#crammed together and they fought and twisted and bit

[drawkill-dragon]

ongh my god (<- just pictured Decepticon Command with rat king imagery)

[the-darkdragonfly]

You have so many lovely sounding WIPs, it's difficult to pick just one!

But I'll take some more Wreck please. 💕 Or Dark Hook. Or Into The Ocean.

... Okay I have failed at picking just one lol Your choice of 3.

Since I have a deep DEEP love for all things SilverHook, I will give you both of those (also - I just answered Kayla's ask re: DarkHook, so freebie!)

The Wreck of our Hearts (Part Two) - A SilverHook / Deckhand Tale

They had played together, in the cabin of the Jolly, celebrating the return of a home he'd had traded for her.

He had sat on top of her, hand nimble as he wound the length of sail rope around her wrists, explaining yet again, how it was she could undo them. She giggled and twisted and didn’t try to get away as he murmured instructions for her freedom into her skin, brain foggy through the lust filled haze of the cabin.

They had been playing for most of the afternoon, familiarizing themselves intimately with each part of his ship- this is the forecastle hold, darling, hold on tightly, there's a good girl.

She couldn’t and he didn’t and he undid her in other ways.

They stayed late at the docks that first night, Killian scouring the decks and airing the sail cloths while she washed every once of the Captain’s quarters to remove the pungent scent of Blackbeard from the space. He had found her in the galley, stashing snacks he would roll eyes at her for eating in the cupboards he wouldn’t look- hiding stowaways, are we, Swan?- pinning her against the counter, the kettle boiling on the stove as he nipped and sucked against the map of her skin. A map he had memorized, and yet knew he could never study enough.

They had finally made tea, from a canister she had scribbled illegibly on hours before, stuffing coffee and tea and hot chocolate and marshmallows for Henry until the ship felt like a home.

“Let’s see if you can get yourself out of this one then, love,” he smirked as he secured her again, the dinner from Granny’s lay hot and ready, not unlike herself, at the table of his quarters. He’d stood then, shrugging on the robe she had bought him- so you don’t scare the neighbours in the morning- after he had answered her teasing query of what pirates slept in, stretching before settling into the chair facing her.

“Don’t you dare,” she groaned, fingers searching against the twists of rope for the loose end which would free her immediately.

“You seemed to require a bit more… incentive,” he smirked as his hook opened the container of her onion rings, “perhaps this,” he plucked one from the white Styrofoam and held it up so she could glare at him again, “will do the trick.”

“Ugh, bloody pirate,” Emma groused, naked and flushed, tongue poking out the side of her mouth in concentration, “you don’t even like them!”

He had eaten three more before she’d managed to find the right end, scrambling off the bed gracelessly and throwing herself at him, growling- you’re in for it now, pirate- as he laughed and caught her. He had fed her then, between mouthfuls of rum straight from the bottle, as she sat curled on his lap.

Read Part One here

* * *

Into the Ocean - A SilverHook Tale

His lungs burned.

The weight of the hastily wrapped satchel pulled against the reach of his good arm, dragging him down moment by stifling moment.

The sea was closing in on him, sunlight all but snuffed out as the sliver of waning moon rose above him.

They had come for him at nightfall, when the sun had crested against the horizon, meeting the water in a blaze of. The sound of feet on the hatch, the anger which stirred in the air had roused him. He had just enough time to conceal coins and small tokens, among them his brother’s ring and the hairpins- all he had left of her- into the deep pockets of his great coat. The satchel had been next, salted meat and two apples, the last of his stash, crammed into the faded leather bag. The latch had given way and with the raucous roar of the pack above his head ringing across the ship, Killian had had time to sling the satchel across his back to be hidden under his coat; his hook glinting in the dark as they poured down the ladder like ants.

Red Sky at Night...

Killian gritted his teeth, the blow from the butt of the dagger smarting his ribs as he hauled himself against the pull of the tide, a parting gift from the madness which had descended upon his crew. The island was still in front of him, looming out of the water like a large creature from the depths.

Bloody cowards, he thought furiously as his feet kicked angrily, beating out a ferocious rhythm through the swell of the sea. He had felt suddenly so very small, insignificant and alone- aye aye, Captain- they had snarled in his face, whipped into a frenzy by a lone man, a snake of a human. Outnumbered and most certainly outmaneuvered, he had no recourse but to survive, again, and commit to memory the burning faces of the crew who were no longer his.

