant to you now the dead Robin is back.”

“She’s not,” Bruce growled at that, “She’s not his replacement. She never was.”

“Does she know that, Bruce?” Dick snickered, “Did you finally get over yourself and tell her that? Because the last fucking time I spoke to her, you called her Jason.”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond to that. He was good at smiling at the cameras and making speeches and charming an audience, but he was never good with words, real words that described his true feelings to the ones he cared for the most.

“I’m sorry,” he simply said, now numb to everything throughout years and years of practice. “I promise, I will bring him back. Will you help me?”

“What can I do that you can’t?” Dick scoffed.

“You knew him, Dick,” Bruce said, “You knew him in ways I never did. I can predict his movements, but to accurately guess what his motivations are- you knew him better than I did.”

“Fine,” Dick conceded, “But I’m not forgiving you for this, Bruce. I swear, you’re going to pay for all the secrets you’ve kept from us, be it by my hand or someone else’s.”

***

“Did you know that your daughter went out last night to see a boy while we were patrolling?” Dick brought up.

He was looking at Bruce’s back, as he always was.

Bruce was on the computers, going through hours upon hours of security footage and traffic cams for Red Hood- for Jason.

It was difficult for him to put the two together. Jason had always been his little brother. Young, naive, inexperienced. And now that same person was the leader of the underground.

It was definitely difficult.

“Alfred mentioned she went out, but I didn’t know it was to meet a boy,” Bruce replied without glancing his way.

“Well, she lied to me about it at first,” Dick sank in a chair, looking at his nails. “Got pretty defensive when I brought it up. Even tried to deflect by using Jason against me.”

Dick knew you meant to hurt him with your words, and it worked.

He was definitely surprised that you would stoop that low because he always saw you as a sweet, kind girl.

People change. That’s what happens when you stick with Batman.

But Dick didn’t expect you to change so fast.

“She… used Jason against you?”

Bruce finally turned towards him, the ever constant frown a little bit deeper that moment.

“Yeah,” Dick straightened, “It was the first time she’s ever spoken to me that way.”

“What did she say exactly?”

“That I was distracting myself by using humor as a coping mechanism, and that I should come to terms with the fact that it was my brother who kidnapped and sexually assaulted her,” he repeated bitterly.

“What did you say to her that she responded that way?” Bruce asked.

“I was just making fun of her boyfriend,” Dick shrugged, “Why? Do you think she’s hiding something?”

At first, Dick thought that you were genuinely angry at the both of them because you were right- Jason did kidnap you. Jason did do those things to you. And Jason was supposed to be under both Bruce and Dick’s responsibility.

Dick didn’t blame you for it, because he would have probably been angry if the situation was reversed.

It was one of the mistakes he always made as Robin when Bruce was teaching him how to accurately deduce by reading people. Never assume that someone’s motivations would be the same as your own.

“She hid that she has… someone from me. There must be a reason why.”

“Or she knows how you are and would rather not have your nose in her business, Bruce. She did find out about that tracker you put in her necklace. How did she even react to it?”

Bruce had done the same with both Dick and Jason while they were Robin, though it didn’t come disguised as a pretty, shiny piece of metal.

On the contrary, during Dick’s Robin days, Bruce had hid it behind his third molar while he was unconscious. He only found out after a year, when he was held hostage by a mercenary who wanted to use him to lure Batman. Said mercenary had detected the tracking device and pulled it out along with the tooth.

It made him increasingly more hostile towards Batman and his never ending need for control, but at least it saved him a trip to the dentist.

From what Dick knew, Jason died with his tracker on him.

Bruce had said that it was all done in the name of safety.

But would you tell Jason the same thing now?

“I apologised and never replaced the one Red Hood damaged. I thought that would have been sufficient for her to trust me again.”

Dick let out a bark of laughter at that, but it was void of any humor. “Only you would think that not replacing her damn tracker would make her trust you. No wonder she hasn’t told you anything.”

It was probably best not to mention that you were now also sexually active.

“Do you think she’s hiding something important?” Bruce asked.

“Are you actually asking for my opinion?” Dick smirked, “No, but it’s too soon to tell, anyway. Relax, Bruce. It’s like you forgot what it was like to be young and in love.”

That was obviously a joke. Bruce grew out of his childhood the moment he saw his parents getting killed in that alley.

As for being in love, did Bruce ever allow himself that?

***

“What did you say she called herself?” Nightwing asked softly.

The poor girl was scared out of her mind to the point where Dick found it difficult to extract important information from her ramblings.

Well, that’s what happens when someone makes you kill a person.

It was difficult, so difficult, to face the fact that it was Jason behind all of that.

“I t-think, V,” the witness- Elena- stuttered. “She with him. But try to stop him.”

Behind him, he felt Batman pause. He was walking around the club and analysing evidence while listening to the conversation.

“She tried to stop him? Him as in Red Hood?” Dick frowned.

“Yes,” Elena looked down and rubbed her arms.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but,” Dick tried, “You told me they were partners.”

“Yes, but she try to stop him,” she repeated, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Dick offered a smile, “Thank you very much. You’ve been a huge help.”

“Am I going to prison?” she looked at him with big, wet eyes.

“We’ll make sure you won’t,” Dick assured, “You’ll get the best defense team in Gotham.”

“You can do that?” she asked, hope in her voice.

“It’s the least we could do,” Dick answered, a sad smile playing on his lips.

He’s our responsibility.

“Thank you,” she gave a watery laugh, “Even prison better than with him, I want to be free.”

Dick heard footsteps approaching. As he turned around, Gordon entered the crime scene, followed by his team.

“Of course you’re here first,” he sighed at Batman.

“Gordon.”

“You might have to speak to the police again, okay?” Dick told Elena who was suddenly nervous again by the presence of so many people. “I’ll make sure they know you’re innocent. Gordon is the only one you can trust, okay?”

She nodded, her gaze turning downwards.

“Gordon,” he approached the aging man. He was used to talking with Gordon in Batman’s stead, even when he was Robin, and remembered feeling proud of himself whenever he finished speaking to Gordon regarding cases without Batman having to add anything.

“Nightwing,” he blinked, “It’s been a while.”

“Desperate times calls for desperate backups,” he grinned, “Anyway, the girl. She’s a victim of Victor Ibenescu’s human trafficking trade. Romanian, only thirteen when she was kidnapped. She was forced to shoot Victor by Red Hood.”

“This Red Hood likes his poetic justice,” Gordon snickered.

“It’s still first degree murder, or at least, that’s how the law would make it seem,” Dick reminded him, “But I assure you she’s innocent. Red Hood threatened to kill and rape her if she didn’t shoot.”

That was a lie, on both his part and Elena’s. Judging by the way she averted her eyes and touched her own arm, Dick could tell that she wasn’t telling the whole truth about being threatened by Red Hood- but he also knew that he couldn’t expose her and get into more trouble.

He wanted to let out a tired sigh, but that would give him away in front of Gordon and the other officers. He still needed to maintain his air of hopefulness, and he couldn’t seem like he was troubled by his thoughts.

Time to meet Bruce back at the cave and watch the surveillance footage.

***

“He’s got a partner now,” Dick voiced out his findings, “Since when did Red Hood partner up?”

Bruce’s frown was deep as he stared at the screen.

Dick pursed his lips. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Whether this is Red Hood or Jason?” Bruce hummed, “This definitely does not seem like anything Red Hood would do. He’s always tried to separate himself from others because it furthers his authoritarian agenda. He does not get friendly with people because people are disposable to him.”

“So you think this is Jason, then?” Dick concluded, “Well, Jason never had much of a problem working with others in the past, and he made some friends. He wasn’t the type to be hostile to people.”

“He did have trust issues,” Bruce pointed out, “At the very beginning.”

“Yes, and he kept a lot of things to himself,” Dick agreed, “But he did have friends.”

“Special friends,” Bruce added, “Friends who gained his respect and trust. So the question is- who is this girl and how did she manage to gain his trust?”

“Hey, play it back again,” Dick said, “Those moves.”

Bruce played the security tape, showing the mysterious girl and Red Hood taking down Victor’s men.

“Arnis,” Bruce pointed out.

“It’s a little different.”

“She has incorporated silat in as well. Low stance,” Bruce observed. “She’s skilled, but not polished. It could be anyone.”

There was something familiar about the girl that Dick couldn’t pinpoint. Dick usually had strong intuition- a gut feeling that enabled him to know which facts to focus on during an investigation, or a strong ability to see through people.

But the problem was that it wasn’t solid proof or evidence, something Batman heavily focused on. It was a gut feeling that told him he knew who the girl was.

“Do you think it’s-” he broke off without completing his sentence. There was nothing to back his claims.

“She has no reason or motive to work with Jason,” Bruce shot the idea down, “He’s hurt her. And… She wouldn’t betray me like that.”

“She’s been keeping secrets, Bruce,” Dick reminded, hating the fact that this time it was him who was suspicious.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Because he never would have thought that Jason was capable of torture and murder, either.

Why didn’t he come to me?

“As you clearly pointed out prior to this,” Bruce grit, “She has her reasons as to why she’s keeping secrets. And it is most probably because of me. All of you kept secrets. But this time, I’d like to let her keep hers.”

It was sweet, seeing Bruce that way.

“Is it guilt?” Dick asked.

“It’s repentance.”

Dick hated playing the bad guy.

Because he wasn’t supposed to be. He was the one people looked up to for inspiration, he was the light to Batman’s darkness, he was the smiles and charms and laughter.

He wasn’t the one who would accuse his little sister of fraternizing with the- was Jason the enemy?

Shit. Jason had messed with his senses. Dick’s head was chaotic, his emotions causing him to tense up.

Was he wrong? Was he just like Bruce? Was he jumping to conclusions just because Alfred told him you were out? Should he investigate this Carter you said you were with?

No. I’m not Bruce.

And now, you were looking at him with angry eyes, betrayed and appalled by his accusation.

*** Large.

That was the first thing that came to Dick’s mind when he saw his little brother.

The last time Dick saw him, he was much shorter, and definitely not as bulky.

And the last time Dick saw Jason, he was giving him a hug goodbye, complaining that Dick had messed up his hair.

And now, Jason was aiming a gun at him.

The gunshot didn’t hurt nearly as much as the thought that Jason had indeed shot him. Did Jason hate him that much?

You’re almost as guilty as he is, Jason’s voice echoed in his head.

“Bruce,” he gasped in the comms, “I’m down. They got away.”

“I heard a gunshot,” the deep voice in his ear spoke.

“Yeah, Jason shot my leg,” Dick winced, “Didn’t hit bone but I think it nicked my artery.”

“There are children here,” Batman said, “I was right. He’s sabotaging the Powers’. Gordon should be here soon. You control your bleeding.”

Dick nodded to himself and took a deep breath before plunging his finger into the gunshot wound to keep himself from bleeding out.

***

“...suspects that the crime lord only known as Red Hood and an unidentified female were behind the home invasion. Maria and Joseph Powers were left in a gruesome state according to reports, but their only child Carrie Powers was unharmed. The authorities are not sure what Red Hood’s motive was, but more will be elaborated during Commissioner Gordon’s public address later this afternoon...”

Dick heard you close the door.

“You didn’t come home last night,” he lowered the volume of the television.

“Uh, yeah,” you answered.

Dick looked over at you. You seemed tired, eyes swollen and red from crying, wearing an oversized t-shirt that he didn’t recognize.

“I was at-”

“Carter’s?” he finished your sentence for you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, sitting down next to him on the sofa.

Dick frowned to himself. Your arms were crossed, you were avoiding eye contact, your body was angled away from him.

“You heard about the Powers’?” he turned his gaze towards the television.

“I saw the news on the way here,” you monotoned.

You smelled like a different shampoo. It was familiar, but Dick couldn’t remember where he had smelled it before.

“So you know that-”

“Yes, Jason did it,” you said rigidly.

“Along with-”

“His partner.”

Ah, now he remembered the smell. Jason’s favorite shampoo. He used to make fun of him for choosing one that was called what it was called. He didn’t really care about it, Dick kept his hair soft and fluffy with multiple women’s hair products. He just liked to rile Jason up because he was so defensive about it.

And with that, Dick let out a long, disappointed sigh.

“Bruce is in the cave. I suggest that you think long and hard about what to tell him,” Dick offered you a soft smile, “But no matter what you choose to say, you’ll always be my sister, and I’ll always love you no matter what, okay?”

You gave him a look of shock, and then realised that he had figured it out.

“I’m sorry, Dick,” you lips trembled, your eyes started brimming with tears.

“No, kid. I’m sorry,” he replied, “Go.”

You nodded and left.

Despite being right all along, he didn’t feel any sense of achievement. Dick couldn’t help but partly blame himself. For being so absent, for being neglectful, for being a bad brother.

Dick wasn’t perfect, but like hell would he stop trying to be.

***

For years Bruce had tried to stop feeling guilty for being relieved whenever someone else takes care of a problem he couldn’t solve- especially when it involved murder.

Bruce had tried to take down the Powers for almost a decade, and everytime he got close, there was always another obstacle in the way. It was difficult to expose the rich and powerful without resorting to violence, without resorting to breaking his principles.

So Bruce was ready to stop himself from internally celebrating their deaths. This time, however, he wasn’t as pleased. Because this time, it was Jason who brutally murdered two people. Jason, who was supposed to be under his care and responsibility.

“Bruce?” he heard your timid, small voice from behind him. “I have to tell you something.”

And there it was.

Bruce turned around and looked straight at you, piercing your eyes with his own as he waited on your confession.

A minute passed.

“I’m V,” you struggled to speak, “I’ve been meeting up with Jason for a few months now. I didn’t know he was Red Hood until you told me. But when you did tell me, I chose to confront him and team up with him anyway.”

Bruce didn’t say anything.

“He- he’s not a bad person, Bruce,” you justified, “He’s just really hurt. He needs help.”

You were telling Bruce things he already knew.

“I- I fell in love with him,” you continued, “And I let my feelings cloud my judgement and betrayed your trust. At first I thought that he was onto something, that his… methods were better than yours. And I was angry that you kept secrets from me. But after last night- after what I saw- I couldn’t- I couldn’t stay.”

Bruce clenched his jaw.

He suspected it. Dick suspected it. But for your sake, the both of them chose to put their trust in you. He had tried so hard to change from his old ways. He learned his lesson with both Dick and Jason.

He didn’t want you to go through the same thing they did.

So, he chose to blindly trust you anyway, hoping that he wasn’t right.

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” you were sobbing now, “I’m so sorry. Please, say something.”

After another minute of watching you break down in front of him, Bruce finally spoke up.

“Hang up your colors. You’re no longer my Robin.”

[julemmaes]

“If I go on a date with you, will you bring the dog from your profile picture?” for Rowaelin or Elorcan maybe? 🙂

Puppies - October 15th

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre

A/N: I think I’m running a fever and I’m pissed cause it’s not the ideal right now, don’t you all think? But still, I wanted to post this and PP chapter 6, but I cannot for the love of god try and translate that too, so I hope I can do it for tomorrow, in the meantime enjoy this fluffy/cute thing since I’m always giving you just angst.

Enjoy:)

Oh and I think I’m gonna write a part two to this, just like for the Rowaelin one when I get the time and I finish every prompt. Also, again, I’m sorry if this is taking so fucking long, I do understand it’s December and this thing is called October Something so yeah

Word count: 3,883

Lorcan could not get over the fact that a beautiful girl like Elide had agreed to go out with him. Or rather, he could not understand how a beautiful girl like her had asked him out on a date.

A hint of panic crept into his mind, causing his smile to waver when he remembered his best friend's mocking words. "She didn't ask you out, she just wants to see your dogs." Rowan had joked when he had explained why he was taking the dogs for a walk dressed so elegantly.

Lorcan had eyed his black skinny and his beige sweater with an arched eyebrow, feeling sorry for Aelin if Rowan thought that outfit was elegant. He told him he had to meet a girl and his friend demanded to see some photos and Lorcan knew he would never let him out until he pulled out her tinder profile.

Rowan had opened his eyes wide in front of Elide's black-haired, pearly-skinned beauty, then burst out laughing, slamming his hand on his back and telling him he didn't stand a chance with someone like that.

Now, as he walked with Opal by his side with Maya pulling them both way too excitedly, he felt the anxiety grow with every step.

They had exchanged numbers almost immediately and talked for a week, sending pictures of what they were doing and eating, and when Elide had sent him a picture of a meat plate with rice, he had asked her where she was. She had gone out with some friends to her favorite restaurant in town and from there a conversation about their favorite places had started and Lorcan had mentioned that he should try the dish she had ordered, because it was as if he could smell it through the phone. At that point Elide had told him that she would gladly accompany him and Lorcan, like the idiot he was, had asked her if she was serious and she had sent him a message: "If I go on a date with you, will you bring the dogs from your profile picture?"

He had grinned like an idiot, happy to know that she didn't think they were vicious beasts. His two little dogs, two sisters, had entered his life when they were only a few weeks old and now he couldn't imagine his life without them, but sometimes it was difficult to convince other people, especially strangers, that they weren't aggressive and wouldn't tear them to pieces.

They had decided to meet at the Gardens of Orynth so that his two pitbulls could run a little bit free, instead of having to walk around the city with muzzles all the time and Elide had sent him a short video of her jumping happily at the idea of meeting him.

He was looking around for the girl, when he heard someone calling for him and his head snapped in the direction of the Turtle Fountain.

He opened his eyes wide, chuckling in dismay when he realized that Elide was dressed almost exactly like him. A beige sweater tucked on the front of her black pants, torn at the knees, which did absolutely no justice to the legs he had seen her show on her tinder profile. Even the shoes were the same, simple black lumberjack ankle boots, years old in appearance. The only thing differentiating them was the religiously black jacket she wore, which enveloped her figure perfectly.

That moment of distraction in which he admired her cost him the grip on Maya's leash, which with a sudden snap managed to pull him forward and free herself. The pitch black dog ran up to the girl and Elide smiled widely, crouching on the ground and opening her arms. The little dog immediately started to welcome her, licking her face and getting up on her hind paws, scratching her legs with those in front.

Lorcan cursed loudly and ran towards them, Opal looked up at him for a moment, starting to toddle next to him a second later, to keep up.

"Hello you beautiful," Elide was saying, rubbing her hand on the dark fur, "you must be Maya." When the dog started whining, wagging her tail even more, she giggled, "Yes, it's you."

Lorcan was sincerely surprised by the scene, but when Elide looked up, smiling at him with bright eyes, he remembered that he should speak. "I'm so sorry, normally I can hold her." He apologized, scratching the back of his neck.

She shrugged, "Don't worry about it." Then she went back to the dogs, extending her hand to Opal, who seemed just as excited as Maya, but sat next to him.  When she sniffed Elide's hand without approaching, she stood up and Lorcan saw with horror that she had mud marks on her pants. He felt himself blush, "Fuck, I'm sorry," and then she handed him Maya's leash, shaking her head. He touched her hand and his brain short-circuited.

"Don't worry," she said smiling and showing her teeth, "really." she repeated when Lorcan glared at the dog. Then she tilted her head to the side, "Hi."

Lorcan smiled in turn, looking at her. God, she was so beautiful.

"Hi."

She leaned towards him, leaving a light kiss on his cheek and immediately returning to her place, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, "I like the way you are dressed, excellent choice."

He was dumbfounded for a moment by her spontaneous gesture. Not that no girl had ever kissed his cheek, but her lips had been so soft and warm against his skin and at the same time so confident and solid. He quickly recovered, pointing to her clothes, "Yes, I must say that your taste is impeccable too."

She smiled at him, shifting her gaze to the dogs for a few seconds, then those black puddles locked on him, "So, how's your day going so far?"

Maya kept circling around her and Opal seemed less and less uncomfortable, her ears now low and her tail moving slightly behind her. The most excitement she would show for a stranger, Lorcan knew. But he was still happy that she was not hiding behind his legs.

He grinned at her, "Very well, I was looking forward to going out with a certain girl," he joked.

Elide snickered, looking him in the eye, "Yes, I was quite excited to meet this new friend of mine too." Then she turned to the dog pen - a huge section of the park reserved for animals, so that people wouldn't bother them while they too were running free. "Shall we go there?" she asked, pointing with one hand.

Lorcan nodded, urging the puppies to walk.

The second he released the leash to both of them, the dogs snapped forward, starting to run in the area. The two of them sat down on a bench just right by the fence and when he turned towards her, Elide was giving him a bright smile.

"What?" he asked her, arching an eyebrow.

She shrugged, "Nothing," she muttered, "I just thought you'd be a lot more chatty, you know."

Lorcan felt himself blush again. It was true, by message and the few times they had called each other, Lorcan had talked a lot and there had never been a second he hadn't had his line ready, but now it was almost as if he no longer had the ability to have a normal conversation. He gave her a frustrated look, "Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," she giggled and Lorcan felt his chest tighten to that sound. She turned to the dogs when she heard Opal barking and he was breathless when her smile widened even further, seeing the silvery dog running in their direction, "What did you do this morning that was so important that you couldn't answer me?"

He forced his body to relax under her inquisitive eyes, "I had to convince my roommate that calling a plumber to fix the toilet was a much better idea than trying to solve the problem on our own and-". Lorcan puffed, passing a hand through his hair, "Sometimes he can be difficult."

Elide became pensive, "Are you talking about Rowan?"

He nodded, surprised that she remembered the name of his best friend.

"If it's any consolation, my roommates are headstrong too," she said as she opened her eyes wide, "and most of the time it's just as hard as childbirth to have someone else help us around the house," she sighed, "Asterin drives me crazy, too, for other reasons."

Lorcan raised an eyebrow, asking tentatively, "How come?"

He had heard about her roommates, Asterin and Manon, only a couple of times and Elide hardly ever answered his messages when the two girls were present, she always found an excuse to end the conversation.

Initially, Lorcan had thought that Elide simply wanted to spend time with them, but the more days passed the more she avoided him when they were home. He started to think that she didn't want them to know that she was talking to a loser like him, which hurt him more than it should. He was used to people avoiding him on the street and judging him too soon because of his grumpy attitude and the grimace always present on his face, but Elide had found out more about him than any other person had ever done in twice the time and he believed there was a connection between the two of them.

Perhaps it was not the same for her.

When she took a while to respond, he looked closely at her, seeing that she was biting her lip.  Maybe he shouldn't have asked. He should have left it alone.

Before he could tell her that they didn't need to talk about it, she said, "She always brings new people home and" she made a noise that sounded more like a grunt than a laugh, "I have absolutely nothing against having a different partner every night," she said.

Lorcan stiffened beside her and saw her eyes open wide. Now that he thought about it, she was hardly ever free in the evening to call him or to stay on face time.

She carried her hand to her mouth, snorting, "Oh God, I didn't mean it that way -" she stopped, "I don't do- I never- Shit." She cursed out loud and took a deep breath, "I meant Asterin is big and vaccinated and can do whatever she wants, I'd just rather she was less noisy." she concluded sighing and carrying a hand to her chest.

Lorcan looked at her gently, "You know," he offered to comfort her, "there would be nothing wrong with it if you had a-" he choked on his words and coughed, "a different partner every night."

The idea disturbed him more than expected. Not because he saw such a thing as distasteful - he, too, had had his golden days when he was younger by Rowan's side - but because the idea of someone else touching Elide as he had only once dared to dream about, gave him chills.

She looked at him carefully, frowning, and he had to shift his gaze to the dogs because he couldn't stand the emotion on her face. He could not decipher it.

He spoke in a low voice when he said, "But I'm not looking for something temporary or a fling, Elide." he gave her a thoughtful look, letting her see the sincerity in his eyes, "I'm quite tired of the occasional stories I find myself in every time."

His mind went straight to Maeve and a shiver ran down his spine.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and when he turned around, she was smiling, "I've never dated anyone, Lorcan," she whispered, as if she was afraid of his reaction. Her hand slipped away from his body and he missed that touch immediately, "I'm serious." Then she grimaced, "I've never even had a boyfriend, but that's a story for another date. Definitely not for our first time out."

Lorcan studied her carefully as Opal approached them and let herself be pampered by Elide. Maya somewhere playing with the other dogs.

She seemed upset and if the deep frown between her eyebrows was not enough to let him realize it, her bouncing leg confirmed his doubts.

Whatever they would talk about that night, neither of them would bring up the subject of relationships, and he felt relieved, if only slightly.

"I didn't want to meddle in your affairs, I just wanted to make it clear that I don't want anything casual." he bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees and crossing his fingers.

He was surprised when she murmured, "Neither do I."

He threw a stunned smile over his shoulder and she took a deep breath. Then she chuckled, scratching behind the dog's ears and making her mumble, "And not to mention Manon." She closed her eyes and dropped her head backwards, without letting go of her grip on Opal's snout, "That girl will be the end of me."

This time he remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"She's been dating a guy for years and it seems like their fucking honeymoon phase never ends." she grunted, "Between the two of them I don't know which one makes me feel worse about my non-existent sex life."

