#but it got to be too many to reasonably try chasing down All Descendants so i bopped off to do other adhd stuff

[anonymityisfunwriter]

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Paring: Steve Rogers x Reader Summary: The rains that end your perfect, shining days whisper things in his ear that you'll never be entrusted with. But your boy only breaks his favorite toy.

a.n. - day 3!!! i hope you guys are enjoying! anyway, how many tortured poets inspired fics do you guys think i have in the drafts? hint, too many.

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Anon's Birthday Celebration

"Then maybe you're better off without me!"

No, you're not.

You're not.

You're not.

You fly up from the edge of your bed, doing everything to get him to see reason, to get him to see you, for once, "I never said that!"

"You didn't have to!" he booms.

Your hand reaches out to grip his bicep, but he wrenches his arm away.

And standing in your highest heels, in your best dress just for him, you chase after him, "I just want you to talk to me! I want you to not push me away!"

He snatches his tux jacket up, shrugging it over his shoulders, "I don't want to talk!"

"You don't want to talk or you don't want to talk to me?"

"Both!" The words are so casually cruel. He says it without pause, without remorse. He doesn't even notice the pained look that his words leave on your face like all the wind has left your lungs.

Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing as she hears the argument echo through the walls of the Compound. "Oh, here we go again..."

The moment he whips open your door, you know what this night will look like.

You'll be his perfect doll, his trophy for the night. He'll smile, hold your hand, and won't speak more than a word to you the whole night.

He'll leave you wondering what went wrong, what you did wrong, what sent him spiraling into the abyss all over again.

And he'll wake up tomorrow like nothing ever went wrong.

"Steve!" You reach for his hand, but he drops your hand and keeps walking without so much as a second glance. "Steve!"

"Steve!"

He doesn't turn back around.

As you watch him walk downstairs, you feel a warm hand rest on your shoulder. "You okay?"

You nod, trying to keep the tears welling in your eyes from falling down your cheeks. "He's just - in one of his moods, I guess."

"A mood?" Nat quirks an eyebrow. "That's the excuse?"

You suck in a breath. It's a shitty excuse. And it only sound worse with every time that you have to use it.

You sound like a broken record, a broken toy. You practically beg Natasha to pull the string for the latest excuse. "You know how he gets."

He only runs because he loves you...

"It's ironic that he always does this right before you've got to put on your best face in public."

You let out a long, deep sigh, "Nat..."

She raises her hands in surrender, "I'm just saying. You look amazing tonight, but tears don't go with the dress."

The urge to defend him bubbles within you.

It doesn't matter how much he breaks you, it's you he chooses to break.

You're his favorite toy.

He only runs because he loves you...

After a few moments to make sure the rivulets don't descend on your plastic smile, you go after him.

You find him seated in the car, sitting in the backseat like he knew you would give in and eventually follow after him.

It's all painfully silent. He stares out the car window, drowning in a darkness that you'll never get to see. You sit with your hands in your lap, the smooth silk of your dress crumpling under your fingers.

You hated nights like these. These galas were never fun for you. Still, you don't remember it being quite this hard.

As you step out in front of the flashing lights, Steve grips your waist, just enough to lay claim to you.

Because, in the end, you're still his favorite toy.

You roll back your shoulders. Your cherry lips pulled into a smile that you can only hope looks more genuine than it feels.

You can barely recall a time when your shining smile didn't feel so plastic. You were an Avenger. You were strong, independent. You stood tall and held your own. You were beloved in your own right - or at least, you used to be. Now, you were nothing more than the girlfriend to Captain America. Nothing more than his favorite toy.

You stand beside him in the line of reporters.

He refers to you often. He barely spares you a glance.

He presses loving kisses to the top of your head. He doesn't offer a single comforting word.

You've spent all night watching and waiting for the worst of his tortured heart to hit that you've barely noticed the night passing you by.

The reporter before you politely points the microphone at you. She smiles, tilting her head, "So what's it like?"

You blink at her, realizing that you've hardly been paying attention. You fix your distant smile with a chuckle, "What's what like?"

"What it like being the woman behind the man? Being the woman behind America's Golden Boy?"

"Oh..."

What is it like?

What's it like being queen of sandcastles that he destroys?

What it's like being his favorite toy?

The one he holds so tenderly, caresses with the most gentle of touches, only to be discarded and broken as he pleases?

You crack a smile, pretending to be coy. He hates it when you talk about him, about your relationship. He says he likes his privacy. He likes for it to be seen, not heard. But you think he means you.

You find yourself pulling the string, reminding yourself that he loves you. He only runs because he loves you.

You rest your hand on his chest, looking at him with all the adoration in the world, "I mean, he's - he's Captain America. What else it there to say? Like you said, he's America's Golden Boy."

You swear you can feel something break inside you. He's finally done it. His favorite toy is finally all smashed up.

You feel broken.

His favorite toy.

His broken toy.

He doesn't stay for the party, never does. It's a blur as he guides you back to the car with a hand on your hip.

The silence fills the car once again.

It's all silent as he calls the rain to end your days of wild once more. Back at the Compound. In your room. Watching as he stands before you. He means what he says, he doesn't want to talk, and he most certainly doesn't want to talk to you.

As you sit on the bed, watching as he methodically takes off each piece of his tux, he offers his first voluntary word of the night, "That camera guy was hitting on you."

A pang of joy flashes through your broken heart.

After all, your boy only breaks his favorite toy. You are his favorite toy. You always will be.

"I didn't notice. I was too busy worrying about you."

He rolls his eyes, "I told you to leave it alone."

And out of all the hearts he was offered, it was your tortured heart he stole. And one thing about Steve Rogers, he plays for keeps.

Your eyes snap up at him, examining those blue eyes that you feel in love with. "Why won't you ever just let me in?"

He refuses to hold your gaze, too afraid of what you might see. If he sees forever in your eyes, he'll smash it up.

The voices in his head are so much louder than you. And worst of all, you have no idea how to fight them off. The rains that end your perfect, shining days whisper things in his ear that he'll never trust you with.

You know that. And in some ways, you've always known that. It's a give and take, a push and pull. And as long as he keep pushing, keeps taking, you'll pull him as close as you can, you'll hold him through any storm. What other choice did you have?

For the second time tonight, you pull the string yourself. He only runs because he loves you.

"You're better off anyway," he whispers.

But you're not.

You're not.

You're not...

Steve Rogers Masterlist Anon's Birthday Celebration Inspired by Taylor Swift Series

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Floofy Haired Treat - Chris Evans x Reader

A/N: This is the 3rd instalment of the Floofy Haired Triology! This can be read alone but you can check out Part 1 and Part 2 if you want!

Summary: Long distance can be hard and sometimes everything gets a bit too much

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Angst! Fluff! Language! Written very quickly and spordically throughout the day, and barely editied!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Masterlist

You closed the door with a heavy sigh, leaning back against it as you screwed your eyes shut and took a deep shaky breath trying your hardest to stop yourself from crying.

This week had been a week from hell. This time of the year was always busy for you, with so many contracts to renew, and clients to meet. Most of your clients were lovely accommodating people who understood that you were busy, but there were always a few that demanded your attention no matter how many other clients you needed to work with.

And today every client you met and dealt with was one of those clients.

Your eyes opened to the sound of claws tapping against the hardwood floors, a weak smile reaching your lips as you saw Dodger trotting over to you with one of his toys in his mouth. You bent down to greet him, scratching him behind the ear as he cuddled up next to you.

“Hey bubba, have you had a good day hm?” You hum as he licks your cheek.

Dodger then sits down in front of you and lets out a little whine as he glances at the door.

“I know bubba I miss him too” you sigh running your hand over the top of your head.

Chris was away filming yet another movie, this time it was the holiday action comedy with The Rock. However, unlike all the other movies he’d been shooting this year you hadn’t been able to join him. You’d decided to stay at home so you could deal with your work easier, able to meet clients in person instead of over zoom.

A decision you were really starting to regret because there wasn’t anything that you wanted more than to be in his arms as he comforted you. The feel of his large hands running up and down your back, his lips on the top of your head as he whispered comforting words.

You sniffled back your tears taking another big breath as you stood up and grabbed Dodger’s leash “come on bubba lets get some fresh air”

You has hoped getting out of the house would help your sullen mood. But even Dodger chasing after squirrels and the ball did little to lift your mood and get you out of your head. By the time you got home you were in an even worse mood.

You couldn’t even call Chris because you knew he would be busy, you just had to wait for when he finished shooting for the night. Whenever that was.

For the rest of the evening you tried to do some work or relax but it was impossible. You were just too exhausted, too down in the dumps. The final nail in the coffin was when you opened instagram and saw Chris had posted. Any other day your heart would sing at the sight of a floofy haired selfie but today it just made it ache, and you miss him that much more. You were happy that he seemed to be having fun and enjoying filming, but you just wished he was here.

In the end you just gave up and went to bed where you lay wide awake staring up at the ceiling. The room far too silent for you liking. Gone was the sound of soft snores from the gentle giant you usually shared the bed with. It felt like it was the dead of winter without his warmth enveloping you.

The sound of your phone buzzing on your nightstand pulled you from your thoughts. Lifting it up you saw it was Chris facetiming you, but in that moment you just couldn’t answer. He was having so much fun, you knew he would worry about you and you didn’t want to be the reason the dark cloud descended over him. You would take today to mope in your own self pity and when you spoke to him tomorrow everything would be okay.

Darkness fell in the room once more as the ringing stopped and you instantly felt guilt suffocating you. You considered calling him back but then your phone glowed once more as he sent you a text.

Chris: Hey sweetheart, sorry the shoot overran and I only just got back to the hotel. I’m guessing you’re fast asleep by now and that’s okay i’ll call you tomorrow, sleep well sweetheart I miss you and love you xxx

A sob escaped your lips as you read the text over and over again to the point you could almost hear his deep timber as if he was in the room with you. You definitely couldn’t call him now, it was late, he’d be tired and you didn’t want him losing sleep over you especially if he has a day of stunt work ahead of him.

So instead you put your phone down, clung onto the pillow and cried yourself to sleep. 

The next morning you felt exhausted and no better than the night before. You slowly got ready for the day, hugging your cup of coffee as you sat at the kitchen island. The silence of the house deafening. That was until your phone rang and you once again saw it was Chris trying to FaceTime you.

You knew this time you couldn’t avoid it, so you wiped your cheeks and put on the best smile you could.

However even despite your foul mood when you finally saw Chris’ face your lips naturally tugged upwards.

“Hey sweetheart, I’m glad I caught you I thought might be working like the super awesome businesswoman you are” Chris smirked as he walked to set.

You let out a weak chuckle “my first meeting is in an hour, having a slow start today” you tell him.

He frowns slightly stepping to the side so he wasn’t in anyone’s way “is everything okay? You look exhausted sweetheart”

You give him another weak smile “I’m fine” you lie “just been very busy and haven’t been sleeping well”

Chris gives you a sympathetic look, his brows furrowed in concern “how many meetings have you got until it all starts to calm down again?”

You give him a small pathetic shrug of your shoulders “I don’t know, maybe some point next week, its hard to tell with some of the clients” you say a small huff of annoyance escaping your lips, you shook your head slightly “enough about that though, how are you? What are you doing today?” You ask not wanting to talk about yourself any longer.

You could tell by the look on Chris’ face that he wasn’t happy with the change of topic but he went with it anyway, letting out a small sigh “i’m not sure, the producers called an urgent meeting this morning, that’s where I’m heading now” he explains.

“Oh is everything okay?” You ask him as you take a sip of your now tepid coffee.

“Yeah it’s probably nothing, last minute change to the schedule or something, we might have hit delays” Chris sighs shrugging his shoulders.

You felt your face fall for a second at the idea of Chris having to stay longer than originally planned. You hated the idea, you wanted him back now, you weren’t sure if you could handle delays. You quickly recovered, looking down to hide your face, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“I’m sure its nothing, they always make these meetings sound worse than they are” Chris reassured you with a small comforting smile “but look I better go, don’t want to be late, but i’ll see you later?”

You nod giving him a small smile “yeah i’ll see you later, I love you”

Chris smiles warmly back at you “I love you too, see you later” he blows you a quick kiss before the call disconnects and silence fills the house once more.

Running your hands down your face you glanced at the time. The only way time would move faster, and make the day Chris would be home come closer would be to keep busy. So that’s what you did, you got to work.

It was around midday that you heard someone knocking on the front door. Frowning in confusion since you weren’t expecting anyone you pushed yourself up from your desk and made your way over to the door.

Opening it up you saw a delivery boy holding a large box “uh delivery for Miss Y/L/N” he says nodding down to the clipboard.

“Oh yeah okay” you mutter grabbing the clipboard and quickly signing, the boy passing you the large cool box.

“They should be fine but I’d put them straight in the freezer if I were you,” the delivery boy says already jogging back to the truck.

“Wait-wha-what? What is it?” You called out but he was back in the truck and driving away.

Shaking your head in confusion you made your way straight into the kitchen, dodger at your heels clearly interested in what you had. Opening up the box you were hit with a blast of cold air and the sight of multiple tubs of your favourite ice cream.

Your jaw dropped in surprise as you looked at all the different flavours. You hadn’t ordered this, or at least you didn’t remember ordering it. You had a suspicion of who did order it, your confirmation lying inside a small envelope on top of all the tubs.

You seemed like you could do with a pick me up and you know how much I’d like to treat you

Love you and miss you lots

Chris x

Your hand moved to cover your mouth as you failed to hold back tears but at least this time your heart wasn’t aching as much. You knew Chris would have spotted you were feeling down and you even when he’s hundreds of miles away from home he would still look after you.

Picking up your phone you quickly sent him a text.

Y/N: Thank you so much for the ice cream it was definitely needed, love you and miss you loads too x 

To your surprise you barely had to wait a minute before getting a response, you must have managed to catch him between takes.

Chris: Anything for you sweetheart, and I promise I won’t be disappointed if there’s none left by the time I get home, even if it is my favourite ice cream too x

You let out a watery chuckle making a mental note to leave the tub of his favourite flavour untouched until he got home as a surprise for him.

You: I very much appreciate that can’t wait to see you again x

Chris: me too, I’ll see you soon x

You smiled to yourself gently as you put the phone down on the side. The ache in your heart hadn’t gone, and you still missed him terribly, but the pain wasn’t as bad as it was before.

That evening you were feeling a bit better, but you still decided to call it an early night. You made yourself comfortable in bed, Chris’ hoodie blanketing you in its warmth making it seem like he was almost here in real life.  You stuck on your favourite comfort movie and grabbed the tub of ice cream you picked out for yourself before coming upstairs.

You actually felt yourself beginning to relax and maybe when Chris called you later your bad mood would finally go. Glancing at the clock on your bedside table you knew it would be another hour or so until you heard from him so you turned up the volume on the TV and got comfy.

You were nearing the end of the movie when you glanced at the time and realised you still hadn’t heard from Chris. Sitting up and putting your ice cream on the side you grabbed your phone to see if he’d texted or if you’d accidentally missed his call. But there was nothing, and you couldn’t help but drop your shoulders in disappointment, the dark cloud of loneliness creeping back in.

Scratching for forehead with your eyes screwed shut you took a couple of breaths to calm yourself before you put your phone back down. As you turned to sit back down you froze when you saw a man standing in the doorway to the bedroom, smirk on his lips.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you stared back at him, unable to believe what you were seeing. He couldn’t be here, he was in a different state, hours away.

But here he was, Chris was smirking back at you, barely able to stop himself from laughing at your shocked expression.

You practically lept off the bed, stumbling when your foot caught in the duvet. Chris surged forward to catch you in time, his arms wrapping around you securely as you clung to him to a koala.

“I missed you too” Chris chuckled as he buried in face in the crook of your neck, kissing your shoulder.

You pulled back enough to cup his cheeks, shaking your head still in disbelief that he was actually here “what are you doing here? How? Why? actually I don’t care just kiss me”

Chris barks out a loud laugh and you pull his lips down onto your, a groan escaping your lips which made him chuckle against your lips. His large hands running up and down your back, holding you so close that was barely any space between the two of you.

“That meeting this morning is why I’m here” Chris explains once you finally parted, reaching up to brush some rogue hair out of your face “some set pieces we needed this weekend weren’t ready, so they’re filming some of Dwayne’s solo scenes instead and I could tell you were having a tough time and missing me so I asked to have the weekend back home”

“Oh Chris” you mutter shaking your head tears welling up.

Chris cups your cheek wiping away your stray tears “so will you finally tell me what’s been bothering you?”

You sniffle looking down “its just been so hectic and some clients are asshole and all I wanted was to cuddle up with you and have you tell me it was going to be okay but you weren’t here and when I saw that selfie it just hurt that I wasn’t there with you and then I purposely missed your call and felt so shitty and-” you admit tears cascading down your cheeks as you let everything go.

“Oh honey, it’s okay, it’s okay I understand” Chris sighs gently as he pulls you closer, cradling your head against his chest.

“I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have dodged your call” you whisper shaking your head.

“Don’t apologise it’s okay, but can you tell me why you missed it?” Chris asked gently.

You lifted your head from his chest, wiping away your tears “Because you looked like you were having fun and I didn’t want to spoil that by making you worry about”

“Oh honey I will always worry about you, worrying about you is my job” Chris says wiping away the tears you missed.

“But you shouldn’t have to” you say shaking your head.

“I know but I’d rather you tell me so I can actually do something about it than be kept in the dark while you suffer” Chris tells you gently but firmly.

You nod your head “I’m sorry” you apologise.

“Hey none of that, you don’t need to apologise, I understand what why you did it, I would have done the same” he admits making you let out a huff of a laugh, a smile tugging at his lips “so let’s promise to always tell the other what’s going on so we can help”

You smile nodding your head, leaning up to press a soft and gentle kiss to his lips.

“Now why don’t I get us a fresh tub of ice-cream and relax together and not leave the house all weekend and just have some time together” Chris suggests.

“I saved you a tub of your favourite for when you got home” you smile.

Chris’ grin increases tenfold “You’re amazing, I love you so much”

“I love you too” you grin kissing him deeply.

SHARING IS CARING SO PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOYED IT

Comments are appreciated and encouraged!

 Masterlist

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[sor-vette]

#12.5 Jungkook and the Meaning of “Oh”

“It’s a refurbished student housing,” you explain as they trail after you like ducks in a row. Even if they don’t understand what you’re saying, they seem to be clinging to every word. Wherever you look there’s always at least one pair of doe eyes staring expectantly back at you a.k.a. what do you do when you open your doors and find a certain retired boyband for some reason wants to move in

▶ type: ot7 x fem! reader (poly)

▶ word count: 5.0k

▶ series’ masterlist

▶ other works

▶ a/n: Looks at pictures of fetus Jungkook *does it ever drive you crazy just how fast the night changes* This will have themes of coming to terms with one's sexuality and a cliffhanger. No fancy picture headers because only 10 photos allowed per post :(

Too many hours to count until move-in (but 2014)

“Weather forecasters warn of a thunderstorm descending upon Seoul and urge citizens to remain home and avoid travelling if possible.”

Jungkook grit his teeth harder and resisted the wind that was trying to propel him across the country, putting all of his 17-year-old body mass against the raging storm. The road was not easy but he had decided to see it through. There was no one around. No one with sanity would venture into such conditions but Jungkook was not just anyone. He had someone’s else's heart in his chest and he had to know why.

When he reaches Daehangno, it’s late in the evening and the wind is accompanied by pelting rain and thunderstorm that cracks right above his head.

He finds the small, neon sign of an eye enclosed in a circle and he punts his entire soul on those doors.

“Just, please, explain to me, please!”

The woman who opens them is greying, wrinkled as a blooming rose but there are many decades behind her eyes, Jungkook even thinks maybe centuries.

He bows, because he’s a polite boy, and spitting out rainwater, he yells over the thunder.

“Please, tell me, I’m not crazy.”

The old woman looks down on him, without pity even though Jungkook looks like a drowned rat, but she recognized him. Even if they never met before, she knows who he is.

“Get in, before you drown,” she puffs and without much objection he scurries in, shaking off his soaked back with books too heavy and too wet to be used, by now. He had run straight from school to Big Hit then to here.

The old lady prepares him a bitter tea, which he gulps down, chasing warmth and sensation in his frozen fingers. He doesn’t know how to say what needs to be said, so he voices his main point of worry.

“This is not my heart,” he points at his chest. It’s thundering again, it causes him pain and he wants it to stop. “Am I correct?”

Her dark eyes glisten in the candlelight of the small shop as rumble rips at the window panes.

“You figured it out, fairly early.”

Jungkook winced after a particularly hard tug. His heart was breaking and he felt so horribly alone.

“Please,” he begged the old lady and something in her demeanour changed, turned more lenient at the sight of his pleas.

She pulled out a stethoscope of all things and wiped black coal on his forehead. He sat obediently, not daring to breathe as she listened to his heart. When she was done, a tired sigh escaped her lips.

“Drink more of this. It should help for a little while,” she mutters more to herself, pushing another cup of the chamomile tea in his direction. He drinks it once more with fervour even though it tastes like a thing rotten. Taking a short gasp, he sits on the chair.

“I’m not losing my mind, right. I’ve got soulmates, right. Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, Tae, Jimin and me. We’re…we’re connected, I’m right, am I? Please, tell me I’m right.”

He felt like some sort of freak thinking this but he couldn’t shake it off. He has no idea where the belief came from but it was rooted within him so deep, he couldn’t rid himself of it.

The old woman swirled her own tea around the cup with a disinterested expression.

“How did you know?”

“I don’t know how I know! I just…I just need to hear that it’s right and I’m not some sort of sick person for thinking it.”

“You’re not sick, Jeon Jungkook. Though you’re much more open-minded more than your friends.”

The world collapsed on his shoulders.

Oh.

“They…they know?”

She hummed in retaliation, grimacing sourly.

“They laughed at me for saying it. Can you imagine being laughed at by kids who haven’t lived even the eighth that you have?”

He sags further down.

“I presume it was annoying,” he mumbles appeasingly.

“It’s infuriating!” the woman interrupts, slamming her hand down.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Jungkook curls up on the sofa, fireplace crackling in front of him, chamomile tea in hand. He was sitting in quiet, though he often did not prefer it. Quiet was thinking, thinking was getting lost and getting lost meant being overwhelmed. His worst fear was being overwhelmed, trumping his fear of failure. Failure could be avenged, but being overwhelmed meant drowning underneath a vast wave of helplessness and when he was helpless he couldn’t protect what he needed to. He took a sip and winced at the taste, nevertheless, relaxing in the washing calm of his heart rate slowing down.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Come on, closer,” the old woman beckoned at him and, dubiously peering at her, Jungkook did shuffle closer. In front of him, there was a plate, a clay slab. Undecorated, coarse, it didn’t look more than a child’s cursory attempt at pottery. It stood on the table in front of the woman under which she was rifling through a brown bag. Sounds of clinking glassware travelled from her searching.

“Ah, there it is,” she breathed out in victory a few moments after.

The thunder was nearly ripping the windows from their place but in the small, overcrowded space no one seemed to care.

In her hands, there was a slender, glass bottle, filled to the brim with what appeared colourless substance, though Jungkook could swear that in the faint yellow lightning of the overhanging lamp it had a faint nacreous glow.

Underneath Jungkook’s widened eyes, she proceeded to pour the liquid onto the slab but instead of merely wetting the object, it began to divulge into eight different paths, twinkling so bright they cast water-like reflection upon his rain-soaked face.

Oh!

“Is this…is this magic?” he gasped and the old woman sized him with an impassive glance.

“It’s whatever you want it to be or whatever you’ll remember it in the future.”

Instinctively he knew that there was a reason for why there were eight paths. They began separately and then one by one merged together, creating a glimmering river from the small, independent brooks. He smiled at it as though he was witnessing the birth of something splendid.

“This is what a soulmate is?” he asked her, voice shaking but joyous. His cheeks were sore from the width of his grin but he couldn’t help it, even if he didn’t quite understand what he was seeing.

“This is what fate is, Jeon Jungkook,” she replied, though her voice didn’t just hold as much happiness as Jungkook did, it held none at all. She seemed almost grimly resolute.

Suddenly one of the streams broke away from the liquid, travelling to the far edge of the table, twinkling away like a flickering candle for a short while before disappearing. Then another one broke off and was extinguished just as fast, then another one and another, and another, some going to the farsides of their allowed space, some clinging near but in the end, they all extinguished and what remained in their wake was a small singular stream, pounding weakly as it moved forward and then ultimately stopped rolling and there was no light left to see.

“No, no, no! Bring them back!” he demanded, feeling very frightful of the emptied tablet but the woman corked the bottle shut and stuffed it back into the bag.

“I can’t bring them back. This is what you decided,” she proceeded to sit down, groaning from the tired ache of standing up for too long.

Jungkook’s eyes began to feel entirely too wet.

“I didn’t decide! I didn’t get to decide! Explain what you showed me!”

His mother would slap him for yelling at an elder like that. His eyes shone with trepidation but at this point he was years away from being a walking powerhouse and standing here, trying not to cry and quivering from cold, he didn’t inspire much fear. Least of all in himself.

“I just told you, it’s fate. I informed your friends of what they should do and they rejected it and now fate is taking a different turn.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Because they rejected this,” he thumped the flat of his hand against his chest, not knowing whether it meant the rejection of the unified path or the eighth one, “this is what’s going to happen?”

“Yep. Fate is not as absolute as one thinks. People have free will to flourish or destroy it and you’ve chosen to destroy it.”

“But I didn’t choose anything!” he opposed starting off strong and decided, like a proud lion cub but somewhere in the middle, he began to grasp the injustice of it all and that reduced him to sobs.

“Are you actually crying?” she asked him dryly and Jungkook, sniffling and hiccuping, obstinately insisted that no. He immediately of course began to cry harder.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s six in the evening and the radiators sprinkled throughout the apartment have started to heat up the air for the night but Jungkook is still thinking. He’s preparing scenarios for what to say when you walk through the doors but there’s nothing that seems to fit. Empty sentiments and reassurances, apologies that you would not believe in. He didn’t fault you for not believing, had he not seen what he’d seen, he would discard everything too.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Too many hours to count but still one hour closer to move in (still 2014)

It takes several long minutes of Jungkook wiping the snot away with the sleeve of his school uniform. He marginally regrets pressuring his manager to divulge where the guys had gone to last year that made them act so strange.

“But I still have this? It must mean something,” he mumbled weakly and the woman poured him the third cup of tea. It smelt just as acrid as the first but in his blooming misery, he couldn’t comprehend objecting against the old lady.

“It means you’re an empath,” she tapped one of her heavy ringed fingers against the table, relaxing deeper into the plush seat. “ You have a gift and you’ve given your heart across the ocean. The only thing it means is that you offer your love too freely.”

“Stop saying that,” he wheezes, clawing at his reddened eyes. His head was beginning to throb and it was difficult to breathe as mucus travelled down his throat with every gulp.

“No, I’m serious! Contrary to popular belief, love does not conquer all. It lives and dies as time wills it. If love could conquer all why do you think tragedy exists,” she said, in a low, tempered voice, “why do you think grief haunts the living? Love is not a weapon we can shield against suffering, it eases the pain of our existence but it can not absolve us from it.”

Jungkook listened to her carefully, deep weariness settling on his shoulders.

“So what? That’s it?! We’re doomed to be alone because of one mistake? One mistake that I didn’t take part in?!”