They had hauled him onto the deck, hands rough as he fought them, the darkness swallowing everything but the deck around them. He believed he was certain to be killed then, as a swift kick caught him off guard and caused him to stumble, hitting the deck of his beloved ship, knees likely bruised from the impact.

He hadn’t turned to watch her leave, the snap of the familiar sails lost among the swelling depth of the waves as he started towards shore. There had been no time for sentiment, no room for indulgent pity.

Not then.

There would be time for all of that on shore.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed that my darling!!

WIP GAME!!!!! Send me an ask, I'll give you a WIP!!

[mrs-mikko-rantanen]

The Beast of Baker's Bridge

Finally, it's out there. 2039 words long. The Gang starts to feel a little cooped up after three snow days in a row and decides to go hunt a local cryptid in the snow, despite the snow and the wind. One of their own gets lost, and they have to hunt for their friend instead. Tw hypothermia

William stomped his feet a little impatiently as everyone began to stumble out of the woods and back towards his truck. Everyone seemed to be laughing and enjoying themselves, if not a little cold from the adventure. It had been a long weekend, spurred on by the school district canceling classes for three days due to the snowfall and large blizzard that had hit town. This, of course, had resulted in the Gang all spending the better part of three days driving around town together and causing some general mischief and mayhem. It had also resulted in all of them spending most of the weekend in the Alistairion’s basement, playing board games and watching movies, and, tonight, telling ghost stories.

    Maureen of course had started that event of the night. But the rest of them had been quick to pile on their own tales, until Brennan had brought up the infamous local legend of the Beast of Baker’s Bridge.

    “Do-do you think it’s real?” Mary had been sitting on Aiden’s lap, his arms wrapped around her. Mary was famously the most superstitious of the group, and by far the easiest to scare.

    William had rolled his eyes. “Of course it isn’t, Mary.”

    “But...but all those people...how else could they have disappeared?” 

    “I’m sure they just got lost, dear.” Aiden said, kissing Mary’s head. Mary didn’t look convinced at all.

    “Well. There’s only one way to find out, I suppose.” Maureen had suggested from her perch on the couch, eyebrows waggling. 

    “You can’t be serious.” Hamish said with a sigh. 

    “Why not?” Valeria had piped up with a shrug. “We’ve all been trapped in here for hours, fresh air would do us all some good. Besides, we can go get Pizza Hut after.”

    That had been the deciding factor, really. The promise of pizza had lured them all up the stairs and bundled into their coats, waving cheerful goodbyes and promises to be back soon to Hamish's parents  before piling into the back of William’s truck. Armed with flashlights and blankets as they sang loudly to any song that came on the radio. Twenty minutes later they’d tumbled out of the truck, wandered the words, inevitably got bored, and began to head back, remembering the promise of pizza. 

    William sighed as he pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders, then dug out a cigarette and his lighter, offering one to Maureen as she came and leaned against the truck next to him. They joked and laughed for a while as everyone else came back. William climbed into the cab of the truck, started it, and got the heaters running. 

    “Alright, we got everyone?” Brennan asked, frowning.

    There was a quick chorus of agreement from everyone, and William frowned as he glanced at the group, counting. 

    “Where’s Mish?”

    The Gang fell silent. William opened the door of the truck and layed on the horn.

    “MISH! C’MON, MAN! PIZZA HUT WON’T BE OPEN ALL NIGHT!”  He shouted once the horn died. No response came. They all shuffled around a little, trying to warm up some. Finally they started chatting amongst themselves again. 

    “God, where is he? We’ve been waiting for like ten minutes now...” William asked, flicking ash off his cigarette. 

    “HAMISH!” Brennan bellowed, “COME ON!” 

    Mary gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. William’s face melted into one of concern, glancing at Aiden as Mary’s hands lowered and her lip quivered.

    “What if--what if the Beast got him…” 

    Aiden wrapped his arms around Mary and shook his head a little. “I’m sure he just got a little turned around.”

    “What about the river?” Valeria’s voice was more serious than William had ever heard it. “Maybe he broke through the ice and fell in, he could have gotten hurt.” 

    Maureen stomped out the last of her cigarette in the snow. “We should go look for him. It’s going to start getting a lot colder fast. We should make sure he’s ok.”

    “Maurie’s right. But we can’t split up, we can’t risk anymore of us getting lost.” Brennan said calmly, “Mary, Val, you two stay here with the car in case he comes back. Keep it running and warm and honk the horn if you see him. Aiden, You and Maurie head to the left, keep your eyes peeled. Will, you and I will go right, towards the bridge. Everyone watch your step, be careful, and keep your eyes and ears open, ok?”