Lorcan laughed, covering his face with his hands. He liked how comfortable she was talking about such things with him. All the girls he had dated up to that point had been uneasy just because he used bad words in his daily life, but Elide seemed to use them in turn, so she certainly wouldn't dump him and tell him she couldn't be with a longshoreman.

He leaned against the backrest, extending an arm behind her and maybe it was his imagination or maybe not, but it seemed to him that Elide moved closer to him. "I feel you, Rowan and Aelin, his girlfriend, are the loudest couple I know and it's so agonizing sometimes that I have to go to sleep at our neighbors' house. And even there I can still hear them, but at least I can fall asleep." she looked at him amused and shocked at the same time, "They have been our friends for years too," he explained quickly.

Elide nodded, "I have no neighbor to seek shelter from."

He caressed her shoulder lightly, "You can always camp in my living room, they tell me that the sofa is very comfortable."

She laughed, "Thank you," then looked at him, licking her lower lip, "I will consider your offer the next time Dorian or the stranger number two thousand will be our guest."

They didn't notice Maya running towards them until a big heavy black hairy ball threw itself between the two of them and Elide let go a noisy breath, laughing, when the dog gave her a muzzle against her chest with all her strength.

"Maya!" Lorcan scolded her, gasping. The dog wagged his tail on their legs, hitting them both in the face as she turned to lick his face first and then hers. Lorcan tried several times to push her away to prevent her from ruining Elide's light makeup, but the girl didn't seem to care at all and when Opal got on the bench, laying her snout on her leg, Lorcan gave up completely.

They played for more than half an hour with the dogs, even getting up at a certain point to throw sticks and balls and when the sun began to set, Elide turned towards him, short of breath for the various races made to chase the dogs, "What do you say if we head towards the restaurant?"

Lorcan sniffed, trying to catch his breath, "I'd love to."

Putting the leashes back on Maya and Opal, Elide asked him if she could carry one. He didn't even think as he passed her Opal's. Surely if he had let her carry Maya, it would have ended badly and she would have fallen over and he didn't feel like finishing the night in the emergency room at all.

They were walking along the perimeter of the park and Maya was pulling as usual, dictating the pace and Lorcan tried as much as possible to pull her back so they wouldn't have to run, but it seemed impossible.  He tried to slow down every time Elide started talking and by the sixth time she had to stop mid-sentence to catch her breath, Lorcan wondered if everything was alright.

At one point, she had taken his hand and now, while they were talking about this and that, he was trying not to squeeze her fingers too hard every time he had to squeeze the leash. The gesture was a spontaneous reaction of his body.

When Maya made them speed up one more time, Elide whimpered and stopped talking, stumbling slightly in her footsteps. Opal turned around in a flash towards her, stopping a few steps in front of them.

Lorcan halted, taking his hand away from Elide's and turning completely towards her. Her breath was wheezing and her forehead was sweating and he could see she was suffering. Panic poured into his stomach.

"El," he murmured that nickname silently, opening his eyes wide in front of her pained expression, "what is it?"

He, too, had been out of breath, but it was already twenty minutes they were walking along quietly, and even though Maya seemed to want to give them a slimming workout, she shouldn't have been so tired.

She closed her eyes, shifting her weight to her left leg and jerked, grunting, "It's nothing." she breathed, looking at him with blurred eyes, "Don't worry," she smiled slightly.

Nothing-

"I shouldn't worry?" he put his hand on her arm, pushing her gently toward a bench nearby, "It looks like you're about to die." the fear was clear in his voice. Elide held back another groan, but Lorcan heard her gasp under his grasp. "Are you having an asthma attack?"

He said the first thing that came to his mind and was surprised to hear Elide giggling beside him.

The second she sat down, her expression changed completely and she seemed to relax. She stretched her right leg forward and his eyes fell on her ankle. Only then, with her pants pulled up slightly and her shoe shifted, did he see the scars that marked her skin. He held his breath.

When he met Elide's gaze again, she had a guilty grimace on her face.

"I'm sorry," she murmured to him.

Lorcan shook his head, closing his eyes, "Sorry, mh, why are you apologizing?"

Elide sighed, passing her hand over her face, "Normally I can walk on it for more than an hour without any problem, but with running before and Maya pulling now, I think I strained it too much and it's really hurting me." In the meantime she had leaned forward, her hands stretched out on her leg while she was massaging her calf going further and further down towards her ankle.

He sat down next to her, making sure that both dogs were sitting on the opposite side of her, so as not to risk worsening her already difficult situation.

He didn't know what to say, too many questions were going through his head.

"Why didn't you tell me? We could have taken a cab or we could have met directly at the restaurant," he told her, putting his hand on her back when, touching the swollen part of her ankle, she whined.

Elide looked at him from under her eyelashes, "Because guys normally don't want to go out with cripples. Or a girl with a cane." Then she turned down again, "And I really wanted to go out with you tonight."

It warmed Lorcan's heart, but he was still annoyed that he made her think he was that kind of person and that she didn't trust him enough to tell him the truth - or hide it from him. Then he felt sick at the thought of how many more times Elide had had to face that conversation and who knows how many more times someone had told her that they were no longer interested after finding out the truth.

He swallowed, choosing his next words wisely, "I don't care if you have scars or if you have difficulty walking without support, Elide." He told her sincerely, "I understand why you didn't tell me, but I'd rather you didn't hide these things from me from now on."

He would not ask her questions about how or why her leg was damaged in such a way.

Elide sat up, covering her face with her hands, "Do you think you could slow Maya down a little bit?" the sound muffled by her fingers, "The restaurant is right on that street." she pointed out a road only a hundred meters ahead. Then she looked at him and her eyes were shiny and Lorcan's throat tightened.

"Are you alright?"

He immediately regretted the question. It was obvious she wasn't.

It didn't seem to bother Elide in the slightest. She nodded, then moved her foot in a circular pattern, biting her lower lip so hard that Lorcan thought she was going to tear it off. "Yes, I'm fine," she said with wheezing breath.

Lorcan looked at her with worried eyes, "You don't look well though."

Elide stared at him taking deep breaths, "Because the bones in my ankle are rubbing against each other and I have no water behind me to take painkillers," she said honestly, "But I can make it to the restaurant and on the way back I'll take a cab or call Manon or Asterin to pick me up."

Lorcan looked at her and then the restaurant, then her again, "Are you sure you can make it?"

"What other options do I have?" she smiled at him.

He nodded, "You're right."

She sighed and put her forehead over his shoulder. It seemed so familiar to Lorcan that he risked tearing the skin off his face so quickly he smiled.

"Can we rest for five minutes?" she asked him in a tired voice.

Lorcan put his arm around her shoulders and held her closer, feeling brave and kissing her temple, "We can rest all night as far as I am concerned."

Elide made a verse of approval and when Lorcan looked at her, he noticed that her eyes were closed and although she still had a sweaty forehead and a grieving expression, she was smiling.

They sat down for more than five minutes and only when Elide was able to take more than five steps without flinching, Lorcan decided that they could go to the restaurant. An arm tied around her hips to support her and the two leashes tightened in his free hand.

He did not know for what grace of God, but even Maya seemed to have realized the situation, and had slowed down her pace drastically, trotting alongside Opal undisturbed.

Inay, the owner of the place, had made them sit inside, near the large window overlooking the river, and there, Elide and Lorcan enjoyed the first of a thousand other dinners they would share.

tog taglist (if you wanna be added or removed dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @ladywitchling @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @queenestarcheron

[lamiasluck]

A New Monster in Town

(I haven’t written something in so long ^^;; I’m getting back into a routine now. Concept and every character except Vikal and Issac belong to @alvie-ashgrove)

Vikal heard of a stranger that came into town to pick people off. Some call this stranger a 'monster' unlike any other. Naturally, he hates people taking away attention of true talent (him), so he needs to find this monster and put him down.

Characters (click on them to see their vibe!): Vikal, Michail, Issac, Dominic, Levinas

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

Vikal never cared to know who came in or who left town. So many faces and names, they all blurred together at a certain point. So, when a new, cocky asshole comes in to declare they are a Marked, he merely shrugged with the occasional taunting comment. Most don’t last for more than a month, anyway. Though, there was a lot of talk about one man that drifted into town. Neither Broken nor Marked, given that he killed people from both groups. And at this point, Vikal couldn’t help but be interested too.

Especially when this mystery man killed his rival.

He poked the body with his foot. The head rolled over, accompanied by the lovely sounds of snapped neck bones grating against each other. “Well, I would’ve done something different, but oh well.”

He looked in the direction the killer ran off to, a dark alleyway that could lead to a dozen destinations. Today won’t be the day he saw this beast, but he did get something. A dead rival, sure, but he saw a glimpse of him. A man with simple clothes and dyed white hair.

He never grinned so much at a simple description. This monster was going to be his.

“Oh, so even he has dyed, white hair?” Issac laughed. “That’s such bullshit! You’re makin’ it up to make it seem like ya!”

“It? God, dumbass, the ‘monster’s’ a guy still.” Dominic smacked Issac upside the head. Though, with a crossing of his arms, he looked at Vikal with a skeptical look.

That’s a look someone like him had gotten used to. Still, Vikal laughed at their antics and gave an innocent shrug. “Can you not tell that I’m being serious this time?”

“You said that when you told me a demon forced you to become a Marked,” Issac huffed. He looked at Dominic briefly, before mirroring his skeptical look.

“You believed it, how could I not hammer down on that story~?” Vikal cackles. With a mischievous grin like that, it was hard to take anything he said seriously. “But I thought you boys could use your heads more.” He fakes a heavy sigh, as well as tsking at the pair. “If word came out that I was killing Marked by ambushing them, then Levinas would glide that gorgeous knife he has right across my gorgeous neck. And we all know I’m on thin ice with that one~” He pushed his bangs back, letting them see a glimpse of his permanently shut-eye. The scar was old and faded, but the story paired with it would never die. Not with an enforcer like Levinas.

Issac let out a frustrated groan. “I don’t even know if you lost your eye to Levinas! You told people five different stories!”

A thoughtful hum came from Dominic. “Yeah, but that one was the most believable.” “For five months I thought he lost his eye to a vulture, man. I’m sick of this.”

“Vulture- Issac, vultures aren’t native here.” “He just sounded convincin’, okay?! Maybe one got lost and ended up here, or somethin’!”

This could go on forever. Vikal backed away, letting out one last laugh and waving goodbye. “I have to say the truth eventually, don’t I~? Perhaps I can prove something to you lot when I find him!” The image of the monster flashed in his head again. No weapons, only killing with his bare and bloody fists. It was beautiful. The image wouldn’t leave his mind until he had a face to complete the picture.

Follow the blood. Surely, that would be the map that led Vikal to the town’s monster. There were tellings that differentiated the monster’s kills from any other; the Broken’s masks weren’t destroyed, and the Marked always looked taken by surprise. Each body was mangled without reason, but if anyone were to see a pattern in murders, it would be Vikal.

It wasn’t clear what the monster was trying to achieve, though. An image? Well, he’s certainly the talk of the town, but someone looking for an ego boost would’ve shown himself by now. Perhaps it was because of a hatred for both gangs, which was what Vikal assumed at first. However, someone with a grudge would make every kill hurt, and some looked like quick kills. A simple broken neck, quick head bashing, strangulation. If Vikal was on a mission, he certainly would do worse than that. Some murders clearly showed how brutal this one could be, too. Curiouser and curiouser.

Turning into an alleyway, Vikal followed some tracks he spotted in the dirt; the look of someone being dragged across the ground. As he followed, he eventually saw blood, then, the body of a Marked face first in the dirt. He crouched down and flipped the Marked onto his back. That didn’t help anything. The guy was as dead as ever, so he-

Vikal’s eye widened as he retracted his hand and stood up hastily. The body was still warm. “Are you there, monster?”

Footsteps approached from behind, with a deep huff following. A grin crept its way onto Vikal’s face as he realized he’d finally found his monster. The matador enticed the bull forward, not turning around, but waiting for the other to act first. Just turn around and see the face that captivated the whole town.

“You made a mistake coming here.” Oh, what a powerful voice to match a beast.

“Nonsense, monster.” Vikal swiftly turned around, catching the monster’s fist and stepping back at the sheer force of it. All at once, the picture completed itself as he stared at the beast’s face with child-like glee. The strong features he had imagined, as well as cold grey eyes glaring at him. “I’ve found a treasure today~!”

The monster pushed Vikal back, clenching his fists. A nasty scowl was on his face as he looked at Vikal with murderous intent. Vikal dodged a fist narrowly aimed at his head. There’s such force to it that he can feel the wind push back sharply against him like a papercut. A fierce punch, but he could tell the monster was frustrated with missing. No one appreciated a nice fighting form when they saw one.

Vikal kept backing up, dodging the onslaught from the monster, observing him as if he was a specimen. He had let his jacket slip off his shoulders, but this didn’t feel like he was watching a trained fighter. The monster moved with clumsy steps, teeth bared and eyes wild like a starved dog. For once, his grin was replaced with a deep frown. Issac truly was stupid calling this guy an “it.” This is only an amateur with the strength of a bull.

Backed into the corner, Vikal grabbed the man’s wrist. “You’ve aimed for my head enough. There’s other places to hit, you know?” He clenched his fist, pulling him forward and punching his gut. “The human body is full of wonderful potential for pain~” Vikal twisted the man’s arm behind his opponent, then used his foot to trip him. This man was a big one, but with enough force, Vikal could gleefully slam him face-first into the wall. It was easy to hold down the man’s arms after that. “Perhaps I could show you what I mean later. Right now,” he leans forward to whisper in his ear, “I’m quite disappointed my treasure turned out to be a dull coin~”

“Let go,” the man said curtly.

Vikal snickered, “Make me.”

It was easy to hold him down. Vikal dug his nails into his arms, pushing against him so that his chest was firmly to the wall. This guy killed so many people, just by sheer force? He could understand killing the Broken like that, but there were plenty of Marked bodies too. Levinas needed to step up his standards, apparently.

“Use your head.” He gave a sharp kick to the man’s inner knee, making them buckle so he could throw him onto the ground. “And tell me your name while you’re at it.”

The man struggled in vain against Vikal, now below him. His face was pressed into the dirt, which made him turn his cheek and spit out debris. “I’ll kill you,” he seethed. Even like this, he had the nerve to glare up at Vikal. And with such fury too, a pity it belonged to a weak man.

“I gave you the chance, and you wasted it. You should consider yourself lucky I’m touching you  at all.” Vikal tsked, before grabbing the man’s right arm and twisting it at an uncomfortable angle. Hearing the pained groan made his grin come back. “Now then, why don’t you give me your name~? Or, I’ll break your arm.”

Naturally, he only got a curt swear and scowl as a response. So, he slowly pushed the man’s arm against his joint, looking down at him with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Pushing further and further while the man’s arm resisted against the slow force. Everyone could break easily, but with this man, it felt like a joke. Was this the hand that killed a dozen, or was it one that merely got lucky in fate?

“Michail,” he finally answered, breathless.

Instantly, Vikal eased up and returned to restraining Michail’s arms comfortably -if that’s possible- behind his back. “Michail, hm~? That’s a pretty name, it rhymes with mine~” He leaned down and got into his face, grin fully back as the gears turned in his head. “You can call me Vikal later, but right now,” he got off him briefly, before pulling his head up by the hair, “you should call a doctor.” A cut off, “What?” was all Michail could say before Vikal slammed his head against a wall. He fell on his back like a sack of potatoes, while Vikal stood up and brushed off his pants and grabbed his jacket.

“And so, the monster has been vanquished by the brave knight~” He put on his jacket, staring at the unconscious body. While he could get another mark on his back and kill this one, where was the fun in that? Most potential kills didn’t have a story like this attached to them. What a waste it would be to end this like that. Michail had a certain charm to him; the way he scowled at the face of danger, the power his punches had, the legend he quickly built in town. Sure, Vikal would get an ego boost if he brought in the man’s head, but what if he tamed this beast? People would talk about it like a fairytale.

A pleased cackle left him as he hoisted Michail’s body up and supported him. The gears in his head were turning alright. No one could stop his plan from forming how he wanted it.

Vikal kept his smile up as he talked to Levinas. The sounds of hurried medical volunteers around them and idle chit chat, but his own laugh could pierce through concrete. Their enforcer was a treat to talk to every time. “You misinterpret me, my friend,” he hummed. “I never intended to kill him in the first place. I believe he’ll make a good Marked, under the right training, of course.”

“And that ‘training’ will come from you?” Levinas sneered.

He nodded. “My, my, thinking ill of me~? I know a thing or two about training. I’d hate to waste potential, I could see some promise in that ‘monster.’ He’d fit right in with this lot.”

“Maybe so, but you’re on thin ice, Vikal.” Levinas gripped his whip’s handle, glaring daggers at the grinning man. However, Vikal’s playful expression never budged.

The way Levinas carried himself always amused him. The enforcer never seemed to relax, as far as Vikal had seen. Posture stiff and perfect, harsh scowl on his face, and his hand always on his whip. The blade hanging from the end, polished and pristine, loved to gleam tauntingly at him, as if saying, “You’re next, you’re next.” But not today. The only red he’ll see is that bright red hair. It looked like it needed a touch-up in the dye apartment, but as if Levinas knew any other dye besides “Die!”

“Wouldn’t you think I’d be more careful around you and your cute rules~? I took our,” he tilted his head, glaring back at him with his good eye, “little argument to heart after you punished me. Try to put yourself in my shoes, Levinas.”

“Pity the man that learns to understand how your mind works. You’re off the hook, for now. I’m done here.” He turned his back to Vikal and stormed off.

Vikal chuckled, waving him off. “Nice catching up with you, old friend~!” Looked like he’d live another day, but when did he not with Levinas? Maybe the enforcer had a soft spot for him. Or, those set-in-stone rules were keeping him from being gutted out of a petty grudge. Most likely the latter.

Soon enough, a doctor came up to him to say that Michail woke up. For safety reasons, they had to restrain him to the medical bed, which he encouraged with a smile. He walked into the room, immediately greeted by the scowling face of a tied-up man wiggling in vain. He bit his lip to stop himself from laughing, though the gleam in his eye made everything clear.

“You,” Michail seethed.

“Me?” Vikal chuckled, walking up to the bed. “My, my, can you say more than a couple of words? I didn’t kill you, shouldn’t you be grateful?”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“Oo~ that was,” Vikal counted the words on his fingers, “five whole words. Congratulations~” He applauded lightly, before leaning against the bed. “I’m kidding. That was pathetic. But you do need my pity because you need help.”

The silence that followed was tense. Some helpers went out of the room, no doubt being suffocated by the heavy air. Vikal took a deep, comfortable breath of it.

“There’s nothing I hate more than wasted potential. And you, Michail? Well, you’re a disappointing treasure I spent ages following.” He stared down at the man, seeing how anger twisted his face and made his muscles tense under the restraints. “But, there’s always a way to polish a coin, hm? I may as well train you properly.” “I’ll kill you.” “Maybe under my care, you’ll get the privilege to. As it stands, you won’t be able to scratch me.” He was tempted to get the glass of water on the nearby table to pour over the hothead Michail had. A shame things couldn’t be fixed like that. “Look at how red you are. I know those doctors didn’t put the restraints around your neck. Take a deep breath and calm down~”

“Fuck you.” “You’re not my type, but I appreciate it,” Vikal chuckled. “This is a serious matter, Michail, I’d rather you let me explain myself.”

“No.”

Vikal’s hands clenched. “I am so close to killing you, it’s almost funny.” The smile was still there, but his eye twitched ever so slightly. He slapped his hand over Michail’s mouth and forced his head further against the bed. “I’m not even in the mood to hear your baby talk, so let’s continue.” He only got a single, muffled protest in response. “I see that you’re a fighter, yes? Well, just because you managed to kill a few bumbling idiots, doesn’t mean you’re on top of the world where people like me are, understand~?” He nodded himself as if Michail was getting this. “So~ I’m being charitable and helping you get stronger. Deal?”

Michail managed to shake his head a bit, causing Vikal to sigh dramatically. People really should pity those who can understand him.

“Maybe I should speak in your terms: me want you to become big and strong~ Big and strong kill faster~” He did what was an attempt at baby talk. It wouldn’t win an oscar, but it was something.

Michail bit his hand.

“Ow-!” He recoiled. Okay, he did deserve that one. “Sorry for using too many words, damn.” Even speaking to Issac wasn’t this tricky. The bite mark was bleeding a little.

There was a hint of a smirk on Michail’s lips as he said his next words, “I got a scratch on you.”

Finally, something different than that stuffy frown. Vikal looked at his wound, before laughing hysterically. “You did! You’re learning well~!” His reaction seemed to puzzle Michail, but who couldn’t laugh at such a joke? Then, he abruptly leaned down to get in his face. “Now, let me train you so you can do more to me, hm?” His eye dazzled at the thought. “You won’t be able to kill me without my help, after all~”

Michail still looked stoic underneath him. There must be a story to this monster, but that wasn’t important to him. All that mattered were the hints of determination in Michail’s face, followed by the simplest, but the most fulfilling word he had heard all day.

“Fine.”

_____________

tags: @shy-marker-pliers @juju-on-that-yeet @verse2wo @emptynarration @lildevyl

[mourntheantagonist]

Chapter 5

Read on AO3

1988: P.I.R. Day 1

“Bill, it’s raining.”

Billy looks over to his boyfriend who sits in the passenger seat with a pout on his face. The rain is coming down as barely even a sprinkle. More like a mist. Windshield wipers only useful every five minute.

“Someone’s observant.”

Steve scoffs and crosses his arms. He’s been in a mood since they got up this morning. Steve was all packed and ready for a long weekend trip only to find out that the track was only a whopping ten minute drive from their house.

“Where else did you think the Portland International Raceway was located?”

Steve just dropped his duffle to the ground and walked out the front door and jumped into the Camaro. Leaving the cup of coffee Billy had poured him sitting on the counter to grow cold.

Billy knew not to look too much into things like this with Steve. He was by no means a morning person and even though the droplets were small, rain always put him in a bad mood.

It reminded him too much of Hawkins. Not memories of good days out with friends or at parties getting shitfaced. It reminded him of the days spent inside by himself as he watched raindrops drip on the window pane. Alone in his huge house. Nothing to do but stare at the puddles forming in potholes and being heavily reminded of his loneliness.

Rain put him in a bad mood. It really didn’t help that they lived in the Pacific Northwest, where rain was almost an everyday thing. But today it was a little more than just the rain. It was that Billy would be racing in the rain. Steve didn’t like that at all.

Billy oh so regrets telling Steve about the guy who spun out and crashed into a wall just two races ago. Because of the rain he hydroplaned and couldn’t stop himself. But Steve won’t listen to the rest of the story. Won’t listen to the fact that the guy has a history of pulling shit like this. Doesn’t take the road conditions into account ever. And he was fine! The car barely even sustained enough damage to warrant repair. Just a dent that was easily pulled out and a couple chips off the paint.

Steve wants nothing more than for Billy to turn the car right around. Drive out to Peet’s and fuel him with some caffeine, considering he’d abandoned the one at home in an attempt to make a point to Billy.

But he’s not going to ask him to do that. But he’s definitely not going to let Billy think he’s okay with what he’s doing.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll go slow.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “For you, slow is five over.”

“I’ll turn around if you’re really that upset about it.”

Steve wants to scream ‘Yes! Please turn around’, but he doesn’t want to be the reason for that. Doesn’t want to be the wall standing in between Billy doing what he wants to do. He wants Billy to put up those walls himself, for himself. Value his own safety and livelihood just a little bit.

Was Steve being overdramatic? Probably. But cut him some slack. It’s eight in the morning, rain is coming down, Billy refuses to run the heat in the car, and he’s tired. Should have just drank the damn coffee.

They pull into the venue and it is absolutely nothing like the last race. Trees are replaced by buildings. The hum of traffic on the interstate is deafening. They are unmistakably still smack dab in the middle of the city, and not in Nowheresville, Washington. There’s people standing around engaged in conversation. Easily able to differentiate between locals and tourists by whether or not they’re standing under the canopy. True Oregonians don’t even own umbrellas.

Sure, they’re technically locals, but Steve still rushed from the safety of the car to one of the covered areas, pulling his flannel up and over his head. Have to protect the hair.

Billy followed shortly after, Steve’s raincoat in hand because Billy remembered to grab it. Steve always forgets. Steve begrudgingly takes it from Billy’s hands and puts it on. It’s hard to stay mad at someone when they keep being so considerate. But Steve does have a special talent for that.

“Come on you big fucking baby, let’s go get you some coffee. They’re selling some at concessions.”

Steve’s head jerks around quick enough to cause minor whiplash.

“Wait, there's concessions?”

“Yes. Not every race is just a bunch of dudes in a parking lot.”

“Is there food?”

Billy just huffs out a laugh and pulls Steve by the collar of his jacket out into the rain and towards the little concession stand by the bleachers. If there’s one way to get Steve out of a bad mood, it’s directly through his stomach.

Billy bought him a cup of coffee with extra creamer – he was still working on that – and a croissant. Steve didn’t need to know that they weren’t freshly made and came directly out of a Costco container. As his stomach filled and his body warmed up from the hot drink in his hand, his bad mood started to fade. And just like Steve, the earth had a mood change as well. Clouds parting, letting in a glimpse of sun as the rain halted.