“I didn’t say fate had to be fair.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He thinks he’s falling asleep, the walls are tinted with a coat of confusing fog as he lets his neck rest on the plush armguard. He must be falling asleep because there’s a rattle on the door and the faint draft of the hallway between all of the apartments is stretching a scent of your perfume towards his nose.

Oh.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2+ hours closer to move-in (2014 and onward)

“I’ll protect them,” Jungkook states with broad finality when the storm quiets and it’s safe for him to venture outside, as such he’s no longer welcome in the old woman’s shop. He pins her down with his trademark doggedness, it only increasing when she gives a wry, patronizing smirk.

“How old are you, kid? 15? 16?”

“I’m 17,” he pushes through gritted teeth, walking out the door, still hesitating because he’s yet to prove a point.

“You said people have free will, they can choose to destroy their lives or flourish them. I choose to fix it then! I will use this gift for good.”

“Gifts can be useless. Have you never received too many socks for Christmas?"

He, in fact, hadn't and it shows on his face. The woman pushes further with the same derision.

"You against fate? Good luck with that.”

“Just you see,” he vows and leaves the unwelcome door space.

“Above cups and hearts and vases made of glass, the one most often broken is a promise.”

Jungkook remembers reading it. Or more accurately, Namjoon was reading it and the phrase stood out to Jungkook when he ripped the book away from their leader’s hands to whine about how he needed a sparring partner.

A promise was a nice word for the obsession that Jungkook grew ill with - the mindless desire to protect.

He had it ever since he’d been smacked on the ass, fresh out of his mother. It didn’t make much sense and over time they regarded it as just his thing - an innate characteristic that was just there. A Jungkook for a Jungkook if that made any sense.

His father at times teased him for being a bit doglike, all in good nature and Jungkook never took offence to it. He liked dogs. Dogs guarded, dogs were reliable, dogs could take joy in simple things that people more often than not forgot to do.

For Jungkook fear and drive were so intrinsically connected they couldn’t be parted. His fear of losing a toy, a friend, a soulmate walked hand in hand with his desire to protect it or rather them. So naturally, naturally for him mind you, he beefed up. It was a little thing but it was a start. If he could protect them physically from harm, he’d wander upon the path of how to protect them emotionally. Right?

….or wrong. Because his soulmates were absolute tools.

Jungkook loved and adored them with all his heart but they had to be a group of the densest people on the planet. He never abandoned them or broke his promise but they made it so difficult. When he asked of what they’d seen or heard in their time in Daehangno that made them act like they conspired to carry a ticking bomb for all remaining time, they shook their head and alternated between their favourite answers - “it’s nothing” and “you’re too young”. Young, he was but he was not stupid. And if Jungkook smacked them a bit too hard on the shoulder or put them in a chokehold for a second too long, it was but a small, temporary relief of the frustration he felt.

Protecting them meant that he had to be strong, no matter what, he would be their guard, their wall and their fortress. As he grew older and the mass of challenges increased, he, with only added frustration, understood that their strong wall not always was needed in physical form. There was strength in comfort, in allowing them to lie that the affection was because “he was the youngest”.

“You’re the youngest that’s why I’m giving and receiving flowers with such grace.”

“You’re the youngest that’s why I’m kissing you on the forehead and allowing you to do the same”.

There was strength in him staying with Yoongi, quietly sitting by as he worked through a piece that was troubling for weeks, there was strength in knowing how to pacify Jimin’s tears when he wound himself up so tight it felt like he had a noose around his neck, strength in cheering up Hoseok, in playfully bullying Jin to distract him, in supporting Namjoon and never letting him forget the kindness that poured out of him, in hugging Taehyung in the open, uncaring of what people thought.

It was strength and obstinance and bravery to be Jeon Jungkook and to continue being him every day. For him bravery was like a muscle he could exercise and he did so often. He got tattoos without permission, he cut his own hair, he did what he wanted even if it meant to rebel against soulmate’s wishes. It signified getting himself up, sometimes getting picked up after he stumbled and fell. Love, in the end, was bravery. To love was as scary as it was to be loved back. But he did it.

His memories grew fainter and voices grew muddier but he knows what he saw that stormy day. He knows the future they will hold if he’s not brave. Occasionally, the realization that he was the only one who knew of what their choice did to their futures burdened him so much he ended up screaming in the bathroom stall but as sure as the next sunrise would be, he wiped the tears off, washed his face and set back to work, diligent, stubborn and unswayed. He will do the impossible to save them from an unfair fate.

It’s all worth it though. The moments spent laughing, feeling safe and content win over the turmoil of worry and fear. He remembers the bright pool of the joined light. In the face of it, this was but a short detour, a small climb up the mountain to see the sun’s warming cheek.

“Oh, god, it smells so vile,” Jin cried as he took a whiff of Jungkook’s chamomile tea. It’s nighttime and they were still filming. This day was a hard one, not for him, but for the Other. They don't say it who it was, the eighth one, so he calls them "The Other". He’d been feeling his heart race for almost twenty hours now and it didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon. The Other was having a very, very rough day. If only he could protect them, however, he's marooned for now with these six beloved assholes.

“It helps,” he grumbles back, not answering Jin’s follow up question about “for what”. It was perhaps a little bit petty that he never told them what he saw. Though in fairness they never told him about the Other, the holder of his heart as well. It was an eye for an eye sort of thing.

It takes four years for Taehyung to speak of the Other - Her. Lady in red and in a brilliant moment of clarity, lying in Tae's arms, Jungkook grasps everything.

They were incredibly fussy about wearing red, always insisting that maybe there were other choices. Anything but red. Yet when it came to songs, red was everywhere. Whenever anyone asked of where the inspiration came from, to write so acutely about longing and rejection and pining, they could only shrug their shoulders and try to somehow humbly present they were just genius’ of the human heart. A lie, of course, a preposterous lie. Jungkook who’d been watching them skirt around affections and longing with feeble excuses could attest that they were anything but genius'. Whatever the lie might be, the truth remained the same - they longed for a ghost. For a promise that was not yet made and one that Jungkook knew would never live up to the name if they didn’t act.

He and Taehyung are the first to kiss in front of their eyes and while stunted, it wasn’t like they objected. Jimin is next to fall, casting away his fears, maturing and realizing that love wasn’t a far stretched theory or dream in the future, it was right here, he only had to reach out.

“Jungkook?” Hoseok asked as they walked together in Malta, observing the beige stones and starry skies.

“Hmm?”

“You ever thought about, you know, being gay?”

The question is not unfounded but it is surprising to hear it from Hoseok’s mouth. He’s looking away, not knowing how to delicately phrase the matter but Jungkook doesn’t mind.

“I thought about it.”

“And?”

“I don’t care.”

Hoseok stops walking and Jungkook halts a few steps ahead of him.

“You don’t care?” he echoes, incredulously.

Jungkook takes a moment to think and when that moment passes, he gives a soft smile.

“I know for many people it’s important but, for me, I don’t see why I have to justify myself to others,” he ends with a shrug. “Regardless of who I like, I’m Jungkook and no one should care about anything more than that.”

Hoseok examines the pavement, expression forlorn as he bites in his lip.

“You’re very brave aren’t you, Kookie,” he at last whispers.

Jungkook’s grin turns teasing.

“Well, someone has to be."

Hoseok smiles but it’s without mirth.

Oh.

Jungkook can’t help but feel that maybe, in spite of all his guarding, he just said the wrong thing.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Right. The irrevocable part of humans is that you mess up. Be it an interview, a conversation, your entire fate, you mess it up, but you can fix it.

Fix it, is the instinct Jungkook has when he rouses from the haze and realizes that the door rattle is not a dream. You’re home.

You’re home and his heart is glad. Ever since he moved here, his chest stops hurting. He has a theory that he felt you and not everyone else is because they were near, yet you were far. It’s like his heart kept vigil through means beyond the logic, remaining attentive even across the seas.

He gets up, adjusts his sweatpants and shirt, (he began to wear them because winter promises to be absolutely brutal here, though he still leaves three buttons open) walking calmly towards the doors. Again a bit dog-like but he doesn’t take insult.

You’re one step in and he greets you, lowly but kindly. Your face… he remembers the feeling of not being able to breathe. Your face is haunted and above else he wants to hug you, to push all your problems away, to save you but he keeps Gwenell’s advice etched in his brain. He’s not a ram, in this case, he was the woman with the crown, gently stroking the lion until it melted in his touch. He’ll be gentle, he’ll soothe your pain away, bit by bit, day by day. No matter how much you needed his love, which he was not blind to see, you needed love so plainly, you also deserved respect. So he stays away, even if his hands itch and he breaks at the crestfallen sight that's visible in your eyes. He stays away because some healing can only be done in solitude.

“Hey,” you greet him, trying to appear casual but your voice is rough. You’ve been crying and you’ve been worrying. He recalls the twinkling light, breaking away from them and then disappearing mutely into darkness until it was no more. He’ll fix this, don’t you worry, he’ll be your miracle when you let him.

“Hey. Let me take that,” he gently pries the luggage away from your hands and pulls the red suitcase into the living room. This must be the same one the guys saw that night they met and let you go. He’d only heard stories and vague lyrics about this thing. To hold it in his hands was to hold a symbol of you and he can’t help but beam softly despite the fact that he couldn’t hold you yet. Your symbols, for now, would suffice. Jungkook was greedy but he was not ungrateful.

“Did the conference go well?” he asks, turning around as you unhook the shawl from your neck. Your gaze is flitting around the room, spotting only the fireplace and nothing more.

“It was…” you trail off, unsurprisingly not giving an answer. “Is anyone else here?”

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head. “Jin has class and they is... are still at work.”

“I see,” you drawl awkwardly. You give Jungkook a curious glance, examining him like he had changed his hair.

“Is something wrong?” he asks gently, sitting down on the sofa, hoping you’d sit next to him.

You don’t.

“You look different?” you question, a frown of worry creasing your forehead.

You, however, looked just like that day.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

13 hours until move-in

Oh! Oh! Here you are!

Jungkook feels like a seeker who's found the most diligent of players in Hide and Seek.

He doesn’t know you. But you must be the one, the holder of his heart, his Other. He feels as though he’ll throw up from nerves but at long last, his heart calms without the help of tea. He can’t feel you anymore but he can see you. You’re holding your phone and you’re frowning at it. Instantly, Jungkook wants to know what you’re reading, what’s making you so upset. You should never feel upset.

The guys are still sleeping back in the hotel. They haven’t slept on a bed for so long, everyone passed out like the dead once hitting the pillow but Jungkook couldn’t stop this fluttering in his chest. It’s like his every nerve was rhythmically going Oh! Oh! Oh! so he wandered out for some calming beverage.

This has to be fate. Or if not, then it was his doing. His gift was not useless. He rips open the doors to the cafe and is hit with the smell of pastries and coffee. He’s hungry but he doesn’t register it because Oh! Oh! Oh! You’re here!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Yes, you’re here and Jungkook doesn’t know what to say.

“I just…had a…realization,” he explains and you leave him at that.

He looks you over and steps one daunting, but a brave step forward. Love is about bravery. Bravery, strength and obstinance. The Jungkook.

“What happened with Hoseok…”

“Is I think none of your business,” you bite back, defensively.

He nods along and lets the scorn pass over his head. It’s in the lion’s nature to roar and bite people, he knows that now.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

12 hours 57 minutes until move-in.

He can’t hear what the cashier is saying, he’s just saying yes. She offers him food and he keeps saying yes, not averting his eyes away from you. He can say hi, can’t he? Okay, so he smells and his hair’s a bit dirty and his clothes are a bit rumpled. You try living on the road for seven months and not be a little bumped over. But you shouldn’t mind. You don’t look like the sort of person who would.

He as subtly as possible leans in to smell himself and gives a quick glance around for any pharmacy or anywhere they would sell deodorant.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“It’s none of my business, but he’s very sorry for hurting you,” Jungkook gently continues and you shrug but your eyes say it all. You’re like him in that aspect, your eyes told or maybe he knew because your heart was sometimes in his chest. As gruesome as it sounded, he knew you intimately.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

12 hours 55 minutes until move-in

You’re getting up. You’re walking. Oh, oh, oh! You’re walking away. You mustn’t walk away! You can’t! They just found you, he just found you! What if you’d glimmer out at this very moment?!

His mouth keeps saying yes. The sum for his absentmindedness begins to soar in triple numbers but he pays it no attention. You’re leaving and he’s stammering by the counter like a dog on a leash. Say something, just say anything. Hi! You know how to say hi!

He can only gape and smell in your perfume when you walk past him. He even thinks that you give him a glance, a frowning glare as to why he was just standing here, smelling air like a weirdo.

Oh! Oh.

Oh…

You’re gone.

He smacks down into the hotel room, knees bending underneath the bags of takeout. It’s more than enough to feed fifty people.

Give them three hours and they’ll be done.

“I FOUND HER!” he yells, rousing them awake from the dead.

Namjoon lifts his dishevelled head from the crook of Yoongi's elbow, barely making out the shivering form of their youngest.

“What d’you mean…” he mumbles incoherently and Jungkook drops down the mountain of bags upon Jin’s sleeping figure, effectively burying him.

“I FOUND HER!” he repeats, capturing Namjoon’s cheeks in his palms.

His face is so close he can only make out the small spots of lighter brown in his irises. Years ago he would have wrenched away but for Jungkook’s sanity, Namjoon has resigned to their fate and Jungkook likes to think their stream was growing brighter by the day.

“I FOUND HER!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Yes, he’d found you. Against all odds, he’d found you and he’d make sure you didn’t twinkle out all alone. You’d be behind his wall, his fortress, his guard.

So he’s brave and he takes in a breath, to pop the bubble, the ballon, the truth that they hid.

“Hey, _________, what do you think of soulm-”

Ringing.

He grits his teeth, jaw clamping shut.

Did your phone really have to ring, right now? Was his life a bad TV show?!

It’s still ringing and you’re looking at it with…softness? You didn’t look upon anyone calling you like that? You hated phone calls. You made so sure that they only ever texted you.

Jungkook sees greedy racoons, with their greedy paws taking away his precious pentacle.

You answer the phone, giving Jungkook a peculiar glance when you notice his fists clench. He doesn’t want to frighten you so he lets them loose.

Gentle. Patient. Not aggressive.

You’re Jungkook, not a ram, he reminds himself.

“Hey. Did you land?” you speak.

Land? Someone was flying over? From where? From New York? Did you meet an acquaintance in New York?

Jungkook discreetly inches forward, pretending that he’s not at all listening in. He can’t hear anything though, the volume of your phone is too low for him to make sense of the person on the other line.

“Yes, tomorrow, at 10. I sent an e-mail so they should know you’re coming.”

Who? Who was coming?

You huff but it’s not annoyed. Your behaviour is not making any sense.

What happened? Why hadn't you been able to breathe? Why did you feel empty? Who was talking on the other side? Who had the attention of the holder of his heart?

“Okay, I got it. Yes. Okay. Bye, Jae.”

Oh.

previous ⟷ next

a/n: Either you love it or hate it, I'm *runs away*

[cower-before-power]

Piety

Summary: Gojo has sinned, and he will repent at the altar of his beloved

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

TW: swearing, implied sexual content, idolatry

Link to A03 here

A/N: First time writing for everyone’s favourite sensei, hope I did him justice. This man can step on me. Enjoy, sweet potatoes!

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

“You’re late.”

He laughs softly from the doorway. “I told you I would be.”

“I know,” you say, your eyes focused on the rising moon out the window. “But you’ve always said I was the exception.”

“You are,” you can hear walk over to the closet; next, the rustling of clothes as he sheds his uniform. “But Yuuji-kun is doing so well I got overexcited and just had to stay a bit longer. When I was finished with him, I was planning on rushing straight home to you, but then I ran into my other darling first years. They wanted me to watch them fight. Their training for the exchange is coming along nicely too.”

“Hmmmmm,” you hum, rocking on your heels, “good reasons to be late, I suppose.”

You can’t help but let a little irritation creep into your voice. You’re not angry with him, not truly, but you can’t help be a little annoyed. Your lives were so busy it was often hard to find time to actually act like a couple. The two of you had set aside tonight to finally go out together, a real date. You’d made reservations at a fancy restaurant and even got dressed up for once. Not that you didn’t love your late night routine of takeout, Netflix and sex, but it was nice every once and a while to get out.

To pretend everything was normal. To pretend you were normal.

So when he texted you that he was sorry but things came up, could you please cancel the reservation-you couldn’t help but feel....cast aside.

You loved Gojo’s dedication to his students and his passion for his cause. You were proud of his strength, his powers. But sometimes it felt like you were a planet orbiting around his brilliant sun, competing with all the others for his warmth and light. He was the best, and was always needed by someone somewhere. You knew it was what you were in for when you put your heart in his hands, but it was still sometimes a bitter pill to swallow.

“You’re upset with me,” he says, and you finally turn to face him. He’s out of his uniform and only in a pair of dark sweatpants; your favourite look. You have a strong urge to run to him and bury yourself in his chest. You stay put.

“No not at you, per say,” you run your hands through your hair, taking out the style you’d coaxed it into earlier. “Just at life, I guess. Things are always crazy around here, but they seem to be getting even wilder and it just makes it even harder for us to spend quality time together.”

“You’ve never complained before.”

You sigh, tugging at the straps of your dress. “I know, I know. I’m just in a mood today, I guess. I was really looking forward to going out, and when you texted me, I just felt, I don’t know, shuffled aside.”

He stays quiet, face unreadable. It’s unusual and quite frankly rather unsettling. You feel guilt suddenly bubble hotly in your stomach.

“I mean, it’s fine! What you were doing was very important! Yuuji needs all the training he can get, poor boy. Plus, Megumi and Nobara miss you, they’ve noticed you haven’t been around a lot and they probably just wanted to see you be proud of them, even if they’ll never admit it. I’m being silly, I mean, who cares if we missed the reservation, the students and their training is definitely more important than going out with me-“

Your words die on your lips as you find yourself suddenly pressed flush against the chest you were just admiring moments earlier. You blink and gasp-bright blue eyes are staring intently down into yours. It always stuns you momentarily to see them. They are like sapphires; not only beautiful in shine and hue, but rare and precious. They only show up when he’s feeling particularly loving and mushy, or the very limited occasions when he gets serious.

You have a feeling it’s the latter.

“What have I told you about being too kind, angel?” He scolds you, shaking his head as he cups your face in his large, warm hands. “Just come out and say I’m the asshole here.”

“But-“

“Hush now,” his voice grows stern, the tone he uses when he’s got you at his mercy. You obey on instinct, snapping your lips shut. “I shouldn’t have stayed so long at school, and I definitely shouldn’t have assumed that cancelling would be okay without asking. I’ve never, ever wanted you to feel like you’re playing second string, and I’ve gone and done just that.”

You frown. “I don’t feel like that all the time, please don’t think I-“

“Once is one time too many,” he interrupts. His fingers smooth over your skin, stroking the frown from your face. “I clearly fucked up. I let my angel, my reason to live, my sweet darling thief who stole my heart, down.”

(You feel warm. So he is feeling mushy as well as serious.)

He replaces his fingers with his lips, featherlight brushes over your skin that make your knees begin to wobble. “It’s okay,” you breathe, eyes slipping shut so he can kiss your eyelids gently. “You didn’t mean to.”

He laughs. “Sweetness, you are shit at being mad at someone. This is the part where you call me a prick and make me grovel for forgiveness.”

“You’ve never groveled in your life,” you hum. The irritation you’d been feeling earlier is melting away under his gentle ministrations. He hadn’t meant to hurt you. He sometimes forgets the two of you didn’t always operate on the same wavelength. He sometimes forgets that everyone didn’t operate on his wavelength.

“Another exception I’d make for you,” he nibbles at your bottom lip, and you can’t help but chase him, trying to catch him in a proper kiss. He just laughs and sweeps a thumb over where he’s just nipped. “I’ll even get on my knees.”

The image of the worlds most powerful shaman on his knees before you sends a shiver up your spine. And the perceptive bastard doesn’t miss it. He pulls away, peeling himself from your body with a sticky slowness that causes the air around you to heat and thicken. He sinks to his knees before you, palms upturned in perfect piety.

“Oh goddess divine, please accept my humble apologies,” the words drip from his lips like a sacred prayer. “I have displeased you, and I seek to make amends.”

“Only you could apologize and make fun of someone at the same time,” you murmer, feeling your cheeks begin to flush. “You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot who only wishes to repent for his sins,” he grins lazily up at you, and his upturned hands are suddenly on your legs, beneath your dress. His thumbs begin to rub circles on your inner thighs. Time stops; your next breath lodges in your throat.

“Tell me what I must do,” his voice is smooth like the silk of his blindfold, slipping over you. He leans in and presses a kiss just above your right knee. His mouth is hot against your skin.

“Ummmm....” you try to speak, but nothing comes out but a choked whimper.

“I’m waiting very patiently,” another kiss, this time slightly higher. Your brain begins to malfunction. You open and close your mouth, trying to get the words out, but there’s nothing. Nothing but his warm breath and deft hands. Nothing but crystalline blue darkened with hunger. Nothing but need beginning to boil in your blood.

“I’ll just have to decide the form of atonement myself,” he murmurs, skimming his nose along your inner thigh. His hands slowly slide up your legs, your dress is coming up with them....

And then you both hear it.

The loud grumbling of your very empty belly.

He pulls back and blinks up at you. You stare back, mouth open. And then you both burst into raucous laughter.

“What a mood killer,” he grins, sitting back on his heels. “I’ve never been cockblocked by your stomach before.”

“Sorry!” You rub the offending area, still giggling. “I guess in all my stewing I forgot I was hungry.”

He’s on his feet in a flash. “Well we can’t have you starve on me, can we, sweetness? I know, how about I cook for us?”

Your eyes light up. Gojo is an excellent cook, but he rarely does it due to his busy and exhausting schedule. And his bad habit of filling up on sweets. “Really?”

“Sure,” he’s already across the room, throwing on a shirt and his blindfold. “Tell you what, you go have a nice hot soak in the tub while I cook. I’ll bring you a glass of wine and something from my extra secret sweets stash to tide you over till I’m done.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Something from the secret stash? I’m honoured.”

He grins. “Another exception for my angel.” He suddenly claps his hands together. “Oh, and tomorrow we’ll play hookey! Go to Tokyo for the whole day, and I’ll spoil the absolute shit out of you. The kids can survive a day without us.”

“You already spoil me,” you laugh, shaking your head. “I’ll just be happy to spend a whole day just us.”

“No arguments!” He wags his finger. “I will drop mad cash on you and you will enjoy it.”

“Ugh you are such a dork,” you roll your eyes, but your heart fills with love for this silly man. You know he really is sorry and is trying to make it up to you. He’s an idiot on occasions, but he’s your idiot, and you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

You make to move towards the bathroom, but the lingering feel of his touch on your skin reminds you.

“Hey, what happens after the bath and food?”

Before you can blink, he’s back in front of you, gathering you against him. His smile is absolutely feral, and you can feel his smouldering gaze even through the black fabric now covering his eyes.

And his lips are descending on yours, hot and hungry. He licks into your mouth, swallowing the moan that’s threatening to escape. There’s nothing left but him. His touch, his taste, his scent. He is everywhere, in every sweep and valley of your body, in every corner of your pounding heart. He consumes you like fire consumes a forest, and you are happy to burn, burn, burn.

All too soon he pulls away, and you are left empty. Bereft. Lost. But he leans back in, his lips brushing your ear, his voice dark with reverent desire.

“I’ll worship at the altar of my divine goddess until my penance is paid a hundred fold.”

[ragingbookdragon]

The Best Of Us

Batfamily x M!Reader

Word Count: 3,035 Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: And here we are with a Batbrother fic! Enjoy! -Thorne

It wasn’t an inferiority complex. Not really. He wasn’t prone to anger or any of the other symptoms listed under it—and he checked. Multiple times. But there was something about being the only non-vigilante in his family of vigilantes that made him feel inadequate compared to the rest. Bruce had the Justice League, Dick and Jason had their own fantastic groups that saved the day, and Tim and Damian were still in school, but even they had their groups too. Hell, even Alfred still had contacts from his days in MI-5. And yet, he had none of the skills his brothers or father had, no extensive martial arts training, master detective skills, or weapon mastery. He was completely normal—or maybe abnormal in this case. And on some level, he resented that he couldn’t be like his family—maybe he did have an inferiority complex.

***

The greatest thing in (Y/N)’s mind about still being allowed to live at home was that no matter what, there was always food around to eat—Alfred saw to it that every growing man in the house had enough to eat—that being said, their grocery bills were outrageouslyexpensive.

He balanced his tablet in one hand, the other hand adjusting the tie around his neck as he stepped into the kitchen, quick to raise the tablet in time to avoid whacking his youngest brother in the head.

“Morning,” he greeted, taking his seat at the table, just after Jason’s. A chorus of tired, ‘mornings’ came back at him and he quirked an eyebrow. “Wow, loving the enthusiasm this morning, guys.”

Jason snorted and propped his chin on his palm, watching (Y/N) for a moment. “I seriously don’t understand how you’re always so chipper in the morning.”

He huffed a laugh and took a sip of the coffee that Alfred set down. “Someone has to be the ray of sunshine in this group of gray clouds.” (Y/N) cast a glance at Dick who was shoveling eggs into his mouth. “And it seems like our eldest is busy feeding his bottomless pit.” Dick was fast to shoot him a glare, that he returned with a smile.

Just then, Tim trudged into the kitchen in an oversized hoodie and plopped down in his seat, immediately shoving the plate in front of him to drop his head onto the table.

“Jesus Christ, you guys,” (Y/N) sighed, flicking at his tablet for a moment. “You’ve seriously gotta take a day off to recuperate.”

“What do you think we do during the day?” Dick retorted, taking a swig of milk.

“Okay I think you’re confusing the entire day with the first half,” he reasoned. “When I say take a day off, I mean the whole twenty-four hours.” He glanced at everyone, and the only person who seemed to not be tired was Alfred, and that’s partly because (Y/N) believed he was immortal. “You guys are gonna run yourselves into the ground,” he said. “I just don’t think—”

“We know what we are doing, (Y/N),” Damian interrupted with a glare. “We know our limits better than you do.”

He let out a sigh and shook his head. This conversation had happened many times before and it wasn’t anything new.

“I’m not saying I know them better than you Damian, I’m simply saying that you guys should take a day to relax so that something doesn’t happen on the job that you can’t control.”

(Y/N) glanced at his father. “Dad, c’mon, you know I’ve got a point.”

Bruce hummed and flipped the page of the newspaper. “So does Damian.” He met (Y/N)’s eyes and nodded. “You don’t have to worry so much, (Y/N). We know what we can handle.”

He stared at Bruce for a moment then scowled. “I don’t even know why I bother,” he muttered, and Damian was fast to chase his comment.

“I don’t know why you bother either. You’ve never once experienced what we do every night.”

(Y/N) met his youngest sibling’s glare. “Just because I don’t stick my neck out for each person in this city night after night doesn’t mean that I don’t know what it’s like to be exhausted.”

Damian crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you know what it’s like to be exhausted from blood loss because you’ve been stabbed or shot? Or to be exhausted from saving the lives of innocent people? You do?”

“I—” (Y/N)’s mouth opened, then he snapped it shut and looked away with a darkened expression, tasting something sour in his mouth. “No, I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought,” Damian finalized, and in the wake of the uncomfortable tension, a cellphone went off.

Everyone started looking for theirs, but (Y/N) muttered, “It’s mine.”