    Everyone nodded and headed out in their assigned directions, calling Hamish’s name as loudly as they could, flashlights skimming through the trees.

 ******

    “HAMISH! HAMISH!” William’s voice cracked as he stumbled through through the snow. He tripped a little, catching himself on a tree. He'd been much more calm twenty minutes ago when the search had begun. But now there had still been no sign of his best friend, and the panic was getting harder and harder to ignore.  “HAMISH!”

    “Will.  Will, we have to go back to the car. We’re not gonna do Mish any good if we get hypothermia.” Brennan’s teeth chattered a little as he grabbed William’s shoulder, “We can go back to the car, warm up and let Val and Mary take a turn--”

    “We can’t, we’ll lose ground, what if--” William was barely aware of the tears that started streaming down his face.

    “Will. He’s-”

    “Don't say that he's fine! He’s not fine, He’s not! He’s been out here for hours! It may already be too late!” William shouted, turning around to face Brennan. “He’s not fine. He’s not. We can't waste time, we have to--” He choked on a sob and started to slump to the ground. Brennan caught him in a tight hug, sniffing a little too. 

"Ok man. Ok." He finally said, wiping his eyes, "We'll look a little while longer."

William nodded and pulled away from Brennan, wiping his nose. "Yeah. Ten minutes?"

"Ten minutes."

They nodded a little, turning back to the darkened woods and shouting Hamish's name. Brennan grabbed William’s arm, shushing him a little and shining his flashlight into the trees.

“Did you hear that?” He asked.

    For a moment, William’s heart slammed to a stop, wondering if it had been some animal, maybe the Beast… His ears strained to hear over the wind, and his breath caught in his throat when he heard it.

    “Crying?”

    Brennan nodded once. “MISH? HAMISH, WHERE ARE YOU?”

    William took up the cry and tore off in the direction of the quiet sobs that they’d heard. He almost ran past him, slumped up against a tree. He was shivering, and his breathing was slow and shallow, pierced by hiccups and small sobs. 

    “Bren, Bren I found him, he’s over here!” He shouted as he scrambled to the ground next to Hamish. “Mish. Mish, hey it’s me.”

    Hamish blinked slowly, frowning. “Will? Bren’n? Wha’re you guys doin’ here?” His voice was slurred as he looked at them, his eyes barely focusing.

    “We came to get you, buddy.” Brennan said gently, “Do you know what happened?”

    Hamish’s frown deepened as William pulled off his hat, pushing it on to Hamish’s head and pulling it over his ears. “No. ’S r’lly cold…”

    “Yeah. Yeah, it is. Let’s get you back to the truck, ok?” Brennan grabbed Hamish’s arm as he shifted to lift him to his feet. William quickly followed, grunting a little as Hamish fought against them at first, moaning as they pulled him away from the tree. “It’s a bit of a walk.” Brennan warned Hamish.

    “No problem though, right? It’ll get your blood moving, warm you up a little!” William tried to force a note of cheerfulness into his voice. 

    The three boys stumbled through the snow and blowing wind, Brennan calling out to the woods in an attempt to let everyone know they’d found Hamish. William was trying not to cry, muttering to his best friend that they were getting closer. They were so close, almost there. Just a little closer. William had never been happier in his whole life than he was in the moment that he saw the truck, and he let out a relived laugh, squeezing Hamish’s arm.

    “We did it, Mish. We got back. We made it.” 

    “Oh my God.” Mary sounded like she’d been crying as she and Maureen ran foreward. Brennan passed Hamish over to Maureen, then sprinted the rest of the way to the truck, letting out a long blast with the horn.

    “VAL! ADIEN! WE GOT HIM! COME BACK!” He ripped open the back seat, then slid in backwards, motioning for William and Maureen to help load Hamish in with him as he grabbed one of the blankets.”Will, if they aren’t back in five minutes go find-”

    “Mish.” Aiden grabbed the side of the door as he skidded to a stop. 

    “That’s everyone. Ok we have to go- we have to get him to a hospital.” Brennan nodded and waved for everyone to get in.

    “Is he wet? Did he fall in the river?” Mary asked breathlessly as she climbed into the back seat, squeezing in next to Hamish.

    “What does it matter?” William snapped a little, watching as everyone else crammed into the truck, seeming to refuse to want in the back, away from Hamish.