“Look Steve, no more rain.”

“The ground is still wet.”

Billy just dramatically threw his hands in the air. “Barely!” He exclaimed. “Just relax and finish your croissant. I’m gonna go register.”

Steve nods and watches Billy walk away, leaving him there by himself. Coffee in one hand, half of a croissant in the other. Left to his own thoughts. His weird intrusive thoughts. Like if someone were to push him over, which would he save? The coffee or the croissant? He should just finish the croissant so he doesn’t have to ponder that question. He never liked the trolley problem.

He looks to the sky, watching the clouds continue to part revealing bright blue skies and the bright sun overhead. It was nice, but they lived here long enough to know not to hold their breath. Portland rain was indecisive. It would be pouring buckets one minute, and sunny clear skies the next.

It’s why you would never catch a local with an umbrella. It’s pointless unless you plan to lug it around with you all year long. It’s better to learn to accept and even appreciate damp clothes and damp hair. That last part was definitely taking Steve some time to come to grips with.

The line Billy’s in was long. And he didn’t appear to be anywhere close to the front. That’s the reason the sudden hand on his shoulder startled him. Was he actually going to have to decide which to save?

But he turns around to see Gerry. Five foot three and a hundred and ten pounds of pure bullishness. Steve would be lying through his teeth if he were to say he wasn’t absolutely terrified of the old woman.

“Good to see ya here kid. Thought you’d been scared off after the first race.”

Steve’s mouth hangs open just slightly. It’s too early for him to talk to people. Luckily he realizes he’s been just standing there like an idiot after just a few seconds.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah. I just have a crazy work schedule. This was the first time I could have the weekend off.”

“That’s good. Was startin’ to worry the two of you had broke it off. Glad to see ya didn’t.” She pats his shoulder a little hard. Not really expecting it he stumbles slightly.

He momentarily freaks at the comment. Forgetting for a second that Billy had told her. He allows himself to smile when it comes back to him. Enjoying the acceptance from the old woman. Ahead of her time. Reminding himself why he said he liked her.

“Okay. Since I have you alone, I have to ask. I have a theory and I need you to confirm it.” Steve throws her a quizzical look and takes a sip of his coffee. “What’s Hargrove like in the sack?”

Steve nearly does a spit take.

He manages to swallow the coffee in one aggressive gulp before actually bursting out into a fit of laughter.

“I’m sorry. Uh. Could you maybe elaborate? Are you asking about our... positions?”

“Oh god. No. Please don’t tell me that.”

Steve never thought he’d see that lady blush. But she was. Blushing. Cherry red all over her cheeks.

“My theory is that his little tough guy act don’t make it past the bedroom door.”

“Oh! Okay. Umm.” Steve was slightly uncomfortable. Discussing not his sex life with a woman be barely knew, but Billy’s sex life. But Steve was still hanging on to that grudge and thought, what harm is there? “He’s definitely not as aggressive, but I wouldn’t go as far to say he’s entirely submissive.”

“So he’s not a pillow princess?”

Steve raises his eyebrows and chuckles.

“Sometimes.”

Now Gerry has burst into laughter. Almost tearing up. Steve never would have thought this is the kind of conversation he’d be having at eight thirty in the morning in the middle of a parking lot surrounded by conservative men in their forties and fifties.

And then there’s someone else standing next to them. Long dirty blond hair. Unmistakably Billy.

“What are you guys laughing at?” Billy asks. Not at all amused.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, princess.” Gerry says before slapping a hand two times against his cheek and walking off without another word.

Billy looks completely dumbfounded. Steve is desperately trying to hold in another laugh.

“Did she just call me princess?”

“Hey shouldn’t we be walking the course right about now?”

Billy takes the half eaten croissant from Steve’s hand and takes a bite before handing it back.

And with a mouthful of bread he points a finger. “This conversation is not over.”

- : -

They only had the time to walk the course just once. Billy was nervous. Steve could tell. Not just because of that. But because it had started to rain again.

Steve doesn’t like seeing Billy nervous about the rain. He was already nervous enough himself when Billy was all confident with his “it’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing”’s, but if Billy’s nervous, that can’t be good.

By the time they get back to the Camaro, Billy falls into the driver seat with his legs hanging out the open door. His head in his hands breathing slightly chaotic. Something was wrong. More than just the rain.

Steve lays a tentative hand onto Billy’s thigh, but Billy quickly and swiftly slaps the hand away.

“Don’t touch me. We’re in public!”

Okay. Something was really wrong.

Because not ten minutes ago they were just fine being touchy. Sure they were very PG and platonic. But Billy seemed to be okay with it so long as it was nothing too suspicious. A hand on a thigh might seem a little too suggestive if you don’t counter in the fact that there was literally nobody near and the car door shielded the act entirely from view.

But Steve chose not to take it personally. Because something happened in that little head of his as soon as the rain started. Something Steve was not yet privy to.

“Billy. Relax. I’m gonna get in and we’re gonna talk it out, okay?”

Billy nodded his head. Breaths still shaky with a hint of anger as he tossed his legs into the vehicle and slammed his door shut. Okay maybe a little more than a hint.

Once Steve was inside he took a tight hold of Billy’s hand. Trying to calm his erratic breathing. It seems to help slightly. Enough for Billy to actually hear the words coming out of Steve’s mouth.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Billy looks at him. His eyes stone cold. “It’s fucking raining.”

“Someone’s observant.”

“Shut up.”

Steve pulls their clasped hands to where they are now resting on Steve’s thigh. Wrapping a second hand around the two so Billy’s is fully encompassed.

“That didn’t seem to bother you an hour ago. Why now?”

Billy tosses his head back against the headrest. Shutting his eyes tightly and inhaling sharply through his nose.

“You! You made me fucking nervous, Steve. I have never given the rain a second thought until you. And now I can barely remember the course, and I have to run on street tires, and it’s fucking raining! And you’re here to watch and now I’m nervous.”

Steve’s look at Billy softens. Because it makes sense. And god Steve feels awful because it was his grumpy attitude that caused all of this.

“Bills, if I thought your life was actually in danger I would have had you turn the car around when you asked. I was just in a pissy mood, okay?” Steve squeezes tighter. “I believe in you, princess.”

That pulls Billy out of his haze for just a moment. “Okay what the fuck inside joke is this?”

“If you do well today, maybe, I’ll tell you.”

“Bribery huh? Didn’t think that was your style.”

Aw. There’s the Billy he knows and unfortunately loves.

“Come on, let’s get those brand new numbers on your car.”

“Kiss me first, shithead.”

So Steve does. Leaning over the stick shift, planting a quick and wet kiss straight to Billy’s lips. Not the kiss Billy wants. But that’s all Steve’s going to give.

- : -

To both of their surprise, Billy doesn’t spin. Actually, he’s one of the only drivers who didn’t spin.

And fortunately, nobody crashed today. Not even Dwight.

Steve didn’t ride with Billy today. Not wanting to add to the stress. Even if it wasn’t a timed run.

And Billy came in first. Even if he drove slower than his liking. All of the DNF’s, missed gates, and hit cones playing in his own favor. And shit, Steve owes him some information, and maybe a better kiss.

The second run group was on course straight away, giving Billy and him absolutely zero time to even speak before Billy was being summoned to his work assignment. So Steve just parked himself at one of the picnic tables in the covered area. Ignoring the fact that his boyfriend was putting himself in front of reckless drivers on wet pavement. Shoving down the thought of “what could go wrong” as far as it would fucking go.

No. No. No. The only car Billy would be going home in would be the Camaro. Not an ambulance.

The sounds of screeching tires against wet asphalt did not cure the thought. Painstakingly resisting every urge to turn his head every time he heard so much as an “ooh” from an onlooker.

He sat there. Sipping on his now lukewarm coffee and searching the wooden planks of the picnic table for hidden shapes. Just like he would with the clouds if they weren’t just one gray blob.

And time manages to pass by quickly with just that to occupy his time. He hears the engines shut off and the announcer call something over the loudspeaker. He doesn’t know what, but the tone of his voice made it sound like a finale.

He’s tossing his nearly empty coffee cup in the garbage can when Billy comes up from behind him.

“Hey, before we go, wanna feel like you’re in high school again?” Billy asks, discreetly pulling at his sleeve.

“Why on earth would I want to do that?”

“Just trust me.”

Steve gives him a weird look but follows Billy under the bleachers that face the real racetrack. The one people actually come here for. Not a parking lot.

You can barely see anything but rusted metal from where they’re standing. Steve pieces it together fairly quickly.

“You bring me under here to kill me?”

“Just shut up and fucking kiss me.”

Billy was right. It totally does feel like high school. The good parts. Sneaking girls under the bleachers on the football field. But this felt ten times better. Because it was Billy. Not just some girl he only got with to prove something to Tommy H.

It’s like they were in their own little corner of the world. Perfectly concealed and able to love one another publicly but privately at the same time.

Steve’s tugging at Billy’s hair and Billy’s tugging at his. He’d be upset if it hadn’t already been messed up by the rain earlier.

Their hands are moving haphazardly but their lips and tongues have found a rhythm. Slowly interlocking and fulfilling their every need.

“God I love you.” Steve breathes against Billy’s mouth.

“Tell me what princess means.”

Steve had nearly forgotten.

“Something relating to your pillow.”

Billy stalls for a second before completely stepping away from Steve.

“You did not tell her that.”

Steve doesn’t respond. Just raises his eyebrows and stands his ground. The look says I sure did.

“I fucking hate you.”

“You love me.”

And Billy just moves back in, pulling him by the collar, and kisses him. Inhaling sharply. Breathing in all that is Steve.

“You know you love it when I just lay there.”

“Yeah. I do.”

[staarshines]

Broken: Chapter 2 || A.H.

Warnings: spoilers for s9e5 (but this is an og case i wrote up), getting tortured physically (stabbing, punching), blood, blood loss, bloodstains, mental torture, extreme feelings of guilt, being duct taped down in a chair, mentions of knives, mentions of other victims

WC: 2.8k

You try to tell the team you know where the unsub is, but Hotch blows you off. Angry, you go to the location where the unsub is holding a hostage to prove yourself, but you forget about the consequences of facing a murderer alone.

[A/N]: lmfao i’m sorry for all the cliffhangers guys also i’ve proofread this like 10 times there’s no mistake in the plot/description (*cough* wedding band *cough*)

The sound of radio chatter, police cars, and the rustling of trees in the wind is overwhelming, but Aaron Hotchner is in his own world. 

How could I just have let her go? No, I didn’t let her go, I told her to go. This is my fault. She’s going through who knows what right now because of me. If I had only listened…

“Hotch? Are you okay?” He snaps out of his guilty thoughts, looking at Emily.

“What did you find?” he asks, ignoring her question. They had been here hours; J.J., Reid, and Morgan had left to the P.D. to see if they could find any other clues. She understands that he’s dodging her question and doesn’t push.

“CSI found some fibers in the shaft, but we have to run them through forensics.”

“Call J.J. and tell her to tell forensics that an agent’s life depends on this sample. They need to rush it.”

“On it.” He swallows and looks around, disappointed when he checks his watch. 3:47. The sun would set in another couple of hours, and you would be subjected to continual torture through while they tried to figure out where you were. Nobody was sleeping tonight; not until they found you.

“Hotch, this isn’t your fault,” Rossi starts, approaching him. The younger man shakes his head. 

“I thought we agreed not to profile each other.” 

Rossi sighs. “We’ll find her. She’s a smart girl; she knows how to stay alive,” he tries to reassure. It doesn’t work, not in the slightest.

“Yeah, but for how long? I’m the reason she’s in his hands. If I had went with her, sent someone with her, hell, if I had even told her not to go, she’d be here, safe.” With me. 

A sharp jab to your left shoulder wakes you up, gasping for air. Your eyes fall to your left, where a knife is sticking out of your flesh. Your torso is bound to the back of a chair with duct tape, your feet taped to the chair legs and hands to the armrests. You try moving the chair with your body weight, but the chair is bolted. 

Eyesight blurring, you try to get a feel for where you are and notice that you’re in a room full of bloodstains and tables of torture equipment. This must have been where Giles held his other victims. Victims. The word makes your jaw clench. You wouldn’t be one of his. You couldn’t be.

“Good afternoon,” he says in a singsongy voice, entering the room. Your shoulders tense up at the sight of him. 

“Where am I?” You ask, not returning his greeting. He picks up a knife and inspects it, the silence killing you. “Twenty-Six Oh-One Noble Drive?” He freezes for a split second, and you know you have him. That was the second address on that piece of paper. The team had him now. But where had you dropped it? Was it still on you? Did Reid see it back at the P.D.? You furrow your brows as you try to remember, and then it comes to you. 

You left it in the SUV. 

Now, the question was who had driven the car back. Anyone from your team would notice it and find the second address, but the police would just bag it as evidence. Connor turns around, a smug smile on his face. You can tell from his rigid posture and clenched jaw that he’s not relaxed, although he’s trying to control his body language to look like it. 

“Mind games now? Is that what they teach you at the F.B.I.?” You roll your eyes, ignoring the knife in his hand. 

“It’s called behavioral analysis, genius.” He smiles and approaches you, caressing your cheek with the cold metal. 

You don’t even flinch.

“And behavioral analysis is supposed to catch killers while saving the agents?” He lets out a low chuckle. “That didn’t seem to work for you. Or Agent Hotchner, for that matter.” You bite your tongue. Hotch? Was he okay? What did this idiot mean?

“Hotch? Please, he stares into the face of death every day and wins.” He shakes his head.

“Well, today was an exception.” Today. That means you haven’t been out for long. What time was it?

“An exception?” you question, starting to worry.

“He’s dead.” You laugh for the first time since the team had taken this case.

“Aaron Hotchner? Dead? You really didn’t do your homework, did you?” you ask him, trying to control your laughter.

“If Aaron isn’t dead, then whose is this?” He holds up a silver wedding band and your bottom lip parts ever so slightly, breathing quickening. That looked exactly like Aaron’s. It had to be his; he would still wear it after Haley’s death, idly fiddling around with it when he was in deep thought. He never thought anyone noticed, but you did. 

“How the hell did you get your hands on that?”

“And what about this?” Ignoring your question, he walks behind you and comes back with a laptop. He opens it and clicks the play button on a video of J.J.

“Ma’am, ma’am! How invested would you say the team is in this case? Six bodies have already been discovered and the killer hasn’t been caught. Rumor is he has one of your agents,” one of the reporters calls out. She freezes for the slightest second, and you can see the fire in her eyes. 

“We had one of our own taken from us today, so I’d say we’re very invested,” she nearly yells in disbelief, eyebrows scrunched. “No further questions.” Taken from us? Fuck, did she mean you or Hotch?

“What exactly are you trying to accomplish?” You ask him, trying to sway the subject away from Hotch. The team thought the entire thing was physical torture. This is something else. He wouldn’t waste precious time telling you Hotch was dead.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be asking questions, sweetheart.”

“And I don’t think you’re in the position to be holding me hostage as the F.B.I. and Tallahassee’s entire police department look for me,” you mock. He just shakes his head, rolling up his sleeves. 

“Aaron Hotchner is dead, and it’s all your fault.” You raise an eyebrow, but your gut is twisting. Hang on, you don’t even know if he’s dead or not. But you saw the ring and watched the video. He’s gone, because of you. 

No, he’s not. 

You start to overthink, resisting the urge to squeeze your eyes shut.

“I want proof, Giles,” you snap. “I want cold, hard evidence that he’s not alive.” He shrugs. “If you say so yourself.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials a number. You frown, trying to figure out what he was doing.

“Tallahassee’s anonymous tip hotline.” A woman answers. Well, she had no idea what she was in for.

“I’d like to speak with Jennifer Jareau, the B.A.U.’s communications liaison.” She hesitates.

“May I ask who this is?” 

“Jennifer Jareau, or this agent dies,” he answers, looking at you. You hear her call J.J. over and she’s there in seconds. You can only imagine the team’s condition right now. 

J.J. would be trying to calm everyone down. Morgan would be on the verge of snapping. Reid would’ve lost himself in the evidence. Emily would be panicking on the inside. Rossi would be trying to push the possible outcomes out of his head focusing on the profile, nothing else. Hotch— You swallow thickly.

“Hello? Who is this?” He puts the phone to your mouth. 

“J.J.?” you whisper.

“Oh my God. Where the hell are you?” You ignore her question.

“Where’s Hotch?” you ask in a panic.

“Um, he— he’s not here right now. Why?” Her hesitation is enough for you. 

“He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“What do you mean? I need you to tell me where you are. Hotch is—” He ends the call, slipping the phone back in his pocket.

“Is that enough for you?” You don’t answer, not being able to comprehend that he was actually gone. He leans into your ear and whispers, “You loved him, and now he’s dead. Not to mention it’s all your fault.” He withdraws, leaving the room. A single tear falls down your cheek. 

“I’m sorry, Aaron.”

Hotch nearly slams open the door to the conference room, Prentiss and Rossi on his heels.

“We came as fast as we could. What did you find?” 

“Giles called us,” Morgan starts.

“And we weren’t here,” Rossi mutters, clenching his jaw. “Play the tape.” J.J. side-eyes Spencer and Morgan. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Emily’s voice rises a pitch.

“The tape is… confusing at first.”

“Play it.” J.J. sighs, pressing the play button. Your dry, panicked voice comes through the speakers. Hotch inhales and closes his eyes, hoping, praying that he wouldn’t have to listen to you be tortured. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding until the tape was over.

“Wait, does she think Hotch is dead?” Prentiss asks, not understanding. Morgan shakes his head. Hotch bites his lip and opens his eyes.

“J.J. didn’t say anything that pointed to that.” 

“But Emily is right,” Reid interjects.

“What’s this supposed to mean, then?” Emily inquires, resting her weight on the wall.

“The unsub is telling us something we didn’t know about him before; that he mentally tortures his victims before he does so physically. In her case, it’s getting her to think that, well, you’re dead,” Reid answers, looking at Hotch. Hotch purses his lips.

“She mistook your confusion for hesitation,” Hotch concludes, looking at J.J. She frowns.

“But she’s a profiler; she doesn’t slip up like that. Plus, she knows us, which makes differentiating our emotions a lot easier.”

“We don’t know what her physical or mental state is,” Rossi adds. “A couple hits to the head and she wouldn’t be able to think or profile like she normally does.”

“J.J., this isn’t your fault,” Emily tells her. She nods with a forced smile but doesn’t believe it.

“But why would that hurt her any more than it would hurt her to think anyone else on the team was dead? Was it just easier to fabricate mine?” The tension in the room returns, and Hotch looks around. “What?” The truth was, he knew why. She had a liking for him, but he wanted to make sure it wasn’t hopeful thinking getting to him.

“Hotch, she…” J.J. doesn’t know how to continue.

“She has the hots for you,” Morgan finishes. 

“She’s… She’s liked you for a while. The so called flirting didn’t go unnoticed, especially in a room full of profilers,” Emily’s voice strains.

“It wasn’t really flirting, it was more making sure you were alright. That’s her love language. It’s funny because our love language is what we were deprived of in our childhood. She’d do your paperwork when you had to take care of Jack, make sure you were eating, sleeping, checked in on you frequently after Haley, drove you back and forth after Foyet… Hotch, it’s all there,” Reid explains gently. Hotch sighs unsure of what to do for once.

“We need to go back over the evidence. There has to be some indication of where Giles went, even if he doesn’t have any paper trail. Get Garcia to go over everything again.” The team nods solemnly and files out, leaving Hotch and Rossi. Rossi puts his hand on the Hotch’s shoulder.

“Your ‘flirting’ didn’t go unnoticed either.”

Another blow to the chest leaves you gasping for air, your vision blurring. The three stab wounds in your thighs aren’t assisting your efforts to keep yourself awake.

“Is that all you’ve got?” You ask him, tiredly cocking your head to the side. You had vowed to yourself that you wouldn’t give him the fear that he needed to get off and dispose of you.

“Oh no darling, I’m just getting started.” Another punch to the face and you hear your jaw pop out of place before you feel it do so, inhaling shakily. Pain blooms from various different points on your body. It had to have been hours. Where the hell was the team?

“My team—” One more to the stomach and you groan, nearly blacking out. 

“You and your pretty little team. They’ve already lost their supervisor. How well do you think they’re faring right now?” You take in raggedy breaths, trying to keep your eyes open.

“They won’t leave you standing,” you spit out. He grins and yanks your hair back, your vision going black. The last thing you hear is:

“They need to find me first.”

Sixteen hours. That’s how long you had been gone. How long you’d been subjected to endless torture. 

How long everyone on the team had tried to keep the thoughts of you being tortured out of their heads. 

How long Hotch had tried to hold his emotions in. But he was barely doing so, knowing that it was a game of chance about whether or not he would ever get to tell you that he loved you.

“This isn’t working,” Morgan groans, throwing a file on the table. The entire P.D. was deserted except for the B.A.U. “It’s three A.M., and where are we? Nowhere. We have nothing.” He gets up from the table, putting his hands on his head in defeat. Everyone was exhausted, but nobody was willing to go to the hotel and sleep. The team wouldn’t be able to survive without your bubbly laughter, cocky remarks, and sharp mind; everyone knew that. 

“Have we been over everything?” Garcia asks through the computer in a sleepy voice.

“Everything. Every shred of evidence that we have from this case,” J.J. sighs in disappointment, holding her head in her hands. Hotch absentmindedly fiddles with his wedding band.

“You guys need to sleep. Wake up fresh tomorrow, well, today, and work the case,” Garcia starts, but Emily cuts her off.

“We all know nobody’s sleeping until we find her.” The team nods and sighs in agreement. J.J. furrows her brows, eyes falling on Reid.

“He’s been standing still there for a full ten minutes just staring at the board. Is he okay?”

“More importantly, is his CPU dead?” Prentiss asks, smirking.

“Let the genius work his brain. He’ll come up with something sooner or later,” Derek murmurs, still pissed off at the lack of leads.

“I got it!” Spencer yells, startling the entire team. Hotch snaps out of it and Rossi nearly jumps out of his seat.

“That timing was impeccable, kid,” Rossi admits, massaging his temples. The entire team shares a laugh, barring Hotch and Reid, while Reid looks around, confused. Shaking his head and realizing he missed whatever it was they were laughing about, he begins to unravel his genius.

“Hotch, where’s that piece of paper she was talking about in the morning?” Hotch shakes his head, trying to remember.

“Um, I don’t know, I think she took it with her.” Reid nearly runs from the glass whiteboard to the evidence boxes, rummaging around in them. Morgan and Prentiss join him, knowing exactly what he was looking for. 

“Reid, what are you getting at?” Derek asks, looking through the boxes for that piece of paper. 

“I didn’t get to read it, but there was another address on the back of the paper.” The entire team goes silent for a moment, then “organized chaos”, as you had once memorably described the team’s dynamic as, ensues.

“Rossi, you’re coming with me. Reid and J.J., and Morgan and Prentiss. Have Garcia send the addresses to the GPSes. We’re going in soft without SWAT or the P.D. Comms on, and there’s no need to use sirens. Vests are in the trunks. Let’s go!” Hotch yells at the team, grabbing a set of keys and sprinting out the door, Rossi in pursuit.

“I found the paper! Garcia, Twenty-Six Oh-One Noble Drive!” Prentiss shouts, pulling it out of the plastic bag and reading off of it. 

“Done, done, and done. That’s a five minute drive from here.”

“Oh, I love you so much babygirl.” Garcia smirks at Morgan’s remark.

“Go save our girl.” The transmission ends, and everyone is out of the P.D. in less than thirty seconds. Hotch’s heart is beating so hard that it’s the only thing he can hear. 

Were they just in time, or were they too late?

Masterlist

All taglists are open! Send me an ask or a message :)

Permanent: @becausewhyknotme​, @criminal-cookies​, @theladyoffangorn​, @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad​, @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam​, @agentpeggybarnes​ 

“Broken”: @lil-bita-everything​, @dontshootmespence​

[fandom-meanderer]

Beauty and the... [Pt. 6]

Pairing: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd x Reader, Sylvain Jose Gautier x Reader, Felix Hugo Fraldarius x Reader

Part: (6/?) [First] [Previous] [Next]

Genre: Romance, Drama

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

P.o.V.: 2nd

Word Count: 2,584 Words

Warnings: Language

Further Notes: And the long awaited chapter is here! Four chapters after this are left, are you ready?

You watched Sylvain from across the room. You had told Mercedes, who came to check up on you, that you weren’t feeling too well that day and was going to skip classes earlier today and she simply agreed and wished you a happy rest. None of the other Lions were particularly concerned about Sylvain’s absence, it wouldn’t have been the first time this semester when it occurred after all. But now that your hands were free from their snares, your mind wandered back to the night before only more often, and it drove you insane.

What did he mean by that?

Well, of course you knew. It wasn’t the first time you’ve heard him say it, but for some reason it felt different. You weren’t dense. You knew that boy caught feelings for you, and he caught them hard. But you truly didn’t feel the same—

Wait, actually?