He picked it up and put on a cheerful voice. “Good morning Angela…yes, I just got the floor plan…” he tapped at the screen on his tablet. “Do me a favor and move the people from table eight to table three. Mr. Robinson is better friends with Mrs. Grace and will certainly give us a warmer atmosphere in that area.”

(Y/N) paused and listened, then he stood from the table and pushed his chair in. “Let me get to the office and we can situate the rest of the guests for tonight…alright, see you soon. Bye.”

He pulled the phone from his ear and ended the call, then took the black backpack that Alfred was holding to him. “Thanks Alfred.”

“Of course, Master (Y/N). Have a pleasant day at work.”

He huffed a laugh, but it was anything but amused. “I have to give a speech tonight in front of the entire company and three different magazines.” He glanced at Bruce. “Think you’ll be able to attend tonight? It’d mean a lot to me.” Bruce grunted, his way of telling (Y/N) that he’d try, but to not hope for a miracle.

It was fine, he was used to parentless ceremonies and events. He cleared his throat and shrugged on the backpack, making his way to the garage door.

“See you guys later.”

***

He’d given a few speeches in his short twenty-four years, and while he’d never say he was an expert on public speaking, he did know his way around a podium. That being said, every time he had to do a speech, he felt like vomiting—nerves he chocked it up to.

(Y/N) cast a glance around the packed ballroom, quietly groaning at the massive amount of people. His own table was empty, save for Angela and thank god for him, Lucius. He couldn’t help but frown at the name tags sitting in front of the empty seats.

“Wondering where the rest of the gang is?”

He met Lucius’ eyes and gave a halfhearted smile. “I’d like to think they took my advice and took the night off but…something tells me that the night called to them.” His lips pulled downwards. “I’m not going to act like this is a surprise, Lucius. I couldn’t even get them to show up for my university graduation.”

(Y/N) smiled and stood up, grabbing the notecards beside him. “What makes you think I could get them to show up to this?” He left the table and moved to the side of the stage, waiting for his name to be called. His fingers briefly shifted to his chest, feeling his heart fluttering beneath chest, nerves causing his breathing to come in short bursts. (Y/N) shut his eyes and took a deep breath, letting a pleasant smile cross his face as the presenter called his name, and walked up the steps.

The bright flash of photography momentarily blinded him, but he smiled through it. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us tonight at the Centennial Inside Alliance Award Ceremony.” He flashed everyone a million-watt smile. “My name is (Y/N) Wayne, and as many of you know, I am a senior editor for Inside Alliance. It is my pleasure tonight to recognize Inside Alliance’s top writer for the year.”

(Y/N) glanced around the room, making sure to catch the eyes of the hundreds of guests.

“Inside Alliance was created on August fourteenth, nineteen-twenty by a group of immigrant mothers and fathers who wanted to bring knowledge of their homes and cultures to the rest of world. Some of those countries being Germany, Romania, Greece, Ireland, Italy, Israel, and many, many others.”

“The production of their valuable time and extensive care created one of the greatest magazines that is still in business today, that brings attention to the worldwide issues that many groups face, while still connecting to their roots of educating the public on cultures and groups.”

He smiled. “It is with my upmost honor that I congratulate and introduce Miss Flora Janaliyeva, one of our newest and greatest writers that has joined Inside Alliance, and the winner of tonight’s Inside Alliance Award.”

(Y/N) turned to the side and grinned at Flora as she ascended the stairs. Her long black hair was braided down the length of her back and she wore a bright and floral-patterned gown. She reached (Y/N) and he reached with his right, shaking her hand, and handed her the glass award with the other.

“Miss Janaliyeva, it is with honor and congratulations that I give you this award for your excellent talent and recognition of ability from Inside Alliance.”

She smiled brightly and accepted the award. “Thank you, Mister Wayne, the honor is mine.” He nodded politely once more and descended the stairs as she began her speech, quietly taking his place back at the table.

“Well done, Mister Wayne,” Lucius smiled and (Y/N) let out a deep breath.

“I’m just surprised I was able to do that without stuttering or panicking.” He glanced over, smile lowering slightly. “Lucius, are you alright?”

The older man dabbed at his forehead and nodded, though when he breathed, it sounded labored. “I’m fine,” he assured, then reached up to rub at his chest.

(Y/N) shifted. “I don’t think you’re alright Lucius.” He leaned over. “Are you having chest pain?”

“I—yes,” he grit out then met (Y/N)’s gaze. “My chest is getting—tight and I…and I—”

He started to slump over and (Y/N) shot to his feet, eyes widening with fear. “Lucius!” The yell startled the crowd and Flora, who all looked over at the two.

(Y/N) pulled the older man back and pressed his ear to his chest, listening. He pulled away and yelled, “Someone call an ambulance! I think he’s having a heart attack!”

He helped Lucius to the floor and immediately pressed his palms to the man’s chest, starting compressions. His breath came in panicked spurts and he kept looking at Lucius’ face.

“Just hand on Lucius. You’re going to be okay.” (Y/N) kept at it until the EMT’s arrived and they knelt beside them.

“Let us take over.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, too afraid that if he did, Lucius would die, but one of the EMT’s placed a hand on his shoulder while the other slide their hands underneath (Y/N)’s.

“Son, we’ll take it from here.”

(Y/N)’s arms went slack, and he let the medic pull him away, watching as they took over and started moving him onto the stretcher.

“Please, save him. He’s—he’s friends with my family I—”

The medic nodded firmly. “We’ll do all we can.”

And all (Y/N) remembered was someone ushering him into a taxi heading for the hospital.

***

The first people that arrived were Lucius’ family who were grateful for (Y/N)’s actions, but the young man could barely grimace as they disappeared into the hospital room, leaving him sitting outside, his head in his hands. Tears gathered in his eyes as he thought back to what the ER doctor told him.

***

“Mister Fox is in a stable condition, but you have to understand, Mister Wayne, his heart is very weak.”

“But—but he’ll be okay right?”

“Based on Mister Fox’s past conditions, he’s verging into heart failure. His heart is too weak to keep up with what the body needs.”

“And…and what does his body need at this point?”

“At this point? A new heart.”

***

He sucked in a breath and fought to keep the sob from escaping his throat, just as heard, “(Y/N)!”

His head shot up and he saw his father and older brothers coming down the hallway. (Y/N) clambered to his feet.

“Dad I—” he started, but cut off as he choked on a sob, and Bruce pulled him into a hug, holding (Y/N) as he sobbed. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I tried my best but—”

“Shh,” Bruce hushed, a firm, but gentle hand coming to rest at the back of his son’s neck. “You did all that you could.”

He pulled back and wiped his face. “But Lucius needs a new heart, and I don’t know what to do. I should’ve seen this coming. He hasn’t been feeling well the past few weeks and I—”

“(Y/N),” his father said firmly, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. He met Bruce’s eyes. “This wasn’t your fault.”

His libs wobbled and he whispered, “But if I were like you guys, I would’ve seen something earlier. I didn’t and now…” sighing, he added, “and now Lucius needs a new heart, or he’ll die.”

Bruce’s sigh was heavier than (Y/N)’s and it made his chest heavy. “We’ll get Lucius a new heart, (Y/N).”

He lowered his head and lamented, “I’m sorry, dad.”

His father squeezed his shoulder then lead him towards Dick and Jason. “Take (Y/N) back home for the night. I’ll stay here with Lucius’ family.”

They nodded and led their brother down the hall, arms firm across his shoulders in a comforting way. They didn’t say anything, knowing that there wasn’t much to offer, but their support was enough for (Y/N), even if he felt horrible.

***

For being the World’s Greatest Detective, his son was evidently the World Best Hider, because it took Bruce a long time to finally find (Y/N). He stepped quietly over to the form sitting on the ledge and took a seat beside him, silently gazing out at the backyard. A bottle appeared in his vision and he focused on it as the smell of whiskey reached his nose.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked but took the bottle anyway.

“Jason gave it to me earlier.” He watched Bruce take a sip. “Figured it fit the occasion.”

Bruce chuckled. “That sounds like Jason’s way of dealing with a problem.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, passing the bottle back and forth, simply enjoying the calm around the manor and night.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” Bruce suddenly said.

(Y/N) sighed and set the bottle down, kicking his legs out off the roof. “Lucius said he hadn’t been feeling well recently. And I just passed it up to getting older.” He looked at his father. “If I’d actually paid attention, then I would’ve seen the symptoms.”

“Do you actually know what the symptoms of heart failure and heart attack are?”

“I…no, not really.”

“Then you couldn’t’ve known.” He looked at (Y/N). “Lucius works in my office every day. If anyone should’ve known and seen it, it should’ve been me.” Bruce shook his head. “But you did everything you could at the awards ceremony, and that saved Lucius’ life tonight. You did good.”

“I could’ve done better.” (Y/N) muttered. “I should’ve. I’m your son and I’m practically useless to the family but—”

“Woah, woah,” Bruce interrupted, brows furrowing as he asked, “What are you talking about?”

(Y/N) turned to him. “I am the least useful person in this family. I mean you and the guys are these crazy intelligent, vigilante master detectives and I’m just me.” He wiped away a tear that fell from his eye. “I can’t speak seven different languages or solve murder cases with a single strand of DNA left at the scene of a crime. Hell, I can’t even throw a punch.” He sighed heavily. “The last time I tried, I broke my hand.”

Meeting his father’s gaze, he said, “I just want to be like you guys.” He lowered his head. “I just want to be normal and not an outlier in the family.”

Bruce simply stared at him for a long moment, and while he’d never been privy to let his emotions show on his face, he let them this time—shock and shame. Shame that he didn’t see his greatest achievement suffering.

“(Y/N).”

He didn’t look up at first, but then he did. “Yes sir?”

“How long have you felt like this?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Forever?”

His father sighed. “Son, I…I never wanted you to be like us.”

He gaped at Bruce. “What?”

“(Y/N), every person in this family is driven to do what we do because of our childhoods. You’re the only one who doesn’thave any skeletons in his closet.” He stared at him. “We wish every day that we could be like you and not a day goes by that we don’t think that.”

“I…what?” he floundered, absolutely bewildered at the idea that his father and brothers wanted to be the most boring person ever. “There’s no way that’s true.”

“It is.”

“No.” (Y/N) huffed. “I’m me. I’m plain and boring, work a nine to five job me. I mean I write for a magazine for god sakes! And you guys save the world!”

Bruce chuckled. “And what we wouldn’t give to be just a bit more normal like you, son.” He shrugged. “You think you’re inferior because you’re not a vigilante, but you’re the one thing that keeps us all sane. You give us the perspective of someone who isn’t what we are. Of someone who’s completely normal.”

He reached over and placed a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. “And being normal? Being you?” Bruce squeezed firmly. “I don’t want you to be anyone else.”

(Y/N) gazed at him, and though he felt tears in his eyes, he didn’t blink, didn’t let them fall. “I’ve only ever wanted to make you proud.”

Bruce smiled heartfully. “You do, (Y/N). Everyday. Because you’ve always been the best of us.”

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

So on the one ask about the yandere marriage. What would happen if the same characters darling escaped and actually tried fighting back? Probably won’t work out but they tried.

You are correct, darling tried. But it didn’t work, and lead to some harsh consequences.

Germany – The sweet and outgoing nature of his kitten made her seem docile. Luther didn’t count on her claws coming out when she was cornered.

Luther’s love for his kitten will cause him to gloss over her rough behavior at first. Every protest would be seen as a concern that could be swept under the rug. Yelling and screaming would be a lover’s quarrel. It wasn’t until her hand hit his face that Luther would realize that harsher methods would be needed.

Luther’s methods would start off simple, leaving Kitten in a sealed room for a day or two. Each time-out session’s length would be based on what the actions of rebellion would be. After trying this for a couple of months, and reaching isolation periods of two weeks, or having a weapon drawn on him, Luther would up the intensity.

Instead of just isolation, it would start to include chains, starvation, and darkness. These restrictions could eventually break Kitten down to the point of submission. If she hadn’t won Luther’s trust through fake affections and obedience first.

She would either escape through an open window or convince Luther to get extremely intoxicated to the point of passing out. At that point, she could walk right out the front door.

Once Luther realizes what happens, Kitten had better pray that she stays ahead. Luther’s methods are reminiscent of a hunting dog. Persistent and willing to use the pack. If Luther couldn’t find her within three days, then he’s calling the other axis members. More than likely, the help of the other members will corner Kitten quickly.

After she is found, Luther doesn’t wait. He swoops in the second she is away from witnesses and knocks her out. All Kitten manages to squeak out is a “Luther!” and then it's dark.

When she awakens, all she can feel is pain. Luther broke her dominant leg, and though it was well wrapped, she noticed a couple of other new things. The chains that once wrapped only around her ankles became a harness. It's not cutting off circulation, but it was tight. The room she’s in is small, stone, and cold. The only light in the room came from the crack in the door.

This would be the punishment for escape. Luther had been worried and at least this way he knows where she is. Maybe on their five-year anniversary, she could come out.

Sweden – Hustru was a ray of sunshine. Beautiful, bright, and also hot. Not just in terms of attractiveness, her warm cherry attitude would easily change to a blistering fury. This was amusing to Bernard, despite being from an area known for chills, this heat was welcoming.

Going the route of a true yandere, Bernard would hide you away, his logic would be that all newlyweds need some time. Though since it was done with approval from both of their bosses, it would not be in one of his unknown places, rather a newer and known spot, one designed just for her. It would be a simple house, out in the foggy Swedish forest. The outside would be reminiscent of a by-gone area, but the inside would be a mix of modern and medieval.

Bernard thought she enjoyed it until she started to fight against his ‘simple’ rules. Things like yelling and screaming would be funny to him. It was showing Bernard a side that he hadn’t yet witnessed, and he enjoyed that. Each action of rebellion would be recorded by him with joy. Until that is, hustru decided to get physical.

Bernard, like Luther, is fine with backtalk. Physical fighting though is a sign of distrust and the breakdown of his bond with his hustru. At this, hustru would be restrained and with his silver tongue, he would talk her out of attacking. His voice would sound joyful, but his eyes would communicate anything but that.

That would be her only warning. If hustru would attempt another attack, Bernard wouldn’t hesitate to break a limb. This should quell her fire for a time, and at that moment Bernard would coo at her. A sweet voice asking how she could be so clumsy, and how she should allow Bernard to take care of it.

Eventually, it would reach the boiling point she would make a break for it. Bernard would have been waiting for this moment. After all, he already takes people to his home, Bernard knows that it's only a matter of time before they run.

He would follow behind slowly, fully understanding what she would be looking for in an escape route. Each turn hustru would make, she could hear Bernard taunting her and making false promises. Whether or not hustru would realize it, Bernard would be herding her like a ewe to the slaughterhouse.

Bernard would end the chase by cornering hustru. It would either be by a cliff or a lake. Her look of panic would thrill Bernard, and he would descend upon her like a wolf. Their struggle would last until Bernard could give either a hard blow to the back of her head, chokehold, or hold her head in the water.

Holding her now unconscious body close, Bernard would take her away. She would not return to the nice home in the Swedish forest but instead would find herself in an unfamiliar place. It was Sweden’s oldest and best-hidden spot.

This one is underground and like a hobbit hole. Though the inside is much bigger and maze-like. Hustru will never find the door, but Bernard will always be there to give her affection.

Russia – Viktor knew marriage was an adjustment for both the husband and the wife. They were living together for the first time, and that meant getting used to each other’s constant presence. Well, at least for родная, since Viktor knew everything about her. Though, he was reaching the end of his patience with her insults.

Viktor would be willing to turn a blind eye to any rebellion for about a week or two. As I said, marriage is an adjustment, and he would be willing to give родная some time. After that period, and if she is still fighting their love, then Viktor sees reason to correct the bad behavior.

As a yandere Viktor is fine with the occasional comment. Should родная do it more often than that, or attempt to lay it on thick Viktor is gonna act. His punishments are always smart and calculating with the purpose of ensuring submission. It starts simple; restricting her time outside the home and the disappearance of specific privileges. Things like entertainment and basic comforts are the first to go. As time goes on, and if she chooses to escalate her acts, then it's only gonna get worse.

Physical attacks lead to periods of isolation, additional housework, and prevention of sleep. These three together would make it easier for Viktor to shape her behaviors and throughout ask her specific questions to see how she is coming along. If родная is smart enough, she will submit quickly to avoid seeing how far he is willing to take this.

If родная should escape, she then there must be an insurance that Viktor is not home. Once out of the home, then she has no choice but to take the alleyways. Viktor’s men are well-rounded and without a doubt one of them is well versed in hacking. Once found, whether it be via a security camera, or through the use of documents, Viktor will bring her home.

It won’t be a pretty moment. One, it would be in public and there would be screaming and begging. Two, no one would help, mainly because Viktor would appear not only her husband but provide papers to make it seem like she had some illness that required guardianship.

In the end, she’s in a basement tied to a chair. From there Viktor would work once again with his previous taming methods, this time though he would make sure it sticks.

England – Oliver was quite pleased on their wedding day. It was beautiful and perfect, but the events since that wonderful day have been troubling to him. His sweet little Dearie appeared to not be adjusting well to married life, but he’s got the tools to help.

Oliver has always had a need for control, and after the American Revolution, it had gotten worse. When Dearie fights, it’s almost like a flashback for him. He doesn’t handle it well, Oliver is willing to give a warning, after all, it is his wife. Though after not only having his warning ignored but receiving back-to-back threats and the claims that he is a monster, Oliver decides that his wife needs lessons on how to be a lady and housewife.

These lessons range from proper posture and basic manners to tea ceremonies and fancy dances. The length and frequency of the lessons depend on the severity of her crimes. Which to Oliver, each is extremely severe and must be taught out of his sweet little dearie.

For each lesson, Oliver has an enchanted device. For posture, a corset with celestial bronze and white silk. Each attempt of slouching or relaxing causes it to tighten like a python with a rabbit in its coils. Dance lessons involve iron shoes, not only do they burn when the dancing stops, but they can only be removed by Oliver. These are just two of many that he has.

Her escape would not be easy. Oliver’s flying bunnies, Chocolate and Strawberry would always be nearby. Waiting and ready to report. Her best chance of escape would be a moment of pure chaos. Whether she caused it or she had been blessed with it, this would be her only chance of escape.

Once he realizes that she had run away, Oliver would open his dreaded spellbook. The magic would flit and fly around him as he reads various spells. Creatures of all kinds would be summoned and with the leadership of his bunnies, they would spread across the land like the shadows that appear with the setting sun.

Eventually, she would be found. Caught and dragged away by the various shadows Dearie thought she had escaped.

Once Oliver had her back in his arms, an enchantment would be placed. Nothing too harmful, just something that would bind their souls together. Forever.

[sp00ky-arts]

Screaming Symphony

Alright so, I wrote again lol. There are two versions of this story. One is clean and one is dirty. Both start the same but I put a cut for the smut version.

Anyway thanks to @moonlig​

for this idea.

Synopsis: Bo gets his ass beat..well kinda(then smut happens

You knew this place was strange from the start. Your friends too excited and interested to see the reality of what really was going on. That ‘Bo’ guy really gave you a bad feeling as well. You tried telling them, but as always they brushed you off. I mean, he wasn’t just a pretty face and a smooth talker. He was hiding something. Then your friends slowly started to disappear one by one. Your suspicions rising as you tried to find them, as well as now hiding from Bo. He was now wearing coveralls, ditching the dark suit he was wearing earlier on when you met him. So here you are now, running from the man that was currently chasing you. You all but screamed for help as you tried to get away from the man who was gaining on you. Soon your legs were getting too tired. You didn’t know how much longer you would keep this up. Unfortunately for you, he was faster, and had an advantage over you. With said advantage he had tackled you to the ground.

 “Let me go!” You shout in his face, struggling in his grip.

 “Now, sweetheart, you don’t want to make this harder than it has to be.” He warned. Was that a threat? You spit in his face which you’ll probably regret doing as you kick him in the leg.

 “Ah! You little bitch…come here!” Bo grabbed for you but you dodged again, kicking him in the jaw (rip jawline lol). “Nothing you need to worry about for now, sweetness, now if you don’t mind…” He pounced on you, encasing you as you squirmed in his grasp, careless tossing you over his shoulder.

 “Put me down!” You cried out as you continuously hit his back.

 “Sorry, hun, can’t do that.” You punched particularly hard in plus making him grunt.

 “The sooner I get you in the chair, the sooner I can get started with you.” He boomed. Chair

 You soon figured out what ‘the chair’ was as he takes you back to the all familiar gas station but descends down some stairs leading you to a place you haven’t seen before. It appears to be the basement. It was a bit dim, only lit but a few lights and lamps here and there. Before you knew it he thrusted you on to it before getting close to your face.

 “Alright darling, let’s see how tough you are now.” He taunted. With the little strength you had left you jerked back before headbutting Bo. He stumbled back a bit in surprise as he didn’t expect that.

 “You’re gonna wish ya hadn’t done that, darlin.” He hissed, charging at you. You took a risky shot and kicked him in the knee that him to the floor. Bo was seething when he rose back up, intense blue eyes glaring at you.

 “Alright, you asked fer it.” He strapped your wrists before layering tape over it.

 “Now, let’s see you get out of this, doll.” He breathed in your face

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 Smut Ver.

  You knew this place was strange from the start. Your friends too excited and interested to see the reality of what really was going on. That ‘Bo’ guy really gave you a bad feeling as well. You tried telling them, but as always they brushed you off. I mean, he wasn’t just a pretty face and a smooth talker. He was hiding something. Then your friends slowly started to disappear one by one. Your suspicions rising as you tried to find them, as well as now hiding from Bo. He was now wearing coveralls, ditching the dark suit he was wearing earlier on when you met him. So here you are now, running from the man that was currently chasing you. You all but screamed for help as you tried to get away from the man who was gaining on you. Soon your legs were getting too tired. You didn’t know how much longer you would keep this up. Unfortunately for you, he was faster, and had an advantage over you. With said advantage he had tackled you to the ground.

 “Let me go!” You shout in his face, struggling in his grip.

 “Now, sweetheart, you don’t want to make this harder than it has to be.” He warned. Was that a threat? You spit in his face which you’ll probably regret doing as you kick him in the leg.

 “Ah! You little bitch…come here!” Bo grabbed for you but you dodged again, kicking him in the jaw  (rip jawline lol). “Nothing you need to worry about for now, sweetness, now if you don’t mind…” He pounced on you, encasing you as you squirmed in his grasp, careless tossing you over his shoulder.

 “Put me down!” You cried out as you continuously hit his back.

 “Sorry, hun, can’t do that.” You punched particularly hard in plus making him grunt.

 “The sooner I get you in the chair, the sooner I can get started with you.” He boomed. Chair?

   You soon figured out what ‘the chair’ was as he takes you back to the all familiar gas station but descends down some stairs leading you to a place you haven’t seen before. It appears to be the basement. It was a bit dim, only lit but a few lights and lamps here and there. Before you knew it he thrusted you on to it before getting close to your face.

 “Alright darling, let’s see how tough you are now.” He taunted. With the little strength you had left you jerked back before headbutting Bo. He stumbled back a bit in surprise as he didn’t expect that.

 “You’re gonna wish ya hadn’t done that, darlin.” He hissed, charging at you. You took a risky shot and kicked him in the knee that him to the floor. Bo was seething when he rose back up, intense blue eyes glaring at you.

 “Alright, you asked fer it.” He strapped your wrists before layering tape over it.

 “Now, let’s see you get out of this, doll.” Bo breathed in your face. You shivered at the sensation that hit you. You turned your face away from him as he chuckled as guided your face towards him.

 “Look at me.” He commanded.

 “Go to hell.” You bite back, once again spitting in his face. He simply wiped it off but made no reaction and just proceeded to look at you, almost in an amused way.

 “You ain’t got the strength now, sweetheart. Just give up.” He spoke, softly caressing your face. He was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Your body and muscles ached all over, you were tired, and you still haven’t found your friends.

 “Please, let me go.” You weakly reason.

 “Can’t do that.” He states, a wolfish smile growing on his face. You shrink away. He kisses the top of your head and you release a small noise in response.

 “You know, I saw you lookin’ at me earlier.” He bites lip.

 “W-What?” You ask confused.

 “Don’t play dumb with me. When you were with your little group of friends, I saw you.  You almost had this ‘love struck’ look on your face you know.” He chuckles. Your eyes widen. Shit!

 “Between you and me… I like you better than your other little friends, especially the one that looks like a clown with all the make-up she was wearin’.” He mused. Evie. Your face heats up at that. You weren’t blind, you knew he was a good looking man, you just felt his aura change and your gut was saying something. You blink up at him.

 “Where are they?” You ask hoarsely.

 “No need to worry your pretty little head about that, honey. It’s just you and me now.” He licks his lips as he closes in on you. He presses a kiss to your neck, smiling when he feels you squirm.

 “You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” He compliments. Who knows how many times he’s said that one before, you almost laugh.

 “Don’t believe me?  It’s true. You’re also very ambitious. The way your eyes light up, you seem very passionate. But there’s something else there too.” Bo concludes. Where was he going with this?

 “Huh?”

 “Your eyes tell a story. What? Am I wrong?” He continues. What freaked you out was the most was that he wasn’t far off. So you shook your head at that and he makes a small noise.

 “What’s wrong?” You debated on telling him. Why does he care? He was gonna kill me only minutes ago.

 “My parent’s, they always fight. My friends…they’re kind of assholes to be honest, and I got turned down from my job.” You explain.

 “So you’re like a butterfly who somehow got mixed in the wrong crowd?” Bo quirks an eyebrow at you.

 “I guess.” You look anywhere but him, eyes somehow focused to his wrists. As If he read your mind when you looked at them.

 “This was for misbehaving. I always got strapped down if I was ever bad.” He looks at them as the laid next to your face. You don’t know why you did it but you turned and placed kisses on them. Bo looked at you curiously as you did so. Confusion but something else was building in his eyes. Need.

 Turning back to look at him. There was something that held you two. Something drawing you to each other like a moth to a flame. Like you needed each other in a sense. What started as a fun trip took a turn, and then took a turn again. For the better? One minute you were running away from some crazy man that was trying to kill you, now he was kissing you, and you were kissing back. He kissed down your neck to where he stumbled upon a scar and kissed it. You trembled in his grasp and let out a moan at the sensation.  Your heart was beating rapidly at the attention you were receiving. Looking at him with wide eyes and biting your lip in anticipation.

 “God, you look so cute like that.” He breathed before kissing your lips again. The smacking sounds you heard were enough to send you into a state of euphoria. You wanted to grasp on his hair but your hands were restricted that. Bo kissed down your body until he got to the button of your jeans. He undid them in a flash and pulled them off along with your underwear.

 “You’re wet.” He snorted. You glare at him and he puts his hands up in defense.

 “What? It’s true, I ain’t lyin. You’ve literally soaked your underwear.” He cackled. You felt your cheeks heat up. God, this was embarrassing.

 “Do something…please” You pant.

 “Alright, miss bossy.” (What that tongue do though, I’m sorry.). Now being face to face with your wet opening (literally ew) he licked from bottom to top before taking your bundle of nerves into his mouth. You jolt at the sensation and he has to hold you’re his down from bucking.

 “Easy, easy.” He soothes. He teased you a couple of times before inserting his tongue inside you, Bo started a slow pace, softly grazing your insides. (again ew).

 “You taste heavenly, darlin.” He spoke up. Mouth shiny with your juice (I’m gagging writing this.) Eyes blown wide almost looking black. The need is overtaking.