    “No, she’s right.” Valeria said from her shared seat with Maureen as William pulled out of the parking spot, “Wet clothes will just keep him cold.” 

Mary pulled the blanket open, gently grabbing at Hamish’s coat sleeves and frowning. “Here, yeah.” She and Brennan pulled the zipper of his coat down as William cranked the heaters up as high as they could go, angling them back towards Hamish. 

Aiden had pushed the window between the cab and the back of the truck open, twisting to fish out the blankets they’d brought with them. By the time he had gotten them free and had closed the window again, Mary and and Brennan had pulled Hamish’s wet coat, sweatshirt, and t-shirt off of him. Valeria and Maureen had both pulled off their scarves and coats as well, passing them back to Mary. She wrapped them around Hamish and draped the jackets over his shoulders and chest as Brennan went back to wrapping blankets around him.

Hamish’s eyes had closed again and his head lolled, his body still convulsing with shivers as his fingers curled loosely around the blankets. 

“Where’re we goin?” He asked, hiccuping a little as his head drooped to the left.

    “We’re taking you to the hospital, hun.” Mary explained patiently, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gently rubbing his arm. “They’ll warm you up.”

    Hamish nodded a little, his head drooping farther to the side and his eyelids fluttering. 

    “Hey. Hey you gotta stay awake, buddy.” Brennan said, wrapping his arms around Hamish as well. Hamish let out an upset sound and a few words in Gealic that William didn’t catch from the driver seat. 

    “Mish.” Maureen called, reaching back towards him, “Mish, come on, you can’t pass out on us, man. Hold on, ok?”

    “’M tiered.” Hamish groaned. 

    “I know.” Maureen said, “I know, but you have to hold on. You have to.”

    “Can’t I jus’ sleep?”

    “No, Mish. No, we need you. We all need you to stick around, ok?” Mary said, pulling him into as tight a hug as she could manage. “We need you to- to-” She hiccuped a little and sobbed before Aiden kissed her head.

    “We need you to help us with homework.” He said.

    “And to remind us to drink water.” Valeria said.

    “We need you to keep playing football so that we have an excuse to go to the games.” William piped up.

    “We need you to make us watch stupid movies and put up stupid Christmas decorations.” Brennan said.

    “We need you to keep running the Revolution.” Maureen’s hand reached out for his, but her fingers barely brushed his knee.

    “We need- We need you to stay awake.” Mary hiccuped again.

    Hamish blinked a little, his breathing still labored and and slow. “I need...I need you guys too.” 

    Aiden reached around Mary and pulled a blanket tighter around his friend. “Hold on, man. Just keep holding on.”

[outroshooky]

everything i wanted | ljh

⇢ genre: oneshot (fo4!au) (a touch of angst, mostly fluff)

⇢ pairing: lee jihoon x reader

⇢ word count: 2.4k

⇢ audio: everything i wanted / billie eilish

⇢ warnings: mentions of death, grief, guns, alcohol. this is a post-apocalyptic au even if the piece itself is fluffy; such themes are evident.

⇢ a/n: a huge thank you to @hereisleo​ for writing the fo4!au that inspired this lovely little mess. i love the concept so much and after sitting on it for a few months as well as drawing inspiration from recent life developments and a conversation with my therapist, i’m proud to present my first fic for seventeen! there’s a bit of my heart in this fic. enjoy!

���And how did you deal with that, all of the violence? All of the threats, the danger, all of it on a daily basis?”

“I mean, I’ve lived every day with the feeling like I was going to die anyway, so it wasn’t anything new, really. Just kind of like, oh well. I might die today. Not much I can do about it.”

When you were young, you dreamt of an apartment in the city. Not a big one or a fancy penthouse, just someplace to rest your head for the night, to dream and wonder and hope and even pray, best as your little heart could. An apartment, perhaps with a cat and a spare room with an easel and windows that sprawled from floor to ceiling. Like you saw in those magazines from so long ago, the ones with frayed edges and holes burned through every other letter. Easy to imagine a world with smooth monochrome, a polished Mr. Handy in the kitchen, a warm bed, a full heart.

No matter how much murky fog settled, rolling through the trees like a sickly ocean of green, it never diminished the glow of the stars up above. It was a story you told yourself, that the stars were little pinpricks poked in the soft blanket of cosmos, draped over the world like a celestial cathedral ceiling. Like so many stories you told yourself, in fact. The radroaches in the basement were just making friends, not eating away at the damp wood. The gunshots far-off weren’t territorial disputes between groups of Gunners, only fireworks sent up in unknown celebration. Celebrating life, maybe— one day more with dirt between your toes, one day less with food on your plate.