You relaxed in your seat in the classroom and watched him yammer on to Felix. Would being in a relationship with Sylvain be that bad? Then you watched as another female student blew him a kiss, to which he winked back at her as if it was just a reflex and you scoffed to yourself.

“What was I even thinking?” You rolled your eyes and opened your book. But some strange thought compelled you for a moment and you shut your book and looked back to who you thought was your older brother figure and your best friend and huffed slightly. “Well…”

You knew Sylvain, you knew him well. If you looked past the obvious flirt, he’s actually a very deep person with very deep insecurities. He’s a lot smarter than people chalk him up to be, and truthfully you don’t think he’s be a bad boyfriend, but he would have to be as hooked to you as you are to him, otherwise you’re just set up for heartbreak.

Now you know Sylvain’s got it bad for you, you didn’t miss the way he blushed, you just elected to ignore it, but at the same time that’s just Sylvain. He gets hooked on one girl, then it dies out like a flame in the rain. You’re very close with him, that much is fact, and you’re really not sure if risking your near sixteen years of friendship is worth a relationship. But there lies the possibility that he is that infatuated with you, but now it’s the argument of is it love or is it infatuation, because both are two very different things, to your understanding. If you were to ask him, truth be told, he’d probably say they’re the same thing.

Now for a brief lesson on the whims of love, as presented by Professor Byleth to his colleagues. The origin of ‘Love’ and the origin of ‘Infatuation’ do stem from the same roots, they start in the heart, but it is where that feeling travels to that differentiates the two. As many might protest against, infatuation travels to the head, while love travels to the rest of the body. Infatuation is to be defined as the being obsessed with the simple idea of being in a relationship, and in this case that is a majority of Sylvain’s feelings in general. Where as love is something that encases one whole, it is the simple deciding factor that allows you to put the other before yourself when necessary, but at the same time to prioritize yourself when you must.

To bring this back to your situation, you know Sylvain enough to know that the boy is constantly hooked on the idea, but never on the truth. You trust Sylvain, you really do, after all, it is him you go to before the others most of the time, he has the best insights once he drops his dumb-jock facade and decides to become an actually decent guy.

“Um… (Name)?” Dimitri tapped your shoulder and you are pulled out of your in-depth analysis.

Dimitri.

Whenever you think you’ve gotten over him, he just has to show his dumb face in front of you in his dumb school uniform with that dumb blue cape and his dumb blue eyes and you feel yourself falling for him all over again. You feel bad for Sylvain, he had to sit through you talking about Dimitri over and over again for years, you thought about apologizing, but whenever you gave a hint to, Sylvain would reassure you that it was fine.

Dimitri is such an enigma, let that be known. You had known him for years, thanks to your mother, and you have seen his rises and falls and everything in between. But the question now arises, is what you feel for Dimitri love or infatuation?

“Oh, hey, Dima, what’s up?” You force a smile on your face and he eyes you suspiciously.

“I was wondering if you could help me out with bow training?” He asked.

Oh, you almost forgot about that. Dimitri’s strong proclamation of switching to bow skills, one you wouldn’t have seen coming from a mile away, but one that wasn’t a horrible surprise. You nodded.

“Sure, I’ll try to get you a silver bow so it doesn’t break again,” you laugh. And there’s another thing that was on your long list of ‘WHY I LOVE DIMITRI.’ It’s the honesty, the way you could read his feelings on his face. The first thing you noticed was how the tips of his ears would turn red first before the rest of his face did, then he would do that nervous side glance that would send your heart racing. Sometimes you were afraid that people would be able to tell how whipped you were for the young prince because, truth be told, the odds of you and Dimitri being end game were short, very short. He’s a prince and you’re a commoner who just happened to be lucky enough to be a part of the lives of nobles, it was just not meant to be.

You would describe your story as a complicated romantic plot. But the boy behind you would describe it as a sob story. As frivolous as he seems, Sylvain is in no way an idiot. He knows your feelings for the Prince, and he knows Dimitri’s feelings for you, there’s no way he could ever stand a chance against the crown prince of Fhirdiad, and in your heart, your relationship has plateaued at ‘Sibling-Like,’ a placement he wasn’t happy with, but one he was willing to maintain.

“Honestly, Sylvain, look at you, you’re pathetic,” Felix scoffs. “You’d might as well just tell her how you feel so you could stop looking like such an oaf when she does as much as breathe.”

“It’s just that we’ve been friends for so long, I don’t think I should say anything,” Sylvain kept his carefree smile on his face, but his words were somber. “Plus, her and Dimitri have a bond we could never have.”

“I don’t think so, but alright,” Felix shrugs. “I’ve had enough of your moping, take action or I will for you.” Sylvain blew a piece of his hair out of the way and slumped his shoulders.

“Yeah, I hear you, Felix,” he groans. The door to the classroom opens and Byleth walks in, tomes and papers stacked in his hands. He tosses them on the table and turns to the class.

“I hope you’re all ready for your first mission as students. Bandit removal, make sure your weapons are ready and repaired, we move out in a few hours,” he instructs. The class affirms his questions collectively and next thing they knew it, they were at the drop-off location, getting in formation.

This wouldn’t be your first time going against enemies, which is sad enough to say. But the life of a commoner isn’t one of luxury. When you weren’t with your mother in the castle, you were with your father at home, home being a small cottage in the middle of the woods since your father was a paranoid maniac.

It sounds cruel, but there’s no other way to put it. From a young age you had to do things for him, and that included making sure people who were hellbent on killing your father, claiming that he was “cursed” or whatever new word they cooked up for him, weren’t a problem. When did it start again? You had to have been ten at least, right?

Oh, goddess above, you just realized how bad that sounded.

Let’s set something straight, you’ve never killed anyone! Gods no. You just scared them away, is all, enough for them not to come back to hurt your father.

Now the person who taught you how to use your sword in the first place was your father, before the “Goddess please take my life away as well as my wife and child” blubber he spouted out, in fact, he was also involved in the Monastery’s defenses, until he was untimely “retired” as Seteth put it.

Another unknown fact to most, actually you didn’t recall ever telling your friends either, you had connections in the Monastery even before you were admitted to the Officers Academy, mainly for fear of being disparaged since you were technically only let in because of “connections,” and goodness how you hated using that word but it was all that was there to use. As far as your classmates know, you got in because of good grades.

Which you believe would have been right, if only you actually went to school.

# Commoner Things.

Regardless, Dimitri and Ingrid’s books always kept you as educated as you had to be.

But let’s get back to the story.

“(Name), I want you and Felix to work together for this battle,” Byleth instructs. “You two should play off of each other well, focus on bow skills.”

“Right,” you nod. You link your arms with Felix. “Guess you’re stuck with me, Lix.”

“Great, now I have to babysit while I’m in battle,” Felix rolls his eyes and you smile.

“I feel like I never partner up with you anymore! What’s the worst that could happen?” You shrug.

“With your luck? Murphy’s Law is your best friend, (Name).”

“Don’t be like that, don’t worry, I have your back!”

That exchange was ten minutes ago.

You and Felix have been pushed back and essentially cornered by the enemy bandits, and the rest of the class was on the whole other side of the battle field.

But it wasn’t your fault! Felix was the one who was cocky enough to think he could handle the west side by himself, and you had to follow him because otherwise Byleth would have failed you. So now the both of you were hiding behind a rock, out of Vulnaries, and on the brink of exhaustion. And since the Professor wanted you to focus on your bow skills he may or may not have confiscated your sword, and Felix was being a dick and not letting you use his.

“How many arrows do you have left?”

“Uh… six.”

“How many enemies are left?”

“Uh… also six.” You hold your bow close to you and Felix holds both of your shoulders.

“Look, (Name), I always make fun of you and say you will never amount to anything because you are a commoner—“

“Geez, Lix, I get it, I’m worthless, chill out.”

“But right now this is me telling you that you can and you will one shot all those enemies because otherwise we will both die out here.”

“Well maybe if you gave me your sword—“

“It’s broken, (Name), you really think I’d give this to you and toss you out there? If Sylvain doesn’t kill me, Dimitri will tear my innards out.”

“Right. Okay,” you nod in tiny. “I dunno, Lix, my hit rate is one to six.”

“You can do it, I know that better than the others,” he shakes you slightly.

“Okay, okay, but if I die I am so convincing the Goddess to let me come back down so I can strangle you.”

“Deal. Now go kill those bandits.”

“Right, okay, right,” you nodded your head again.

Quick reminder, you’ve never killed anyone.

Also quick reminder, you don’t specialize in bow.

Also another reminder, last time you killed a fly you cried.

Okay, good luck, (Name).

You stood up and drew your bow back, focusing on the closest bandit, taking a deep breath in, you adjusted your stance, remembering Claude’s words, and as you exhale, you release the arrow, following it’s trail and hitting the enemy, leaving him out of commission.

“Oh gods, I did it. I actually did that… I am so sorry, I am so so sorry,” your expressions shifted dramatically. Felix poked his head out from behind the rock.

“See what did I tell you, (Name)? Go fuck some shit up!”

“Watch your language, Frauldarius,” you draw your next arrow, a new found confidence setting in you, and aim for your next target. Maybe you’re imagining it, but there was something different about how you were using your bow today, something more intense, to put it simply. Did arrows really fly that fast? And was a wooden bow really that strong enough to eliminate the enemies in one hit?

All questions for later.

Finally there was one last bandit and, using the same technique as the previous bandits, you took your shot.

And missed.

“You missed?!” Felix ran both hands through his hair.

“I told you I was a beginner!”

“So you miss your target the one time you shouldn’t miss?!”

“Oh shut up, Felix, you’re lucky I got the first five!”

“You two are really arguing, at a time like this?” The bandit halted in his tracks.

“Yeah we are, fuck off,” Felix grumbles. You glare at the bandit, grab Felix’s broken-ass sword, and drive it into the bandit’s chest.

“Don’t fucking interrupt me!” You growled. “Anyways, I don’t understand why you’re so unreasonable, Felix, you don’t see me complaining about your attitude 24/7.”

“That’s because you’re weak.”

“Say that again to my face!”

“I did!”

And the argument continued for the Goddess only knows how long and it finally ended when the Professor found the two of you and explained that the battle had been long over, then after a thorough scolding for worrying the entirety of the class, the two of you just decided not to talk to one another. Although you did find some joy in seeing Ingrid nag Felix about his broken sword, going off about how he should have checked before their very important first mission. But then your joy ended when she turned her anger towards you and lectured you on how you should have some respect for the people who were older than you, and also how you shouldn’t argue in battle since it’s “distracting” to the other classmates, but how could it be “distracting” if it was only you and Felix?

Either way, you had a bitter attitude for the rest of the week, and none of the Blue Lions were brave enough to go up to you and even make small talk.

And it wasn’t until Friday night when Felix decided to man up and go up to you.

-

Tag List: @cynicaltj  @jumblybumble

[shereadsandwritesformelanin]

The Baker And Her Actor: part Vii [Needy]

Paring: Chris Evans x Black! Fem reader

Summary: You meet Chris while making a house delivery for the Evans. He can’t get you off his mind and to be honest neither can you.

Wanings: profanity and sexual content, but overall fluff

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy! If you have any request be sure to send them my way! P.s thank you so much for all the support, I’m growing so fast I’m trying to keep up and pump out as much as I can! 😭🤩 Love and appreciate you all!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[listen to the songs for this chapter/part!]

We get to see more of what our bby boy thinks this chapter!!

T/W: if you struggle with anxiety like me and Chris here is a hotline that actually works, it helps to talk to someone not go through it alone! :)

-

It had been five days since Chris had been gone for the Avengers Endgame press tour. It took a little adjusting for you to get use to his abscene, you’d never had a boyfriend who would be gone for more than nine hours for work. So it was definitely difficult for you.

Luckily Chris suggested you stay at his place with Haneli and watch dodger so you wouldn’t feel so far away from him.

You decided to call your boyfriend considering you hadn’t talked to him since yesterday afternoon mostly his fault because he hadn’t been responding.

Maybe he was just really slammed.

You pick up your phone dailing his number anxious with it ring that passes. “Hey, Goodmorning baby.” You greet through the phone

“Goodmorning.” Chris’s voice was usually hoarse in the morning but this was different almost bored and distant.

“Everything going okay, you’ve been kind of distant with me lately. Wasn’t sure if press was going okay.” You ask trying to discover what the problem dealt was.

“Yeah everything is fine, sorry I’ve just been jet lagged.” Chris explains.

It all made sense, of course he was tired and not just ignoring you for shits and giggles.

“I understand. Dodger is doing amazing you should see him with his sister.” You say switching the tone of the conversation.

“Bet he is.” Chris chuckles somberly.

“Maybe you should get more rest.” You suggests

“Yeah, I think I will. Call me tonight.” Chris speaks

“You can call me.’ You sass. “Catch up later, I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Chris admits befor hanging up.

Truthfully Chris did really miss you. He missed your smile, your lips, your warmth and optimizium, which he could use right now.

These tours weren’t the highlight of his job as captain America. Same questions different interviews it was truly draining. He could tell you were trying but he just wasn’t in the mood and he didn’t want to take it out on you.

-

Chris’s Point Of View:

I walk off the set of yet another dull interview heading toward my dressing room to be picked up for my next bland interview with Jimmy Fallon.

I feel a light tap on my shoulder turning my head to face the direction the sensation had occurred from.

Scarlett.

“So you gonna tell me why you’ve been all sour faced today?” She teases eyebrow cocked waiting for my response.

“Just tired that’s all.”

“Just tired that’s all.’ She mimics “Cut the bullshit Evans I know you and I know when somethings bothering you.”

“It’s just.’ I sigh sucking in a deep breath “I’ve been seeing this woman and she’s amazing no complaints but it’s just she’s being a little clingy right now and my anxieties getting to me bad Scarlett.” I admit forehead resting in my fingertips

Scarlett places her hand on my back rubbing it sympathetically. “How is she being clingy?” She asks

I reach into my pocket pulling out my cellphone showing her the various missed calls from you and unanswered text messages.

“So your ignoring her?” Scarlett coments.

“Not ignoring I’m just exhausted and need a break.” I confess

“A break from her, or this.” She says motioning to all the cameras and lights that stood behind us.

She was right, I need to differentiate and fast.

“ I don’t know.” Was all I could muster up to say before walking away to my car that was outside.

God don’t do anything stupid Chris.

-

I walk into my hotel room kicking off my shoes and striking into a white tee and my boxers. I head towards the master bedroom slipping in between the sheets before dialing your number to facetime.

“Hey babe.” You say a huge smile plastered on your face. “Look whose here.” Panning to dodger who was on the bed napping as usual.

I can’t help but let a smirk surface on my face. I loved their relationship dodger was just so comfortable he might even love you more than he did his old man.

“Hey bubba!” I say watching dodger immediately perk up and get excited.

“He misses you, so do I.” Y/n states

“I miss you too.” I respond

“Do you.” She whispers almost so low I couldn’t hear her.

“What?” I question in disbelief that you thought that.

“Nothing, I shouldn’t have said that.” You retract

“No maybe you should have if that’s how you’re feeling.” I say practically scrolling you now.

The both of you always talked about never hiding your feelings from each other, always been expressive so things didn’t blow over.

“Chris, I only say this because you’ve been distant I mean I called you how many times this week and how many times did you answer!” Y/n went on.

“I’m busy y/n what did you expect.” I reasoned

“Yeah but you have time to tweet pictures of dodger and your cast. To big time for your girlfriend though.” Y/n snarled

That’s it.

“You know what i get this is difficult for you but it’s difficult for me too! Don’t you think I miss you? Because I do, I really fucking do!’ I thundered.

“Why are you yelling at me?” Y/n quips

“Don’t try and make me bad guy. All I’m saying is I do miss you, but I don’t I just don’t need someone who’s going to be clingy and consumed in my life.” I snap, immediately regretting the words that fell from my mouth.

The phone call went silent. Almost like the two of you were processing what Chris had just said.

“You don’t need someone who cares about you, right. Well enjoy finding someone who doesn’t give a shit about the real you and only wants you because you’re Chris Fucking Evans, Goodbye!” She roars

“Y/n!” I shout but it’s too late you already hung up.

“Damn it!” I shout chucking my phone across the room.

I was boiling. I wasn’t mad at you I hated myself for alllowing my anxiety to control me and say something so stupid like that.

I really fucked up.

-

Y/n’s Point Of View:

You slam my phone down on the night stand, slipping deeper into the covers bundling yourself and your tears up into the comforters.

You let all the tears of anger, fustration, and confusion soak the pillows. Your head stung with every word you replayed in your head.

Chris had never shouted at you, hell he hadn’t even raised his voice at you before. So him going completely psycho not only scared you but broke you.

One thing you know was that you didn’t want to be here any more and you didn’t want to be alone.

“Can I come over?” You sniffle into the phone.

“Yeah of course.”

You leash up the dogs slipping on your shoes and grabbing your bags heading out the door.

What am I doing.

-

You walk up to door and you didn’t even have to knock before the door came swinging open.

Deacon standing behind it.

“Hey.” you whisper voice sore from the yelling and crying you had just participated in. “Hope you don’t mind I brought extra guest.

“No I don’t mind at all.” Deacon speaks shooting you a small smile taking your bags.

Deacon wraps a warm blanket around you, making his way back to stove removing the kettle of boiling water.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks pouring you a cup of tea

You sigh. “I just, I don’t understand what I did wrong. I mean was I too clingy or was I being a good girlfriend?”

All though it pained Deacon to see you with him, he was glad you were happy for the most part. But this, this made his blood boil.

From the moment you hired him Deacon had always been protective of you, so he definitely wanted to punch Chris straight in the mouth right about now.

“I don’t think you were being clingy, I think if he is gonna have a wonderful girlfriend like you he should know how to balance you and work.” Deacon speaks taking a sip of the tea he’d just prepared

You nod at his statement but instantly shoot back to that day.

That day you found Chris awake at 3 in the morning. Sitting on the kitchen floor, face dull of emotion. The day you had to cradle him and help sooth him. The day he told you he suffers from anxiety.

You knew that’s what was eating him up.

“I don’t want to be to harsh, he has a lot on his plate.” You speak making an excuse for him.

“Y/n.’ Deacon says taking your hand in his. “No matter what he’s going through he shouldn’t treat anyone like that, especially you.” He places his hand on your chin lifting it upwards kissing your temple.

“Goodnight.” His voice rings

“Goodnight.”

Deacon aburptly stops in his tracks turning back toward you. “Hey y/n, just make sure this is what you really want. It’s only going to get more real from here.”

You draw in a deep sigh palming yourself in the face.

Was he right?

-

It had been a solid fourty eight hours since you’ve spoken to Chris, mostly your fault because he’s definitely been reaching out. With every call you hit and send to voicemail, You’re just not ready.

“Everything good girl?” Kiara asks slipping next to you behind the counter.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lie

“Okay, well I’m gonna go to the back and check on the chocolate chip cookies.” She says unconvinced that you were actually fine.

Same way you were faking to convince yourself if you are actually fine.

Nope you weren’t.

Snap out of it y/n you’ve got work.

“Next costumer—.” You stammer Chris now standing in front of you giving you those deep ocean eyes hidden underneath his infamous Boston baseball cap.

“I’ll take an original house donut with a side of conversation with my girlfriend please.” Chris speaks attempting to lighten the mood.

You walk over bagging his donut giving it a harsh squeeze before shoving it into the packaging. “Unfortunately we’re out of a side of conversation with your girlfriend.” You sass practically chucking the donut at Chris.

“Not that I was your girlfriend anymore anyways.” you mutter ringing him up.

“What?”

“What?’ Don’t remember what you said to me?” You scrowl

Chris did remember in fact he thought about it every minute. He thought about what he could have said and done better, it drove his anxiety through the roof having you upset with him.

“I’m sorry.”

You scoff. “Yeah.”

“Were you upset?” Chris asks head hung low, you could tell he was really apologetic.

You sigh. “Yes, very.’ You admit “To the point were I went to the last place I thought I’d ever be.”

Chris crosses his arms unsure of what you meant and where this place was. “Where would this place be?”

“Deacons house.” You whisper ashamed to have said that.

“So we have a fight and you run to another mans house?” Chris shouts

He was right. You shouldn’t have gone over there knowing deacons feelings for you and having respect for Chris. Yet and still your pride had gotten in the way and you wouldn’t admit you were wrong, it was his fault we were in this fight anyway.

Right?

“So I ask you about your day and car about you and you shut me out?” You reply getting even louder than he previously was.

You could tell he was holding back, having restraint with his tounge.

At this point the remanding costumers in the bakery were starting to get quiet listening in on the action. Low whispers began as Chris’s cover had been blown.

“I should go, not sure why I even came.” He spat storming out.

Watching him leave sent a familiar pang to your heart almost as strong as the night of your intial fight.

Your eyes swell with tears.

I need a break.

“Kiara!” You croak

She peers out from the back with a sympathetic look on her face, you assumed she’d been listening and heard everything. “It’s okay go I’ve got this.”

You nod thanking her before running off and breaking down, again.

-

The plan was when Chris got back you would return dodger. That never happened because you two were both very stubborn, but it was his dog so the least you could was return dodger.

“Come on bubba, lets go see daddy.” You say leashing dodger up packing him in your car

Gosh saying that didn’t even feel right.

The drive over to Chris’s you thought about the altercation.

You thought about what you said, what he said. And if it was really that big of a fight to hold a grudge.

Maybe you were a bit to harsh on him, maybe.

You pull into his drive way. Taking dodger out of the car, he gave you a spare key but it didn’t feel right to use it considering your current situation.

You ring the doorbell. Bringing back so many memories of when the two of you first laid eyes on one another.

There he was handsome as ever. You melted whenever you looked into those eyes.

Don’t be weak.

You sigh. “I thought I would bring dodger since you haven’t swung by.” You explain avoiding eye contact

The tension was thick.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” He speaks dryly

“Well I’ll get out of your hair.” You state turning on your heels walking toward your car.

You hear him sigh banging his fist against the door frame, stopping you in your tracks. “Y/n. I don’t want to fight.’ He breaths. “I’m sorry, I fucked up and it was never my intention to treat you like that. You don’t deserve that.”

You were stuck. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t.

You walk over to him cupping his face pulling him in crashing your lips onto his.

He’s a lucky man because typically you wouldn’t have done this, it usually would have ended the moment any man raised there voice above a whisper at you.

Your lips moved in a familiar sync. Chris brings you through the door frame shutting the door behind the two of you. He picks you up carrying you to the kitchen table never loosing hold of your lips.

“I’m.”

“Sorry.” You mutter through the messy kiss

“I know.” Chris says lifting your shirt off

“Let’s not fight.” You plead hands running through his hair.

He shoots you a small smile before returning his lips to yours.

“I love you.” Chris says pushing into your slick flods.

“I know.” You moan.

He stops causing you to sigh. You knew what he wanted.

Here I go.

“I love you too dummy.” You tease

“Mmhm.” Chris hums thrusting into you.

The two of you made sweet love all night, forgiving each other through each position. Ending the night with a long shower.

How did you go from not knowing who Chris Evans was to laying in his arms?

-

A/n: Whewwww this took some time to right. I wanted to make sure they made up because per the man of the hour (Chris says he doesn’t like to go to bed angry with a girlfriend) and whats a better way to make up?

Looks like the two are in love, so what’s next? 😏

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[tao-armada]

Jonah and the Whale

“There’s a city full of people who are sinful. What does that mean? To sin is an archery term, it means to miss the mark. These people aren’t oriented properly so the city is in a chaotic state and God tells Jonah that he’s going to go to that city and tell them just exactly what’s up with them. And Jonah thinks, ‘No, I’m not going to do that.’ And why? That doesn’t require much explanation; how popular are you going to be if you go to a city full of chaotic people and tell them why they’re stupid and wrong? Jonah thinks, ‘I don’t care if God is telling me to do it.’ His conscience, destiny, or his orientation with higher morality is telling him to do it – you can read it any way you want.

So Jonah thinks, ‘I’m hopping on this boat and getting as far away from that city as I possibly can.’ God thinks, ‘No, you’re not getting away. If I told you to do something, you’re not getting away.’ A storm comes up. What does that mean? Betray your destiny and see how long it takes for you to be drowning in a storm. It’ll happen immediately, and of course it will, because what’s calling you to be your best is exactly the thing that’s pushing you forward to manifest yourself most fully in the world. It’s what you need. If you run away from that, the boats going to start to rock very, very quickly…

Jonah is on the boat and there’s a storm and all the people on the boat who can’t quite discriminate chaos from weather, because they haven’t differentiated the world to that degree, they think, ‘the boat wouldn’t be about to be swamped if some of us haven’t done something stupid and wrong,’ and there’s logic in that. You might think God has nothing personal against you because of the storm… Maybe they did do something stupid. Maybe they didn’t caulk the boat properly, maybe the ropes aren’t in as good of shape as they might be, maybe they weren’t paying attention to the weather as they went out on the ocean, and maybe they haven’t made peace with their brother and so their hearts are bent and twisted out of shape so they don’t make particularly good sailors. The idea that you encounter a storm because you’re stupid and wrong is a really good idea, even though it’s not of infinite applicability.