 “Come here.” You say. Bo kisses you once again. You hum against his mouth as you taste yourself. Indeed you tasted pretty good. You felt his fingers go to your wet snatch teasing around before he thrusted one finger inside.

 “Ahhh!” You yelp. He was thick. One finger already felt like two. He started rapidly, walls clenching around him making him grunt at your tightness.

 “Another, add another.” You cry. He did as you said and added another finger. You were already full with two fingers. As he thrusted his fingers inside you his other hand found itself under your shirt and cupping a bra covered breast.

 “Wait hold on, I got it.” He pulled down the cup of your bra and encased your whole breast in his hand.

 “Shit..” You moan. Bo goes back to taking your clit into his mouth, as well as thrusting at a rapid pace and teasing your breast, all of which was driving you crazy.

 “I feel you tightenin’ around me, you close?” He hums around you, you nod as you couldn’t find your voice.

 “Then do it. Come now.” He groans. You feel yourself tightening around him, the fire in your lower belly growing stronger, almost about to burst.

 “Yes.. yess.” You cry. Bo rubs your nub as your walls clench around his fingers. His other hand teasing your nipples making your mind go fuzzy. Oh my god.

 “Bo!” You come with a shout, your body going limp. He mouth is back on you prolonging your orgasm for as long as he can. A string of curses fell from your mouth as you shook and shivered as you released

 “You did good.” He praised you, standing up and caressing your sweaty face. You took a deep breath before relaxing in the chair.

 “Think you got more in you, sweetheart?” Bo asks, and removes his coveralls. You look from his face, to the bulge that grew in his pants, then back to his face again.

 This was going to be a long night.    

Again if you want to see more trash writing let me know.

[justaniche]

Hey! I’m dying for more Daxton. I seriously can’t wait for season 2. Can you write something about Nalini realizing Paxton is good for Devi? Like he takes care of her/protects her and helps her deal with her trauma

Thanks!!

Hi!

omg let me say first, anon, thank you for this ask. youre the first person to take me up on my offer to write stuff for you so thank you again.

A little bit about this writing piece before I actually show it to you, there was a point when I was writing it when I wasn’t sure if it was going to reach 1K words but there was a point where the words just start to flow and I can proudly say it is 2.1K and that is not a lot but based on what I thought it was going to end up being it has come along way. and this is one of my first-ish never have I ever work of writing. I think it’s the first I’ve written entirely off the top of my head. My other ones are either not posted or it’s my work inspired by the episodes and its just everything through Paxton‘s point of view so it’s a bit different.

this is getting sort of long so anyway, without further ado. here it is. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think and if you like it please feel free to send me another!

Nalini had just about had it. The day’s raging dumpster fire began with traffic that resulted in her being late to work. If that wasn’t bad enough, a patient she saw a couple days ago came back complaining that her treatment caused a breakout. After a follow-up, she discovered the patient hadn’t changed any of their habits despite her advice! So was it really the treatment, or the fact that they don’t wash their face? All that suffices to say when Nalini got home she was already on a very short fuse. Kamala was out for school and let her family know she wouldn’t be home for dinner so it was known by both Devi and Nalini that they would be cooking without her today. Nalini gave Devi specific instructions so that, regardless of how late her day ran, they could have dinner at a reasonable time. Devi did not follow those instructions. Nalini came home to the door unlocked, closed but unlocked, the house a mess, and Devi’s part of dinner not made. No matter how many breaths she took, Nalini was mad. No, mad didn’t quite cover it. She silently walked up the stairs, hell-bent on seeing what caused this disaster, and if she didn’t like the reason she planned to riff for the rest of the night. But approaching Devi’s door she found it ajar. She peeked inside, and that's where she found them.

After winning his swim meet, Paxton was on top of the world. The school day had been what it tended to be, light. Filled with class and hanging with his friends in the hotpocket. But that was hours ago. It was early evening when he saw her, Devi Vishwakumar, they had sort of become friends over recent weeks but given the up and down nature of their relationship, Paxton was always very aware of her. Devi had a way of grabbing Paxton’s attention. He was always trying to figure her out. Of course she made a hell of a first impression, first couple of impressions actually. Devi was sorely different from anyone else in his circle and Paxton wasn’t yet sure how he felt about the sudden invasion. He pretended he didn’t but after unintentionally watching her Paxton began to notice Devi’s change in mood sometimes. Like right now, from where Paxton was he saw the set of her shoulders. The tension was apparent as Devi stalked across the school grounds. Confusion flooded Paxton’s mind and before another thought could register, he was jogging towards her.

“ Hey, Vishwakumar, wait up! ” He called towards her but she didn’t stop

Devi cast a look over her shoulder, her voice was muffled when she spoke, “Uh, Hi Paxton, I can’t talk.” her voice cracks, “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Paxton slows down for a second as he takes in the situation, Devi speeds up.

“Are you okay?”

Devi breaks into a dead sprint and Paxton doesn’t think, he just follows.

Devi was doing okay. Today was harder than most for a reason she couldn’t name but Devi was making it through. That was until last period art class. The teacher gave a simple assignment, and that was to paint your happiest memory. Immediately when the words left his mouth, a memory came flooding into Devi's mind like a tidal wave.

Devi was 8 when her father convinced her mother that going to a Californian beach as a family would be an adventure. Devi barely remembers the build-up, it was a haze of packing sandwiches and equipment. Leaving the house, only to discover something had been forgotten. A car ride that seemed to stretch into forever. But the beach was magnificent. At least it was in Devi’s memory. It was a gloomy day, the threat of rain looming, so the beach’s visitors were far and few in between. Devi remembers that feeling of warm sand under her feet. She remembers those first fragile steps into the tide, only to rush back as the ocean crashed forward chasing her back to shore. She could see her mom, in the distance, setting up their makeshift camp for the day. She was more content watching her family than participating. The ocean was vast and blue and terrifying. Devi could not urge herself to take more than a few steps. Devi doesn’t know how her dad saw her distress but it was like he could read her mind. He grabbed her and lifted her high then settled Devi on his shoulders. He insisted that she was safe there, she was too high for the ocean to ever reach. He held her hand as he walked slowly but confidently further into the waves. He stopped just as the water kissed her mid-calf but it was enough. From way up here, with her father by her side, the ocean wasn’t anything to fear, it was something to marvel at.

Devi had a firm picture in her mind of her happiest memory and it was her family’s adventure at the beach. But Devi couldn’t make a move to make this image a reality. Sadness crept up on her and got a vice grip on her heart. Her vision blurred and she couldn’t breathe. How had she ever breathed before? Was it always this hard? The bell rang, signaling the end of the day but Devi was on autopilot. Eleanor and Fabiola felt miles away, whenever they’d focus in the daze of her mind, the grip on her heart tightened and dragged her back to darkness. Devi doesn’t know if she said goodbye to her best friends,

She blinked, band began

She inhaled, band was over

She stood, the sun was setting

She gazed, the stress stiffened her movements as she walked around campus. Where was she headed?

Devi was desperate for light, for clarity.

“ Hey, Vishwakumar, wait up! ” The sudden noise broke the muddle, if only for now, she was again aware of the devastation and loss weighing on her mind and on her heart.

She recognized that voice and it was getting closer, she glanced over her shoulder. Paxton, no no no, she didn’t want anyone to see this least of all her newest and most popular friend, “Uh, Hi Paxton, I can’t talk.” Why was her voice cracking? “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Devi finally knew where she wanted to go as she increased her speed.

“Are you okay?” Paxton’s question was the final straw, she couldn’t stop her tears and they fell uncontrollably past her cheeks. Paxton was going to catch up, and Devi was crumbling by the second. So Devi did the only thing she could. She ran, ignoring the echo of the beating steps behind her.

Nalini could hardly comprehend the scene playing in front of her. Devi, her only child, her entire world, looked so small folded up on the floor in front of her bed. Devi was always so strong, with a personality larger than life. She always seemed bigger than her stature, always taking up more space. Nalini's anger from the day deflates, leaving no trace it was ever there to begin with. Nalini tears her eyes away from the form of her daughter to take in the room. It was dark but the other figure inhabiting the room was clear as day. Paxton sat before Devi, his body language soft. He had one hand on the arms Devi wrapped around herself as he spoke to her gently. Paxton’s volume was soft as a whisper, any louder would shatter the delicate atmosphere. Witnessing this scene felt like a secret and the longer Nalini stood there the guiltier she felt. Devi never expressed emotions this deeply to her. Everyday problems with her friends or tests or Ben Gross, yes. But Devi never shared this.

Nalini's mind was going a million miles an hour as he crept back down the steps and began cooking dinner. She knew Devi would refuse but she needed to have something ready, just in case. When everything was mostly done, she was quiet as she moved around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the meal. Nalini knew he was trying to walk silently but she still caught Paxton as he descended the steps. Nalini kept her back to him as she called, giving Paxton an out if he needed.

“Paxton?”

“Um...yes, Hi Mrs. Vishwakumar” at the acknowledgment, Nalini felt comfortable enough to turn around.

Paxton was standing in the doorway, shuffling in obvious discomfort. What he expected her to say she didn’t know. Gods, neither did Nalini. Questions flew through her mind faster than she could catch them. She didn’t want to ask him about what happened, Nalini wanted Devi to share when, if, she was ready. Nalini realized, amongst these questions, that she didn’t know Paxton. Here was this kid, late in the evening comforting her daughter. She couldn’t even be upset that they were home alone when she recalled how broken Devi looked. All Nalini had done thus far was judge Paxton, he looked like a jock so she thought him dumb. She made these assumptions about him, that he’d peak in high school or that he was shallow or that he was a walking STI, but they were just that. Assumptions. This kid stayed with her daughter for she didn’t even know how long, she’d been cooking for close to an hour so it was at least that.

All these guesses and judgments were useless when she stood in front of him. Paxton had a rigid set to his limbs, Nalini thought it was probably from sitting in one position for so long, and he was still dressed in gym clothes. Paxton looked new in Nalini’s eyes and she regretted never wanting to know him before now. Nalini didn’t know where to begin, she wondered if he’d eaten.

“Would you like something to eat?” Nalini's silent prayer must’ve been heard because he accepted. She was being given another chance. She quickly worked around the familiar space, grabbing one of the good containers and piling more food than necessary, successfully straining the unyielding plastic. She was handing the meal over when she paused, they both had a hand on the object between them but Nalini couldn’t let go, not yet.

“Thank you, Paxton, really, I don’t know what happened and I won’t ask but I saw what you did for Devi.” Paxton had the decency to look a little shocked. He hadn’t heard anything. Paxton was too absorbed before. His mind was a broken record repeating only, Devi.

The moment shatters when the front door opened, “I’m home!” Kamala’s voice fills the silent home. With the trance broken, Nalini’s hold on the container falters and she drops her hand allowing Paxton to leave. Words were failing him so all Paxton could give was a tightlipped smile in response.

“Thanks for the dinner.” Paxton’s smile was looser now and that gave Nalini courage.

Kamala was unloaded the day around her but Nalini was focused on making this right, “You’re welcome to come by Paxton, anytime.” She could only hope Paxton knew just how much she meant those words. His smile was burdened but bright, he nodded strongly and then he was out the door.

Kamala was fixing the table for a very late dinner when she called for Devi to join, Nalini hoped she would. “Who was that? And why was he here so late?” Pure curiosity laced Kamala’s voice.

“Paxton is one of Devi’s friends. He’s a good kid.”

Those details were all she could provide before Devi came bouncing down the steps. Nalini couldn’t be sure if it was the fact of what she saw or reality but Devi’s movements looked heavier than they normally were.

“What’s up guys?” Devi’s voice feigned casualness, “Dang mom, isn’t it late for a thousand-course meal?” She questioned as she took in the lack of clear surfaces on the dinner table.

Nalini just brushed it off, indicating for everyone to take a seat. “So how was everyone’s day?”

Nalini wasn’t looking for Devi to share but this was her family. She would always want to hear how they were, plus it was tradition. As they consumed insane amounts of food they were bound to regret eating this late at night, everything felt so normal and easy. But something had shifted in Nalini today and even though it was new and she was scared to death of this person entering Devi’s life with the propensity to hurt her. Nalini can’t say she minded too much because it was Paxton. He had proven himself worthy of a chance, and Nalini wouldn’t soon forget it.

[sparkypantaloons]

The Ice

Five things Bruce taught Jason and one thing Jason taught Bruce. (1/6)

Bruce isn’t sleeping when his bedroom door creaks open. He’s not even pretending, when the small, whimpering child climbs into the bed beside him. Small fingers clutching at his nightclothes, a tuft of curly hair tucked under his chin.

He wraps his arms around the small shaking figure, presses a soft kiss into the hair. “Deep breaths, Jason.” He says softly.

The boy in his arms takes a shuddering breath, clutches tighter to Bruce’s pyjamas. His tears are starting to soak through.

“Sorry.” Jason says. The words are barely a whisper, Bruce feels them in his chest, more than he hears them.

“Hey.” He says, in gentle admonishment. “What have I told you about apologising. There’s nothing to apologise for.”

Jason sniffles again, presses himself further into Bruce’s embrace.

“Try and get some sleep.” Bruce says, and with one arm he tucks the covers around them both.

It’s not the first time Jason’s had a nightmare. It’s not even the first time this week. It’s also not the first time Bruce’s own dreams have kept him from rest. If he’s honest, since the incident last week, he sleeps a lot better with Jason here too.

Jason’s been with him eight months, two weeks and five days. And it’s going well. Really well, in fact.

Jason is everything Bruce was not as a child. He’s loud and full of life, with a mischievous gleam in his eye and a heart of gold in his chest. He’s eager to learn, quick-witted and sharp, already catching up with the smartest in his class, despite the school he’s missed.

He’s funny. God is he funny. He makes Bruce laugh in a way he hasn’t done since Dick was small. With silly impressions, or out-of-the-blue jokes that are way beyond borderline for a twelve year old.

He shows affection with reckless abandon, throwing his arms around Bruce or Alfred’s necks or waists, whatever he can reach. Pressing kisses into cheeks, squeezing their hands in his, or dazzling them with a brilliant smile. Like he's been so full of love his whole life and just needed someone to give it to.

And he trusts them. Alfred and Bruce. Trusts that he is secure with them, loved by them, where he should be, with them. With each passing day, more of his personality shines through, as he starts to build his home, his life, there with them in the Manor. Warm, and full, and safe at last.

Bruce had hoped… when he took the kid in, he had hoped that he could give Jason what he needed. That he could make up, in some small way, for all the ways Jason had already been failed. By his parents, by the police, by social workers, by Gotham. Hoped he could give Jason something, that would make up for the years before. He just never counted on how much Jason would give him. Because Bruce adores him, and as the quiet tears turn to gentle snores in his arms, he already dreads letting go come morning.

It's late autumn, the leaves have already fallen from the trees. The first frost of the season had descended on the Manor and it had been a harsh one, killing the last of the late summer blooms that were still hanging on.It had only been a week ago, that first frost, but it's only with Jason's warm body held close that Bruce can shake the chill, even now.

It had been that next morning, the Manor grounds glittering silver, when Jason and Bruce had been working their vegetable patch. Now nearly empty, after they’d picked their carrots and pumpkins and squash. Bruce’s pumpkin had been biggest, but Jason’s carrots had tasted the best.

Ace was out too, running up and down the garden, chasing squirrels, barking good naturedly up trees. There was only so much interest an eleven year old could show in weeding an all but empty vegetable garden. Before long Bruce had shooed Jason off to play with the dog, whilst he knelt in the soil, picking out frozen slugs and other undesirables.

He could hear Jason laughing with the dog. Wrestling with the old Alsatian every time he refused to drop the manky, old tennis ball they were playing fetch with. Jason had a strong arm, but Ace, despite his age, had more energy than even an eleven year old, and before long Jason’s throws became more haphazard.Bruce hadn’t seen what had happened, had only heard it, half listening in the way all parents do. Jason had thrown, but Ace seemingly hadn’t got the ball. “C’mon Acey.” Jason had cooed, “Get the ball.” Before there was a good natured humph, the dog seemingly refuse to do as asked.

The next Bruce had known, Ace was baying manically and Bruce was sprinting from the vegetable patch, because those were warning barks. Ace was a little down the garden, over by the swimming pool, Jason nowhere to be seen.

No. The single word repeated itself in Bruce’s mind as he ran across the frozen grass. No, no, no, no, no.The world went silent as he reached the pool. Panic drowning out Ace’s barks. The thin layer of ice across the surface was cracked open, Jason below the water, still and unmoving.

Bruce yelled. He doesn’t know what. Jason’s name. Maybe Alfred’s. Maybe just an angry, desperate noise, wrenched out of his throat at the thought that someone else he loved was being taken from him.

He careened into the pool. Half wading, half swimming, arms desperately reaching for Jason. He didn’t feel the cold. Didn’t feel the wet. Could only feel the all consuming panic as his fingers finally, finally closed around Jason’s arm, dragged him to the surface.

“Hold on, Jay-lad. Hold on.” He said loudly, and kept saying as he pushed through the icy water to the pool edge, a thousand terrible scenarios running through his mind.

By some miracle, none of them came to pass. Jason had started coughing up water before Bruce was out of the pool, tears joining the water running down his face.

It had been later, sat by the fire in the drawing room, wrapped in blankets and Bruce’s arms, Jason had quietly wept. Whispering over and over “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” into Bruce’s chest.

“You never go out onto the ice, Jason.” Bruce had said. “Never. No matter what.”

But of course Jason wouldn’t know. What pools of water were there in Crime Alley, what frozen lakes or rich idiot swimming pools were there to learn from? Jason had never even left Gotham, had never crossed the river until he came to the Manor. Had never even been to the river, could never know the dangers beneath a frozen surface... Why hadn’t Bruce explained it to him the second they got outside? Why hadn't he had the damn pool cover fixed at least? Why hadn’t he been watching Jason more closely? He should have been playing with the kid, with his— with his son, not picking frozen slugs out of the ground whilst his darling boy drowned.

Except that was the other thing. Because it wasn’t just about not going out on to the ice, never, ever, no matter what. It was that Jason couldn’t swim either. He hadn’t said as much, always casually finding a reason to avoid the water over the summer months. But Bruce wasn’t called the world’s greatest detect for fun. He should be called the world’s biggest idiot. Having an open pool of water around an eleven year old who couldn’t swim. Having not even booked swimming lessons for the eleven year old who couldn’t swim.

Who did he even think he was? Thinking he could be a father to this child. Give him what he needed. He’d already failed fatherhood with Dick, ruined what had been the most important relationship in his life, with his own stupid pig-headedness. And here he was, arrogant enough to risk doing the same again. Stupid enough to—

“B?” Jason stirs in his arms, bringing Bruce back to the present. Interrupting the sixth consecutive night of him reliving the kid’s almost death. Putting an end to the self-loathing diatribe he now has down to a tee.

“Mm?” He can feel Jason’s eyelashes flutter against his neck.

“Thank you.” Jason says softly. “For saving me.”

Bruce has lost count of how many times Jason has broken his heart, but he adds another to the list. “You don’t have to thank me, Jason. I will always save you. Always.”

You can read the rest of this fic here https://archiveofourown.org/works/34213801/chapters/85127050

[bts-hyperfixation]

Why Not Then? 18+

Here it is in all it s 4327 words.... This one kind of got away from me.

angst/fluff/smut 

I hope you like it!

Warnings: unprotected sex

pic found here

Tonight’s the night. At least that’s what you were telling yourself. Senior prom. It’s now or never. Tonight is the night you are going to tell Jungkook how you really feel about him. He has to feel the same way, you are inseparable. There is no doubt in your mind that the only obstacle in the way is fear, not wanting to ruin the friendship you had worked so hard to build. The doorbell sounds through your house and you take a deep breath. For the hundredth time that day you look in the mirror. Curls frame your face, makeup done to perfection, and the seafoam A-line dress you had chosen made you feel like a queen. Your mother calls you downstairs, you can hear your father making polite conversation with your date as they wait for you. Another reason you are so sure Jungkook feels the same, he is your date. He could’ve had any other girl in school, but he asked you.

The moment you descend from the top of the stairs is like a movie. His goofy little bunny smile lights up his face when he sees you. You try as elegantly as possible to parade down the stairs, using one hand to lift the hemline of your dress, as the other glides along the bannister. You take your time. Eyeing him up as you go, the tuxedo was such a stark difference to his usual gym shorts. He was stunning. His short dark hair quaffed and gelled. Everything was going to go as planned tonight. You could just feel it.

“You look beautiful as ever” he laughs taking your hand and spinning you. You can’t help giggling.

“Not too bad yourself.” You pull on the lapels of his jacket. He bats you away a straightens himself back up just as the flash goes off on your mother’s camera. She arranges the two of you in to ten different poses before letting you leave. Jungkook had driven his beat-up convertible to pick you up. To anyone else that car would be an eyesore, but he loved it, and so did you. So many nights spent just talking and looking up at the stars, cuddled up under an old picnic blanket. To you it was a pumpkin carriage.

He opens your door for you and helps to fold your skirt so it wouldn’t rip in the limited space. He runs to the other side and jumps over the door and into his seat. Your parents wave you off as you pull away. It’s a short drive to the school. 10 minutes at most. He parks like a pro, doing that thing that guys do when they reverse into a space. The twisting just so you can see more of their neck and watch how their arms flex around the back of your headrest. You start to climb out of the seat when suddenly he is in front of you, hand extended to help you. It’s hard not to laugh at how hard he is trying to be a proper gentleman tonight.

“Come on Y/N-ah, the night of our dreams awaits.” He quotes the prom theme. The unbelievably cringy and cliched ‘night of our dreams’. Walking through the doors, it was still blatantly obvious you were in the school gym, but the prom committee at least tried their best. Tacky streamers in blues and silvers, star themed props, a solar system themed photo booth. Its clear they had to use some of the previous year’s decorations, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The butterflies were building in your stomach. Anxious and excited about where your confession could take you.

All of your other friends are already here, dancing to the catchy pop music blaring over the sound system. The path to them is crowded with other sweating high-schoolers, so Jungkook decides just the two of you should go and take photos. He pulls you towards the photo booths, lining up with the other groups and couples waiting their turns. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he is still holding on to your hand. Tight.

“Don’t you want to go dance with the others?” you gesture towards those in the middle of the floor, laughing as one of the boys loses his balance mimicking a slut drop.

“No, I want to take some stupid pictures with my best friend and date for the evening.” He winks at you, a move that should come off as light -hearted and cringy. Instead it feels like he has shot you in the heart. The response you come back with shocks you.

“Just because you’re in love with me.” You accompany the remark by sticking your tongue out at him. He grabs your chin and makes you look him directly in the eyes. Your heart beats double time. It looks like he is going to kiss you. Before his face gets close enough to yours, he ruins it.

“You wish Y/N.” he laughs it off, but you see it as your chance. Now or never, tonight’s the night…

“Actually…” and then it’s your turn for pictures. You don’t get a chance to get the rest of the sentence out. Whether he heard or not you don’t know but now he is excitedly rummaging around a box of props. He pulls out a silver feather boa and oversized-blue sunglasses for you, finding a matching set for himself. It’s a strip of four photos. One smile, one where he jabs you in the ribs, one with silly faces, and one where you kiss him… only on the cheek. Not enough to throw yourself in the deep end, just enough to gauge his reaction.

His ears turn bright red and he stammers about going to find the others as you exit the booth. It has to be a good sign if you make him flustered, right? The next hour is spent ruining all the work that had gone into this evening. Hair stuck to sweaty foreheads, makeup creasing around the eyes, lipstick wiped on the backs of hands. When the live band comes onto play, you and your friends head outside for air. It’s nice feeling the wind, a slight chill in the late hour. Most of your friends can’t hack it for too long, choosing to return to the dance floor in time for the party tracks to come on. Eventually it leaves just you and him. You hear the opening chords of the cha cha slide start up inside and decide now is a good a time as ever, more than eager to avoid the choreographed dance portion of the evening.

“Can I talk to you?” you reach for his hand. He turns to look at you properly and sees the serious look on your face, his brows furrowing to match.

“What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing’s wrong, just come with me.” He lets you drag him away from the gym. You head toward the school greenhouse, no one is going to come looking for you there.

“This is weirdly private Y/N, are you sure everything is okay?” he feels your forehead as if he is worried you have suddenly fallen ill.

“I’ve been trying to tell you this for the longest time and I can’t not anymore, it’s time.” He opens his mouth to speak again, the confusion evident in his eyes. You raise a finger to his lip to stop him. “I’m in love with you.” The words escape more like vomit than a statement. It feels so freeing to get the words out. You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. Finally admitting how you feel is an amazing feeling. Until you take in the way he is looking at you. You might as well have grown a second head. Your about to speak again when he turns on his heel and makes a run for it.

He walks briskly away from the concealed shed and back inside of the school. You don’t know if you should laugh or cry. Of all the responses you thought you’d get; abandonment was not one of them. It takes you a moment to snap out of the shock he had left you in. you follow the trail he took back into the main hall. Spotting him even through the crowd, people parted as he passed them. He beelines straight through the gym and though the doors into the main corridors. When you make it into the hallway, he is at the other end about to disappear around a corner.

“Stop running away from me!” you yell a little too loud, other lingering students stop and stare at you on their ways back from the bathroom. Unfortunately, you can’t bring yourself to care. Jungkook faulters for a moment before continuing. “Jeon Jungkook! I said stop.” You kick off your heels and run in the direction he disappeared. You nearly run full force into his chest as you turn the corner not expecting him to be there.

“Why?” his voice is small and harsh, not the usual bubbly tone he always has for you.

“Why what?” your more than a little annoyed that you had to chase him only for him to ask you a question.

“Why do you love me?” it’s not the question you thought he’d ask. Why now? How long? What’s your ring size? Those were the questions you had been prepared for. Not why do you love him. you thought that was obvious. “Seriously, why do you think your in love with me?” that stung ‘think’ he doesn’t believe you. Thinks its some silly girly crush you have.

“I love you because you’re you. You’re my best friend, you make me happy when no one else does, my heart hurts when I don’t see you for more than a day.” You reach for his hands, trying your best to convey your sincerity. He flinches in response. Pulls way back out of your reach.

“I don’t feel the same way.” Now it really does feel like someone has stabbed you. Run you straight through with a sword. Your stomach twists so hard you might throw up. This wasn’t an option. In all the ways you had imagine your prom night going, this hadn’t crossed your mind. You taste the tears at the corners of your lips before you realise your crying. “You can’t just spring something like this on someone Y/N! we were having such a great night, why did you have to do this.” He is not only rejecting you, he is blaming you for having feelings. It’s all too much.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. The lump in your throat makes it hard for you to speak at all. “I just thought…”

“You thought wrong.” His response is so fast, cutting off every chance you might’ve had to put a band aid over the situation. Maybe held it together until the night was over. Now there is no chance of that.

“I’m sorry.” You try again but he just rolls his eyes. Instead of making you sadder, this reaction makes you angry. How dare he. How dare he just dismiss you like you never meant anything to him. Like you weren’t even a friend.

“I should take you home.” He gestures towards a nearby exit. He doesn’t reach for your hand to guide you like he would’ve any other point in the night. You shake you head and walk back in the direction you came, picking up your shoes as you passed them. You walked straight out of the front gates and all the way home. That was the last conversation you’d have with Jungkook for a long time.