Well, it’s someone’s fault, we don’t know who, so we’re going to throw someone overboard, the worst sinner. Obviously that’s what God wants, some kind of sacrifice. So they all draw lots and someone loses and then Jonah stands up and says, ‘Well, sorry guys but I know I have a problem with God at the moment so it’s probably me so you better throw me over.’ And they don’t really want to but he finally convinces them; over he goes and the storm settles. Sometimes if you’re in a group of people in an organization there is someone in the organization whos head isn’t screwed on straight and they know exactly why it is and what they’ve done wrong and what puts them in that position and they are poisoning the entire enterprise. If you throw them overboard or better, if they agree to voluntarily leave, then storm will abate and everything will be okay.

… A whale comes up and swallows him and takes him down to the bottom of the ocean… When God abandons you, because you’ve abandoned your destiny, and the storms come up, the probability that you will be taken down to the depths is extraordinarily high and that happens in people’s lives all the time. So down there Jonah repents. Well, what do you do when you’re in the underworld? You’ve been there before, when things fall apart on you. Your friends abandon you, you’re not as popular as you could be, and you can’t stand to look at yourself in the mirror – into the underworld you go. And you think, ‘Jeez, I’ve done a lot of things wrong. Maybe I should reconcile myself with the world and I can get out of this.’ That’s what Jonah does; he thinks, ‘Alright, I got this destiny, I better go do what God says.’ So the whale spits him out onto the beach and off he goes to the city to tell them what’s wrong.

… you see Jonah re-emerging from the whale and he has a halo around his head… Well, what comes out of the belly of the fish? It’s the spirit of the illuminated human being. What does that mean? What else would come out of chaos? If fall apart and put yourself back together, what is it that comes back out? At least you are in better shape than you were before. Maybe you do that 20 times in your life, or 50 times and you do it voluntarily. Every time you do it, you’re more like the thing with the halo and less like the thing that’s being thrown overboard by your friends.”

– Jordan Peterson, 2017 Maps of Meaning 09: Patterns of Symbolic Representation

[chelsfic]

Chapter 6/18 - Safety - Bucky Barnes x OC Soulmate AU

Masterlist

Summary: Soulmate AU! Bucky/OC. Our soulmarks appear at the moment of our soulmate’s birth. The Asset’s mark appears in the Spring of 1987. The words imprinted into the skin of his forearm. “Please! Don’t hurt me…”

A/N: I wrote this fic over the course of 2017-2018 and it was originally published on AO3. Recently, I decided to do some light revisions in order to fix inconsistencies in the POV, some awkward diction and typos. Please note–I’m aware that a lot of people love this fic just as it is. This is not a rewrite, I won’t be changing major plot points and I’m purposely leaving most of the writing alone. Just sprucing it up. Since I wrote this before I started posting fic to Tumblr, I decided to take the opportunity of posting the revised chapters here as I edit them. If you got to the end of this A/N: thank you!!!

Warnings: Kidnapping, Angst, Violence, Eventual happy ending

---

The windows of the (clearly stolen) SUV were tinted almost totally black. There was no hope that anyone in a passing car would be able to discern Sophie through the window--so that avenue of seeking help was cut off. Even if she was daring enough to attempt a tuck and roll in the middle of a highway she couldn’t. He’d tied her wrists together with a nylon cord and roped them to the headrest in front of her. This not only impeded her from unbuckling her seat belt and opening the door, it also meant that she couldn’t lean back in her seat or lower her arms. So this was her state: arms numb and tingling, head aching from all the crying she’d done, body sore from her brief but intense struggle with the man, and the muscles of her lower back forming into one giant knot.

And she had to pee.

Awesome.

She squirmed in her seat for the millionth time in a vain attempt to seek comfort in an alternate position. She hadn’t spoken since he’d loaded her into the car almost an hour before, but she couldn’t take it anymore. She wiggled her hands through the gap at the bottom of the headrest so her fingers could nudge the back of his neck. Even now, she felt the tingle ripple through their soul bond when she touched his skin. This is so messed up.

“Hey, um, you. Man, I wish I knew your name... Maybe we could pick one?” he continued to glower stormily ahead, ignoring her chatter. His silence, like everything else about him, unnerved Sophie. “C-can we please stop soon? I have to use the bathroom.”

Maybe politeness was the way to go. If she couldn’t escape she was going to have to change his mind about whatever mission he was so hell bent on completing. She knew that he felt guilty about putting her through all this, she could feel it. So, he was conflicted but he didn’t think he could disobey orders from whoever was controlling him. Maybe she could work with this. They had a soulbond after all...she could really lay it on him and go for the guilt factor.

“Please! I’m hungry too. I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”

There it was. She felt the flair of guilt radiate through their bond. And something else. He was irritated with himself. Had he seriously forgotten about food?

“You have to feed me, you know. That’s, like, the care and keeping of soulmates 101. Food. And, you know, being nice to each other…”

He sighed quietly. “There’s a rest stop a few miles ahead. Will you make it?”

“Yes!” she squeaked hopefully. She returned to her quest for a more comfortable position, but left her fingers where they were, gently brushing the back of his neck. He hadn’t told her to move them after all. And even after all of this, physical contact with her soulmate felt...comforting.

---

The soldier had never considered what it would be like when he met his soulmate. He’d never had much time to consider anything outside his missions. He had the vaguest memory of the day they first discovered the mark. He’d felt...hope? It was the smallest spark but it was there, a seed planted within him all those years ago. Now she was here. But everything was wrong. He tried to think back to what he knew of soulmates and bonds. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, was it? She wasn’t meant to be another mission. She was different, special. He felt the strong desire to protect her and keep her safe. He longed to hold her close to him but the exigencies of the last twelve hours had not allowed it. And now he had her tied up in the back of a stolen vehicle on their way to a Hydra conditioning center. This was all wrong.

When she said she was hungry he hated himself for not thinking of it last night. He’d taken her from her home when she was clearly already exhausted, driven her out of the city against her will, yelled at her, demeaned her, been physical with her and handcuffed her to a bed. And he’d neglected to consider her most basic human needs.

They pulled into the parking lot of a busy highway rest stop. He parked the vehicle and turned in his seat, looking at her with hesitation clearly written on his face. She seemed to read his expression. Or maybe she felt it through their bond. He could certainly feel her. She sent him a wave of comforting assurance.

“I...I won’t try to get away or anything. You don’t have to worry about that.”

She looked profoundly sad having to say those words. And the soldier felt another stab of self hatred that he had made her feel that he was someone to be escaped. He gave a single nod, took out his dagger and sliced through the cord connecting her wrists to the head rest. She nearly moaned in relief as her aching arms finally fell downward. He reached around the seat and gently unwound the cable from her wrists, wincing as the reddened skin beneath was revealed. He took a moment to rub up and down her arms, stimulating blood flow. The act of touching her seemed to fire his nervous system and the strange, invisible bond between them thrummed inside his chest. He tried to ignore the sensation. The girl sat there, eyes wide as saucers, staring at him.

He felt awkward as he spoke, “We’ll go inside and get something to eat.”

She gave him the smallest most pitiful smile and it quickly fell from her lips. But still, it touched the cold depths of his heart.

***

Inside the lobby of the rest stop, Sophie stood awkwardly at the man’s side. It was designed sort of like a mall food court with a few different food stalls lining the wall, a convenience store in one corner and a large bathroom entrance tucked into another corner. She shifted back and forth on her feet a little. He noticed her discomfort and immediately stalked toward the restrooms, his hand gently grasping her elbow.

“I’ll wait right here,” he said, indicating the spot immediately outside the ladies room. She nodded and went inside. She could still feel the tumult of his emotions riding through the soulbond. It pained her to feel her soulmate so conflicted. But the pain was justified, after all. This was not how it was supposed to be. She shuffled into the ladies room and made her way to the nearest stall. The bathroom was huge and she didn’t have to wait, thank God.

When she was finished she stood at a long bank of sinks rinsing her hands and staring at herself in the mirror. She looked...not good. She stood there for several minutes, allowing the never-quite-warm-enough water of the tap to run over her hands as she stared ahead. Her mind was blank, as if it’d had enough frantic thinking for one day and had given up. She nearly screamed when a redhead, slightly taller than herself slid up behind her and spoke into her ear.

“Sophie, follow me quietly we’re leaving here. I’m taking you someplace safe, understand?”

She locked eyes with the woman in the mirror, clearly weighing her options. Sophie had no idea what she was caught up in and didn’t know for sure that she’d be able to differentiate between help or danger. But something in the woman’s crystalline green eyes conveyed her sincerity and she silently nodded, following her into a supply closet at the back of the bathroom she hadn’t even noticed. As they entered she realized it wasn’t a closet at all, but a service corridor with an exit to the outside. The woman slunk ahead of her, cracked the exit door open and motioned to someone outside. Before she knew what was happening the woman was gone and she was being ushered into yet another nondescript vehicle by a couple of stoic looking men in dark suits. They shut the door behind her and she was alone. The A/C in the car blasted and she shivered against the cool leather upholstery.

About half a minute after they’d stuck her in the car she heard distant shouts and pops like fireworks...or guns. Then she felt the sickening tug on her soulbond. He was in pain, and panicked. She sensed his worry for her and his fear and confusion. She threw open the car door and burst forward, fully intending to find him and make sure he was okay. The men in suits immediately grabbed her and refused to allow her to leave.

“Let me go, please!” she shouted. “He needs me! He’s hurt!”

“Calm down, miss. Barnes will be just fine. Orders are to capture not kill.” She realized this dumb dumb had meant to comfort her, but the words capture and kill weren’t really doing it.

She growled furiously and struggled against them but they wouldn’t budge. She could still feel the man’s fear pulsing into her. In desperation she tried to comfort him, sending him waves of affection and peace. But if they got through to him she couldn’t tell.

She heard a tinny voice coming over a radio, “Suspect in custody. Is Ms. Reynolds accounted for?”

One of the men pulled a walkie talkie from his hip and responded, “We have her, Sir.”

“Alright, everyone proceed to SHIELD HQ, we’ll be right behind you.”

Sophie didn’t have time to consider what was happening as the men herded her back into the freezing cold car. She could only ponder the sudden quiet that had come over her bond mate.

tagged: @watsonwise​

[kendrixtermina]

An Alternate Take on The Prologue

It seems to have been almost universally accepted that the events in the prologue were an assassination attempt meant to remove Dimitri and Claude so that the war would go smoother later on. I’d like to present an alternative possibility. 

I have no solid 100% certain proof I’m not even going to pretend that this is anything other than my own interpretation that’s no more valid than the other one. It’s just a possibility. 

Thus it is ultimately an opinion that I wouldn’t base further conclusions on. We don’t know for a fact that her goal wasn’t, in fact, assassination. 

Still I think because there’s quite a lot of interesting stuff going on in that scene that ppl seem to miss, that I want to dissect here regardless of wether you agree with my thesis or not

Significant Clues: 

The Actual Motive

I’m not sure if it was Seteth or a random Monk, but I think more than one character goes on about how the Church’s reputation that they worked for so many years would have been tarnished if anything happened to the heirs.  Especially when you consider there aren’t that many Blaiddyds left and even less Riegans and that both are expected to solve/end the dire chaos in their respective factions.

Now who would benefit from making the Church look bad? Someone who plans to declare war on them maybe? 

They wouldn’t put that sort of dialogue there if we weren’t supposed to conclude something from it.

This might be less obvious if you haven’t played her route (though even then, you still get her speech in all of them don’t you?) but her declaration of war was strictly against the Church and their allies. She hands out papers everywhere, exposing the Church’s wrongdoings and asking all the rulers to choose sides. Petra mentions getting one such letter. 

She knew full well that most of the Kingdom and Alliance would side with the Church (and keep fighting even after Rhea’s taken out) and that there would probably be calvacades of collateral damage,  after all the Church indoctrinates the ruling elites at the Academy and thanks to the phony “crests are divine gifts” story the nobles depend on the Church for legitimacy as rulers - but every lord who doesn’t support the Church is one whose army she doesn’t have to fight. 

When she declares war, she wants as many people as possible to either stand down or join her. Painting the church as incompetent (or, in her mind, “highlighting” their incompetence) to safeguard the precious heirs might have increased that number, if Byleth’s heroic intervention and subsequent appointment as a professor hadn’t overshadowed the whole thing. 

Also note that for this to cause a scandal, Dimitri and Claude don’t need to be dead. 

Essentially ordering a hit on herself is certainly in line with Edelgard’s other... as Claude put it, “gutsy moves” (Such as not evacuating Enbarr in GD knowing full well that Claude was not going to tear through the civilians, effectively restricting his movements) but looking at literally any other action she’s ever taken, she always goes out of her way to give people the option to surrender., consistently, all the time, all throughout her route (and even many of her engage quotes in the other routes - She offers to let Claude and Byleth go at Gronder, for example) 

She even gets this whole rant before you go to fight Claude about how she wishes people would just stand down peacefully instead of starting fights they can’t win. (which is perhaps why she tells Byleth to just go ahead and finish her once she realizes that she’s beaten in the other routes)

She’ll mow you down if you oppose her alright but first she’ll make sure that both you (and her allies all of whom get the chance to opt out) are all there because you want to be/ are actually choosing to oppose her. It’s not like her to just kill people without giving them an explanation or a choice. 

But smears and coverups? That’s another matter. There’s her whole secret identity/secret faustian Bargain thing, that time only Hubert, Byleth and Lysithea knew which fortress they’d be attacking, and how she pinned the Javelins of light on the church. That’s totally something she’d do, (which might’ve backfired on the credibility of her pamphlets; PR and negotiation are simply not her greatest strengths)

Which makes her less truthful than, say, Dimitri (I think the only time he ever remotely lied to an ally was to hide his investigations of Arundel from Dedue), but overall still not as deceptive as Claude or the Church , since these are all “tactical” lies for concrete short-term goals, nothing relating to their goals. 

Everyone on Edelgard’s side knows that she wants to abolish hereditary rule and create an equal society, even if that means making enemies; Claude tells no one what he’s planning until the very end even though the knights might not follow him if he’d told them that he means to diminish the Church’s influence on society, kinda hoping that everyone will come around on their own - He does this even with Byleth to an extent. 

(Though when it comes to the Church we must really differentiate between the Chuch as a whole established by Rhea and Seteth individually, who I’d rate as significantly more truthful than Edelgard since he only lies out of very justified self-protection and loyalty to Rhea (who is his sister, and about whose wrongdoings he only knows the tip of the iceberg), and even urges her to come clean in the end.)

Ferdinand finds it strange that they just so ran into a bunch of mercenaries and wonders if one of the house leaders knew that there were mercenaries. 

As before, that Dialogue is there for a reason. One of them probably did know. 

So who is it? Probably not Dimitri he can’t pokerface worth a damn. 

That leaves Edelgard or Claude. 

Edelgard might’ve know that there were mercenaries nearby and expected them to intervene if things went south. Or it could be Claude, and that’s why he ran off.

We know that he’s got great survival instincts, grew up in a warrior culture of sorts, and makes a habit of carefully observing his surroundings. Perhaps he just spotted a large amount of hoofprints or beaten muddy footpaths, and deduced that there might be help to be had in that direction.  

For now I’ll say that Claude is the most likely option. 

I mean it’s really like him to be a spanner in the works before he even known anything is up - also, he’s the one who ran. It’s because of HIM that the trio went that direction, not because of anything Edelgard did. 

Leave it to Claude to look like he’s bailing when he’s actually looking for help. (but also taking a bit of a risk since he didn’t know for certain that he would find help).  Also he says something like “Ain’t it great the gods of fortune sent us your way?” which is something Claude would only say ironically. 

Kostas didn’t know there would be knights

As far as he knew he was just supposed to “kill some noble pipsqueaks”

But actually, our trio wasn’t supposed to be alone - it was an exercise with Alois and bunch of knights, the elite knights of Seiros, mind you, who are renowed throughout the land. (as Edelgard herself tells you after the fight)

Meaning that Edelgard probably didn’t expect them to be beaten by a bunch of bandits.

Of course beating Claude and Dimitri themselves on their own might be another matter, at least if they’re outnumbered. Still, she must’ve known that Dimitri had seen actual war before and was aware of Claude’s suspicious arrival. 

Since she was with them one could think that she maybe lured them away from the group... except that the situation ultimately depended on at least two unpredictable factors:

- The guy who was supposed to get Byleth’s job bolted. He was supposed to be with the trio and presumably semi-competent. 

I’m surprised that he didn’t show up as an antagonist afterwards or something. We never find out anything about this guy or why he ran though it coulve been simple cowardice. 

Well, unless he too was a plant who meant to run off so Jeritza (who definitely was an imperial plant) could take his job - Didn’t someone say something about expecting Jeritza to get the job Byleth got? I think it was Felix. 

- Claude ran for it, and Dimitri chased after him

Now that’s something that Edelgard really couldn’t have predicted. It’s just Claude being Claude, and Dimitri being Dimitri and hence, heroically charging after him to help him out. 

If Claude hadn’t run off, the trio would have stayed with the knights who could presumably handle a bunch of bandits. If Dimitri hadn’t charged after him to save him, Claude’s plan would have worked without a hitch and he would have returned with allies - he was just one person, he’s the fastest/stealthiest and the least valuable target so he might’ve escaped by himself. 

But Dimitri and Claude running off? Let alone all three? That’s all the most valuable targets on a platter so the thieves went after them. Dimitri, bless his heart,  of course thought that Claude was acting as a decoy and counting on himto come after him.  (consider how he eventually really DOES expect Dimitri to bail him out at the end of Dimitri’s route)

I’d like to stress that Dimitri’s genuine, unpremeditated and unplanned action with no ulterior motive besides helping out proved to be as much of a spanner here as Claude’s clever foresight and chaotic action, and that neither of the other two had been expecting it.  

Dimitri and Claude explicitly tell us that the other two got separated from the group because they chased after Claude. (Again, if she just wanted to kill them, why not just stick with the knights and let them run to their deaths? She’d get a bonus alibi. Indeed she might’ve gone after them because she hadn’t meant for this to end lethally - though it’s fully possible that she just followed without thinking and didn’t intend to get separated)

Something to appreciate here is that while Edelgard is competent and had been planning this for a while, she’s still relatively young and inexperienced and she can only defy or constrain TWSITD so much until she gets the throne.

She has clearly been amassing allies of her own (she marches in with a bunch of relatively young, handpicked generals such as Randolph, Jeritza and Ladislava, and cuts a deal with some from the old regime such as Caspar’s and Linhardt’s dads... though how he goes out in the Church and Alliance routes suggests that Caspar’s dad had some redeeming qualities) , but even with all this and some tentative assent from Arundel and co. she still needed to make an unnanounced surprise visit to actually get her hands on the crown.

She’s not exactly in over her head, but she’s attempting to control a very volatile situation while essentially making a deal with a loose-canon devil she can just barely keep in check. 

A microcosm of what’s to come

The central tragedy of the game is that though the faction leaders were ultimately good people who had the same enemies, they wind up fighting each other before they get at the real bad guys because they’re all acting on information that other other’s don’t have and hence don’t know the other’s situation. 

In a way the introduction scene is kinda like a miniature version of that. 

Each of their individual plans/decisions might have worked, but not all three at once. 

If you think about it the way they would’ve died without Byleth’s intervention foreshadows each of their “bad” endings - Edelgard finds herself surrounded and outnumbered after he plans backfire and goes down fighting as no one else has a clue what she’s really doing, Dimitri rushes head-first into an unwinnable fight because he puts honor before reason,  misjudged someone’s intentions and doesn’t consider his own role, and Claude would’ve either bailed, or gotten himself killed when one of his plans didn’t quite turn out like he wanted. 

Too bad you can only pick one :( 

The other two stay that way. 

[shions-songbirds]

Icing on the Cake

Also posted on ao3

Todoroki didn’t celebrate his birthday. He never really had, considering, well, his home life. That had changed in their first year, because Midoriya wouldn’t stand for him not celebrating it, but, in the end, he didn’t really care about his actual birthday. And he didn’t really like that Midoriya made such an event of it. That didn’t mean the gesture wasn’t sweet or that he didn’t appreciate it, he did, very, very much, but it just wasn’t really his thing. It wasn’t so much that he minded being the center of attention, he was training to become a hero, that came with the territory, he more just didn’t like his friends going through all that trouble for him. For a day that had never really mattered. Sure, Fuyumi would give him a gift, would do her best to spend some time with him, more than usual, but it didn’t actually mean anything. January 11th was just another day. Sometimes it was good, sometimes it was bad, but ultimately, it was just another day, for whatever that meant. 

But, every year without fail, a few days before his birthday, Midoriya would throw a little party with the help of their friends and classmates. He’d enlist Satou to make a cake, ask Iida to help him organize everything, get Uraraka’s help decorating, so on and so forth, dragging everyone in to be a part of it. It made every part of Todoroki scream at the thought of how much needless effort his friends put in to make an impressive birthday party. He knew if they had the option they’d drag him out of the dorms to a nice restaurant or something, but dorm security made that nearly impossible, and so instead they endeavored to make something impressive of their shared living quarters. 

Which Todoroki really didn’t need. He didn’t need anything impressive, he didn’t need all his friends to put in some much effort on his behalf. He had never needed his birthday to be anything special, it never had been, so really, they didn’t need to worry about it. But they did, they always did, and though he’d told Midoriya time and time before that they didn’t need to plan anything special, the class still came together on it every year and Shouto was left feeling touched but tired. 

And he was always tired afterwards. That many people all with their attention centered on him drained him pretty quick. The party was as grand as a party hosted in a dorm common room could be, a too big cake sitting on the counter, decorations ranging from a “Happy Birthday, Todoroki-kun!” banner to a bunch of tacky streamers and dumb little things hanging up and about that he was sure took hours to take down, now that he’d ever been allowed to help with that. They’d also go out of their way to make some “special” dinner for the class, usually just cold soba, where a couple of classmates would generally start trying to make it, Midoriya included, only to be chased out of the kitchen by Bakugou, barking at them that he wouldn’t let them “fuck up his damn boyfriend’s dinner”. Or so Todoroki had been told. 

A lot of planning went into it. Unnecessary planning. But every time, when he entered the dorm commons and saw it decked out in things for his birthday, like right now, he felt a smile appear on his face despite himself, felt touched that his classmates and friends would go through all this trouble. 

He walked up to Midoriya, bumping their shoulders together. “You went too far, again,” he told him, shaking his head. 

“But you’re smiling,” Midoriya pointed out, “which means you aren’t upset about it.”

“Oh I am, you put in way too much effort, but,” he paused to pull him to his side in an awkward side hug, “it always feels nice to see how much you care. Even if you didn’t need to do all this.”

“Of course I did. And I made sure it couldn’t possibly get in the way of yours and Kacchan’s date this year, so I think I did just enough.” 

He shook his head at the reminder of the ordeal last year, where the time of the party had directly coincided with when Bakugou had planned to take him out for his birthday so they’d have all day out without it interfering with their classes. That hadn’t been pretty, and trying to prevent his boyfriend from murdering one of his best friends was really not how he had wanted to spend the day. And it had lead to a trashed party and ruined date plans, which made pretty much everyone unhappy, considering the party was a class wide effort. Avoiding a repeat of that was really the only birthday present he needed. 

“Good that’s… good. The last thing I think I’d ever want is a repeat of that disaster,” he told Midoriya, getting a very hasty nod in return. 

“Kacchan wouldn’t talk to me for an entire week afterwards,” Midoriya admitted.

“Like that’s a new thing?”

“Well, he hasn’t really been like that since our first year, so I thought we’d be fine but… yeah, no, he wasn’t happy.”

“Are you surprised?”

“....” he said nothing for a moment. “No….” 

Todoroki laughed, and the two kept on like that for a little longer before Midoriya shooed him off to go spend time with their other friends. Which was fine. He’d kind of been intentionally avoiding that because that meant talking to a lot more people and he didn’t really have the energy for that, but it was nice all the same. Observing the Bakusquad’s shenanigans as they bickered over whose gift was better (Todoroki didn’t know, he hadn’t opened any yet) was fun. He enjoyed watching people take glances at the cake on the counter, as though wondering if they were allowed to get into it, which, he didn’t care, if they wanted to they could. He’d never had much of a sweet tooth, so the cake was pretty low on his list of interests. He knew they wouldn’t, knew they valued the tradition of birthday boy getting the first piece over their own desire to eat it, but he really didn’t much care. 

He and Momo talked for a little bit about essentially nothing, and she handed him a new dumb romance novel she had found, and he genuinely hoped that was the only gift she had to give him. She had the tendency to go overboard. They all did, actually, but she had the finances that allowed her to do more than everyone else and he did not trust her. Not at all. 

And then there was Shinsou. The local cryptid found him first, but that was always the case. Trying to find Shinsou was like trying to find a needle in a haystack, there was pretty much no chance. If he didn’t want to be found, he pretty much didn’t exist. 

“You look like you’re having fun,” his friend chimed sarcastically. Todoroki shook his head. 

“Too much going on,” he said in reply. He’d been down here barely an hour and he was already exhausted. 

“You can always just leave.”

“Do not be the devil on my shoulder, I will succumb and I don’t want them to think I don’t appreciate it.”

“I’m always the devil on your shoulder. Because honestly, what’s stopping you? God? Societal norms? Courtesy? Ha, they’re meaningless. Powerless. I say just leave.” 

“Shinsou, you’re terrible and I don’t know why we’re friends.” Todoroki huffed. Shinsou laughed. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he replied, and obviously the conversation was over, because he walked off without another word, disappearing into the shadows. How he did that Todoroki would never understand. 

The afternoon went on much like that, with brief conversations with friends, and the pile of gifts he had yet to open growing and growing. They ate dinner together, Todoroki watching his friends goof around with a fond smile on his face, and after they got into the cake Satou had made. It was a good birthday, all around, and he was happy to be there with them, but oh he was tired. The party exhausted him like it always did, left him dead on his feet.

He hauled himself up to his room and collapsed on his bed, burying his face in his pillow. He was tired. So, so tired. But he was happy. He’d had a good night. His social energy was less than none but that was fine. He was touched and that was what mattered.

He kept mostly to himself over the next couple days, focusing primarily on recharging in some much needed isolation, or lying against his boyfriend and watching a movie, stealing energy from him, until Saturday. January 11th. His actual birthday. The friends he saw around showered him in more happy birthdays, and it made him smile, honestly. 

And then he saw his boyfriend. 

“C’mon Icyhot, we have plans today,” Bakugou told him, swinging an arm around his neck and dragging him off towards the doors of the dorms. “I already got us permission to leave for the day, before you say anything.”

“Oh. I hadn’t even thought of that,” Todoroki admitted sheepishly. 

“You’re an idiot,” he said, though his tone was laced with affection. Or what affection sounded like from his boyfriend who had practically no actual tone differentiation. With that wonderfully affectionate comment, the two of them walked to the gate of the school and out.

“So… where are we going?” he asked Bakugou after a moment, as they walked down the sidewalk, watching the cars drive by. 

“You’ll find out when we get there,” was all he got in reply, which, fair enough, he supposed, though he’d prefer knowing. 

“Helpful,” he said instead. They were holding hands as they walked, moving past a myriad of cute businesses and restaurants, places that seemed interesting but if that wasn’t where they were going then so be it. And if they weren’t stopping at a bus stop or going to take a train, then obviously it was somewhere near enough to walk to, which left so many and yet so few things. He didn’t figure they’d be going out to breakfast, and frankly he hoped not, because he had already eaten earlier that morning. They weren’t nicely dressed, so it obviously wasn’t going to be anywhere particularly fancy, not that a fancy lunch or dinner seemed much Bakugou’s speed. He just felt horribly confused as to where they could possibly be going. 

He was both shocked and confused when he found himself outside of what seemed to be an arcade. Bakugou refused to look at him. 

“Shitty Deku told me that you said you’d never been to an arcade before but you wanted to, so this is our first stop for the day,” he told him, still refusing to meet his eyes. It took Todoroki a moment to realize that he was embarrassed, that it embarrassed him admitting that he’d wanted to take him out to do something he hadn’t ever done before. He smiled gently, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand, because that was so cute and sweet and he was just… touched. He was touched. 

Bakugou didn’t acknowledge it, but his face was red, bright red. How cute. He dragged him inside the building, getting some tokens from a machine and then letting go of his hand, letting Todoroki look over the area around him. 

“Whatever you wanna do. It’s your birthday or whatever,” he said. Todoroki grinned before grabbing his boyfriend’s arm and dragging him off towards what looked like a fighting game. 

“Then we’re doing this, first,” he told him, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Bakugou scoffed, a little ‘tch’ of a noise.

“You think you can beat me? Good luck with that. But hey, for your first time, I’ll go easy on you,” Bakugou said and he said it so suggestively, it had Shouto reddening. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, put your money where your mouth is,” he replied, trying to mask his embarrassment. It didn’t work. But Bakugou did indeed put his money into the machine, and Todoroki, admittedly, was awful at the game. They played a good couple rounds, and he hadn’t managed to squeak by with a win even once, always getting completely crushed by his boyfriend’s skillful play, which certainly did more than his hasty button mashing in his desperate attempts to keep up. Annoyed at his losses, his competitive streak sparked, he dragged Bakugou away from the fighting game, ignoring his laugh because that was so not fair. He had never done this before, he deserved to be cut some slack, thank you. He refused to be laughed at. 

So he dragged him over to a racing game next, getting the same taunting laughter and the promise that he would lose. Which annoyed him, even if it was probably true. Neither of them expected him to absolutely kill it in the racing game. 

His first victory was, perhaps, a fluke. Neither of them knew how he’d managed to pull off a win in the last few seconds of the race, but he had, and they were both left in shock. Bakugou didn’t allow him to get a word in about his victory before huffing quickly that “we both know that was a fluke, let’s do that one more time” which Todoroki really couldn’t argue, because he was right. That definitely felt like a fluke.

But he won again. And he won again. And he won again, watching his boyfriend get huffier every time, even though he tried to be supportive and a good loser. He tried, which Todoroki appreciated, he just failed monumentally. 

“Good job, even though you only barely managed to scrape by with that one, how about--” Todoroki cut him off before he could propose one more round.

“How about, instead, we go and try one of those stuffed animal crane games?” he offered, pretty sure that something that was decidedly without competition was probably the best bet for this little adventure of theirs, if they didn’t want to end up here literally all day, which he was almost certain his boyfriend would not have the money for. And that sounded bad, but he knew Bakugou wouldn’t let him pay a dime today, far too stubborn for that, and he just really didn’t want to waste all of his boyfriend’s money on a racing game for hours. 

Not that the crane game was any better, he decided after a moment of playing. They were gunning for a cute but goofy looking stuffed pomeranian that Todoroki was exceedingly fond of. He didn’t say it was because the little thing reminded him of his boyfriend, but that was absolutely the reason. And they kept getting so close to snagging the little thing. So close. And yet. They had put far too many tokens into the damn thing at this point, and for what? They remained empty handed. But neither of them wanted to admit defeat to the sinister, villainous machine that was most definitely rigged, a fact that they were most definitely not about to acknowledge. 

Honestly, Bakugou looked about ready to blow the machine up, his face scrunched up in a dedicated sort of anger, and Todoroki found himself more than willing to help him, if it came to it. Would that technically make them criminals? Yes, but honestly, he thought the cops could understand where they were coming from on this one. These plush toys were way too hard to get, and this was costing them far more money then it was worth. 

But as they watched the claw tighten snag the little pomeranian by its neck and tighten its hold, he felt that the gods were smiling down upon them. The fluffy creature didn’t slip from the claw’s grasp, it was carried slowly but seamlessly over to the drop, and both he and Bakugou watched it with rapt attention, hoping that it wouldn’t once more elude them. And when it slid down with a thunk, he pulled his boyfriend into an excited kiss, uncaring of any other company around them in the arcade. Bakugou didn’t protest, kissing him back just as eagerly, and when they pulled apart a little bit later, he pulled the fluffy plush toy out of the hatch, holding it close to his chest. 

“We got it,” he said, still a little breathless from their kiss. Bakugou nodded. 

“We got it. Little fucker’s all yours now.” Did they waste too much money on it? Absolutely. Was it a complete waste of time? Without a doubt. But did Todoroki love this plush puppy more than he loved himself? Unquestionably. This fluffy monstrosity held against his chest was the best thing he’d ever gotten. And if, in his head, he named it after his boyfriend, well that was between him and his plush toy, thanks. 

The arcade took longer than Bakugou had planned, on account of the puppy currently settled within Todoroki’s arms, but it wasn’t late enough to require a change of plans. Snagging his boyfriend’s hand, the one not currently gripping the plush toy like it was something sacred and beloved, he pulled him out of the arcade. Their next stop still wouldn’t require the taking of a bus or train. In fact, it wouldn’t even take much of a walk from the arcade. It was a small place, a tiny restaurant tucked out of the way of heavy foot traffic. A cozy, simple little place, where they sold a food Bakugou felt his boyfriend would enjoy. It wasn’t particularly unique, or special, but the experience of doing it together, well, maybe that would make it something a bit more special.

The place was a simply monjayaki shop. Todoroki was pretty certain he had never been in one, his father having never been too big on going out to eat, especially not to get something as simple and cheap as monja. And as they started actually making it, he became all the more certain that this was definitely not a part of his childhood. This was far too commoner for his father’s “refined” tastes, and he loved it. He loved every second of it. Loved watching Bakugou as the two of them made their food, loved watching it cook before his eyes, loved all of it, loved everything about it. He loved this. 

He loved Bakugou. 

Oh, did he love Bakugou. 

And oh, he had just said that aloud, if the vibrant flush on his boyfriend’s face was any indication. He wasn’t sure if he should acknowledge it. Wasn’t sure if he should say anything more, but Bakugou made that choice for him.

“...I love you, too,” he said quietly, barely loud enough for Todoroki to hear. “And if you’re gonna be making confessions like that then you should be callin’ me Katsuki,” he said it like it was just something that may as well happen, not like it was an important admission, not like it meant that he wanted to be called Katsuki. Todoroki was definitely red himself, his heart melting in his chest, staring at his boyfriend with what were undeniably heart eyes. 

“Then call me Shouto, Katsuki,” he told him, subtly trying the name on his lips, feeling it on his tongue, as he stared at him a moment longer, before the smell of burning food hit his nose and he realized they had definitely left their monja to cook for too long in their moment of simply staring at each other. They scraped the burnt mess off of the skillet, stared at it, both of them decidedly not hungry for it any longer. 

“Want to go back to the dorms?” Katsuki asked (Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki), to which he hastily nodded. 

“... when we get back, do you want to watch movies together in the common area?” he asked in return as they paid and left. Katsuki hesitated a moment before nodding.

“If I get to chase everyone out of there, then sure,” and that sounded more than perfect to Shouto. And if the entire walk home he pressed himself a little closer to his boyfriend’s side, if he quietly whispered Katsuki’s name the entire way back, getting an elbow in the side when he kept at it too long, well that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the two of them, and how close he could be to his boyfriend, how much he got to relish being in the same space as him not just for this but for the rest of the day, and longer, hopefully longer, much, much longer. That’s what he wanted. Everything he needed. 

And exactly how they spent the rest of the afternoon. Curled up on the couch, exchanging kisses as they sat cuddled together, watching random movies Shouto had never gotten to see in his childhood. The feeling of Katsuki pressed against his back, every little kiss they traded back and forth, the shine of the tv and the din of cutesy movies and overly extra action scenes, old super hero movies and movies that were apparently a hallmark of the childhood he hadn’t had, and he found that this was the most at peace he had ever been. This was what he wanted for his birthday, what he needed, just a quiet couple hours between the two of them, a loving day in. Everything about this was perfect, idyllic, this was everything. Being together with Katsuki was everything, all he could ever have wanted. This was perfection. This was the best birthday he had ever had. 

And if the next morning, he woke up to a hundred livid texts from his father, and a couple from his friends, links to articles that were posted about him and Katsuki being a thing, well, that was just the icing on the cake.

[starker-stories]

An Accord (WIS), Chapter 11

This fic is on a ‘whenever my goddamn muse decides to show up’ update schedule. Every Friday would be nice, muse. But the nice thing is that I have only one more chapter to write, because the last chapter is done. Yes, I know that's a stupid way to write a story. And doing the chapters out of order always messes me up in the end. *sigh*

Oh looky! I made a moodboard!

Tumblr Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13 AO3 Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13

Tags: Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyamory, Cheating, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Domestic Nightmare Tony Stark, Reconciliation, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, WinterIronSpider, Happy Ending, Clothed Sex, Domesticity, Peter Parker is legal age in the state of New York, College Student Peter Parker, Takes place about 2 years after Civil War. Closeted Character

Summary: “Joy, Beautiful. That’s something you give both of us. Neither of us ever had a lot of that in our lives before you. Heart,” Tony said, drawing a Valentine’s heart over Peter’s. “I know I can’t live without this one. Don’t think Bucky wants to live without it either.” ——————————————————————————————

Chapter 10: Han and Leia and Chewie

Bucky had already left for the day. He finished his debriefs a few days ago, but Fury was using him to weapons train the new recruits. He was also using him to root out any last bits of HYDRA lurking around SHIELD or elsewhere.

“Baby, c’mere,” Tony said smiling lazily shortly after FRIDAY woke them at eight.

“You’re going to make me miss my ten o’clock class again,” Peter said, putting up only a half-hearted protest as he came out of the bathroom, naked, drying himself off from his shower.

“It’s inorganic chemistry and lab. You can do both of those here with your text and the space I set up for you. I’ll promise to let you out of this bed in time to make your one o’clock differential equations.”

Peter laughed and climbed into bed. “You’re a bad influence.”

“Yeah, but at least I’m good at it.” Tony pulled Peter close and kissed him. “This right here,” he said, tangling his fingers through the boy’s damp, springy curls. “A big part of why you got your name, Beautiful. You look like a renaissance painting. Better,” he said, reaching down and cupping Peter’s cock and balls. “They always gave their men small cocks. Not enough for a horny Catholic boy to jerk off to after confession.”

Peter snorted. “You’re Catholic?”

“Was. I guess technically I still am, since you have to write the Vatican and be taken off the rolls. I should do that.”

“Oh no you don’t. I have all sorts of naughty priest/altar boy fantasies to play out.”

“You’re Catholic?” Tony said in disbelief. “Parker’s a pretty WASP name.”

“So’s Stark. But Fitzpatrick isn’t. That was my mom’s name.”

“Well, if the Vatican ever changes…”

Peter laughed.

“We can get married in the Church,” Tony said, grinning.

“Did you just propose to me?”

“Nope. Just speculating. We’re not even out yet, but you did turn eighteen.”

“I’d been thinking about how to do that, but…” Peter sighed. “Things got more complicated.”

“Yeah.”

“I kinda…” Peter hesitated.

“Me too.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say! You always do that!” Peter swatted Tony’s arm.

“You were going to say that you kinda love Bucky more than you thought you did.”

“Dammit Tony!” Peter rolled his eyes. “Yes.” He paused, realizing what Tony said. “You do too?”

Tony nodded. “Is that okay?”

“I was worried about you. You’re very possessive, you know,” Peter teased.

“News to me.” Tony smiled. “I just feel possessive about two of you now. But, while I love Pretty a whole lot more than I ever thought I would… you’re still it for me, Peter.”

Peter leaned up and gave Tony a kiss. “Same. But he’s more than just ‘a bit on the side’.”

“Entirely. Human language is imprecise enough as it is, it never had to deal with stuff like this before. Pair-bonding came along before language did. More efficient for perpetuating the species through child rearing.”

“I am not having kids, Tony. By any means.”

“Fuck no.”

Peter breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god. I thought that some day you’d be all like ‘I’m a famous billionaire my name must go on’.”

“I’ll be dead, why would I give a fuck about my name after I’m dead?”

“That’s either massively egotistical or massively not. I can’t figure out which.”

“It’s solipsistic. The world exists as what we experience. What we don’t, doesn’t exist.”

“So no kids. Thank god. But… while I love you so very different from Bucky… us coming out as a couple, that cuts him out.”

“It isn’t what we’ve got here,” Tony agreed. It was his turn to kiss Peter. He took a little longer at it than the kid did. He couldn’t help it. Kissing was another of his fetishes.

“Do you mind waiting?”

Tony shrugged. “You were the one in a hurry.”

“I still am,” Peter said.

“How about ‘it happens when it happens’?”

“And how it happens,” Peter added.

“Meaning?” Tony asked.

“If we get caught as being more than a couple, we don’t deny it.”

“That’s a big step.”

Peter shrugged. “When have you cared what the world thinks?”

Tony chuckled. “Other than legally, I don’t. But I’m not the only one who’s gonna take heat.”

“Table the discussion for now?”

“The three of us can pick away at it. But yeah, it’s gonna take more than just the two of us calling whatever reporter we want and telling them.”

“But you’re really okay?” Peter asked quietly.

“That’s my question,” Tony said and put a kiss on the tip of Peter’s nose. “Me and him… it’s not me and you. But it’s more ‘me and him’ than I thought it would be.”

“You have history with him.”

Tony watched Peter’s face closely. “I have history with you. Longer if you count the time that would’ve got me thrown in jail.”

Peter laughed. “I do count the time that would’ve got you thrown in jail. I saw you looking at my ass entirely inappropriately.”

“Not my fault. You have a fine ass.”

“I had a fifteen year old ass.”

“Fifteen with the body of a much older young man thanks to the spider.”

“’S okay. I forgive you. Means I don’t have to feel guilty about seeing a picture of you stepping out of the suit looking all suave in a tux being the cause of my middle school sexual awakening.”

“I did NOT need to know that,” Tony said laughing. He turned serious again and ran his fingertip along Peter’s arm. “The history thing, that bother you?

Peter thought about it and sighed. “Not the history thing,” he said, biting his lip. “The adult thing. You’re both… and I’m not. I’m scared you’re gonna get tired of dealing with a teenager and want, y’know, a man instead.”

“There’s only one problem with that.”

Peter hummed in question.

“I happen to be entirely, madly, hopelessly in love with a teenager,” Tony said with a kiss.

“And you love Bucky more than you thought you would.” He paused. “He’s in love with you, I don’t care that he said he’s not sure. He is.”

“Yeah, I know. He knows. He told me.”

“Oh.” Peter’s voice was small.

“He also told me that he’s in love with you.”

“I doubt that.”

“You shouldn’t. You give him something he never had, baby.”

Peter’s hummed question sounded doubtful.

“Joy, Beautiful. That’s something you give both of us. Neither of us ever had a lot of that in our lives before you. Heart,” Tony said, drawing a Valentine’s heart over Peter’s. “I know I can’t live without this one. Don’t think Bucky wants to live without it either.”

“I love you,” Peter said.

“I know,” Tony answered, in a certain familiar way.

“Oh fuck you, Han.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of fucking you, Leia,” Tony said, rolling on top of Peter.

Peter grinned. “That makes us Han and Leia and Chewie. Because of the hair.”

Tony let out a high-pitched giggle. Peter took advantage and rolled him over, straddling his thighs. “Princesses get to be on top.” He slid forward to where their cocks were together. Still soft, he took both in his hand and started stroking them.

“Fuck, Pete,” Tony breathed out, his eyes fixed on Peter’s hand and their cocks together. It was a sight that always got to him.

Peter worked his hand up their shafts. Until they were both hard and one hand had to become two. Tony sucked in a sharp breath and his cock leaked enough precome that, mixed with his own, Peter was able to slick his hand to make the glide easier. He shifted his position to bring the heads on a level with each other so he could palm over both at the same time.

“All right, magic lube boy,” Peter said, teasing. He held out his hand, cupped upward. And Tony… like magic, damn him… found the lube under the pillow. “How do I not sleep on that?”

Tony chuckled. “Because you can’t sleep more than six inches away from the arc.” He squeezed a large dollop of lube onto Peter’s upturned palm.

“You have your fetishes,” Peter said, sliding his slick hand over both of them, but mostly over Tony. “I have mine.”

“You wouldn’t love us if we weren’t cyborgs…” Tony broke off his teasing with a sharp breath sucked between his teeth as Peter’s hand smoothed directly over the head of his cock.

Peter stopped touching himself and concentrated on slicking Tony up. He raised on his thighs and crept forward until he wasn’t sitting on Tony’s thighs but holding himself above the man’s cock. He reached behind, his hand circling Tony’s shaft and tried to settle straight down onto him but the angle wasn’t right. They hadn’t done it often with Peter on top, and when they had, Tony was sitting up, helping him.

“Lean forward, baby,” Tony suggested.

He couldn’t see how that would help, but Peter let go of Tony’s cock and started to fall forward. Instead of ending up on top of Tony, the man’s hands stopped his fall, reaching up to spread, palms wide, over Peter’s chest. It was harder to reach back, but when Peter slid down, it was perfect and Tony started to slip easily inside of him.

Peter slowly started to sit more upright, taking more of Tony’s cock into him. Tony moved his hands lower, caressing Peter’s sides firmly, letting him guide himself into position. He settled his hands low on Peter’s narrow waist, just above the boy’s hips, his thumbs slotting into the deep V lines. He didn’t rise up to thrust nor pull Peter down with his hands. He let Peter control everything this time.

“That’s it, Beautiful,” Tony said as Peter started to rise and fall rhythmically, his thighs tensing and relaxing, tight cords underneath smooth skin. Peter was achingly beautiful. His body had been transformed by the spider bite. The muscles, the strength… that was all spider. The flawless pale skin, the grace with which he moved, the way he moaned and his breath caught and then he’d cry out… that was all Peter.

As was the confident, yet experimental, way Peter sought to make himself feel good. Peter’s hands grabbed Tony’s forearms, using them to balance, to push against, sliding down them to find the best angle as he rolled his hips, grinning when, in search of his own pleasure, he’d accidentally made Tony gasp instead. Clenching tightly, rising and then falling with another tight roll of his hips, his eyes were twinkling when Tony’s opened to meet his.

Tony’s revenge was simple. He stopped holding Peter’s waist, leaving the boy to find his own balance, which, frustratingly he did. But when he next rolled forward, Tony’s hands returned to Peter’s chest. He rarely had such an opportunity to appreciate that finely sculpted part of Peter’s body. He ran his palms over the kid’s pecs and his fingers found Peter’s nipples. He started gently rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. Peter whimpered. The gentle fondling became pinches and pulls, and Peter’s whimpers were broken and caught on rapidly panting breaths.

He knew what that did to the boy. Peter’s cock was jumping and the rise and fall on Tony’s stuttered. He was trying to plead with Tony but the words wouldn’t come out as anything but gasped letters. Finally, Tony found his hands swatted away with strong pushes to each of his arms. Peter glared at him and Tony wore a smug grin.

“Something wrong, Beautiful?” he teased.

“Yes, you bastard! You are not gonna make me come by playing with my poor abused nipples again!”

Tony chuckled. “You are the only one I’ve ever seen do that. Those cute little things are directly wired to your cock, baby. How can I resist?”

Peter rocked forward with a slow grind of his hips. Tightening around Tony’s cock, he dragged his body up, milking the man. He loosened and fell back down, until he was flat against Tony’s pelvis. With Tony buried all the way inside of him, Peter reached behind and cupped the man’s balls, gently rolling them, giving them a light little squeeze, running a single fingertip, pressing firmly, beneath them. Tony groaned and his eyes closed and his hips rose, trying to push himself deeper into Peter.

“Baby, how can I resist?” Peter said, with a smug grin when he stopped and Tony met his eyes.

Peter leaned forward, holding himself at just the right angle. When he began his rise and fall on Tony’s cock, he rode in short, shallow strokes, having found the perfect position and depth to give himself pleasure.

Tony watched in amazement as Peter earned his nickname. His curly hair was a sweat-damp springy mess, falling forward, clinging to his forehead. His body glistened in the morning light coming through the huge windows of their bedroom. The kid’s muscles… so fucking strong, no strain or falter no matter the fact that they’d been working at his ride. Gracefully, he rolled his body, thighs to shoulders, the shudder arching his back in a belly dancer’s writhe as he gasped.

And Peter’s face… Tony couldn’t concentrate at all on how the kid was making his cock feel, because the kid’s face… dear lord, Tony was lost. Peter’s eyes were closed, the lids smooth and pale, lashes long and, when he’d hit his movements just right, they fluttered like butterfly wings. The pink flush on his cheeks was dark and shining with sweat. The heat of it ran all the way down his neck. But it was his mouth that caught and held Tony’s eye. Slack and parted, his white teeth a line beneath them, his lips were licked and bitten, puffy and glistening from his tongue darting across their swell.

Tony moaned just from looking at his Beautiful. His. Shared, but that didn’t seem to matter because he loved who Peter was shared with. The idea of having his perfect boy beloved, not just by him but by Bucky as well, almost made it better. Knowing that there was another person who would be as stunned by this sight. His reaction to the thought surprised him. He was always so possessive of Peter. But as he watched the boy shudder through another wave of pleasure and his moan become a cry of Tony’s name, he realized he was still just as possessive as ever. Only he possessed two treasures, one Beautiful and one Pretty. They both were his.

“Oh fuck, Peter,” Tony moaned and put his hands on the boy’s hips. Not controlling his rise and fall, just holding, just feeling the heat of Peter’s skin on his fingers. “Baby… oh fuck yes. Go on, Beautiful. Touch that gorgeous, cock of yours. I wanna see your hand on it. You’re so hard. Your cock’s dripping on me. Make yourself come, baby. I wanna see you. I want you all over me. God Peter, you are a sight.”