Graduation came and went. He tried to talk to you a few times in person, but you just walked away. Still seething at the way he reacted.  He texted you constantly, left voicemails until you blocked his number. Your other friends never found out exactly what happened. They pieced bits together from what the two of you were able to talk about but never the full picture. When he started coming to your house to apologise you decided it was time to move on and headed to college early.

You were in town for a wedding. One of your high school friends had managed to meet the love of their life while away at college and asked you to come. It was a nice excuse to visit your parents. You didn’t come home as often as you would’ve liked. The town felt a little haunted after you finished school, so you tried hard to avoid it. Especially at times like this.

You were standing in your childhood bedroom, dressed to the nines once more. This time knowing that Jungkook was not going to be waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. But he might be at the wedding. Getting over the boy you had never really been with was more of a challenge than you could’ve ever imagined. It took you almost the entire first year away to truly get some peace on the situation. You even started to understand his point of view. He was just an 18-year-old boy trying to enjoy one of the last nights he’d get with his friends. The you had gone and dumped a whole load of new information on him. It wasn’t fair of you, just as much as it wasn’t fair of him. Truthfully, a little part of you would always wonder what if. What if he had felt the same way, would people be coming home for your wedding instead? Or would it have fizzled out long distance?

You are pulled out of your thoughts by your phone signalling the arrival of your uber. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed you clutch and headed out, eerily reminiscent of that night.

Five years later.

The wedding is at a fancy hotel on the other side of town. You are escorted by the ushers into the main room. you quickly scan the area for him. You don’t even know if he is coming but you don’t want to be caught off guard. Coming up empty you thank the groom’s men and find a seat in the back of the bride’s section where you can survey the room.

It feels ridiculous being so on guard around the person that used to mean the world to you. Your eyes meet as soon as he walks through the door. He seems genuinely surprised to see you there. He tries a weak smile and lifts his hand to wave in your direction, but you put your head down, choosing to focus on the intricacies of the program instead. 4 hymns and a sermon. For a nonchurch wedding it sure seemed religious. You roll your eyes and settle in for a long one. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he skulks away. Sitting a few rows in front of you. You allow yourself the luxury of looking at him now that he can’t look back. His hair is a lot longer now. The suit he has chosen definitely fits a lot better than his prom tux. His shoulders are nicely outlined, strong and broad. It’s a nice visual.

The wedding seems to happen around you. Old friends come over to catch up. Vows are exchanged everyone is shuffled into a banquet hall. All the while you are watching Jungkook out of the corner of your eye. Seeing him go through the motions just as you are. Three tables away. Clearly your friend has been smart enough to think that through when creating two singles tables in her seating plan.

The night wore on. Speeches were made, drinks were spilt. More than one groom’s man ripped his trousers on the dance floor. You were getting some air in the gardens when he found you.

“You look beautiful as ever.” His voice is soft, but it still makes you jump, not expecting him to approach you at all.

“Thanks.” You move to brush passed him, eager to put some space between you. Very Much not wanting to exchange awkward pleasantries with the man that, after today, you were sure still owned your heart. He steps back into your path, and makes you meet his eyes. It hurts all over again. Every feeling you had that night rushes back, every bit of progress you’d made since then erased in a matter of seconds.

“Can we talk? Please?” he sounds almost as desperate to talk to you as you are to leave.

“Talk about what Jungkook? It’s been years, just let it lie.”

“Exactly it’s been years and I know how I feel about you now, know how I felt about you then… please just let me explain myself.” He pleads with you. You stand firm, half of you longing to hear him out, the other half wanting to run the way he had.

“Why should I let you talk now? You didn’t let me talk then.” You can hear the venom dripping in your tone but can’t bring yourself to adjust your voice.

“I was a kid back then Y/N, and I was scared I was going to lose you” he chuckles darkly “I guess I did that anyway.” He grabs for your hand, this time you get to pull away from him. None of this is fair, where was this person when you needed him five years ago? He sighs at your reaction. “Look I was terrified okay? I didn’t know how I felt about you. I just knew everything was changing and I didn’t want us to change. But I know who I am and what I want now, and that’s you.” He closes the distance you had put between you in one stride. His mouth heavy on yours trying to prove a point.

You can’t bring yourself to pull away this time. Instead melting into his embrace. Letting yourself indulge in the boy that was all you ever wanted.

“Why now? Why not then?” you ask when he finally pulls away.

“Because you wouldn’t speak to me until now. I wanted to tell you the day after, but you wouldn’t talk to me. And you were right to do so. I was such an asshole to you about it. Let me make it up to you.” He peppers your face with kisses.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have cut you off like that. I was scared too.” He holds you tight cradling you into his chest. You stand there for a while. Taking in everything about him that you’d missed. The smell of fresh cotton, the warmth he always radiated. All of it.

“I have a room upstairs if you want to go. Maybe we could watch a movie?” you pull away to look straight up at him. he must have realised what it sounded like then because his mouth formed an o and his eyes widened. “Wait no, I really did mean a movie.” He tries to backtrack.

“What if you didn’t mean a movie?” as soon as your meaning sinks in, he is sprinting away. This time with you in tow, struggling to keep up. Eventually he decides you are slowing him down. He lifts you bridal style into the nearest elevator. He refuses to put you down, even though you are forced into a standstill. As soon as the door dings, he is through them. Balancing you and opening the door isn’t even a challenge as he bursts through into the luxurious hotel room. He throws you unceremoniously on to the bed before discarding his jacket on the floor. You watch, propped up on your elbows, as he loosens his tie and kicks off his shoes before helping you with yours. He runs his hand up the back of your calf, rolling down the stockings you’d worn in an effort to avoid tights.

His hair falls into his eyes as he meets your gaze, and you can’t take the teasing anymore. Grabbing him by the collar, you pull him on top of you. Your lips finding his, unwilling to let go until your lungs hurt. He has one arm by your head, supporting some of his weight while the other trails down your waist. He drags his fingertips along your thigh as he moves your hemline. With your skirt out of the way his hand moves in between you bodies finding its way to your clothed pussy.

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so long… can I?” he kisses down your neck as he asks, leaving you barely able to respond. You just about manage to squeak out your approval. He wastes no time, biting into the soft flesh of your thighs as he wraps his hands around your panties. They are disposed of quickly, likely ruined by the slick you can feel pooling between your legs. He licks along your slit, barely delving between your folds. The tip of his tongue flicking at your clit briefly before he goes back and starts the motion again. Each time he gets close to your clit he brushes it slightly, so you shiver with anticipation, but he waits until you are practically panting to go any further. His right hand joins his talented tongue. Two fingers slipping inside of you. The slight stretch burns so good. His mouth moves up, biting gingerly at the sensitive nub he had been teasing for so long. Your thighs clamp involuntarily around his head. He wraps his free arm around your leg, driving you apart to give him better access. His tongue comes back into play drawing little shapes on your clit as he sucks down. He curls his fingers in just the right way to have you coming undone underneath him. Biting your lips to keep yourself quiet. He swats at your thigh until your teeth let go, forcing your moans out into the open. When you stop writhing, he lets your leg go and wipes his face with the back of his hand.

Sitting back on his feet he won’t stop looking at you weird. Its an expression you can’t ever remember him making before, and that worries you.

“What? Why are you looking at me? Were the noises too weird? I tried to keep them in…” he pulls you up to him by the wrists and kisses you before answering.

“I love you… please shut up. Your moans are the sexiest thing I think I have ever heard. Now I just really want to get you out of the rest of your clothes. He reaches around to unzip your dress, fumbling for a moment until you take pity and take it off yourself. His shirt is already unbuttoned by the time the fabric is over your head. You help him to push the sleeves off his arms, taking great pleasure in rubbing your hands across his toned arms. You marvel at the amount of muscle he has gained for a moment before he drags you back to him, falling onto his back so you straddle him.

You make quick work of the clothing on his lower half. Perhaps a little too keen to see what you were working with. He does not disappoint. His cock is above average in length, immediately evident as it slaps against his stomach when released from it’s confines. You shuffle back for a moment to admire the full image. His hair falls haphazardly around his head, lips swollen from the kisses. Perfectly chiselled abs leading into an arrow to what you can only describe as the motherlode. Everything about this moment was worth the wait. But you refused to wait any longer. You stroke your hand softly along his shaft, pumping a few times before moving to sit yourself on top. You sink down slowly at first, having to take extra precaution to not hurt yourself. His eyes pinch shut and his nose crinkles as a little whimper escapes his mouth. You slap his chest.

“If I’m not allowed to stay quiet, neither are you.” He nods enthusiastically and opens one eye just as you reach the base of his dick.

“Fuck.” His voice low and breathy. Sounds more like he just ran a marathon than had a girl sit on him. As you feel more comfortable, you start to wriggle your hips, not thrusting away, just enough friction to tease him like he did you. You don’t get away with it for quite as long though. His hands are on your hips and you are powerless to stop him as he makes you bounce, meeting each thrust with one of his own. Soon it’s not enough for him. Too worked up to relinquish any control. He flips you quickly, now on your knees. He barely gives you time to orientate yourself before driving into you from behind. Fast, sloppy thrusts used to reach his own end. He snakes one arm underneath you. Skilled fingers finding your clit, playing with you until you tighten around him. making it difficult for him to keep going.

Soon he spills over, cumming deep inside of you. Holding onto you with all he has. Instead of pulling out, he falls over with you in his arms. Cuddling into the back of you as he comes down. You wiggle experimentally on his softening cock, earning you a growl. You giggle at his oversensitivity and try to get free as painlessly as possible.

“Don’t go” he is whiny when he is tired, it’s so endearing. He makes a grabby hand at you as you clamber of the side of the bed

“I’m only going to the bathroom; I’ll be right back.” You kiss him on the cheek as you round the bed.

“Good because I never want to be without you, ever again.” he admits as you walk into the bathroom.

February request - open

Masterlist

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Don’t Look! [Part 4]

<- Part 3 | Part 5 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader

@we-are-all-just-a-bit-crazy’s lovecraftian horror AU, with a bit of my own twist on the origin story. Emotional hurt/comfort. Body horror. Hugging your body-horror monster boyfriend. 

3,386 words

Once upon a time, there lived a man who had everything: great wealth (built on the backs of exploited workers), a grand estate, a beautiful wife, and many mistresses waiting in the wings. Yet after years of trying, he failed to produce an heir. Determined that his money could buy anything, the man scoured the world, searching for a solution. One day, his extensive resources brought him to an ancient castle in Lithuania, where the last descendants of a noble bloodline offered him a devil’s bargain—a book, a summoning ritual. He did not ask questions. His wife was finally with child.

The Chilton legacy was secure.

The moment Frederick was born, the life was sucked from his mother—a human sacrifice for his soul crossing into this world. That was what his father told him, at least. Frederick had no memory of clawing his way through the veil between worlds, of being anything other than an ordinary child with a distant father, a young, blonde stepmother, and nannies instead of friends. Until the changes began. Allison (or was it Kayla at the time?) fainted in the living room when he staggered in, screaming as smoke boiled from his skin, begging for help. His father only wrinkled his nose with disgust and calmly explained what he was.

“You must learn to hide this, Frederick. Never let anyone see you this way, or it will destroy the family name.”

And so, he learned the transformation’s schedule. Prepared for it. Knew how to hide it away and never let anyone get close enough to see the real him. But it wasn’t good enough. Try as he might, nothing Frederick ever did met his father’s expectations for the perfect son he had gone through so much trouble to produce.

Frederick grew into a bitter and lonely man with no one to care about, or who cared about him. He kept the world at a distance, hiding his shame behind expensive suits and lavish decoration.

Never once did he consider that he was not alone in this world at all.

 ***

I see him as one of those pitiful things sometimes born in hospitals. They feed it, keep it warm, but they don’t put it on the machines. They let it die. But he doesn’t die. He looks normal. Nobody can tell what he is.

This is how Will Graham describes the Chesapeake Ripper.

Every therapy session with Graham, every conversation overhead, the puzzle became clearer. At first, Chilton merely believed that Dr. Lecter was guilty of unethical practices—manipulating Mr. Graham in the same way he had manipulated Gideon. He felt such kinship with Hannibal. Learning a bit of dirt on him brought the ever-so-superior doctor down to his level, gave him something to lord over him—a little implied blackmail to strengthen their friendship.

They both had secrets to hide.

Dr. Chilton never would have guessed the final puzzle piece to convince him fully that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper would be the one everyone else laughed at.

“I brought you here to bear witness,” Graham said to Gideon through their adjoining cells.

“To tell Jack Crawford that I sat in Hannibal Lecter’s cobalt blue dining room? An ostentatious herb garden, Leda and the Swan over the fireplace. And you, having a fit in the corner.”

Chilton perked up and quickly shared the audio feed to one of the junior therapists assisting him. You were reliable at editing his audio files, clipping and exporting segments he wanted to keep, but he was avoiding you at the moment. This was proof—irrefutable proof that Gideon had met Hannibal Lecter the night he went searching for the Ripper.

After his conversation with Graham concluded, an assistant was sent down to coax more information from him while Chilton’s research team listened in, keenly taking notes.

Gideon was not finished dropping bombshells.

With a casual lilt to his voice as if talking to a friend over dinner, he began to describe the Chesapeake Ripper. Skin like volcanic ash, reflecting no light. A red glow to his eyes. Black claws as long as steak knives. Antlers breaking through the inside of his skull, punching through the skin. All black as night—a form that shifted in the shadows, ever tricking the eye, unwilling to be known.

He’s the Devil, Mr. Graham. He’s smoke.

“Great. Gideon is delusional,” one therapist snorted. “On the bright side, this completely undercuts his malpractice case against you.” She patted Chilton’s shoulder. Chilton flinched.

“We should start him on antipsychotics. What do you think? Doctor?”

Chilton’s face turned ashen white. “Y-yes, certainly,” he muttered, staggering to his feet.

He moved for the door, but crumbled halfway there, pain ripping through his leg as sharp thorns grew beneath the skin. It was daylight. No. No! The transformation should not be starting for hours—he had plenty of time! He gasped out as another shock tore through him, barely containing a cry. His body convulsed.

“Doctor!” A therapist and a guard rushed in to help him to his feet. “Where does it hurt? If this is a complication from your surgery, we need to get you into intensive care right away.”

“No,” he brushed them off. “Only… psychosomatic. I need to— ah!” He gritted his teeth, mind racing to the one person he did not want to turn to, but the only one he could, and barked, “Get my secretary!”

 ***

Smoke was rising off of his burning skin by the time you rushed into Chilton’s vacated office. His eyes were wide with panic, but greeted you when you entered with—not relief, perhaps, because he was every bit as terrified as before, but with the anticipation of being rescued. His eyes pleaded.

“H-help. I cannot make it stop.”

You managed to get him into your car. The sun’s orange rays seemed to chase the beast away, clearing his skin and stopping his wracking convulsions long enough to cross the employee parking lot without drawing stares. He insisted on taking the back seat so he could hide—and to put more distance between you in case he lost control.

His chest rose and fell like a rabbit in a cat’s mouth.

“The way he described Dr. Lecter—anyone would think it was a metaphor! That he was crazy!” Chilton’s breath was raspy as you drove, glancing back at him through the rearview mirror. He kept trembling, small patches of scaly skin appearing at random then swirling back inside. One pupil was a pinprick. His tongue occasionally became serpentine and got in the way as he frantically spoke. “But it was too specific, the details. Familiar. I always knew there was a connection between Dr. Lecter and me—a reason we were friends. It all makes sense now!”

“Hey, it’s OK,” you said, trying to sound soothing, though you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Don’t you understand? Lecter is like me!”

“That’s good, isn’t it? That means you’re not alone.”

“Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper!” he shouted, and a spine tore through a seat cushion. “A cannibal, if Will Graham is to be believed, and loathe as I am to admit it, Graham is an excellent profiler. If the Ripper and I are the same… then that means I—”

“You are nothing like that!” Forgetting the damage his demonic tantrum was doing to your faux-leather interior, you had faith in him. He was a little withdrawn and more than a little vain, and it had garnered him an icy reputation around the hospital, but now you understood why. He wasn’t evil or malicious. He was frightened.

“God help me,” he murmured.

 ***

As soon as the garage door closed behind you, he scrambled from the car (scratching the handle), and retreated inside. He didn’t invite you to follow him home. But he didn’t forbid it, either, and you wanted to be there. All you had were panic-scrambled memories from the first time that made his transformation worse in hindsight than it was. Or maybe better. You didn’t know, and you wouldn’t know until you saw it again with clear eyes.

The electric kettle rumbled on its stand, hissing steam as you searched through Frederick Chilton’s surprisingly extensive tea collection for something herbal and soothing. Chamomile, you thought. With honey. Surely that must be good for demon-monster-werewolf things?

The sun was about to set and he was still reeling over Hannibal, and just as much from the premature transformation the revelation had triggered. And every time he cried, “This is not possible. How can this be possible?” the next convulsion was more intense.

He would probably just burn himself on tea.

A painful whimper came from somewhere in the house, and you followed it to a tiny panic room that opened behind a bookshelf. It was only about seven by nine feet with concrete walls and floors, bare except for deep scratches of varying age, like an animal trying to escape. The few chairs inside were metal. Difficult to break. Frederick faced away from you, staring at a hand that was too large for the rest of his body, capped with long black claws.

“Oh no, this will not do at all,” you tutted, shaking your head at the barren space. “How about I bring in some blankets? Let’s get you comfortable.”

His whole body shook. “You should go.”

“No. No way, not after seeing this prison cell. I am not leaving you like this.”

“I do not want to hurt you.” His shoulder jerked. A spike tore through his shirt.

“You won’t.”

“Seeing it again… will not be therapeutic for you,” he hissed, another spike breaking through. “Go before it is too late.”

“No!”

“Damn it! I am a monster—there is proof of that now! The FBI has no idea what it is dealing with!” Chilton began to pace the small cell, thoughts racing, features morphing into something grotesque and alien. “Does Hannibal know about me? Can he sense it? Is that why he confided in me? I always thought it was professional respect—hah! God, what if he…” A painful convulsion halted his pacing and brought him to one knee, gripping his side. His attention snapped back to you. “This is… dangerous,” he warned, then hacked violently. Fleshy, snake-like projections spewed from his mouth, and he quickly turned away again, hiding his face. “You should… you should be nowhere near all of this! You should not be here! Why did I let you inside?!”

A roar of anguish ripped through the air with enough force to push you back through the panic room door, just in time to avoid being impaled on half a dozen spines as they shot from Chilton’s body like lances. Chips of concrete clattered to the ground as they penetrated the walls. He screamed again, writhing to get free, but found himself trapped by his own violent transformation. Like an animal, he struggled and clawed at himself as if his rational mind had been overtaken by raw, volatile emotion.

“Take it easy. You’re going to hurt yourself,” you tried to calm him, but you couldn’t stop your voice from shaking.

This was worse than last time. You were sure his spines weren’t half as long when you saw him in his office—even Chilton seemed surprised to be pinned.

You lifted your hands, palms toward him in a steadying gesture, and took a step back into the concrete room.

“Stay back!” he howled, thrashing. “Get away!”

It was tempting. Every muscle in your body wanted to follow his advice and run far away from the indescribable horror before you. But his eyes were still green. Were still terrified. And you had an inkling of why it was worse this time. Maybe he would hate you later for imposing, but it seemed more important right now not to leave him feeling… like a monster.

“It’s OK.” You took another step closer.

“No!”

“You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you. Shh, shh… I’m not afraid, see?”

Rigid spines sprayed from his back and shoulders in a 180-degree arc, leaving only his front accessible. You ducked under one and followed its trajectory to where it met the wall. It wasn’t just pinned by pressure—it had struck the wall with enough force to dig into it like an iron rod. Sawing through might be the only option for getting him unstuck. You wondered if that would hurt. Were there nerves in his spines? You stepped over the next one as you drew nearer.

“You should be afraid! I am just like him!” Chilton tried to turn his head away as you traversed his network of thorns and stood in front of him.

His face was almost entirely inhuman. Tentacles cascaded down from where a nose should have been, and when he opened his mouth in a snarl, they parted like wriggling eels—each with a life of its own—to reveal a jaw that split his face open vertically, crowded with rows of sharp white teeth. The more agitated Chilton became, the more dramatic the effect. Each time he spoke, you caught a flash of teeth that sent shivers racing down your spine. But you continued to move closer anyway, within snapping range.

“Hannibal and I… we are the same. Please—I do not want to become him. Do not let me hurt you!”

“You are not the same. You’re not a killer.”

Chilton let out a choking cry that was all too human. “I killed that nurse,” he said. Concrete groaned as his spines grew longer. A crooked horn sprouted from his head. “I killed Elizabeth Shell.”

“You… you didn’t kill her.”

His breath quickened again. Tentacles sprouted and died and resprouted from his face in a constant fevered motion. “I knew Gideon would kill! I lowered security! I knew what would happen—what I needed to happen to prove that he was the Ripper! I may as well have plucked her eyes out with my own hands and… and feasted on her organs. God… I am the Ripper,” he wailed.

“No…” It never occurred to you that Dr. Chilton would have done such a thing knowingly. Maybe there was something dark inside him that this creature was reflecting. It hurt to acknowledge, and yet maybe you both needed to. “You made a mistake. You did a bad thing, but… Gideon was already a killer. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I drove him to it, manipulated him… I am just as responsible as he is. I am a monster.”

“A monster wouldn’t feel this guilty! You made a mistake, but you won’t make it again, will you?”

Tentacles and spines stopped sprouting. His form stabilized as his wet eyes looked off thoughtfully. He seemed so pathetic… so innocent, almost. Despite the intimating spines and claws that added danger and height to his appearance, his body had the same mass—leaving his frame gaunt and frail, with ribs sticking out prominently. Hollow.

You wanted to protect him.

You knew that was your job at BSHCI. You knew that was why Dr. Chilton suddenly needed a personal secretary when he never had before. Someone to sit outside his door, take his calls, and warn him when visitors wanted to see him. You’d never met the doctor before he was attacked by one of his patients, but you recognized the signs of trauma—the way he flinched easily, avoided contact at first, then the way he clung to you when you earned his trust. The awkward little smiles. The way his cheeks turned bright red when his fingers brushed yours as you delivered his coffee. You couldn’t help feeling protective. Falling in love, even.

Though it was closed for the moment, his mouth was a dangerous black hole with alien arms ready to pull prey inside. It seemed impossible to get close without being dragged into its teeth by instinct. You couldn’t imagine putting your face anywhere near it.

Another step, and your forehead touched his.

“I... I do not want to hurt you,” he pleaded.

“You won’t.”

You leaned into his arms, a hand reaching up to stroke the side of his face. It was covered in fine scales that glistened as if they should be slimy, but were smooth to the touch, like a snake. Sharper thorns sprouting from his skin seemed to retreat before your caress.

He trembled with inner turmoil, hot breath puffing against your chin. Your eyes darted toward the motion of one of his claws rising behind you, and all you could focus on were the way each sharp talon caught the light. You couldn’t be sure what he was thinking—if he was going to return your embrace, or prove to you that he was a monster. Would he slash you just to drive you away?

“I smell your fear,” his voice hissed accusingly.

For some reason, of all the reactions you could have had, you started to laugh. It was nervous and tight at first, but then building in confidence at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“You’ve got giant claws! Of course I’m afraid! But I’m not running, am I?”

You slid your hand from his cheek and trailed it over his bony neck and the ridges and spines of his shoulders, finding a path for your arms to twine around him. Cuddling closer, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, hardly bothered by the writhing tentacles that draped down over you.

“I know you would never hurt me. You’re just going to have to keep showing me there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Shuddering, he breathed in your scent. All his senses were heightened by this form, and he was surrounded by you—your pheromones, your electric field, the radiant heat of your skin. It was like sinking into a warm bath with a glass of fine wine in his hand. He opened his palm and let his predator’s hand sweep harmlessly down your back, holding you close. He could sense the fluttering of your heart in his embrace. It was slower than a creature in terror—slowing the longer he held you. You were not afraid. And he could not imagine hurting you. Whatever he had been worried might happen, whatever awful things he might be capable of, he could never imagine hurting you. You were right. You didn’t have anything to fear.

He exhaled a long, steady breath of surrender. The long spines retracted, pulling out of the walls as they returned to their usual size. He could move again, but didn’t. Not for a long time.

“It’s OK. It’s OK,” you sighed. The scent of your hair was intoxicating.

Eventually, you had to part. Chilton’s eyes darted away as you did—the inky scales on his face emitted a soft bluish starlight, which you were certain was blushing. You could not coax him to leave his concrete prison cell, but he told you where to find some blankets he could live with damaging—linen closet, second floor, third door on the right—and let you make a cozy nest on the bare floors. You made tea, and only cringed a little at his attempts to drink it. It was late, then. You were sleepy, and he was exhausted. Emotionally drained. His mind still raced over everything, still not certain of your presence and inexplicable kindness. You sat in the pile of blankets and had him rest his head in your lap.

“Give me your hand,” you asked, extending yours.

A clawed, scaly hand slid tentatively along the floor. You took it. Held it gently, first observing the long talons protruding like daggers from each finger before slotting yours between them—nothing sharp there. You let out a long sigh and leaned back against the concrete wall. His breath hitched.

He’d never had his hand held in this form, you assumed.

He’d never had his hand held at all, in fact. Not in many years.

It had to be a trap, he thought. No one had ever loved him before. No one could—not like this. Yet, as he fell asleep to your fingers massaging his temple and the soft murmuring of your voice, he let himself believe it. You were always there, protecting him. Smiling at him in the morning.

When you woke up, Frederick was human again, still fast asleep in your arms.

[brunos-beloved]

I really love your Fugo x reader fics and I was wondering if I could maybe a request something a bit fluffy with a reader who has a crush on Fugo and really likes his stand and is really patient and gentle with Purple Haze and just wants to show him love to calm him down? Perhaps the reader has a stand that could handle the virus but maybe Fugo doesn't know that too much and is scared for their safety? Sorry if this isn't very clear, I know anything you do will be great though! 🥺❤

calm : fugo pannacotta x reader

word count: 1.5k

summary: gentle reader comforts Fugo through his anger.

(sorry i didn’t really include purple haze in this one, i kinda just had an idea and went with it)

—✧—

His anger didn’t make you uncomfortable, even in times maybe it should’ve. Fugo didn’t scare you, nor his stand, and you don’t think either of them ever could, even with a rage as seething and escalating as his. This was because despite his misgivings, you trusted and cared for him, all of him, and as you fought alongside Passione, those facts only seemed to grow more true.

“Fugo,” You grabbed his attention, using it as a way to warn him of your intervention. From earlier times you’d found the boy didn’t quite like being touched, mostly by surprise, the last time a curious hand had sneaked onto his shoulder nearly sent him reeling, a tight hand on your wrist in a millisecond, a fire in his eyes. But upon realizing it was just you, a person he trusted, the blonde settled, and apologized sheepishly. Although you hoped that this time, with warning and caution, he wouldn’t mind, or at least wouldn’t be so startled. The thought of someone rejecting your touch pained you, but leaving someone in need of comfort without even an offer was far more worrying. Reacting to your softly stern voice, the blonde looked your way, frustration still creasing his features. You held his eyes and pushed a palm onto his shoulder blade. Awaiting a harsh reaction that never came, you continued, and rubbed a small circle into his back. “You seem really stressed, this isn’t worth losing your head over.” Stress was a guess, the evidence the redness on the edge of his eyes and the bags that had settled underneath them. “Give it a rest and take a break alright?”