Peter whimpered as Tony spoke. The man’s voice was husky and low, crooning out words of praise. Peter’s hand wrapped around his cock and he rocked his hips into the circle of it. His ride faltered a moment as he hunted for a new movement that would mix both actions into one irresistible spike of pleasure. His gasp strained with his held breath, body tight with the rise of it, held still at the height of his stroke for what seemed like forever, but was only a moment, before it broke and he fell. “Oh… fuck! Oh… oh… Tony!” He screamed as he came over Tony. Almost immediately he fell on top of the man, shuddering and quaking. Peter slid his arms along Tony’s sides, under his arms, his hands clutching upwards over Tony’s shoulders. This time not a cry, but an almost frightened whisper, “Tony.”

Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, solid, comforting. His cock was still hard as Peter slid off of him to be high enough up his body to bury his face in the crook of his neck. Flat palmed, Tony soothed down Peter’s back. “I have you, Pete. Always have you. Right here, Beautiful. Not ever letting go.” He kissed the side of Peter’s head and he clung almost as tightly to the boy as Peter clung to him, although his strength wasn’t a match. His shoulders would be bruised with little circles from Peter’s fingertips, longer lines from his fingers. He never minded the marks. Tony liked seeing the signs of Peter’s need on his body. His power, but restrained, even as far gone as the boy had been, he still pulled it back.

“Baby, you’re my forever,” he whispered into Peter’s ear. Tony’s fingers carded softly through Peter’s wet and tangled curls. “My forever, Peter.”

“Oh, I love you, Tony,” Peter said, his lips moving over the man’s neck as his body finally began to still. His hand gentled over where the bruises he left would rise on Tony’s shoulder. He was always so frightened of them, afraid that one day he’d hold on too tightly and hurt Tony. But he never did. He didn’t understand how that worked or why. But he never hurt him.

Peter slid up just a little bit more and kissed behind Tony’s ear. He whispered it again. “Baby, I love you.”

Tony’s breath caught. Such a beautiful, fragile, gentle thing in his arms. How could he love him? But Peter found something inside of him that was worth loving. There was still something there.

He rolled them to their sides, messy between them. Tony’s cock softened, forgotten. He reached down, pulling them both up off the mattress for a moment, until he grasped the bedcover and pulled it up over Peter’s cooling body. Laying back down on the bed, his lips found Peter’s. Softly, tenderly, they kissed over and over. Tony sucked that beautiful red, swollen, bitten bottom lip into his mouth and gently sucked on it, licking across it, teasing it’s sensitivity until Peter sighed into his kiss.

At eleven fifteen they were awakened by FRIDAY’s announcement that if Peter wanted to make his one pm differential equations class, he needed to get up and get ready.

Peter smiled and gave Tony a light kiss. “You wake up too or you’re gonna fuck your sleeping up.”

Tony sighed, knowing that Peter was right, even though all he wanted to do was pull that duvet over himself and sleep. “Go get your shower.” He sat up, knowing if he stayed laying down, all his good intentions to wake up would be lost.

“I swear, if I come home and find you asleep…”

Tony laughed. “Nope. Not doing that ever again. You threatened me with ice water before you left and you fucking did it, you menace.” He watched as Peter crawled across his crazy huge bed, which he knew was a crazy huge bed and that’s why he liked it. “Keep wiggling that ass at me and I won’t let you up until time for your three o’clock physics class.”

Peter looked over his shoulder and stuck out his tongue at Tony, then pushed off with his arms, jumping up and flipping in mid-air until he landed on his feet between the bed and the bathroom. “I cannot miss that class,” he said, heading for the shower.

“Yeah, I know. You better make up that ninety-three on your last test with your final. Do you know how embarrassing it would be for me to have a boyfriend who didn’t hit the mark in physics?”

“Shut the fuck up, Tony,” Peter said as FRIDAY turned on the water and he got under it. “You make me want to flunk and then tell my professor that you gave me all the wrong information and the only reason you got your PhD in physics was because you blew your advisor.”

“I did, but my dissertation acceptance had nothing to do with that. Though maybe fucking the dean might’ve helped,” Tony said, flushing the toilet after signaling FRIDAY to not adjust the water temperature for the pressure drop.

Peter’s yelp was extremely satisfying.

[iamartemisday]

Pepperony Week Day One- 5+1 Things

A/N: So I posted this last night, but I was informed that one of my tags wasn’t spelled correctly. Somehow, in my attempts to fix it, I managed to erase the entire post. That’s what I get for trying to fix it on mobile. >>

So here we go one more time. Hope you enjoy!

**

5 times Tony didn't realize he was in love with Pepper, and 1 time he did.

When Tony made a random low-level administrative assistant his new PA, it was mostly for the novelty.

Here was a woman confident enough to break into his office and tell him to his face that he was wrong. Observant enough to catch a mistake not even he, the guy who built a working robot before his balls dropped, had spotted.

Plus, she was a former model. In magazines and everything. Whoever said models were dumb could go eat their ignorant words with some ketchup on top.

Virginia Potts, newly baptized as Pepper, spent her first day on the job familiarizing herself with her new responsibilities, organizing the photos on her desk, and signing a truly immense amount of paperwork. Seriously, Tony had to talk to Obidiah about switching to digital. What kind of futurist was he killing all those defenseless trees?

Given his track record with PAs, he expected Ms. Potts to last a month, maybe two. Not a crack against her, but he was a handful and he knew it. When she inevitably quit, he'd have a generous severance package and a glowing reference ready for her. Now it was just a matter of how long before his partying, all-night science binges, and frequent overnight guests of the female variety wore her down.

Three months later, she was in his office while he slept off a hangover, notes in hand as she briefed him on the upcoming board meeting.

"Mr. Daniels in HR needs to talk to you about calculating this year's Christmas bonuses. Mrs. Prowitt in accounting just had a baby and you need to send out your personal congratulations-"

"Potts…"

"You still have paperwork to sign for the merger with Rushcorp-"

"Potts, please…"

"And R&D has taken issue with the blueprints you gave them for the new missile prototype. They're saying the flight system isn't feasible with our current technology. You might want to have a word with them."

"Potts! I'm dying!"

He struggled to lift his head and look into her eyes with all the pain in his formerly inebriated soul. As usual, she was unsympathetic.

"This is why I told you not to go out partying on a Tuesday night," she said.

"As if you never partied on a Tuesday."

"No, Mr. Stark, I didn't. I waited for the weekend." She started for the door. "I'll get you some water and ginger ale. You'll be ready to go by noon."

"I could also not go."

"That's true, but you will" Her phone rang and she ignored Tony's moaning to answer it. "Hello? Oh, yes Mr. Daniels, I was just about to call you… yes, he will be ready in time for the meeting. I just confirmed it with him."

She left and Tony whimpered in agony. This must be what abandoned kittens on the side of the road felt like.

"I thought I hired an assistant," he mumbled. "Instead I got a new mom."

He almost immediately cringed at the idea. Potts was not at all like his mother. She wasn't even a really strict big sister.

No, she was something else. Something he couldn't pinpoint.

Boy, did he hate not knowing the answer.

**

"Potts, we should go out sometime."

Surprisingly, he wasn't drunk. In fact, he'd been sober for the last six days while they negotiated a contract with a new satellite company. That was a personal best for him and he deserved some recognition, dammit.

"We are out," she said, and indeed they were in the lounge at the Plaza hotel waiting for their drinks to arrive.

"I mean on a date," Tony said. "You know, with dinner and dancing and no business deals. Just the two of us."

Pepper sighed like this wasn't the first time he'd asked. And, to be fair, it wasn't. "Mr. Stark, you know why we can't date."

"Do I? Remind me real quick."

She rolled her eyes. "First of all, it's against company policy. Even if I didn't work directly under you, we're still in the same department and fraternization among employees never works out well. Second, dating your PA would reflect badly on us with the press. Finally, maintaining a professional environment in the workplace is crucial to overall productivity and good financial health."

Tony whistled. "Lot of big words there. You've done your homework, Potts."

"I have to," she said, but couldn't hide a slight smile. "If I don't, who will?"

"Good point." Tony leaned back with his hands under his hand. "It's funny, though. I didn't hear anything in there about you not wanting to date me."

Pepper opened her mouth, but none of her pre-established responses to his flirting came forth. Instead, she blushed heavily and turned away to tap on her phone.

Tony chuckled to himself. She was kind of cute when she was flustered.

Not that she wasn't always cute, but…

**

Even though Pepper wouldn't date him (and all jokes aside he did begrudgingly see her point), that didn't mean she wouldn't date at all.

Five years had passed since the pepper spray incident. There had been a few guys in that time, or so he assumed. He was too busy keeping track of his own one night stands to pay attention to Pepper's.

One day, out of the blue, she asked to leave work two hours early. The last time she did that was three years ago.

"Hitting the town, Potts?" He meant it as a joke, but also not. Tony wasn't a genius for nothing and he'd noticed the changes in her make-up and the unfamiliar perfume lingering in the air.

Pepper cleared her throat. "As a matter of fact, yes. I'm going on a date tonight and I need to get my hair done."

He wanted to say her hair was perfect the way it was because it was perfect and whoever this guy was probably didn't even notice. He also wanted to say he needed her to stay late because they had some extra paperwork to go through. Surely he had something buried in one of his desk drawers for her to look at.

"Oh, that's nice," he said, leaning back in his big plush chair. "Didn't know you were seeing someone."

"We're casual at the moment."

"Just looking for a midnight ride, huh?"

Pepper glared at him, but it wasn't her offended face. More like her 'I think you're funny but I'm not going to say it because that will just fuel your ego so I'm going to pretend to be offended' face. He'd become an expert in differentiating between the two.

"I'll be sure to have all my tasks done before I leave," she said.

"As if you need to tell me," Tony snorted. He read some papers while Pepper went to her office. Fifteen minutes later, he was still on the same paragraph and needed to stretch his legs. "So… what's his name?"

Pepper glanced at him, then went back to typing. "Craig."

Craig and Pepper… Crepper?

God no...

"What's he do?" Tony fought to keep his posture loose. "Let me guess. He's a genius billionaire in charge of his own company-"

"He's an investment banker."

"Fun. Where are you going?"

"To dinner and maybe a movie."

"You know what you're going to see?"

"We'll decide when we get there." The intercom beeped and Pepper pressed the button to silence it. "Looks like your two-thirty is here."

Tony barely paid attention during his appointment with… whoever this guy was. Something something missile guidance revamping something. His eyes always trailed back to Pepper behind a wall of glass. When she left for the night, he hung around for half an hour before going home. It was just too quiet without her.

A few months later, Pepper asked for another early day.

"Sure thing," Tony said, chewing on his bottom lip. "Got a hot date with Craig?"

"No, just dinner with my parents. It's my mom's birthday tomorrow," she explained. "Actually, Craig and I decided to just be friends. I think he's seeing someone else now."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

Tony tried his best not to grin as he said it, but he was grinning for the whole rest of the day.

**

After Tony completed renovations of his Malibu home, he started doing more work from home. This meant Pepper had to come over more often than not. Aside from a requisite 'want to see the master bedroom' quip, Tony had allowed her space in his massive home. She had an office and a guest room complete with a private balcony for when she wanted to work outside.

Being as she was, most of their private time centered around business. Making deals, planning meetings, arranging his schedule, and lots of other fun and exciting activities. On weekdays, she arrived promptly in the morning and left before sundown. Unless it was quarterly report time or they were on the verge of closing a huge deal, she never deviated from this schedule.

So it was strange when he left the basement one night at midnight after five hours working on his new convertible to find Pepper asleep on the couch.

Her tablet and some papers were on the floor where she'd dropped them. One arm was tucked under her head, no pillows in sight. She'd taken her shoes off, and while Tony was no foot fetishist, her new pedicure was lovely.

She sighed and shifted in her sleep as Tony gently squeezed a throw pillow under her head and draped a blanket over her. He would've carried her to the guest room, but Pepper was typically a light sleeper and putting her in an awkward position might mean she wouldn't come over as much.

He gathered her things and stacked them neatly on the coffee table. Hopefully, those pages were in the correct order, but if they weren't, she'd have them right in under a second.

Tony stepped back to watch her chest rise and fall. Her face was so peaceful. Not like the cool serenity she used to calmly destroy brown-nosing idiots at meetings. It was like he was finally seeing Pepper in her natural state of being.

He liked it.

But of course, he liked it. He liked her.

And maybe he shouldn't be staring at her while she slept. That was kind of creepy.

**

He was never going to see Pepper again.

'No,' he told himself, 'don't do that. Stay positive. Stay positive.'

The problem with staying positive is that it's hard to do when you're running through the desert with no food or water and you've just escaped captivity and watched the man you spent three months forming an emotional bond with die before your eyes.

Suffice to say, this was not Tony's day.

He'd only briefly considered what would happen if the escape was successful. Best case scenario, he got himself and Yinsen out and they found a village less than a mile away with friendly locals who had food and a satellite phone handy. With both of those things now off the table, Tony stumbled through the sand, careful not to run too fast and waste energy. If he had to guess, the temperature was roughly a thousand degrees Fahrenheit. He'd probably sweated another five pounds off.

The one good thing about being lost in the desert was it gave him time to think. About all his mistakes and all his missteps. All the things he never realized he should've done.

He should've told Rhodey how much their friendship meant to him. Tony had been a pain in his ass since college and yet Rhodes never abandoned him.

He should've told his father he loved him. Twenty years he spent ignoring and pushing away that one simple truth, and now he couldn't avoid it. Howard Stark was an asshole, but so was Tony Stark. Like father, like son as they say.

He should've told Pepper… God, the things he should've told Pepper. Listing them would kill hours of time while the elements slowly killed him. He should've told her how important she was, not just to Stark Industries, but to him. How much he appreciated everything she did for him. How happy he was to see her every morning. How thankful he was that she didn't quit after two months and take that severance package. How much better she deserved than to be in his shadow. How much he truly cared about her from the bottom of his heart.

How much he…

God, this heat was unbearable. Couldn't even think straight.

When he saw her again after hours in an air-conditioned plane, being fed jello packets and wanting nothing more than a hunk of real meat, none of what he should've said came to mind.

"Your eyes are red. A few tears for your long lost boss?"

It would have to do.

**

It should've been another quiet post-return evening in.

Tony didn't feel like flying that night, otherwise, he'd be out on the town already. The plan was to watch cheesy sci-fi movies and laugh at all the mistakes until he fell asleep. Now he was trapped in his own body, eyes unable to close, mouth unable to open. He stared up at a monster wearing a familiar face as he literally ripped his heart out.

"Oh Tony, this is your ninth symphony," Obidiah said, among other bullshit villain monologue crap Tony couldn't hear over his own internal screaming. "This is your legacy. A new generation of weapons with this at its heart."

'Fuck you,' Tony wanted so badly to say. 'Fuck you, you lying son of a bitch. Fuck you fuck you fuck you-'

"Too bad you had to involve Pepper in this. I would've preferred that she'd live."

Someone once said there were five or six profound moments in everyone's life. Tony didn't know who that someone was or if he didn't just make that whole thing up in his head. Whatever the case, this was one of those moments.

Never before had he wanted so badly to kill someone. Not just kill them, but make them suffer the worst sort of torment. He wanted to rip Stane apart with his bare hands, destroy him from the inside out. Make him regret even thinking about threatening Pepper.

He focused all his strength on his legs, making his toes wiggle. The ringing in his ears was fading, but not fast enough.

'You can do this,' said the voice of Pepper in his ears. 'You can do this.'

His fingers twitched and he slowly clenched a fist.

He wouldn't lose one more person he loved.

[bensboynton]

Good Enough b.h;Part 3

word count: 4.1k ish

warnings: fluffy, lots of grammar errors sorry, VERY TINY bit of angst

surprise! hope you enjoy this very fluffy chapter to make up for the last part. enjoy<3

also thank you so much for the support on this series. it’s my first one and means SO SO much to me. <3

figured i need to clear up that lucy IS in fact involved in the book(reader’s bestfriend), but she doesn’t play mary in borhap. 

ONE MORE THING there’s a flashback in this chapter and it’s in italics just to let y’all know. 

recap

Yet somehow, even after the most violent break up of your life, you had never felt so accepted and genuinely cared for in your entire life. Ben’s arm was now wrapped around your fatigued body, your head still on his shoulder, the TV in the dressing room was on, and you were surrounded by your new family. Strangely, you had never felt more wanted in all of your years of existence.

This feeling of comfort was just enough to lull you to sleep in the middle of the evening, sitting on an uncomfortable couch, slouched over and your neck already beginning to stiffen.

But somehow, through all of this, you managed to feel one overwhelming thing for the first time in your life; inner peace.

You really, really, hated being the damsel in distress.

It’s been your biggest pet peeve for as long as you could remember. Watching these big, multi-million dollar movies display a beautiful woman who was too weak-minded to save herself made you sick.

You’d always grimace in disgust at Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella because all of their problems suddenly were solved because some big strong man in shiny armor showed up.

Since then, you promised yourself you wouldn’t let that be you.

Granted, you knew you wouldn’t fall asleep for 100 years and be awoken by the kiss of an attractive prince, but you promised yourself you would never, EVER, become dependent on a man.

Not for money, happiness, sex, anything. You were going to be completely self-sufficient. This wasn’t to be mistaken for you swearing off men, because you loved men, but you needed to be sure that you could still be you even if you were involved in a relationship.

And that’s why Y/BF/N made you so fucking angry.

He made you break your promise to yourself. You swore that you wouldn’t let him complete you, that you wouldn’t need him.

But sitting here you started to realize just how much you yearned for him in your life.

You two had been distant the past few months, sure. But he was always there. Whether in person, over the phone, or his grip on your mentality. And now you were sitting here on this couch with your head on Ben’s shoulder pretending to be asleep when really, all you were doing was thinking with your eyes closed.

You suddenly didn’t have an all-seeing gaze resting over your shoulder every minute of the day. You didn’t have to deal with phone calls constantly asking where you were and who you were with.

But, the worst part is you felt empty and mindless. You didn’t know who you were. What did you wear when you didn’t have an omniscient gaze telling you ‘I think you should wear this dress.” What music did you like? You didn’t know after spending a lifetime turning on pop when you actually wanted to listen to rock, but you couldn’t because you knew he didn’t like it.

How did you like to do your makeup? What was your favorite color to wear? How did you like to do your hair when you didn’t think about having to please another human?

All very valid questions you had no fucking idea how to answer.

It’s exhausting not only worrying about being a functioning human, but also having to worry about the thoughts/feelings/emotional stability of another person you’re tied too in every way except physical.

This jumbled mess of thoughts was bumped from your head when you felt two very muscular and warm arms wrap around you to pick you up. You kept up your sleepy act, not paying much attention to the urgent whispering around you, presumably from Rami and Joe.

A large piece of fabric was thrown on top of you, and after a split-second peak, you could see it was Ben’s jacket. The brisk London air almost made you jump as it washed over your skin, and you felt goosebumps start to form on your arms.

Ben pulled you a little closer, whether it was for your own warmth or his, you didn’t know. After what felt like an eternity of walking in complete silence, he adjusted the way he was holding you so he could open what you assumed was your trailer door. He lightly closed the door with his foot, only to walk over and gently place you on your bed. He pulled the covers back and placed them over your still slightly shivering body, and turned to walk away.

You acted on impulse and grabbed his hand, his eyes whipping around in surprise.

“Stay.” you murmured, causing Ben’s arm to tense.

“Are you sure?” he spoke back, his voice barely audible. You glanced up at him with puffy, tired eyes.

“Don’t think it’s too good for me to be alone right now.” you croaked out, slightly louder. You could see his facial expression soften slightly.

“Alright. Let me go grab a pillow from my trailer and a blanket to set up on the floor-” he began, before you cut him off.

“Just lay with me. Please.”

You hated how whiny and desperate your voice sounded right now, but you needed someone to talk to and human contact more than anything in this world. And here was Ben, standing right in front of you in all his blonde haired, green-eyed glory, looking at you similar to the way he was a few weeks ago.

“Jesus Christ, if I had nuts they’d be frozen right now,” you murmured, running your hands up and down your arms.

“Y/N, come over here we want to get a few pictures with you!” Joe yelled at you from across the set. You put down your glass of hot cocoa and awkwardly jogged over to the tiny mattress the four of your cast mates were cuddling on, a fluffy red blanket covering them. The photographer was waiting expectantly to the side as you stared at the already full mattress.

Well… guess it’ll be warmer there then just standing off to the side with your hot chocolate.

“Mary needs to lay by Freddie, I’m presuming?” you giggled as you climbed over the mass of bodies. Freddie laughed and nodded in response. Or was it Rami? Sometimes you really couldn’t tell.

You clumsily clambered into the bed, in-between Rami and Joe as Gwilym mumbled something about only having one ass cheek on the mattress.

When you were finally situated, the photographer climbed on his step stool and started taking pictures of you all. Joe kept cracking jokes, causing all of you to laugh and simultaneously push Gwil off the bed. (He was beginning to get fed up with your bullshit)

Joe, Rami, and Gwil finally rolled off the mattress once the photographer was done, leaving you and Ben still under the covers. You spread out a bit, looking over at Ben.

“I think I might stay here. I’m freezing,” you said, pulling the fluffy blanket up to your chin as another wave of chills is sent down your spine.

“It is quite cold in here, innit?” Ben spoke soon after, mimicking you and pulling the comforter up further on his body. You chewed the bottom of your lip as you looked at Ben, realizing that you were still cold.

You could lay here, under this thin blanket and freeze, or make your way closer to the other human body who seems to be radiating warmth that’s within arm’s distance from you.

It wouldn’t be weird, would it? I mean, you and Ben were best friends, practically family. You didn’t want to overthink it. So, on impulse, you rolled over and found your body pushed flush up against Ben, causing him to flinch in surprise.

“Sorry. I’m just really, really, cold,” you said, curling up into Ben’s chest. You couldn’t see, but Ben’s face was as red as the blanket you two were laying under. He tried to compose himself, and slowly wrapped his arm around you and rubbed your exposed arms.

“Jesus, you are cold.” Ben laughed out, his voice soft and smooth like caramel. It sent shivers down your spine, but you couldn’t really differentiate where your shivers were coming from.

Ben was like a radiator, generating the heat you so desperately needed. And after finally warming up, you found yourself falling asleep in his arms on a mattress in the middle of a busy set.

And you didn’t know, but his heart was pounding so hard he could feel it all the way in the tips of his toes.

You looked up to meet the soft look of admiration and something else in his eyes, but he wiped the grin off his face quickly when he noticed you were looking. You put your head on Ben’s chest, and he comfortingly rubbed your back, humming along to some song you’d never heard before.

The combination of all this had lulled you to sleep without a second thought.

It felt like months ago when this happened, but it was only last week. You shuddered at how time was passing in a fucked up, slow but also vividly fast way on the set of this movie. It was hard to explain. And you were too tired to try to explain.

Looking up at Ben’s piercing green eyes soften as you pleaded with him to stay would’ve been enough to make your knees go weak if you were standing. Thank God you weren’t.

Ben still stood there, his heartbreaking as his mind grazed over the events of the past few hours. You had really been through it. And he definitely didn’t want to say no to you and make you more upset after breaking up with your boyfriend and all.

Not that he would’ve even considered saying no in the first place.

He never liked him. From the way you talked about him, to the damper he put on your mood when he called, Ben just hated him. And he didn’t have to see him to just know he was a piece of shit.

Like… come on. Ben thought you were one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen(but he hadn’t told you this, of course) and it outraged him that Y/BF/N had the nerve to treat you like you were disposable. Replaceable.

So, he knew he couldn’t leave. You were a fragile mess, mentally and physically. Both of you knew that the wrong tone of voice or too rough of touch would shatter you into a thousand tiny pieces for the second time today.

Ben walked around to the other side of the bed and slipped his shoes off, delicately placing them to the side as he slid under the sheets, furrowing his eyebrows at the sight of you trying to hold back tears again.

He moved up behind you, softly flipping you around to face him and he pulled you into his chest, allowing you to snuggle your face into his t-shirt. His long arms were wrapped around you, and the two of you couldn’t get closer than you were right at that moment.

You could smell the remnants of his last smoke break lingering on his shirt, and the smell of Ben that words couldn’t possibly describe, but it was just so authentically him. The tears that were leaking out of your eyes were making a wet spot, and if Ben couldn’t tell you were crying before, he could definitely tell now.

The two of you stayed like for a really long time. It was like you two needed each other in a really strange way. You were holding each other so desperately tight, trying to keep yourselves as close together as humanly possible. It was like you would be allergic to any space between you.

You’re not quite sure how long Ben had to sit there and watch you stir in agonizing pain, but it was for a long time. The sun had begun to send spots of light shooting across the dark sky, canceling out the bright white light of the moon.

It was laughable really, that you could compare yourself to the moon.

You had loved him a lot. So much so that you would extinguish yourself, water yourself down to allow him to shine. Just like the moon did every day for the sun at dawn. And you looked up at the bright white rock as she wistfully faded from existence and felt your consciousness start to fade as well.

The tears sliding down your cheeks littered with star-like freckles had ceased to exist, and Ben was lightly snoring above you, still holding you tight to stop you from breaking.

You lightly pulled your head back and admired the jawline of this blonde man laying in your bed, only memories of the galaxies in his eyes remaining in your head.

And you looked at him and wondered what would come of this. This. Whatever this was. Would he fade into the background of the other stars in the sky? Or perhaps become a new blinding sun?

You wanted nothing more than to run into his open arms and fall to pieces in his grasp but that would be going up against everything that you had promised yourself you wouldn’t do since you saw Cinderella for the first time.

You had already let one man uproot your entire existence, you didn’t want to make the same mistake again. (No matter how badly you wanted to)

You could only hope that tomorrow the dull ache in your chest would subside, and maybe you’d attempt to get everything that has to do with your life back on track. With one last look at the ball of light cuddling you to his chest, you let your heavy eyelids droop closed, pushing you into a deep, deep, sleep.

–

“Y/N? Love, wake up.”

You stirred gently, rubbing your eyes as you were slowly brought back to your senses. That had been one of the best but simultaneously worst sleeps you’ve ever had.

You finally opened your eyes enough to see Ben sitting cross-legged on the bad, eyes searching you with caution and worry, almost scared that you’ll break.

“Hi.” you croaked out, followed by a hoarse cough. You don’t think you’ve ever been this thirsty in your entire life.

“Here, drink some water it might help. You’re probably severely dehydrated.” Ben spoke. He sounded like an overbearing mom. But, you honestly didn’t mind it.

After downing the glass of water in silence, you finally looked up at Ben, and you could tell you looked like a mess. “Thank you for staying with me last night,” you felt your face flush red as you slowly remembered everything that took place, “I’m actually kind of embarrassed. I fell apart.” you uttered, your voice barely above a whisper. Ben’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would you be embarrassed? That assho-” Ben began, before pausing slightly, “that man waltzed in here and treated you like the scum on the bottom of his shoe. You had every right to react the way you did.” He took a deep breath, looking down at his hands in his lap.

The sun pouring through the gaps in the curtains behind him made him literally look like an angel- like seriously. You can’t make this shit up. The sun was creeping over his silhouette, leaving a gap of it’s light on the floor in the shape of his shadow.

“I just got out of a relationship not too long ago and I don’t think I’d still be breathing if it was half as violent as yours was,” he said breathily, picking at the pieces of lint on his sweatpants.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry, it’s not your fault. It was hers.”

You were skeptical about what happened, but also too scared to ask. If his breakup hurt half as bad as yours did, that was definitely a wound you didn’t want to open back up. But it seemed Ben could read your mind.

“She told me one day that she didn’t love me anymore. And spent a grand 15 minutes explaining why. Telling me everything I did wrong, what she didn’t like about me, what about me was an inconvenience to her,” he swallowed thickly, the silence in the room seeming to swallow the sound coming from his mouth whole, “and just like that, ten years of my life were down the drain.”

Ten years. Took you a second to regain your train of thought at that. Your longest relationship was 2 years and it just ended. You couldn’t imagine pouring everything you had into another person for ten years just for it to end. You physically grimaced at the thought.

“I’m really sorry you had to go through that,” you said, shattering the cloudy yet comfortable silence in the air yet again, “I can’t even imagine.”

“Yeah. Not the best experience of my life,” he sighed, and you could see the pain in the slight wrinkles on his forehead, “it’s what follows. The constant ‘what ifs’ and thinking about how inferior I am to everyone else, you know?”

You knew exactly what he meant. You nodded at his response quickly, cracking your neck as you tilted your head to the side. “It’s waking up every morning and wondering if you’re good enough.”

“Exactly.” he agreed, making a pointing gesture with his right hand, before continuing, “I don’t know if it’s any consolation, but I just wanted you to know I’ve been there. Not exactly- well- I mean- I haven’t been- you know-”

“Cheated on?” you finished sadly. He nodded slowly, studying your face.

“I just want you to know I’m here for you no matter what. I know we aren’t super close, but I have your back. You need me to go beat his ass? Give me a call. You need a shoulder to cry on? It must be your lucky day because I have two,” his speech made you giggle slightly, “I didn’t have anyone to help me deal with my breakup so if I could be any comfort, a confidant, whatever, I’d be glad to be there.”

You felt boiling hot tears well up in your eyes again, suddenly emotional at the idea that you weren’t as alone as you thought you were. You looked up to meet his eyes again and almost melted at the look on his face.

“Can I give you a hug?” you whimpered. A boyish grin slid its way onto his lips as he stood up, opening his arms. You practically threw yourself into his embrace, reveling in the way your face fit into his neck.

“Thank you for dropping everything for me. I know we aren’t extremely close either but… knowing I have someone is truly one of the most relieving feelings in the world.”

You could practically hear his smile.

Oddly, you took comfort in hearing the sad stories that Ben had previously kept hidden. After all, you were a writer, you took inspiration in people and stories and foundation’s of people and what made them tick.

You both sat there in completely comfortable silence, quietly enjoying just the company of another person who understands their pain, who knows what they’ve been through.

Ben momentarily glanced down at his phone, frowning as his eyes scanned a message on its fluorescent screen.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it looks as if we’re needed on set within the next ten minutes,” Ben spoke sheepishly.

You grimaced, the idea of human interaction and a long day of work was not the ideal choice for you right now. Nonetheless, Ben left and you were alone in your trailer once again.

Strangely, your heart was beginning to feel a little bit more whole than it did yesterday. Maybe a night of someone excluded from the situation was what you needed.

But looking in the mirror that day, you felt something in your stomach at the idea of going out to set and seeing Ben again.

You shook your head wildly as you brushed through your knotted hair. You couldn’t do this. To Ben, or yourself. This couldn’t be a rebound or whatever the hell it was called. Ben was too pretty, too sharply chiseled, too emotionally in tune. Too normal for you. He would never want to go after someone that traveled to hundreds of different countries and performed in skimpy costumes on stages in front of thousands of people. Would he?

As you locked your trailer door behind you that day, you slowly tried to push any and all emotions that were beginning to fester in the pits of your stomach far, far away. This was not the time, nor place for that.

Walking to set, you grabbed your phone out of your pocket to see 63 missed text messages from Lucy. Rami must’ve told her.

You quickly shot back a response, telling her to come down to set at 2, when you wrapped for the day, and you would meet for lunch and explain the whole thing. She agreed, and you felt your heart soar at the idea of spending the day with your best friend.

You stepped into the studio, already being swept into hair and makeup to start shooting again. You pushed everything that related to you inside, trying to step inside the brain of Mary again, just for a few hours.

Rami sat down beside you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “How you feeling?” he muttered his words quietly, as not to draw attention.

“Good. I think. Good as I can be for the moment.”

“Guess that’ll have to do.” the man joked, eliciting a playful eye roll out of you, “but really, are you good today? I could talk to the director-”

“Rami,” you spoke sternly, locking eyes with him, “I’m okay. I promise.”

You were okay. And if you weren’t okay now, you would be. And that was all the affirmation you needed to hear.

–

“I swear to god. I’m gonna kill him. I’m going to show up at his house at 2 in the morning, and kill him!”

“Luc, I appreciate the enthusiasm, really I do,” you bit your bottom lip as you spoke, “but I can’t have my best friend going to jail. I need your support.”

Lucy threw her head back in laughter, dipping one of her chicken nuggets in the shared cup of ranch between you two.

“I know I keep saying it, but you deserve so much better than that piece of dog shit, Y/N,” Lucy spoke yet again, munching thoughtfully on her fried piece of chicken.

“I know I know…” you hesitated slightly, not sure if you should tell her the other thing, “Lucy, there’s something else.”

She cocked her left eyebrow as she shoved a few french fries in her mouth. “Go on, I’m listening.”

“So I fell asleep on Ben’s shoulder after the whole ordeal and he carried me to his trailer and…” you trailed off, studying Lucy’s facial expression. She gasped so loud the couple sitting to the right of you stared at her disapprovingly.

She coughed, slightly choking on a french fry.

“You slept with Ben?!” she exclaimed in a sharp whisper. Your jaw fell open as your eyes widened.

“What? No, oh my god no. I asked him to stay with me and we kind of… um… cuddled?”

“Shut up. SHUT UP!”

“SHHHHHHH,” you laughed at your best friend who was about to bounce off the walls with her excitement, “it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Oh yeah, you spending an entire night cuddling with the man you can’t stop talking about ‘isn’t a big deal.”

“It’s not! He was just making sure I was okay,” you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince more. Lucy, or yourself.

“Mhm. Yeah. Definitely what it sounds like.”

You rolled your eyes at her, chomping down on a crunchy piece of lettuce in the salad in front of you. “Listen Y/N, all I’m saying is that Ben is a good guy. I’ve known him for a long time, and if you’re gonna take a gamble on anyone, it should be him.”

“Lucy, I told you I’m not dating anyone for the forseeable future. I got enough pain from the breakup yesterday to last me a lifetime.”

You physically shivered at the thought of yesterday, quickly trying to shove it out of your mind.

“Well, whatever happens, I’m here for you either way. I’ve got your back baby.” Lucy said, reaching over and grabbing your hand. You smiled at her. How did you get lucky enough to have such an amazing best friend?

“I think tonight calls for a face mask while watching shitty movies and eating even shittier food,” Lucy said nonchalantly, taking a sip from the sickly sweet bubble tea on the table.

“I agree.”

“So it’s settled!” she spoke giddily, clapping her hands in excitement, “Girls night!”

You couldn’t help but feel the same giddiness. After all, it was practically radiating off of her. Tonight would be good! A nice, calm night in with your favorite girl in the world and nothing could mess that up.

Or so you thought.

taglist: @sweetheartben @benhardyseyes @ziggyspurplehaze @mrsmazzello

[thatlesbiannudistcult-stories]

Finding Goddess (Chapter 23)

Ugh, the office sucked really hard balls. Henrietta had to spend the whole day interviewing no less than five applicants, and not a single one of the idiots seemed even remotely qualified to scrub a toilet, let alone write source code. Which could only mean one thing: the job-hunting process would continue, and she'd have another round of interviews to look forward to next week, likely with even bigger boneheads whose resumes weren't good enough to pass the first round of inspection.

However, the worst part was...actually, Henrietta couldn't make up her mind what the worst part of the interviewing process had been. Was it when she had to spend an hour talking to that one boring, bespectacled man with the robot voice when all she could think about was how much she would rather look at a cute girl instead? Or was it when she actually did get to spend an hour looking at and speaking to a cute girl? A cute girl who, while a complete ditz, Henrietta really wanted to ask out on a date, who left her wondering what she looked like underneath that business suit of hers, and who made her start imagining what it would be like if she converted to Zenrism after coming to work in the office? Naked, free-wheeling, and always down for a good fuck?

Yeah, the cute girl applicant had definitely been the worst part. She made Henrietta's mind wander, made her imagination go wild, pulled at the tethers of her professionalism, and left her feeling horny for the rest of the day. If only a Zenrist really did work at the office.

Well, she might not have had any Zenrists to help her at work, but Henrietta knew one who would be able and willing to help her now that the work day was over. And she was standing outside her apartment right now, her coat already unbuttoned and her panties sitting somewhere in the backseat of her car. And after giving the door a few overexcited knocks, she would soon be treated to the sensual feast that was Caroline Connors.

I can't wait to see her! All horny like I am right now, and naked, her nipples hard and her lips moist...both of them in fact! I wonder if it's possible she's already fully converted? If so, then maybe we can...

The door opened, and to Henrietta's surprise, it was not naked Carol who greeted her, but her younger, slimmer, longer-haired, and equally-naked daughter.

"Oh, Henrietta," said the girl, who the older woman was certain was Erin. She had learned to differentiate the twins by the tones of their skin, with Erin having the tanner complexion as opposed to her sister, who maintained her mother's creamier shade. "Are you here to see Mom?"

"I...uh, yes," said the redhead once she got done peeling her jaw off the floor. She had a hard time actually believing what she was seeing. In all the years she had known Erin, she had never once seen the girl nude before. Not that she could complain now that she was seeing it; the teen had matured into a brilliant young woman. Her figure wasn't as Amazonian as her mother's, but one could still see the resemblance with her black hair, her elegant, almost regal-looking face, and her large, lovely, lively tits. Henrietta had a hard time taking her eyes off them, their every little bounce and jiggle causing her inner muscles to clench wetly with want. Like a stubborn band-aid, she had to tear her gaze away from them, lowering her head to the floor like an ashamed child just to keep them out of her sight...only to get an eyeful of the girl's perfectly smooth, shaved, and slightly pale mound.

Oh, fuck me!

"Well, she's kind of sick right now," said Erin, who didn't seem to be the least bit fazed by her nudity or Henrietta's reaction to it. "So I doubt she'll be up for a date with you tonight."

"She's sick?" said Henrietta, recovering herself to look back into the girl's eyes. "What do you mean she's sick? And speaking of which, why are you..." She was about to ask the teen what she was doing 'dressed' as she was when she suddenly caught sight of Mindy poking her head out of her room, grinning like the Cheshire Cat and putting a finger to her lips to tell the older woman to stay quiet.

Erin just shrugged, giving her breasts another healthy jiggle. "Yeah, you'd have to ask Mindy about it. She knows more than I do."

"And I think I'll be more than happy to tell you all about it, Aunt Henri," said Mindy as she fully exited her room clapping her hands together. Unlike her sister, she was fully clothed.

"Suit yourself," said Erin. That got a snicker out of Mindy, which prompted the nude girl to raise a questioning eyebrow at her before shrugging again and walking back to her room, swaying her tight rump back and forth every step of the way.

"Enjoy the view?" said Mindy when the door closed shut, confident that she and the older woman now had a bit more privacy.

Henrietta was caught off guard. "Wh-what makes you think I'd...no, no, of course not! I wouldn't..."

"You don't need to deny it, Aunt Henri," said Mindy. "You know we've both been 18 for a few weeks now, so it's not like anyone's gonna judge you for it or anything. And 'sides, I could see plain as day you liked what you saw!"

"But she...you," stammered the redhead, still feeling completely flat-footed, "you're both my best friend's kids! You've been like nieces to me. Of course it would feel weird. And creepy."

Mindy giggled. "You know, I've never seen you act so flustered before. You've always been like the devil on Mom's shoulder, coaxing her into doing things she'd never even consider. It's really cute. "

"Should...I go?" said Henrietta. She came here to have a roll in the hay with Carol, but since she appeared to be sick and her daughters were home already, that clearly wasn't going to happen.

"No, no, stay a while," said Mindy. "It would be nice to talk to someone who doesn't have an invisible stick up her ass. And who knows? Maybe Mom will enjoy the company when she wakes up."

"O...kay," said Henrietta as she hesitantly stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind her.

As she took a seat at the kitchen table, Mindy reached into the fridge to get out some juice. "Never thought I'd see the day where both you and Mom would get so tongue-tied."

"What do you mean by that?" said Henrietta, who was still trying to get her head on straight after the naked sneak attack Erin threw at her.

"Oh, about a week ago, I walked into Mom's room and saw her looking at porn on the internet without any clothes on. The face she made...God, I wish I had a camera out when I saw that. She was all like 'HUHHHHHH!'" At this, Mindy let out a theatrical gasp as she put a hand over her mouth to imitate her mother's horror. "Ha-ha-ha! I coulda made a million bucks selling that image!"

"Ah yes, she told me about that incident," said Henrietta as the younger girl gave her a glass of juice. "And yes, she was really embarrassed about it. Thought maybe she had disgusted or traumatized you in some way."

"Oh, Mom's so silly," said Mindy as she sat down opposite the redhead. "A little nudity never hurt me or anyone."

"That's what I tried to tell her, but she wouldn't listen," said Henrietta with a small laugh. Feeling a light bulb suddenly turn on in her head, the older woman leaned forward with keen interest, looking directly into Mindy's eyes to express her seriousness. "So...you really didn't mind seeing your own mother completely naked?'

"Why would I?" said Mindy. "Looking at her all embarrassed and vulnerable like that was adorable! Kinda like you were just a second ago. And besides, Mom's beautiful. She takes care of herself. Not like most of the people I had to put up with over the weekend. We spent the first day at Duny on a nude beach, and let me tell you, most of the goers there had no business running around nude! I'd rather look at Mom naked any day of the week than any of them."

Henrietta smiled at that news. It's good that you think that. It will make things very easy for you and Carol in the near future. And if Erin is taking well to nudism then...

"You went to a nude beach?" said Henrietta, deciding it would be better to keep the conversation going than getting lost in her own thoughts. "Now there's a story I'd like to hear sometime. So is that why your sister was...you know?"

"Mmmmaybe," said Mindy with a lot of doubt and little sureness in her voice. "To be perfectly honest, I don't think she even knows."

"She doesn't know? What do you mean she doesn't know?" said Henri.

"As in I don't think she knows she's even," at this, Mindy leaned forward and added with a conspiratorial whisper "naked."

"Huh." Henrietta had nothing to say to that. There was only one thing she could imagine that could explain that kind of abnormal behavior. One thing that she had only learned about very recently. The hard way. "Did she have any other...similar experiences like that at Duny Beach?"

"I..." Mindy started to look around very nervously as she chewed her lips, the gears in her head clearly turning as she seemed to contemplate what to say. "I...can't say really."

Henrietta couldn't tell if Mindy meant she didn't know if Erin had any other experiences, or if she literally couldn't say anything, but she suspected the girl wasn't telling her the whole truth. But she decided she wouldn't push it for now. If there was some secret business going on between the girls, she wouldn't nose in on it. "Well, that's okay I guess."

When Carol announces her conversion, assuming she hasn't already, we'll all find out sooner or later.

"Speaking of which, um...can I ask you something, Aunt Henri?" said Mindy.

"Go ahead."

"It's about Mom...has she—"

"AAAAGGGGHHHHHHHH!"

A blood-curdling scream exploding from down the hall stopped the conversation dead in its tracks. Both the teen and the older woman jumped in surprise, and remained so stunned that they could only look on in bewilderment like a pair of deer in the headlights as someone began to bang and stomp around from behind a closed door. After a moment, it flew open, and out came a more properly-dressed and very pissed off Erin Chelsea Connors.

"Uh-oh," Mindy whispered, her face twisting into a nervous grin.

"MIIIIIINNNNNNNNDYYYYYYY!" roared her sister as she stomped furiously into the kitchen, looking like a rhino ready to charge. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME..." she trailed off as she locked eyes with the equally shocked Henrietta, which caused her face to turn a deep shade of crimson. "Ugghhhnnn!"

"Ummm...sorry?" said the older woman, who suddenly felt like she just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Hey, don't get mad at Aunt Henri," said Mindy. "It's not her fault you—"

"Ugh, what's going on now?" huffed Carol from her own room. "Can't a lady get some rest in here without—"

Erin looked down the hall, which was out of sight from both Henrietta and Mindy and nearly did a double-take, her eyes widening and becoming even more livid. "MOM!"

"And will you PLEASE STOP SHOUT...huh? Oh? OHH! Godde...God, I...I'm so sorry!"

Mindy and Henrietta exchanged a confused glance, having no idea what Carol had done to aggravate her daughter so much. Meanwhile, Erin just huffed and spun around, looking as if she didn't even want to see her mother as her cheeks burned redder with equal parts embarrassment and rage. After a moment, the mother finally stepped into sight, wearing her sundress and a very tired and apologetic expression on her face.

"Hey babe!" said Henrietta with a cheerful wave of her hand.

"Henri," Carol stated woodenly, her voice oddly devoid of emotion.

"So how is it going with the Ze—"

"Henrietta," said Carol firmly. "We need to talk. Outside."

Henrietta's hand dropped, as did her smile. "Oh...okay."

Something was wrong. Carol was acting awfully dour, almost distant, and the way she looked at Henrietta made it seem like she didn't want anything to do with the redhead. And she was wearing clothing. Clothing! What was that about? Did something happen? Did Henrietta do something to anger her? What could she have even done? They left on such happy terms yesterday. It didn't make any sense.

Wordlessly, the two older women stepped out of the apartment and into Henrietta's car, which was the only way they could hold a conversation with any kind of privacy while the kids were home. In the past, whenever Henrietta and Carol wanted to discuss more delicate matters, like sex or the latter's nudism, they would often do so in their vehicles, away from the girls' prying ears.

One thing was for sure, though...Henrietta was certain she wasn't being brought in for a round of backseat action. Even though she really could go for one right now.

"I'm not going to do it," said Carol as she slammed the door shut, looking despondently at the windshield in front of her.

"Not going to do what?" said Henrietta.

"I'm not converting to Zenrism."

"WHAT? Why not?"

"My daughters would not accept it," said the mother.

"What the hell makes you think they wouldn't?" said Henrietta.

"Because they said so," said the dark-haired woman with a sniffle. "Erin said she didn't want anything to do with nudity."

"Erin said...Carol, what are you talking about?"

Carol's eyes shimmered as tears began to well up in them. "She...went to a nude beach. Something happened...don't know what...she finds nudity disgusting. I can't be naked in front of her, Henri. I even walked out with my dress not completely on. You saw her reaction! She hated it. She'll hate...me."

"She won't hate you, Carol, she's your daughter! And, Carol, Erin, she..."

Henrietta needed to tell her. That Erin just greeted her at the door without wearing a stitch on her body. That she hadn't even been aware of her nudity according to Mindy. And that, while Henrietta didn't have all the facts, she was certain the girl was displaying the same symptoms both she and Carol had experienced after their own encounters with the girls of that lesbian nudist cult.

"Please, Henri," said Carol, who was now on the verge of tears. "Just go. I need...I need to be alone right now." She opened the door and fled back into the building, tears cascading down her face.

"Carol!" Henrietta cried as she watched her lover retreat, not even giving her a chance to finish saying what she needed to say.

"Go!" Carol wept one last time before disappearing.

"Carol," Henrietta whispered, her heart nearly breaking in two at the crack in her friend's voice. But it was too late. Carol was gone now, and it was unlikely she would welcome the redhead back into her apartment in her current state. The mother would never allow any drama to unfold in front of her daughters, and to be honest, Henri wouldn't want to make things uncomfortable for them either. Which meant this conversation was well and truly over now, even though there was still a lot that needed to be said. "Son of a bitch!" she growled, kicking her car in frustration.

What was going on? Things had gone so well. Carol was ready and eager to convert to Zenrism and live the life she was meant to, free of clothing and inhibition. Her heart just seemed so set and pure. What the hell did the girls say to make her change her mind? Mindy didn't seem like she would have any problems with it at all, and Erin...something was going on with her to make her act more temperamental than usual. Didn't Carol even take a moment to talk with her daughters? It didn't make sense. It didn't make sense at all.

And worst of all...she was still horny!

"Fuck it," she grumbled, throwing herself into her car and slamming the door shut. Confident that nobody would be able to completely see her, she pulled her business skirt up to her waist and exposed her well-trimmed scarlet bush and pussy to the world before slapping a hand on it.

"Oh fuck," she murmured, rubbing her swollen clit with her fingers while she teased her inner folds, all pulsing and dripping with unfulfilled want and arousal. "Fuck yes...oh GODDESS, yes! Give it to me! Give it to me!" She closed her eyes, imagining her lover coming into view. She started to lightly slap her pussy, emitting wet, squelching sounds that seemed to echo from every corner of her vehicle.

The woman she imagined descended on her. Naked, buxom, and dark of hair.

"Fuck me raw! Fuck me...fuck me raw! OH, Goddess yes!"

The girl took hold of her face, kissed her lips, and straddled her hips. Her bare skin glided against Henrietta's like silk, warmed it like a hearth, tickled it like a thousand feathers.

"That's it...that's it! Oh Goddess yes, you're so good!"

She slipped a finger into her cavern. The girl in turn slipped her own clit inside Henrietta as she began to rub her down. The older woman's petals clenched all around her.

"Yes! Yes! Do it! Trib me! Trib me hard...trib me raw...Erin! Erin! ERIIIINNNNNNN!"

Her orgasm exploded out of her, spraying all over the seat. It soaked her fingers, her palm, it would soon drench her thighs once she closed them up for the drive home, and if she didn't want her skirt to suffer the same fate, she would likely have to keep it rolled up to her waist for the duration of the trip. However, the prospect of driving bottomless wasn't what was bothering Henrietta as she slumped down from her post-climax high, her body feeling almost as languid as the juices oozing down her hand like sweet feminine honey.

It was the fact that she was so horny that she just fantasized about having sex with her best friend's daughter.

"I'm so fucked up," she sighed grimly. As if she didn't have enough to shit to worry about today. Oh well, at least she gave herself some satisfaction. It wasn't really what she had been hungering for, but it was better than nothing.

But then, with Carol not converting to Zenrism, am I really ever gonna get what I want anymore anyway?

As if on cue, her phone started to jingle from within her purse. Pulling it out and flipping it open, Henrietta was a little surprised to see it was a text message from Mindy of all people.

"msg me when u get home. i still need 2 ask u abt mom"

Henrietta chewed her lip thoughtfully. She still wants to talk to me about Carol? Must be important then. Mindy wouldn't contact me if it wasn't.

Turning her keys in the ignition, the redhead drove off, eager to get back home so she could resume her conversation with her surrogate niece. Something was up with her friend, and she was going to get to the bottom of it one way or another.