“But I...we weren’t even close to being finished this chapter. If I stop now-”

“Fugo, you need to stop now. You’re burnt out enough.” You sent him a small smile as he held onto your kind eyes. You were always so gentle towards him, Fugo wondered if he even deserved such treatment, then thought you probably just looked at everybody that way. You were soft, calm, and nearly always composed, everything he wasn’t. A soft hum brought him from his thoughts. “How about this...You take a break tonight, and if you really need to finish this chapter with Narancia I’ll finish it for you! Math was actually my best subject after all. I’ll probably even remember some of it...“ A broken smile made its way to Fugo’s lips, trying to imagine the two of you seriously studying Math together. Narancia was childish, and though you were quite mature he brought out the kindred spirit in you with his own childishness. He could see you teaching Narancia some things, but then quickly trailing off and suddenly Math Class became random tangents and bubbly discussion. Not much would get done, but at least something might. Fugo leaned into the table, an elbow down and a hand in his hair. The exhaustion that shone through his pose worried you to no end, and you let out a sigh. “I’d get you espresso, but you need sleep not caffeine.“

“It’s eight, I don’t think sleep is quite an option yet., madre” You narrowed your eyes at him, a hand still behind him, the expression would’ve made him chuckle if he hadn’t been so weighed down by the sudden fatigue. The moment he’d stopped yelling and chasing everything seemed to slowly crash within him.

“Tea it is then.“

Your determination knew no bounds. Though Fugo forced himself to remain awake, you brewed him a chamomile tea, and quite a strong one. Chamomile was a herb known for making yourself drowsy at night, a trick you used when sleep didn’t seem like an option. The night sky was still a navy blue, but began to descend into its usual rich black, the moon shining through. You’d dragged Fugo to the terrace along with a couple blankets, sharing an outdoor sofa there. With soothingly warm cups of tea in hand, the steam warming your cold noses, the two of you discussed topics of utmost importance. When Fugo started to drift the conversation over Narancia, you switched it to the origin of Chamomile, anger didn’t go nicely with sleep, which was your hidden goal in the end after all. Though you watched his violet eyes blink more and more often, watched his eyelids grow heavier and heavier, so did your own. And with passing time you realized Fugo’s determination to stay awake was much fiercer than your own. Despite everything though you continued on, chatting around and giggling about the tiny things the both of you were irritated by:

“His shoes? Really Fugo now you’re reaching-”

“He’s short enough to be an elf y/n how do you not see it!”

Trailing off and giving up on finding reason to such a statement, you burst into the chuckle you’d been trying to hold back. It seemed to Fugo, even something as innocent as Narancia’s shoes and height had become a problem. Though, you could tell it was not only lighthearted, but that Fugo had crossed the line of exhaustion where a person’s filter was completely lost and got rambly. But you didn’t miss the yawn that escaped him while you snickered at the diss. Your yawn followed his, and you stared into his violet eyes for a moment. The moonlight brushed his cheeks and ran through his hair, strawberry earrings swaying at the breeze.

“Are you tired?” You whispered, the trance broken between the two of you. He murmured something along the lines of not wanting to go the his room yet, though the dark tint under his eyes betrayed him. You hesitated, “You can lay down if you like,” The blonde rose a brow, quietly hoping the lack of room didn’t mean your departure. But when you patted your blanketed thighs he understood, blood rushing to his cheeks. “It’s almost a pillow, a lot more comfortable than sitting up.” You prayed, prayed he didn’t laugh or scoff. The pause made you nervous, but he replied before you could take back the offer.

“I couldn’t...Then you’d be sitting.” Fugo kicked himself for considering the offer and turning it over so many times in his mind. He wanted to, his tired back ached to, but Fugo wasn’t used to any kind of affection, and dejecting it seemed the easiest for his pride. But a smile rose to your kind face, and he was once again filled with uncertainty.

“I don’t mind, really. You look like you need it.” The expression on your face made his heart pound, the boy stared. Eventually Fugo sighed, and his frantic mind finally surrendered, the chamomile aiding his tired conscious to just accept it. He gulped and mumbled in agreement, slowly sinking into the comfort of your lap. Your own heart quickened at the sight, watching the tension leave the troubled teen. Your fingers hesitantly landed on his golden hair, running through the waves as the boy sighed in relief underneath your touch, you couldn’t help but smile and stare.

The night went on, the sky dark enough to show a fuller potential of its stars. You hummed, still running caring hands through Fugo’s hair. Your heart nearly sunk as he shifted, face looking up at you. He’d dozed off only ten minutes or so, the thought brought a small frown to your face. Though when he didn’t sit up, you heart rose again. After a bit of silence,

“Why are you so nice to me?” You were slightly taken aback, did you really need a reason to be? You supposed that was just how Fugo’s brain worked. Not being able to take without giving or losing and vice versa, you wondered if he always badgered himself for reasoning in scenarios that felt natural like this. Must everything follow rules, must everything have consequence? Your tired mind wished against it.

 “Because, I care about you, lots actually.” The raise in his brow and widened eyes made you heart throb, a blush settled on his cheeks again as you stroked his hair, a thumb brushing lightly across his freckles.

“Wh...why?” You almost chuckled at that.

“Well I was hoping you cared for me too but...” Before Fugo could panic at the supposed misunderstanding and sit up, you placed a hand on his chest. You couldn’t muster the words to explain yourself, at least not yet. You settled for holding his cheek, and leaving a peck on his temple. The action was performed as graceful as possible, as not to startle him, but on the inside you were practically vibrating. “Let’s sleep now, alright?” He seemed stunned, and you burned the cute expression into your memories before pulling away further, and leaning back into the arm of the chair. “Buona notte, Fugo.” You got a quiet response, but a response no less, falling asleep on the terrace with the boy you cherished and managed to soothe.

—✧—

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at Elland Road in Leeds, UK - May 29, 1982 (Part-2)

Fan Stories

“We got a coach from my home town (about 2 hours from memory) and drank an ocean of lager on the way, by the time we got there we needed the toilet so badly we could have exploded! We got into the stadium and waited for the first band of the day. Soon enough a not very well known (to me) American band came on called Heart. They weren't bad but did nothing for me. Then came The Teardrop Explodes who tried and who I reckoned did quite well despite the flying bottles of liquid being hurled at them from the crowd. After them was Joan Jett complete with Blackhearts who got the crowd going with "I Love Rock'n'Roll" mainly because Brian appeared at the side of the stage with his daughter to have a look. Eventually after a long wait the stage lights dimmed and a strange cranking sound started up and then you were suddenly aware of the drum beat to Flash thumping out and spotlights chasing around the stadium. This went on for a minute or so and the excitement was unbearable. All of a sudden in an explosion of smoke, lights, guitars, drums... Brian, John and Roger are there blasting out the opening part of The Hero. Seconds later in a gleaming white leather jacket out runs Freddie and it begins... A moment I will never forget along with many others from Queen shows since and before it. I can't say which show was my favourite as I loved them all but that moment WAS Queen, the sheer power, the anticipation, the fantastic musical ability and above all else the way they gave people what they crave more than anything... wonderful memories.” - whiteman

“29th May 1982 - a really nice warm day. We only lived a few miles away so walked down to Elland Road - I can't believe it - Queen live in my home town at the home of the greatest football team in the country (well maybe not now!). Got to the ground early and were allowed in by security, such a relaxed atmosphere. Saw band's soundcheck - great! So hot sun, never went behind stadium roofs. Got best suntan I have ever had! Heard Teardrop Explodes - not bad. Then you are aware of the beat of flash thumping out around the stadium, the smoke rises and bang - they are on! The greatest gig I have ever seen from the greatest live band in history. God bless you, Brian, Roger and John. Rest in peace, Freddie - we will never forget.” - Michael Quine

“This was my second ever gig, the first being Rory Gallagher the year before (I am sure I once read that Rory was one of Brian May's favourite guitarists). Anyway, being only 14 and not yet in the habit of getting off my face at gigs,I can remember that day very clearly. I am convinced I saw someone throw a hamburger at Julian Cope (Teardrop Explodes were going down like a lead balloon), and just as Julian was opening his gob to sing, he CAUGHT IT IN HIS MOUTH. A huge cheer went up, then they stomped off. Somebody, possibly Queen's manager, came on and told everbody to behave. I also remember a fan getting on stage and Freddie expertly rolling him off the stage. I didnt like the Hot Space album much but was chuffed they were still a hard rock band. I bought the next edition of Kerrang mag and the write up of the gig said STUNNING. Great memory.” - Edwin

“I was 15 years old in 1982 when I attended my first ever concert. Fortunately for me, it was QUEEN's show at Leeds AFC ground in the North of England. I remember when my ticket arrived in the post, possibly 2-3 months before the concert, as was often the case in those days. I stuck my ticket on a cork notice board in my bedroom and could barely contain my excitement over the coming weeks. Every morning, I would wake up and look at the yellow ticket, wishing the days away. I imagined everything that could go wrong would. Queen would cancel the gig, I would break my leg, the family pet would die on the morning of the concert and it would be too insensitive of me to go, the transport wouldn't turn up or would break down, there would be a pile up on the motorway, I'd lose my ticket en route, etc, etc. As it turned out, May 29th 1982 was a hot and sunny day, perfect weather for an outdoor gig. I was CRAZY about Queen and had been since the age of 9 but I really didn't know what to expect on that day. Myself and three friends took a coach organised by my Dad's company from Lancashire across the M62 motorway to Leeds. Our excitement began to really take a hold when we arrived at the football ground and we followed the droves of people towards the turnstiles. To me, this was something on a really big scale and I could already hear the hum of the crowd inside. Not really believing that we were actually about to witness a Queen concert, we found our seats on the West Stand, offering a great view of the stage. I remember marvelling at Queen's new lighting rig and the equipment that adorned the stage, shining in the afternoon sunshine. The ground was almost full at this point and the pitch was heaving with people. The atmosphere was relaxed as people bathed in the sunshine. I remember two guys climbing the fence from the stand and attempting to get a better spot by running into the crowd and losing themselves on the pitch. Their efforts were in vain however as they were quickly located and ejected back into the stand by two security guards. We bought some black Hot Space tour shirts (I wore mine with pride until it literally fell apart) and a programme from a vendor inside the ground and waited for the first band to take the stage. A guy near us shouted and punched his way through Heart's set and then left just as they vacated the stage. Obviously not a Queen fan! The Teardrop Explodes suffered at the hands of the Queen congregation and found themselves battling against a shower of bottles and assorted missiles. Other than that, I don't really remember much about the support bands. I think that Bow Wow Wow were billed to play (an odd choice) but I can't recall if they actually turned up. No matter, we were about to witness what is still one of the best gigs I have ever attended.

As the dusk descended upon us, the giant floodlights were extinguished one by one and the memory of the roar that followed still sends shivers down my spine. Dry ice drifted across the heads of the crowd on the pitch as the intro tape of Flash thumped out of the PA and the strange 'grating' noises added to the recording created a foreboding atmosphere. Two of our party were on the pitch and to this day remember their chests thumping in unison to the powerful rhythm. A sea of hands clapped in perfect time to the beat. To me, this was already an amazing experience. And then the big moment. Freddie, resplendent in dazzling white made his entrance to The Hero and the blaze of the lights. An apt number to start with. Before he had even sung a note, the audience were locked tightly in the palm of his hand. Such an entrance, such a showman. "You're a F***in amazing crowd", he exclaimed after the first rush. The beginning of the gig is, in truth, my strongest memory of the show itself. In particular, the "Flash!!!" vocals cutting through the night air with so much volume. I recall being shocked at the sheer power of Queen's performance and the clarity of the huge sound they harnessed. Morgan Fisher's keyboards during 'Action This Day' sounded bright and hypnotic. Freddie's intro to Fat Bottomed Girls caused quite a response too; "the bigger the t*t the better it is!". I also remember the follow spots darting wildly over the crowd during 'Tie Your Mother Down' and everybody going crazy. Oddly enough (and this is something I still swear by to this day), I was in a Maths lesson at school the following Monday and I swear I had a flashback of this and could actually 'hear' the music being re-played in my head. It was a weird moment and life was never quite the same again. We talked endlessly about our experience for months to come and one of my biggest regrets is not jumping on a train to attend the filmed Milton Keynes show a week later. Having been to so many gigs since, I can honestly say that there is nobody who has been able to top Queen live; I was lucky enough to see the band five times between 1982 and 1986, including Wembley Stadium and their last show at Knebworth. I think that my personal favourite was their performance at the NEC in Birmingham on 'The Works' tour in 1984. People were literally stood there with open mouths, unable to believe how good they were. Leeds is definitely up there too. I recall Brian May stating that he thought it was one of their best performances ever. I can't argue with that Mr May. I've often wondered if an audience shot cine film or even just photographs exist from the Leeds gig. It would be a dream come true to see my memories come to life again.” - Keith Lambert

“I can't believe it was 30 years ago that I attended my first ever gig at Elland Rd Leeds in 1982. I was 17 years old at the time, I was into Queen when I first heard seven seas of rhye, which was so different to all the other stuff around at the time. I'd heard them live on tv, and had Live Killers. Also I used to buy bootleg cassettes of all of their tours from 74 onwards. But nothing could prepare me for that day. They should have played this gig at Old Trafford Manchester, my home town, so I was gutted when the residents opposed it. Tickets were very easy to come by, believe it or not, cos Queen were not seen as a relevant band at that time. Also touring the Hot Space album didn't seem to excite anybody. So, Billy no mates had to go on his own, haha. My memory is a bit hazy, but I will try my best. I got to the ground about 1pm, and was lucky enough to have a pitch ticket. I got right to the front, well about 10 yards from the stage, slightly off centre and to the right. If I told you I never moved from that spot all day and never spoke to anyone, would you believe me? One of the reasons for this is the rivalry between Manchester and Leeds, also I was only a kid, haha. Not sure who was first on, probably Teardrop Explodes, Julian Cope, I remember while they were throwing bottles at him, picked one up and started hitting himself with it and stretching his arms out saying he was an Argentinian bomber or something. It was during the Falklands war, remember. Then Heart came on, not really my cup of tea, and I had a lie down on the tarpaulin and tried to go to sleep. Then Joan Jett, who was better than the rest, but not really exciting. During the band changes, I remember the roadies polishing Roger's drum kit and climbing up ropes and those threepronged lights, which before I saw them move I thought they were cameras. Queen took ages to come on. From my recollection and I might be wrong, they didn't come on until 10pm and went off around Midnight. I heard later that they got fined so much per minute for being late on stage but they wanted to wait until it was dark for the lighting rig to take effect. If you watch the Bowl DVD you will notice it was light when they came on stage there. But that was being filmed by Channel 4. But it was absolutely pitch black when they came on stage at Leeds. Then the floodlights went off, smoke started to appear and strange noises started, which I can't describe, sorry. Then Flash's Theme started, it was loud, very, very loud. I knew they were supposed to be loud and this was the part that scared me. The ground was thumping, the bass just pumping away. The these 'cameras' flicked into life, with men on them. The intro seemed to last for a very long time. Then BANG Brian appears with the first chord of The Hero and a flash of the biggest white light I've ever seen and will never forget and the absolute loudest noise I have ever heard just hit me. The intro was quite in comparrision to this. When I play Live at the Bowl, I tend to repeat the intro and The Hero, virtually every time, because it was definitely a life changing experience for me at that moment, just incredible. Then Freddie appeared in brilliant white again, I was that close, I swear His hair seemed blue because of the mass of white lights. His voice, so loud, so clear, honestly, I can't describe that moment properly. I heard Freddie swear, saw Roger spitting, quite a lot, over his drum kit and onto the stage, I was bewildered.

When they did Play The Game and also Somebody To Love, when Freddie was doing the intros for them and it will sound strange to those that weren't there, but I didn't know what the songs were. I thought they was new unreleased songs. The reason was they was so loud, It kind of deafened you and then kind of sunk in what they were about to play. Then the rest of the gig flew by and I was singing my head off. Everyone was, but you could only hear Queen. Again my memory may be wrong, but I read afterwards that Queen had paid for residents to move out of their homes for the day. These houses were monitored and they said that the sound was like Concorde flying 10 feet over your head... Yep I will buy that. For all that and for all the bad things said about it, The Works tour, which I went to all the 4 origional England gigs they had planned, was the best tour they ever did. The set list was fantastic and the lighting rig was incredible. Not as loud, I also add. I also saw them in Manchester, 86. They had to be off stage by 10pm and noise levels had to be adhered to. I was too far awy to see them and the screens didn't come on because it was too light. Also I couldn't here them properly. I've watched the mMagic Tour gigs on DVD etc, but for me, that was the poorest tour they ever did. So that's it, hopefully some of you can confirm my bad memory, or say I'm wrong. Hopefully not bored you all. But it was the greatest musical experience I ever witnessed and I am proud I was there.” - Paul Wakefield

Part-1

(x)

[purple-fireflies]

try to slip past his defense (without granting innocence)

A/N: Soy Luna Grey’s Anatomy au -- some plot devices will be the same, others may differ. (This is just an excerpt, I'll post the full chapter on ao3 & tumblr when I'm done with it!)

Other notes:

The title is from The Fray’s “How To Save A Life” which is basically the show’s anthem song (that and chasing cars)

Sometimes, certain dialogue may be verbatim from the show (this is only for medical-related plot devices, ie meeting patients, assigning lab reports, establishing exposition, etc) so I’m stating here right now that that specific dialogue belongs to Grey’s Anatomy, and the characters belong to Soy Luna, but everything else belongs to me

Juliana never had the last name given in the show, so for story’s sake, it’s Bahiense.

She’s referred to as “The Nazi” but that’s not meant to offend anyone at all, it was the nickname given in the show, so I’m transferring it here.

In Soy Luna, Ámbar is one year older than Luna, but here she’s the same age as her

In Grey’s Anatomy, there are only 5 people in each group of interns, but for plot’s sake, there are 7 each

In the show, Benicio’s name was never mentioned, so for writing purposes, his last name is going to be Calisto

Luna sits up quickly—bad idea.

She winces at the light coming in through the window and groans at her headache.

And someone stirs next to her.

Exactly how much did she drink?

Enough so she doesn’t remember the name of the smirky boy staring at her, pulling on his boxers.

She is never drinking again.

And he needs to leave.

“You are?” He asks, grinning the grin that probably got Luna into this mess.

“Humiliated on so many levels,” She mutters, “And I’m late, as well. So if you could just, I dunno, leave, that would be perfect,”

“Or we could pick up where we left off?” He asks, with a grin that tells Luna he isn’t used to being rejected.

“No, seriously. I’m late. Which I shouldn’t be on my first day of work, so?”

Take the hint.

“Wait, so you live here?”

Jesus Christ, she’s going to be late.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it was my aunt’s house, but I’m selling it so technically, not for long.” She rushes out.

“I’m sorry,” He replies, actual emotion in his eyes.

“My aunt is still ali—you know, we don’t have to do the thing,”

“We can do whatever you want,”

Really?

“No, the thing. Where you pretend you care or ask me nice questions or whatever. Listen. I’m going to go upstairs and shower, and when I get back, you’re not going to be here, uh…”

What was his name?

He laughs softly, “Matteo.”

“Luna,” She replies, shaking his hand.

“Bye, Luna,” He says winking at her.

She smiles in response and jerks her head towards the door.

“Bye, Matteo,”

And that’s the last she has to see of him.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game. A month ago you were in med school being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors. The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you,” The chief, Tamara Rios, says as Luna stumbles into the room, causing everyone to stare at her.

Great job, Valente.

Luna walks around the room. She sees Ámbar, avoiding her gaze as if it was poisonous. She sees another girl, a brunette, looking around the room with wide eyes. She sees Simón, looking back at her, and resists waving at him as a kindergartner would. She walks around the OR a little more and sees two girls so close they might as well be stuck together, one a blonde and the other a redhead. She bumps into another boy, who just huffs softly and brushes her off.

Rude.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The resident takes 3 more interns, leaving Luna with the brunette she saw at the orientation.

“Only 6 women out of 20,” She says, sighing, as if mad at the statistic itself.

“And I think one of them’s a model. As if that would’ve helped with the whole respect thing,” The redhead interjects.

Luna and Ámbar share a look.

Luna turns to the brunette.

“You’re Nina, right?” She says, smiling.

Nina nods, “Which resident did you get assigned to? I got Bahiense.”

“The Nazi? Me too,” Luna replies.

The guy who bumped into her says, “You got the Nazi? So did I. At least we’ll be tortured together,” He says, trying to lean into Luna’s space.

Luna and Nina exchange a quick look saying, God, can you believe him?

A doctor comes up and calls out “Smith, Valente, Ponce, Simonetti, Medina, Sánchez, Álvarez,”

Ámbar walks up to the guy and asks, “Bahiense?”

He points down the hall.

The seven look down to see who he’s pointing at. It’s a woman slightly shorter than them, using a cane to stand up, ordering some other resident around.

The guy who bumped into her says, “I thought the Nazi would be a guy,”

Sexist much?

“I thought the Nazi would be...you know, the Nazi,” Luna mutters.

“Guys seriously? Maybe it’s just professional jealousy. You know, maybe she’s just brilliant and they’re so jealous so they call her the Nazi. Maybe she’s nice.” The redhead says, and Luna sees her nametag saying Jimena Medina.

The blonde next to her, Yamila Sánchez, Luna supposes, nods.

Which means the only one left that she doesn’t know would be...Luna cranes her neck to see his nametag.

Ramiro Ponce. Who is currently staring wistfully at Yamila.

Please.

“Let me guess, you still have hope left in your heart,” Ámbar says to Jimena, rolling her eyes as if it’s what she was born to do.

Jimena shoots Ámbar a dirty look (wow, Luna wishes her luck with that can of worms) and proceeds to try to shake Dr. Bahiense’s hand when she walks over.

Dr. Bahiense looks at her hand as if it’s infectious.

Jimena, undeterred, continues to say, “Right, well. I’m Jimena Medina, but you can call me Jim if it’s easier,”

Yamila, who seemed to jump out of thin air, says, “And you can call me Yam,”

Bahiense looks so unimpressed Luna thinks that if contempt alone was enough to murder someone, Bahiense would be a serial killer.

Luna shares a quick look with Simón, who gives her a reassuring nod.

Bahiense looks them all up and down, evidently annoyed with being stuck with their group (ouch).

"I have five rules. Memorize them. Rule number one, don't bother sucking up, I already hate you, that's not gonna change,” She starts, then moves to a bench, filled with different objects, “Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you, you answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours,”

Everyone rushes to grab their pagers, studying them before Bahiense starts talking again.

“You’re interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop, and don't complain!”

Bahiense opens what Luna supposes is an on-call room, “On-call rooms. Attendings hog them, sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three, if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woken me for no good reason, we clear?”

Luna rushes to nod, writing furiously on her notepad, and then goes, oh.

She raises her hand.

Dr. Bahiense looks extremely pissed at Luna for having the audacity to have a question.

“Yes?”

“You said five rules. Those were only four.” Luna says, trying not to wilt against Dr. Bahiense’s gaze.

“Rule number five. When I move, you move,” She says after her pager beeps.

That’s some TV show shit right there.

They break into a run and watch as Dr. Bahiense runs down a couple of doctors.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The helicopter—yes, a helicopter—lands, and a doctor pulls out a teenager on a stretcher.

This is way too much for Luna on her first day.

“What do we got?” Bahiense asks, and Luna hears Nina correct the grammar under her breath.

As the paramedic puts the girl on the stretcher (while she’s seizing) he says, “Katie Bryce, fifteen-year-old female, new-onset seizures, intermittent for the past week, ID lost en route, started grand mal seizing as we descended,”

Bahiense stops, leaning on her cane for a second, and then it’s all business.

“All right. Yam, put her on the side, 10 milligrams diazepam,” Bahiense groans when Yam does it incorrectly, “No, no, the white lead is on the right, righty whitey, smoke over fire, a large-bore I.V. don't let the blood haemolyse, let's go!”

Yam injects the diazepam and Katie stops seizing.

Luna releases the breath that she wasn’t aware she was holding.

Another doctor, in dark blue scrubs, another doctor comes up in stark contrast to what she and the other interns are wearing. Luna catches his name very quickly. Gastón Perida.

Nina sucks in a breath as he walks past them, Luna realizes with a start.

“So I heard we got a wet fish on dry land?” Dr. Perida says, and Luna catches how Nina stares at him with intent.

Dr. Bahiense, her sudden brashness gone, replaced with respect as she says, “Absolutely Dr. Perida,”

Dr. Perida nods, his eyes brushing over the intern group, stopping at Nina, and he then continues.

“All right, Dr. Bahiense, I’m gonna shotgun her,”

“That means every test in the book, CT, CBC, chem. seven, a tox screen, Nina and Ámbar, you're on labs, Ramiro and Yam, patient workups, Luna, get Katie for a CT, she's your responsibility now,”

Wonderful. Her first day and she gets the really hard patient.

“What about me and Simón?” Jim asks.

Bahiense looks so tired when she stares at Jim, “Right, you two, uh. You get to do rectal exams. Okay?”

Jim and Simón have faces that say no, not okay.

Luna makes a face gloating at Simón and he just glares at her in return.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Ámbar peeks into the OR where Dr. Bahiense is. Bahiense comes out and looks at her expectantly.

“Um, Katie Bryce's labs came out clear, there's nothing in the results that explain her seizures,” She says, hoping to catch Dr. Bahiense to ask her what she really wants to ask her.

“And…?”

“ I heard every year the attending on-call picks the best intern and, and lets them perform a procedure, during the first shift?” Ámbar asks, glaring back at Dr. Bahiense when she tries to stare her down.

Ámbar Smith does not get stared down.

“Go away. Now.” Dr. Bahiense says, and Ámbar groans internally.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam sighs at yet another ill-tried joke Ramiro attempts.

Flirty in med school and flirty now.

Why should she even bother?

“We have one more patient to work up,” She mumbles and he nods, walking slower to keep up with her pace.

She places her stethoscope and hears for a heartbeat. “Everything seems to be in order,”

“So he’ll be fine?” The woman next to him—presumably his wife—asks.

“If you don’t count that my bacon days are over, sure,” The patient replies.

Yam shares a smirk with Ramiro.

“You'll have surgery tomorrow with Dr. Perida, I hear he's good, and after that, you can have all of the bacon-flavored soy product you can eat,” Ramiro interjects, speaking easily with the patients.

“Please, kill me now,” the patient jokes.

“Wish I could, but I took the Hippocratic Oath for a reason,” Yam replies absently, going over and signing his charts.

She blushes at the weird looks she gets and rolls her eyes at Ramiro’s never-ending smirk.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Katie. Won’t. Stop. Talking. Which isn’t helping Luna find her way through these halls.

Did she just miss the last turn?

“You’re lost,” the kid says, grumbling.

What do you think I’m trying to fix right now? Luna thinks to herself and just about stops herself from saying.

“I’m not lost.” Luna insists, then remembers she’s a doctor, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m missing my pageant. How do you think I feel?”

“Right. You’re missing your pageant.”

This poor girl is in the hospital with seizures and the only thing that she can think about is her pageant.

Luna feels sorry for her.

“The Spokane Teen Miss? I was in the top ten after the first two rounds. This is my year. I could've won,”

Luna absently hums and realizes that they’re going the wrong way. Again.

She turns around and pushes Katie back the same way.

“You are so lost. What are you, new?”

Luna chokes back a laugh. Yeah, something like that.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam watches Ramiro try to give their patient a central line. It’s not working.

And it’s visibly hurting the patient.

She groans and pushes past him, about to put the line in when Dr. Perida waltzes into their room and raises his eyebrows.

“Out.” He says, his nice demeanor replaced with annoyance.

Do all of the residents and attendings just hate interns on principle?

Yam glares at Ramiro and pulls him out, watching from the window as Perida puts the line in perfectly.

“Bet you used to mess up a lot when you started out,” Ramiro tries to joke with Perida.

Yam just winces and nods at Dr. Perida as she leaves.

Ramiro at least has the decency to look sheepish.

This is going to be a long shift.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna sits, taking Katie’s patient history and generally listening to her incessant babbling.

“I twisted my ankle. I do rhythmic gymnastics, which is like, really cool. Nobody else does it. And I tripped over my ribbon, and I didn't get stuck with someone this clueless. And that was like, a nurse,” Katie says.

Luna bites back a retort.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Simón groans at the plate of food in front of him. The number of rectal exams he and Jim had to do was enough to take the appetite away from anyone.

“This shift is 80 hours long, you have to eat, Simón,” Ámbar mutters, her gaze hardening after leaving Simón’s eyes.

“I can’t.”

“Eat.” Ámbar insists, pushing Simón’s plate towards him.

“You try eating after performing 17 rectal exams. The Nazi hates me. I want to puke.” Simón says, his face contorting.

“Just don’t puke near me,” Ámbar mutters.

“The Nazi’s just a resident. Attendings hate me,” Ramiro replies.

“Did you know Luna is inbred?” Nina asks, and all heads whip to her immediately.

Partly because no one expected the shy ingenue to say anything.

And partly because Luna being inbred is very surprising.

Simón hurries to say “It’s not uncommon to be the kid of a doctor,”

“I mean royally inbred. Her mother is Lili Benson.”

“Shut up. The Lili Benson?” Jim asks.

Nina nods.

“Who’s Lili Benson?” Ramiro asks.

“The Benson method? Where’d you go to med school, Antarctica?” Yam says incredulously.

No one notices how Simón and Ámbar tense up as Yam continues talking. “She was one of the biggest women surgeons. She practically invented th—”

“She won the Harper Avery. Twice.” Jim says, rolling her eyes at Ramiro.

“So I didn’t know one thing.”

“I would kill to have Lili Benson as my mother. Scratch that, I’d kill to be Lili Benson.” Nina says, her eyes alight.

“Katie Bryce is a pain in the ass. I swear if it wouldn’t get me fired, I’d strangle her with my bare hands.” Luna says, walking over to their table, sitting next to Nina.

She seems to miss the wistful glance Simón throws her way.

She does seem to notice the way everyone’s staring at her.

“What?”

Nina opens her mouth to say something but stops immediately when Dr. Perida walks over.

“Good afternoon interns. It's posted, but I thought I'd share the good news personally. As you know, the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise. As I'm running the OR today, I get to make that choice,” Dr. Perida says, and Luna feels a rush of hope.

Or. Felt. Seeing as Dr. Perida is clapping Ramiro on his back (it was kind of worth it to see him choke a little on his salad) and saying, “Ramiro Ponce. You’ll be scrubbing in on an appendectomy this afternoon. Congrats.”

Luna deflates.

She wanted that surgery.

She wanted it really badly.

“Me?” Ramiro asks, not quite believing it. Or maybe he’s just wilting under Yam’s intense glare.

“Enjoy.” Dr. Perida says, nodding to everyone.

Luna doesn’t fail to notice that he’s staring at Nina while he says that.

Nina doesn’t fail to notice either, if the blush on her cheeks has anything to say about it.

Ramiro looks like he’s still in shock.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“I’ve seen his file. Ramiro Ponce barely even made the cut to get into the program. He’s not your guy.” Juliana says to Gastón, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, he’s my guy alright,” Gastón responds, absently checking the labs.

Juliana sighs, “Every year you pick your guy, and every year your guy suffers most.”

Gastón smiles. Everyone who knows him knows his easy nature, his inclination to being on the side of less serious.

Unless of course, it has to do with work.

“Terrorize one, and the rest fall in line, Bahiense.”

“I get it. I respect it. But Ramiro? Ponce is a puppy. A cute little puppy that is waiting to be killed. He can’t take the pressure. Think about it, Perida.” Juliana says, walking away.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna watches as Katie’s parents stumble into Katie’s room.

The look of pure worry and fear on their faces makes Luna warm to them immediately.

A couple of hours ago, their kid was supposed to go on stage and wear a sash and be a kid.

Now they’re scared that their kid could be dying.

“Katie?” The mom asks, trying to hold her hand.

Luna falters, not wanting to break their little window.

“They gave her a sedative for the CT scan, so she’s just a tad groggy,” Luna says, standing up.

“Will she be okay?”

“Does she need surgery?” The parents ask at the same time.

Their urging faces make Luna wish she had an answer.

“Uh. You know, I’m not her doctor, I am a doctor, just not hers. Anyway, I’m not Katie’s doctor. I’ll go find him.” Luna rambles.

Luna finds Bahiense, “Katie’s parents have questions. Should I get Dr. Perida to answer them?”

“What? No. Perida’s off the case. The case is the new neuro attending’s case, Dr. Balsano. He’s over there.” Bahiense says, pointing to…

Oh god.

Please.

Not today.

This is not happening.

Matteo turns and stops dead in his tracks, his eyes clicking in recognition.

This is not happening.

Luna is not dealing with this.

She turns away from his gaze and walks away. What is she going to do?

She walks towards the stairwell and gets grabbed in.

She stumbles and Matteo catches her, running a hand through his hair, which Luna grudgingly admits looks not bad.

No. Luna. Stop it. Luna. No.

“Dr. Balsano. Did you need anything?” Luna asks, trying to not look at flustered as she is.

Matteo looks positively ecstatic at this turn of events. “Dr. Balsano? This morning it was Matteo. Now it’s Dr. Balsano.”

Luna dearly wants to slap that smirk off of his face.

“Dr. Balsano, we should pretend this never happened,”

“What never happened? You sleeping with me last night or kicking me out this morning because I don’t know about you, but both are memories I’d dearly love to keep.”

This guy really can’t take a hint.

“No. No. No. This is not happening. There are no memories of anything. I’m not the girl in the bar and you’re not the guy in the bar. I am your intern, Dr. Balsano.”

“I see how it is. You took advantage of me last night and now you want to forget about it.” He says, smirking incessantly.

“I most certainly did not,”

“I was drunk and vulnerable. Not to mention, insanely good-looking,”

“You’re not that good-looking,” Luna says, while her traitorous brain says Liar over and over.

“Sure I’m not. But last night, I was wearing my red shirt and I was extremely good-looking and you took advantage,”

He’s not entirely wrong about the red shirt.

“I didn—”

“Want to take advantage again? Say, Friday night?”

He’s smiling again, only this time it’s a smile, not a smirk.

Maybe Luna wouldn’t have said no if he wasn’t an attending.

“No. You’re an attending. I’m your intern. And I would seriously appreciate it if you stopped looking at me like that,” Luna says, glaring at him. It doesn’t seem to deter him.

“Like what?” He asks innocently as if he has no idea what he’s doing right now.

“Like you’ve slept with me,”

Matteo smirks.

“Dr. Balsano. Have you ever considered the fact that this is inappropriate?” Luna breathes.

He doesn’t say anything.

Luna sighs and leaves, the door slamming behind her.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Open. Identify. Irrigate. Close.” Jim instructs, and Yam sighs.

“Jim, I think he’d know,”

“He looks like he’s going to puke,” Jim shoots back.

Yam looks at Ramiro and says, “We have to go to the gallery now. Don’t screw it up.”

They walk up and take a seat behind Luna and Nina.

The intern above them says, “He’s going to faint. He’s a fainter.”

Yam fights back a if you only knew.

“Nah, I’m guessing code brown. Right in his pants,” another intern snickers.

Yam and Jim share a look.

Sure, she’s not a huge fan of Ramiro but he helped her a lot in med school. He helped Jim a lot in med school.

This is just savage.

“He’s going to sweat himself unsterile,”

“10 bucks he’s messing up the McBird,” someone says.

Oh god, they’re betting on Ramiro.

“20 says he cries,” Ámbar says, and sends an apologetic look at Luna.

“I’ll put 20 on him melting down completely,”

“50 says he pulls the whole thing off.” Yam hears herself say.

Luna grins at her, “That’s one of us down there. The first one of us. Where the hell is your loyalty?”

Yam breathes out.

The entire gallery, while it was buzzing before, is now silent.

“75 he can’t even ID the appendix,” Ámbar says again.

This time it’s Simón shooting her the look.

“I’ll take that action,” someone says.

Eric, Yam realizes.

The idiot from their bio class.

Nina elbows Luna when Dr. Perida says, “Okay, Ponce, let’s see what you can do,”

Jim breathes in quickly and Yam also holds her breath.

Do it right do it right please do it right.

“Here it comes,” Simón says.

“Scalpel,” Ramiro says and the nurse hands it to him, echoing the word.

Ramiro takes it and everyone cheers.

Perida motions for them to shut up as Nina says, “God, he’s quite a bit of trouble,”

Ramiro gets ready to cut as Perida instructs, “More pressure.”

Ramiro manages to do it without any mishaps and then proceeds to say, “Pickups.”

The scrub nurse echoes the command and hands him the instrument.

They go on for a little bit, and Yam thinks he might actually pull it off.

Until it goes downhill after Ramiro takes out the appendix.

Perida mutters an angry remark as all the interns in the gallery call him Double O’7.

Jim shares a worried look with Yam and asks Luna, “What does 007 mean?”

Luna sends them an apologetic look.

“License to Kill.”

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The cool air rushes into the basement that Bahiense’s interns have settled into.

The majority of them pile onto the gurney as Nina goes to the vending machine looking for some chocolate.

Luna winces at the whine that Ramiro makes as he walks into their “hideout”.

“They’re calling me 007 aren’t they?”

Luna groans and shoves Simón’s head off of Ámbar’s lap so she can fall asleep in it.

She’s too tired to deal with any human interaction that requires her to, you know, have any sort of emotional security.

“No one’s calling you 007,” Jim and Yam lie (but they do it in unison so like, props).

Ramiro shoots Yam an annoyed look, “I was on an elevator and Eric whispered 007,”

Ámbar pushes Luna’s head off of her lap and glares at Ramiro, “How many times do we have to go through with this? 5, 10, 15? Please tell me soon or I’m going to rim your head off.”

Ramiro sits on the gurney and groans “Eric whispered 007 in the elevator and everyone laughed,”

Luna picks her head up from where she’s trying (unsuccessfully) to fall asleep and actually feels sorry for the guy for a second but the aching limbs and pounding migraine make it kind of hard to console the poor guy.

“They weren’t laughing at you,” Jim says.

“You sure?”

“Would we lie to you?” Jim asks.

“Yes,” Ramiro, Ámbar, Simon and Luna say.

“007 is a state of mind,” Nina yells from the vending machine and throws a packet of chips at Luna as she walks back.

“Says the girl who finished first at freaking Stanford,” Simón yells at her.

Nina just rolls her eyes in response.

Just as Luna finally feels the call of sleep, her pager beeps.

She just wanted 5 minutes.

“It’s 911. Damn. I gotta go,” and Luna takes off at a sprint.

“I should’ve gone into geriatrics. No one cares if you kill an old person.” Ramiro continues after Luna leaves.

“Yes. Yes, they do care if you kill an old person. Plus. Surgery is hot. Geriatrics is… Well, it’s for freaks who live in the basement with their mom,” Simón replies.

“I have got to move out of my mom’s,” Ramiro mutters.

Nina and Ámbar share a grin.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna’s out of breath by the time she gets to Katie’s room.

She really has to go to the gym more.

“Finally,” Katie mutters.

Luna looks around, seeing if anything’s wrong.

Oh god, please tell me she has a good reason for this. She has a good reason. Maybe. Hopefully.

“Are you alright?” The nurse paged me 911.”

“Ha, it took me forever to get her to even pick up the phone. I had to go full Hulk.”

“Wait. So there’s nothing wrong? Nothing medically wrong?”

“I’m bored.” Katie shrugs.

Luna likes to think she’s a nice person. A little absentminded at times, but a nice person nonetheless.

Katie, however, is really testing the whole “do no harm” thing.

“I am not your babysitter. I am not your cruise director. You can’t just page me for anything.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic. My pageant is supposed to be on cable, but it’s like this hospital lives in the ’90s. I can’t find anything. If someone who’s not me gets the crown, I should at least get to see it.”

Luna takes a deep breath. She’s a teenager. You were also stupid as a teenager.

“Okay. This is a hospital. There are sick people here. Go to sleep and stop wasting my time.”

“I can’t sleep, my head’s all full.”

“Those are called thoughts. Run with them.” Luna says in a fit of anger.

She’s been working for almost 24 hours and she just wanted 2 minutes of rest.

But maybe she shouldn’t have snapped at a patient.

But that’s a lesson for another day.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna and Nina are in the ER when they hear a loud voice.

“4B has post-op pneumonia. Let’s get her started on antibiotics, okay?” An intern says to a nurse.

Someone didn’t tell the newbie not to piss off the nurses.

“Are you sure it’s the right diagnosis?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know. I’m only an intern. But here’s an idea. You go and spend 4 years in med school and then talk to me. She’s got shortness of breath and fever. It’s post-op pneumonia. Start antibiotics.” He sneers.

Luna rolls her eyes.

The same guy walks over to her and Nina, “God, I hate nurses. I’m Benicio. I’m with Jeremy. You guys are with the Nazi, right?”

“You know it doesn’t have to be pneumonia, right? It could be splinting. Or she could have aPE.”

He sneers again (does it ever leave his face?), “As I said, I hate nurses.” and walks away.

“Well, he’s an absolute idiot,” Nina says, shooting daggers towards Benicios across the room.

Luna’s about to respond, but her pager beeps again.

“Dammit, Katie.”

This time she walks.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

So I wrote a one shot. I watched the film 10 Years a few days ago and it inspired me to write a Star Wars version 🤣 it just focuses on Poe though let’s face it. This is me after all! Poe Dameron lover forever! I didn’t even name it anything interesting.

Yavin High Reunion.

Modern!Poe Dameron x Female Reader

Warnings: mention of divorce, mention of a child, angst! Fluff, smut NSFW 18+, alcohol, did I mention angst? Swearing and possibly a happy ending 👀 Apologises for any mistakes I cannot be bothered to reread it.

Word Count: 7759

You straightened your dress as you got out of the cab, passing money to the driver before turning to look down the high street of your old town. The sky was dark and the shops you had haunted most of your youth were lit by the garish orange street lamps, you smiled slightly as echoes of memories came to you. You had lived in this high street, spending holidays, or a few hours here and there after school, you could always be found here with your friends. But this was the first time you’d seen it since you left when you were 18.

You were late with everyone inside already, just the way you wanted. You placed a hand on your stomach as you breathed deeply trying to control the butterflies that fluttered manically inside you. As soon as High School had finished you left, the only person you really stayed in touch with was your best friend Jess. She had kept you up to date with what everyone else in your group of friends had been doing and you went through stages of missing them, longing for the summer days where you all hung out at the beach, eating picnics, barbecues and getting drunk as the sun finally set.

You closed your eyes briefly before turning to look at the hotel where the reunion was taking place. The grey bricks gave the impression it was a lot fancier than it looked but this hotel hadn’t changed on the outside at all. Music and laughter floated out of the open windows above you and again your stomach cramped nervously. Your last year at school had been a difficult one and you were ashamed with how you dealt with what happened….Jess had said he was coming and really he was the only reason you had come. Steeling yourself you finally took the last steps towards the entrance of the hotel pushing the door open and letting the warm air wash over you.

The foyer was empty, you wrote your name on a sticker and placed it gently on your dress, you could see some class mates had scribbled in the memory book already and you smiled slightly as you read it realising that no one had really grown up in 10 years. Stands displaying photos stood behind the desk and you made a note to come and look at those later. You saw a camera but no camera man and you wondered if that was better, you were leaving straight after this anyway. Your heels rang out on the stairs as you made your way towards the noise of the reunion.

As soon as you opened the door you felt overwhelmed, the beat from the music thrummed through you and you instantly headed towards the bar ordering a double gin and tonic to calm your nerves. You surveyed your surroundings, it had been decorated with the school colours and you winced at the mix of orange, white, red and black realising how much you hated the colours together. You took your glass as your eyes searched the crowd trying to find a face you recognised, well you knew most of them, older but you knew them as they danced smiling at one another. You spied another room and you hoped there was food in that one, you made your way round the edge of the room quickly slipping into the larger room. This room was quieter, long tables laid out with hot plates of food and round tables that were littered with little pockets of people as they caught up.

Some double doors lead outside onto a balcony and you saw the crowd standing out there, you’d never really mixed with them at school but one caught your attention. From where you were standing you could see him perfectly as he lounged on the sofa, his long legs taking up so much room, he looked smart in his suit his long dark hair hadn’t changed in the passing years but he had a serious look on his expression, gone were smiles he used to have at school. You froze as his hazel eyes caught sight of you and he tipped his head slightly in recognition. Kylo Ren had been the one you turned to all those years ago, he had been the one to drive you to the airport even giving you money and helping you get a job so you could flee. You thought about going over but then the blonde head of Phasma came into view as she laid herself all over him and you quickly moved out of sight. Not much had changed in 10 years at all. You felt sad and you debated leaving as you lost your appetite when all of a sudden you were grabbed. You grinned as her dark hair fell all over your face and she squealed loudly in your ear making you grimace in pain .

‘Jess! Ouch!’

‘Oh my god you came!!’ She almost screamed at you .

‘Yes yes! I told you I would!’ She grabbed you for another hug and you squeezed her back, oh how you had missed her! Video calls had nothing on giving your friend a solid hug in person. ‘Where is everyone else?’ You heard yourself ask and she smirked knowing you weren’t really bothered about everyone else. You just wanted to see him.

‘There’s another room, this one has desserts in so clearly we camped in there,’ she winked and you smiled back but your stomach just went into overdrive as she led you back into the bar and across the dance floor. Of course they were in the dessert room, he had such a sweet tooth. You saw them straight away and a wave of people rose to greet you, Finn was first lifting you off the floor as he squeezed the air out of your chest, then Rose and her sister Paige.

‘Aren’t you too old to be here?’ You whispered to her and she laughed.

‘I snuck in no one saw me,’ she winked and let Snap spin you into a dizzying embrace, he gave you a kiss on the cheek before letting your feet touch the floor again. Next you were embraced by his wife Kare, followed by the clowns of the group Beaumont and Ronith. The group parted as they all sat back down and your breath was taken from you as you laid eyes on the love of your life for the first time in so long. Everything melted away as his intense brown eyes blazed into yours, his curls a dark unruly mess on top of his head and you saw he still wore his Dad’s leather jacket; it just fitted him now, perfectly. He rested one leg on his knee, one of his arms was draped over an empty chair and he didn’t get up to greet you. You swallowed plastering a smile on your face and you felt eternally grateful to Jess as she dragged you over the tables to look at the cakes. But you couldn’t see them, your vision swam and you tried desperately to compose yourself.

‘Well, that was intense,’ Jess mumbled as she passed you a plate. You jumped slightly as you heard his rich laugh rise up from the group, you didn’t know you were going to feel this so strongly, the guilt ripped through you and now you really wished you hadn’t come.

‘He hates me,’ you whispered mindlessly spooning some chocolate cake onto your plate.

‘He doesn’t…’

‘Well he should,’ you snapped softly. You slowly walked back to the table with her heading for the empty chair next to Snap but Jess was just a step ahead of you leaving the only chair available was the one Poe had his arm thrown possessively over.

‘C-can I sit here?’ You were acutely aware the group was watching you both as they talked extra loudly trying to cover up the tension. He moved his arm and you slipped into the chair moving it into the table and slightly away from him. You were immediately pulled into the conversation as Beaumont started recounting some funny drunk story and finally you felt yourself relax but only slightly. Your skin tingled every time he spoke or joined it but it was never directly to you and you desperately tried to ignore that.

‘Oh god and then there was prom!’ Ronith blurted out and you instantly felt Poe tense up. A buzzing noise started in your ears as everything drained away, the memory replaying like it was yesterday in your mind.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your hair looked amazing, your makeup was perfect and your dress was stunning hugging you in all the right places. You looked up at the knock on the door and you knew it was Poe, you bit your lip as you stood at the top of the stairs, your Dad letting him in. You couldn’t hear what they were saying but you didn’t care as Poe caught sight of you. His jaw went slack and his brown eyes widened as he swallowed nervously, your eyes raked over his outfit and his navy suit matched your dress perfectly. You slowly made your way down your hand dragging lightly on the banister until he stepped round your Dad a lopsided smile now spreading over his face as he offered you his arm.

‘You look stunning my love,’ he murmured before shooting a nervous glance at your Dad.

‘The limo is here!’ Called your mum and you both stepped outside, your parents took so many photos you tried to hurry them up but Poe was loving it. His eyes barely left you and neither did his hands, until the glare of blue lights chased away the descending darkness. You all frowned as an officer got out of the car along with Poe’s father, you knew something was instantly wrong by the look on Kes’s face.

‘Can we talk inside?’ The officer asked and your parents ushered you all inside. You had sat next to Poe holding his hand when they broke the news to him that his mother had died in a car crash, she was driving back from work hoping to catch him before he left for prom but she never made it. In that moment you had seen him break, completely fall apart before your very eyes and there was nothing you could do to help him. Shara had been a wonderful person and you adored Poe’s parents having grown up in their house as a second home. Seeing his pain had damaged something inside you and all you could think about was running away.

‘Am I right? You two,’ your eyes rose as he gestured to you both of you, ‘must have had a great time at prom we barely saw you…’ Snap punched Beaumont on the shoulder as silence settled on the table. You and Poe had never made it to prom, instead heading to the hospital so he could say a final goodbye. You got up, fumbling a quiet excuse as you hurried away from the group. You needed out, the noise cascaded over you from the bar and you could feel yourself panicking as you raced down the large staircase to head outside to the gardens. They were only small but you found a bench tucked away and you finally allowed yourself to feel. Tears slid down your face as you silently cried. You remembered everything, all the promises you made him saying you’d be there and help him through his pain but really you should have looked to yours. You didn’t even attend her funeral, turning to Kylo Ren of all people. His parents own a huge company and they got you a job in England, an apprenticeship and you took it, fleeing your old life and falling head first into a new one. Poe had every right to hate you, you hated yourself enough, hated for running out as soon as you could.

You had tried to forget Poe in England and for a time you did, you fell for someone and he swept you off your feet and you got married. But the cracks that started off tiny just got bigger and one of the last things he said to you was your heart clearly wasn’t in it. And it wasn’t, you’d left your heart here with Poe you just didn’t want to acknowledge it. You blotted your eyes trying to gather up the courage to go back inside when someone materialised out of the shadows, his hands in his pockets as he stood a few paces away from you.

‘Hi,’ he said as he stood awkwardly. You slid across the bench silently inviting him to sit with you and he did.

‘Hi,’ you whispered, clasping your hands in your lap as you turned to face him. ‘Poe…’ he shook his head interrupting you.

‘Let’s not,’ he looked up at the sky. ‘Let’s not drag that up.’

‘Good idea.’ You both sat together falling into a familiar silence but not really looking at each other until he spoke again.

‘So you went to England? Jess said…’

‘Yeah, I quite like it over there.’ He smirked slightly.

‘You have an accent.’

‘Poe Dameron I do not!’ His smile got wider as he ran a hand through his curls, a motion you had adored in High School and still did it seemed.

‘It’s cute.’ You swallowed as the butterflies restarted in your stomach and you tried to find anything else to talk about.

‘So what about you? What do you do now?’

‘I followed Dad didn’t I, became a mechanic but I work on planes rather than cars.’

‘Wow that’s impressive,’ you fiddled with the material of your dress as the next question fell from your mouth and even to your ears it sounded strained. ‘Got a wife?’ He looked down at his shoes as he shuffled them in the dirt.

‘Nope, apparently my heart wasn’t in it,’ he said bitterly and you froze hearing those words again, letting out a shaky laugh as he looked at you.

‘Well I’ve been told the exact same thing,’ he frowned as you glanced at him quickly. ‘My hus….ex husband said the same thing to me and he was right.’

‘Husband….you got married?’ You could hear the hurt in his voice and you felt the well of sadness threaten to rise inside you again.

‘Not that it worked out. I left my heart here anyway.’ He opened his mouth to reply when a shout caught both your attention, it was Snap.

‘Guys! We’re heading to Maz’s place, you coming?’

‘Yeah sure,’ you coursed together. ‘Though I want to look at the photos before we go.’ You smiled slightly at him as you stood.

‘Come on then.’ You followed him back inside and you joined Jess at a photo of the pair of you.

‘You ok?’ She asked quietly as she pointed out one of Poe and Snap looking all fresh faced and happy.

‘Yeah I’m ok,’ you replied. You paused at a photo of you all, Poe was standing next to you and he was looking down at you as you smiled at the camera.

How different your life would have been if you’d just stayed, but you had come across Kylo one night at the beach. About 1am in the morning and even though you weren’t what you would call friends you had been so desperate to talk to someone you had spilled everything to him and he gave you the way out you so desperately craved. You looked up as Poe came up behind you.

‘Come on, let’s get drunk,’ he suggested. ‘It will be like the old days,’ he said as he nudged you in a playful way. You went to step away when his hand caught your arm and he held you back from the group. ‘For the record, your ex husband doesn’t know what he’s losing,’ your breath hitched as his warm hand slid up your neck and he planted a kiss against your cheek, his stubble rubbing against you slightly before moving away and you fell into step beside him.

You noticed how suddenly the dynamic had changed between you, now he wanted to sit next to you, he followed you, his hand lightly touching you now and again as he spoke to you. You tried not to think about the way his body pressed against you as you all squeezed into two cars, the scent rolling off his leather was undeniably Poe and it made you swoon slightly. Finally spilling out of the car you gulped in some fresh air trying to curb the feelings you had creeping up on you.

The bar was exactly how you remembered it, dingy and dark perfect for making out in without getting caught. Your eyes were drawn to a booth in the corner and Poe saw you looking.

‘You remember?’ He murmured.

‘Of course I remember,’ you whispered in reply looking up at him. It had been the first place you’d kissed and right now you felt exactly as you did then as you caught up in his eyes, his scent, his expression.

‘Guys! Shots!’ You dragged your gaze away from the man next to you as you grabbed a glass off the bar, all downing the burning liquid before Jess gestured for another lot. You ordered a gin and tonic and took the glasses over to the empty booth, you slipped in and Poe slid in next to you. The rest joined and you couldn’t help the little flutter in your chest as he brushed up against you when he took his leather jacket off, his white shirt top buttons were undone and you caught sight of a necklace. Poe had never been one for jewellery and you pointed feeling curious.

‘What’s this?’ He pulled the chain out and you recognised the silver ring instantly. ‘It’s Shara’s.’ He smiled and let you take it in your hands, turning it over with your fingers as you felt how warm it was from being against his chest.

‘Pack it in you two! I want to hear all about England!’ You let the ring drop and your eyes flew to Poe’s in panic. You hadn’t told any of them except Jess you were married and you had only just told Poe you were divorcing.

‘Let’s get another round in,’ Poe said loudly trying to draw attention off of you but Kare was relentless.

‘Sure sure get some drinks, but I want to hear about it, you’ve been out there for 10 years not even heard a peep from you. What’s so captivating over there?’

‘Oh you know, I’ve just been working hard, I was offered an opportunity and I couldn’t pass it up.’ You rubbed your arm feeling a chill as Poe got up from the table, Snap going with him to the bar.

‘Doing what?’ You shifted uncomfortably as you looked at your friends faces.

‘Well, I help run the British side of the Alderaan Haulage company.’

‘Wait wait,’ said Beaumont holding his hands up. ‘You work for Kylo Ren?’ You could feel the blush creeping over your cheeks as Poe started heading back to the table.

‘He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,’ you said trying to keep your voice low.

‘Is he still as much of a douche as he was at school?’ Poe’s attention snapped to the table at Ronith’s very loud question and you felt yourself die inside a little bit.

‘I don’t have any problems with him,’ you said shrugging.

‘But then he left you alone at school,’ sneered Kare. ‘He had a crush on you soooo bad,’ said Jess.

‘Who are we talking about?’ Said Poe as he slipped a drink over to you and sat back next to you, his shoulder nudging yours.

‘Kylo Ren,’ said Kare as Snap sat down gently beside her. ‘He had a crush on the traitor here.’

‘Guys that’s my boss you’re talking about and he just walked in,’ you hissed, sinking into your seat slightly as Poe flung a possessive arm around your shoulders. You felt surprised as the sudden obvious contact and you saw Jess smirk as she sipped her drink.

You all watched as the crowd piled in, they had been the popular cool kids at school, Kylo with his rich parents had ruled the year, Armitage Hux was still hanging onto his every word, Phasma still shamelessly thirsting after him. Then there were the guys, you and your friends had called them the Knights as they always surrounded Kylo like a beefy entourage, as if he needed protecting. Kylo clocked you before they swarmed the bar and you did a stupid hand wave in acknowledgement.

‘That was embarrassing for you,’ sniggered Jess as they all started laughing into their drinks.

‘Laugh it up fuzzballs! I bet I’m making more money than all of you combined!’ Thankfully that started a new debate and you sat back into Poe’s side as you let them argue. You shivered as his hand gently brushed up your arm, you were sure he didn’t even know he was doing it but you didn’t mind. You had daydreamed so much over the last few years and every time you hit a low point, memories of Poe had helped you through. Your phone buzzed and you cursed as the name came up on the screen.

‘I need to take this,’ you mumbled, climbing over Poe not even getting to enjoy the way his hands helped you out as all you could think about is why he was ringing now.

‘Hello?’

‘Mummy?’ You instantly grinned hearing your daughter's little voice.

‘Hey baby, you ok?’

‘Yeah,’ your 4 year old daughter's voice brought tears to your eyes and you remembered why you had hesitated in coming. ‘Just missing you mummy.’

‘I’ll be home in a couple of days baby. Is daddy being good?’

‘Nope, he won’t let me eat chocolate before bed.’

‘Well that’s good…’

‘Mummy...bye.’

‘Bye baby…’ you heard some rustling on the other end of the line and you frowned as you heard your ex husband speak.

‘So when will you be back?’ He demanded.

‘Well my flights in just over 24 hours then I’ll be home soon after that.’

‘I don’t see why you had to go…’

‘Yeah well maybe I needed a break from it all,’ you snapped, already feeling weary from talking to him.

‘I’ve got papers for you to sign.’

‘Can we talk about this when I get back? And not in front of Flick?’ You looked up at the night sky blinking back tears, fed up with the fights, the paperwork and hiding it all from your daughter as best you could. For now anyway.

‘Say goodnight to mummy it’s dark over there…’ you grinned at your daughters sing song voice before wishing her a goodnight and putting the phone down.

‘You ok?’ You wiped your eyes hurriedly as Poe stood by the door to the bar.

‘Yeah I’ll be in a minute.’ But he came up to you, pulling your hands away from your face.

‘I know you. I know when you’re upset. What did he say?’ You could hear a hint of annoyance in his tone and it warmed you inside that he still felt protective over you.

‘Not much, he was just reminding me I have papers to sign and letting our daughter say goodnight to me,’ the words left your mouth before you could think of what you were saying, not that you were ashamed of your child but you just wanted to have a night and be that person you’d been 10 years ago, now you thought with a heavy heart, Poe would look at you differently.

‘A daughter?’ His voice was monotone almost like he was trying to cover up his shock.

‘Yeah, maybe I should have brought her up before, I don’t know I just wanted to be me for a night.’

‘And you flew all the way out here to do it?’ He asked.

‘It’s been hell,’ you stated simply. You took a shuddery breath trying to quell the rising storm inside you but you felt Poe was the one person you could really be yourself around and at a touch of his hand your barriers fell. He pulled you to him and you cried loudly into his shirt, you hated this and you wished you’d never come but you so desperately needed to escape your situation at home even if it was just for a few days. You felt confused as you clutched Poe’s shirt and he just held you, ever dependable Poe. You pulled away not wanting to rely on him like this.

‘I’m ok, I just need to compose myself,’ you said sniffing.

‘Do you want to get out of here?’ He asked his voice slightly husky as he looked down at you.

‘Yeah I should probably find a motel or something.’

‘Come back to mine, I’ve got a spare room. You’re not here for long, call me selfish but we have some catching up to do. I want to spend time with just you.’ You looked at him, you wanted to, oh god you wanted to go. Your brain said no but your heart said yes and today your heart won.

‘Sure, I’d like that.’

‘Let me get my jacket, stay here. I’ll be subtle.’ He planted a kiss on your head and you closed your eyes still warring with yourself. You told yourself you deserved this, even if a small voice at the back of your mind said you were going to break his heart all over again. He returned within minutes, his hand firmly pressing against the small of your back as he led you away from the bar. ‘Jess clocked me,’ he said just as the door opened. He grabbed you as he darted down an alleyway, he clutched you to him tightly as he peered round the corner. ‘She’s looking for us,’ he whispered and you couldn’t help but grin remembering you used to this back when you were dating. He looked down at you, his hand coming up, brushing the hair over your shoulder before gently swiping your cheek, his thumb trailed softly over your bottom lip and you ran it through your teeth as he tickled you.

You gasped as his lips connected with yours, the kiss was quick as he pulled away seeing your reaction. Your brain froze as long gone feelings rushed to the forefront.

‘I can’t….I only have tonight. I have to go back…’ you whispered feeling sad that you couldn’t just get lost in his arms without hurting him. He rested against the wall with a sigh as he thought about what you said, his curls flopping over his forehead in the way you loved so much.

‘What if we just take tonight. Don’t think ahead, let’s just have tonight.’ His voice was low and you heard the edge of need in his tone stoking the fire inside you.

‘Just tonight…’ you whispered as his hand wrapped around the base of your neck pulling you to him but he paused, his eyes looking deeply into yours as his lips brushed you gently.

‘Just tonight,’ he whispered back. He pulled away dragging you into the night.

Once you were inside his house you felt nervous, like a teenager and your parents were away but they had expressly said no partners. Yet you broke the rules anyway. That’s exactly how you felt, the air of anticipation surrounded you both as you silently slipped your shoes off at the front door. His house was homely, slightly messy but you didn’t care, grinning as he grabbed some stuff to throw in the washing machine.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t expecting visitors.’

‘You were never the tidiest person,’ you said following him into the kitchen and you couldn’t help the smile spreading over your face at the noise of indignation he made.

‘I am an adult! I can live how I like!’ You laughed remembering his Dad used to say that.

‘When you grow up you can live how you like, but until then! It’s my rules!’ You both descended into laughter as you finished off Kes’s phrase. He opened the fridge and pulled out some bottles.

‘What would you prefer, cider or beer?’

‘Ooh cider!’

‘Think fast!’ Your hand shot out as he threw the bottle at you and thankfully you caught it.

‘Poe Dameron! I was not ready!’ You said punching him gently on the shoulder, he held out his bottle and you took it automatically snapping the metal cap off with your teeth.

‘I’m glad that never changed,’ he said before taking a swig, his dark eyes trained on you. You snapped the cap off your bottle and took a sip feeling the cool fruity liquid flood your mouth. You were going to have a headache tomorrow.

‘Can I have a snoop?’ He shrugged and you slowly made your way to the living room. It was clear only Poe had lived here, you paused at the sofa, your fingers threading into the blanket thrown over the back. You recognised it instantly, your nan had taught you how to crochet and you had made a blanket with orange and white colours to create some circular patterns. You had been so shy giving it to him sure he was going to think it was stupid but he took it giving you a hug and saying thanks. And here it was 15 years later on the back of his sofa.

‘Poe..’ you looked at him leaning on the doorframe as he watched you.

‘It was all I had of you after you left.’ You took a steady breath at the sadness lacing his tone as you fisted your hand into the blanket. You took a long drink out of your bottle hoping to fight back the tears as you chucked your head back, the bubbles danced on your tongue and you tried to concentrate on that sensation but you could feel him behind you.

His hand took the bottle from your grasp and you let it slide from your fingers as you watched him over your shoulder. Next he removed your coat softly dragging it down your arms and you got goosebumps as his fingers trailed over your skin. He gently brushed your hair to the side and you had to bite your lip as he kissed the hollow in your neck. His hand tracked down your body as you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. You stayed like that for a moment as his arms tightened around you and he breathed softly against your neck, his nose buried in your hair. You could feel the tension building inside you and you shifted against him, biting your lip again when you felt how hard he was through his trousers already.

You could feel your heart racing as you spun in his embrace, you could feel the edge of the sofa digging into your lower back as he pressed into you. You slipped your hands into his leather jacket, teasing it off his shoulders and laying it down over the sofa. His hands went back to your hips and his eyes roamed over your face, your chest heaved as you studied his face. A face you had desperately missed, you slowly traced his lips with your finger and his eyes glowered at you with a smouldering heat.

‘I’ve missed these,’ you whispered gently brushing his soft curls away from his eyes and he leaned into your touch.

‘I have missed you. More than you realise.’

‘Show me,’ you whispered. ‘Show me how much you've missed me.’ His lips were on you in a second, his tongue in your mouth as he pressed up against you. The kiss was fierce, full of hunger and need as his lips caressed yours, his tongue possessing your mouth in a way that left you dizzy and wanting air. Your body trembled as you pulled at his top and he tugged at your dress straps, you pulled your arms out pushing it down to expose your breasts and the smoulder in his eyes made you press your thighs together in anticipation. A fire had awoken inside you, a fire only Poe could create. It felt like his hands were everywhere at once and you groaned loudly as he sucked on your neck, kissing that spot that only he had been able to find. You pulled your dress up your thighs and wrapped your legs around his hips pulling him closer as you leaned back slightly. His hands supported your back as his mouth trailed searing hot kisses along your exposed collarbone and you worked his shirt out of his trousers, sliding your hands up his toned back. You moaned as he stepped away, his hair disheveled from your fingers, his lips red where he had kissed you hard, his eyes glittering with heat and his chest heaved as he tried to steady himself.

He pulled on your hand and you slowly followed him as he led you upstairs, he looked back giving you that lopsided smile that was always full of unspoken promises. He pulled you to him, kissing you gently as he backed into the bedroom, he turned and shoved you onto the bed and you watched with hooded eyes as he undid the buttons on his shirt, pulling it apart before he crawled between your legs, which you opened to accommodate him. His hand slid up your body, trailed up your neck and he pulled you to him for another kiss. You pulled on him and slowly he lowered his body onto yours, his skin warm to the touch and you rolled your hips into his eliciting a groan from him.

‘Baby you’re so needy,’ he whispered as his hand slowly trailed up your inner thigh, gently brushing your underwear and you almost whimpered in desperation for him to touch you. He hooked a finger in the band and began to shimmy them down your legs, leaving a line of wet kisses down your leg as he did. You were so consumed by your need for him everything else flew from your mind as he grabbed your thighs and pulled them apart. The cold air teased your wet core and you weren’t even ashamed with how wet you were, your hips bucked as he ghosted a hand over your bundle of nerves. ‘Patience.’ His brown eyes raked down your hot and bothered body before he dipped down, his face pressed into your inner thigh and you wound your fingers into his curls. You gasped, your eyes closing tightly as his tongue licked up your wet slit, your back arched as you felt a finger nudge at your entrance. ‘You are so wet,’ he murmured with a moan as he pushed a finger inside you.

‘More!’ You gasped and he obliged with another finger stretching you slightly but you wanted even more. You groaned as you tossed your head to the side just concentrating on the sensations he was giving you and the third finger that stretched you perfectly. A groan ripped from your chest as he gently swiped a thumb over your clit.

‘God, you make the best noises,’ moaned as his head dipped down again and you tightened your grip on his curls as he began to suck on you. His fingers dragged in and out of you causing cries of pleasure to bubble up from inside you. Your orgasm came at you in a rush, pleasure flooding your body as you tensed around him, you could feel just one more suck, one more motion and he’d have you tipping over the edge. Your legs shook and your mouth opened wide as the tidal wave of pleasure rocked your core, it spread through you and momentarily you didn’t know where you were, just lost in the wave of pleasure as it swept you away. You hummed as finally your legs relaxed, he crawled his way up you, kissing you as he shed his shirt and trousers in a rush. You wiggled your hips at the feel of his hardness against you burning the skin of your inner thigh, slowly he entered you and you both groaned at the sensation as he pushed into you. You were both so wet he slid in easily, slotting against you like he was made for you. His hands swiped the hair off your face as he kissed you deeply, his hips finally moving as he settled into a steady rhythm. You zoned out to the noises he made, the way his chain jingled against you both, the little huffs and groans he made when you wiggled a certain way had you moving closer to a second orgasm quicker than you’d like. His face buried in your neck and you felt him falter slightly against you and you knew he was close. You slipped a hand between you gently rubbing your clit, his eyes met yours as he quickened the pace. ‘I’m so c-close,’ he stuttered.

‘Mmmm let go!’ He pressed his forehead against you as he pumped into you, bringing you both over the threshold, your cries mingling together as you both released at the same time. He sagged against you kissing you lazily as you both rested in the post orgasmic bubble with each other. You wrapped your arms around each other, enjoying the company but as the feelings trickled away from you both cold realisation set in that this wouldn’t last for much longer.

‘Poe…’ but he stopped you with a hand over your mouth.

‘You promised me,’ he kissed your cheek. ‘An entire,’ he kissed your other cheek. ‘Night.’

‘We best carry on then,’ you whispered as a smile crept over your face.

‘Have you got anymore in you baby?’ Before he could react you flipped him onto his back.

‘You have no idea,’ you said as you nudged his face with your nose kissing him gently.

‘Promises…’ he murmured.

You stood by the edge of the bed looking down at him still sleeping. As you had predicted you had a headache but what did you expect from mixing your drinks. You knelt down next to the bed, not wanting to wake him but not wanting to leave without saying goodbye either, not again.

‘Poe…’ you nudged him slightly. ‘Poe….’ He groaned one eye opening sleepily.

‘Is it time?’ You smiled to try and cover the tears that were threatening to well up in your eyes and you nodded. He looked at you for a moment before pulling you to him and whispering in your ear as he embraced you. ‘We said, just tonight.’

‘I know I know!’ He pulled back slightly kissing everywhere he could reach as he held your face. The tears fell silently as you kissed him back before getting up, time was marching on and you couldn’t afford to miss your flight. ‘I have to go...my flight.’

‘Let me walk you out.’ His fingertips were touching you the whole time until you were at the door when he kissed you. His tongue swiping your lips as he kissed you deeply, you felt the wall behind you as he tried to press as much of himself against you as much as possible and you tried desperately not to cry into his mouth. You felt awful, walking away yet again leaving him standing here alone. ‘I don’t hold it against you,’ he murmured as he tucked your hair behind your ear. ‘If I could have left 10 years ago, I would have.’ You cleared your throat before you spoke.

‘But I should have stayed…’

‘No. You did the right thing, I didn’t think so at the time but for you, maybe for both of us. It was the right thing.’ He lifted your head, your eyes locking with his.

‘But the life we could…’ he shrugged. His muscles rippling under his smooth skin as he held your chin.

‘So what? Don’t dwell on the past, it could have been a really great life or we could have ended up hating each other.’

‘But I love you…’ a sob gripped your throat and you fell against him wishing you didn’t have to leave, not knowing when you could come back.

‘I love you too, I always have and I always will, but.’ He placed his hands on your shoulders pushing you away as he swallowed harshly. ‘We said. Just tonight. You have to go back.’ You nodded miserably, he was right you did have to go back.

He opened the door and stepped away from you leaving you no choice but to head outside, your taxi chose that moment to pull up with a squeal of its brakes. ‘Your taxi is here.’ You nodded sniffing slightly as you looked at him.

‘Bye Poe,’ it was barely a whisper like you didn’t want to say it but you had to struggle out the goodbye this time. You owed him that.

‘Goodbye, my love.’ It took all your effort to compose yourself at the use of his old nickname for you, it was his way of saying he’d keep you close to him always and forever. As the taxi drove away you didn’t look back, you couldn’t or you’d break down, shriek at the taxi to stop, fall back into his arms and you’d never find the strength to go back to England. You pulled your phone out with shaky hands and looked at the photo of your daughter smiling up at you. You were going home for her. The streets turned into a blur around you as the taxi sped you away, back to your life and tearing you away from the one you wanted.

You opened your eyes as the weak sunlight streamed through your curtains highlighting the cardboard boxes stacked up in your room. It had been over a month since you’d got back from America and things had moved quickly, the papers were signed, the house was sold and you bought a small two bed for you and Felicity. She was with her father this weekend and in all honesty you hated when she left. You walked through the house in your baggy t-shirt cursing softly as you stubbed your toe on another box in the hallway, hopping the last few steps you managed to ease yourself into your chair and woke your computer up. With a sigh you checked your emails annoyed to see you had nothing to attend to at this ungodly hour on a Sunday. You slumped at your desk, laying your head on the table trying not to get sucked into the swirling whirlpool of dark thoughts that struck you whenever you were on your own, threatening to pull you in the murky depths of hopelessness. A ping made you sit up and you saw Kylo had sent you an email. Finally, you thought, something to do! But you paused at the words on the email.

You have this week off. Enjoy.

Regards

Kylo

You stared at the email, you didn’t book time off? You’d been working 7 days a week almost every week since you got back. Furiously you shot an email back saying he must have made a mistake but the response was almost immediate.

I do not make mistakes. Don’t make me change my mind.

Kylo

You sat back in your chair frowning, you had nothing coming up, no one's birthdays, it wasn’t Easter or Christmas, no school holidays….your mind spun wildly as you entered the kitchen putting the coffee machine on. You really had no idea why Kylo would give you this week off, maybe he was rewarding your hard work but it was so out of character for him.

You swiftly grabbed your coffee as a knock sounded at the door, you quickly ran a hand through your hair but you just successfully made it worse. You pulled the door open expecting to see you ex bringing your daughter home early but your eyes were playing tricks on you. Shock held you rigid, your fingers gripping harshly to the door but you didn’t register the pain shooting down your arm. You had no words as you blinked stupidly at the person before you all coherent thought leaving your brain as he grinned at your reaction.

‘My love, are you going to let me in?’

‘I — I, yes…..’ you finally managed to step aside noting the large bag on his back as he gently prised your fingers off the door closing it softly behind him. You still couldn’t process he was really here as he leaned against the door, his eyes heavy and weary after the long journey. ‘Here.’ You held out the coffee and he took it, his eyes darting behind you.

‘Is she here?’ You shook your head, your heart beating erratically in your chest as he took a step towards you. ‘So I can do this?’ He whispered as his hand slipped round your waist, pulling you towards him he kissed you deeply. You pushed away, your hand flying to your tingling lips as you stared wide eyed at him.

‘You’re here.’

‘I am, sorry it took me so long selling the house was a pain and convincing Dad this was the right choice…’

‘You’re moving here? For good?’ He turned to look at you, his dark eyes hesitant.

‘I can buy my own place until you’re ready..’

‘No.’ You grinned, a stupidly big grin as you stared at Poe Dameron in your hallway, in England. ‘You move in here, we have wasted enough time.’

‘Only if you’re sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure. Holy fuck you’re actually here?’ You let out a short laugh in disbelief.

‘Tired, but I’m actually here.’

‘Jess told you where I was didn’t she?’

‘For once, yes she did.’ He held up a hand moving towards the front door. ‘I brought some extra gifts.’ Loud shouts erupted from outside as you saw all your friends standing on your doorstep. Tears filled your eyes as you greeted them all.

This is what you’d wanted, your friends and the man you had loved your whole life in your life always. Bet you’re glad you went to that reunion now.

[arrowflier]

🛸

Sorry I let this sit so long! 🛸 - for an AU headcanon: this got long and weird lol, but the headcanon is that in any world and any configuration, Ian and Mickey will clash but then be completely obsessed with each other.

---

"What the fuck is that smell?" Mikhailo asked, wrinkling his nose.

His sister Mandi looked back at him from her position on the disembarking ramp, and scowled.

"What do you think it is, you moron?" she snarked. "It's the smell of the creatures we're gonna go subjugate, so get a fuckin' move on."

She hoisted her preferred weapon, a too-long electrified spear, in two hands, and made a few testing jabs as Mikhailo rolled his eyes and descended to join her.

“Gonna put an eye out with that thing,” he muttered, shoving it away with his lower left arm when Mandi let it get a little too close.

She grinned, sharp black teeth stark against her pale purple face.

“That’s the idea,” she quipped. “But hopefully it will be more than one.”

“Whatever,” Mikhailo answered with a snort, reaching for his own holstered weapon. He had no need to draw it—he doubted there would be enough resistance to bother with high-powered gadgets considering his brothers had been here for days already. But he liked the feel of it, cool metal against warm green skin.

“You’ll be lucky to get one,” he said as he passed Mandi on the ramp, leaving her jogging behind him to catch up. “You know Ignatious never leaves us much fun.”

He didn’t have to look to know that Mandi was pouting behind him.

“Just cause they’re older,” she grumbled, “they get to do all the conquering. How is that fair?”

Mikhailo sighed.

“We’re about to go tell a whole species that we’re in charge now,” he said flatly. “And maybe kill a few more if they resist. And you think it’s unfair that you couldn’t make it a little more bloody?”

“Yes,” Mandi replied without hesitation.

Mikhailo grinned.

“Yeah, me too.”

—

He hadn’t expected there to be so many of them. They spilled out into the streets like rats, those nasty creatures that seemed to somehow exist on every occupied planet in the nearest three systems. They were loud, and chaotic, and smelly.

As he waited on the floating platform that would be the stage for his father’s first address, Mikhailo thought he probably hated them.

Not that he was unused to that concept. They were part of the Milkovich clan for a reason, him and Mandi—they hated most living things, like all the rest of their kin.

But they were just so easy to conquer, why should he have any sympathy? If they couldn’t stand against one family of warriors, what chance of survival did they have on their own anyway?

Then a murmur started up in the crowd, and quickly enough became a chant, became a roar.

“Our Chicago,” the people started to shout. “Chase them out!”

“Chase them out!” “Chase them out!”

Mikhailo looked to Mandi, across the platform. Her teeth were bared, hands tight on her spear, but they had not been given the command to intervene. Terrence wasn’t even there yet—they couldn’t begin without an order.

“Get your green ass out of our city!” one brave soul cried.

Mikhailo whirled around, looking for the source of the words. His eyes had just settled on the likeliest suspect—a pale human with a shock of bright red hair, standing a full hand above all his neighbors and only feet away—when that same human raised an impressively long arm and hurled something toward the platform.

It landed with a crash at Mikhailo’s feet, and promptly burst into flame.

Well, shit.

The flames spread quickly, too quickly, on a surface that wasn’t supposed to burn.

“Mikhailo!” he heard Mandi shout from his side. But his eyes were fixed on the culprit of the fire, staring into eyes that were as green as his own skin. Such a human thing, those eyes. Wide and defiant, but scared. So scared.

The other creatures pushed and shoved to get away, jostling Mikhailo’s human as they ran. It jolted the man into action, but it was too late—with one lunge through a gap in the flames, Mikhailo had grabbed his around the shoulders with his lower arms and dragged him, kicking and biting, onto the platform with him.

“Get the fuck off me!” the human yelled, trying to use his own pathetic limbs to break Mikhailo’s hold.

“Now why,” Mikhailo grunted, continuing to tug him back, impressed despite himself by the energy of the struggled. “Why,” he repeated, “would I do that?”

“Mikhailo!” came Mandi’s sharp voice. “We have to go, we have to—”

It happened to quickly. One moment Mikhailo was grappling with the disobedient human, and the next he was on the ground with two hands over his bruised genitals and two reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there, a weapon that the human had somehow taken and now held to Mandi’s head. Mandi’s own spear was clenched in the human’s other hand, trapping her against his weak body with it’s electrified shaft.

Mandi’s eyes were wide and dilated, all her arms up and out in surrender.

“Easy,” Mikhailo warned both of them. He wasn’t sure if the human or his sister was more likely to do something stupid, something irreparable.

“Just put down the gun,” he said, rolling slowly to his feet. “Put it down, and—”

“Let me go,” the human interrupted. “Let me go, and I won’t have to hurt her.”

Mandi shook herself once, twice, but the human’s grip only tightened, the barrel of Mickey’s gun pressing tighter to the purple skin of her head.

Mandi growled in his grasp.

“You sniveling coward,” she hissed. “You would kill me without facing me?”

“I don’t want to do that,” the human said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

But he didn’t let her go.

“I’m not stupid, though,” he added, “and I don’t want you to hurt me, either.”

“You have to pick one,” Mikhailo growled, unwilling to advance while Mandi was still in the human’s crosshairs. “We won’t all get out of this alive.”

“Why not?” the human challenged, his stubborn chin sticking out. “Either we all get out, or none of us do.”

He gestured with that chin to the fire still raging around them, behind which the crowd of humans had largely dispersed.

But there was something there the human could not see. Their ship, approaching behind him.

“Mutually assured destruction, hm?” Mandi was saying. “I supposed there are worse deaths, you human scum.”

She sounded almost fond, suddenly, like the human’s meager attempt at violence made him worth something.

Mikhailo would let them all die before he let on that he agreed.

“Guess we all die then,” he agreed, spreading his hands. “A warrior’s death, at least.”

He expected the human to hesitate. Expected him to fold.

He didn’t.

But it didn’t matter, because then the ship was on them, firing onto the platform and sending it careening away from the city square. The movement knocked the human off balance, and Mandi finally freed herself as soon as the gun dropped from her temple.

“Let’s go!” Mikhailo shouted to her, taking a running leap onto the ramp halfway descended from the ship. Mandi followed him, grasping his hands in hers so he could pull her up as the ship immediately sped away.

The siblings clung to each other as they stared down at the destruction below. The platform was empty, now, no sign of their adversary.

“It’s too bad we’ll have to kill him next time,” Mandi sighed, backing away up the ramp. “He was almost a worthy opponent, for a moment there.”

Mikhailo didn’t deign to respond.

“But I guess we would have clashed anyway,” Mandi added, ands he raised an eyebrow at Mikhail when he looked back at her. “Red and purple,” she clarified, gesturing down at herself. “We were doomed from the start.”

Mikhailo hung back, staring out over the city one last time, hoping for a last glimpse of red.

It didn’t appear.

That was okay, though, he though as he finally followed Mandi back up into the ship. They would be back soon, with reinforcements.

And then, he would find out if that red went as well with his own green skin as he thought that it might.

He’d still kill the bastard, of course, he reasoned with himself. But there was no harm in knowing, first.