Yes the days marched on, one by one by one. No matter how hard you begged, pleaded, argued with the universe to stop the sun from rising just for a minute, an hour, a day, liquid light would unfailing seep into each corner of the world every morning, pausing just for a breath. One singular breath, a slice between pure gold and total black that bled pink and purple and orange and sometimes green, too. A cut into the side of reality as the stars glittered just over the edge of cold, cruel awakening.

You met awakening on a Tuesday morning, when voices hollered from the jagged remains of your shattered bedroom window. It was a one-house settlement; you stood no chance against the band of men and women with war paint on their faces and chipped pipe pistols. Not enough time to grab the shotgun, not enough time to grab the money. Your fingers twisted in the bedsheets, but you remembered the commands to stay quiet and still; if you didn’t move a muscle, didn’t move an inch, they wouldn’t look for more. If you screwed your little eyes shut and didn’t look, they couldn’t see you. If you wriggled your little body under the bed with a pillow crammed over your head, one ear to the floor, they couldn’t hear you. If you bit down hard on your lip, you wouldn’t cry. Not even when you heard the sullen thud of bodies echoing up the stairs, not even when the boots stopped inches from your face in all of their dusty leather glory.

In your childhood bedroom, a single lightbulb hung from a wire strung from the ceiling. Somewhat rustic, but what wasn’t on that little farm? A single light illuminated the moth-eaten rug stretched over the splintering floorboards, the corner desk dragged in from a local middle school abandoned years and years ago, the patchwork teddy bear with a loose eye but the softest paws. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. Your world. Yours, glowing by the light of a single burning filament, a lowly star dangling from on high. Even as the boots and jeers and howls faded, the red dwarf smoldered in its glass cradle. It kindled as you shook like a leaf in the wind, as night crumbled bleak and whistled through the open front door, banging in its frame. It spluttered as you finally, finally eased yourself out from under those rusted bedsprings, splinters pricking your palms in all of their painful glory. And finally, as you closed the top fold of your knapsack, slipping a 10mm into the holster on your belt, it fluttered once more and died. The generator had failed, choking without its daily dose of oil. The sky had fallen; the world had ended twice now, it seemed. Once before you had even been born, and once a mere ten years after.

Ten years after, and another ten. Twenty years since the day you came into the world squirming and screeching, and ten years since the day it had rotted at the seams. Nine since you raided abandoned house after abandoned house day after day, taking only what you could carry and bedding wherever you could. Six since you’d found yourself in a settlement of ghouls as you traversed the Commonwealth, a rifle slung over your back and your belly full of mulberries. Five since you’d bought a mutt off a trader you met by Concorde and named him Nate, because it was the name you’d always wanted to give a dog if you’d had one as a child. Four since you’d sold him to a family in Sanctuary Hills, to a child whose eyes shone with joy just as his joints grated with something a little less than human. Three since you’d gotten into a skirmish with a pack of Super Mutants, had both legs broken at the knees, and were dumped on a side road outside of Mass Bay Medical Center. 

Three years since you had calmly waited for death to creep up in all of his silent glory. Perhaps he would stride down the alley confident, courageous. Maybe he’d take a seat, invite himself to coffee and conversation. What you wouldn’t give for a cup of the shittiest coffee you’d ever tasted. Or maybe a swig of vodka.

Three years since it was not death who crept up on you, but a blonde-haired raider whose shaggy locks hung down past his jawline, cut cold as a knife. Three years since twelve others followed him to encircle a wanderer who had already given up. Raiders. A death sentence. This is where life ended, not all those years ago but here, now, in this shitty alley outnumbered thirteen to one.

Jeonghan told you later that you blacked out. A move you, for a long time, considered cowardly. You couldn’t face the end regardless of how painful it was. But this is when Seungkwan interjects to note how much blood you had lost and how you really couldn’t blame yourself at all. Soonyoung notes how carefully they had to move you, how they tied their jackets together to make a sling, fought tooth and nail for every half-mile gained to the so-called Jewel of the Commonwealth. Seungcheol and Hansol are quiet, remembering. Jihoon’s hand winds around yours, his fingers interlocking over your calloused knuckles.

A naked bulb hangs from the ceiling from a single wire. An apartment. Beyond spacious for Diamond City living, with a double loft and rooftop seating. There’s a barbecue grill that Chan wants to fix up sometime, if he can find the right parts for it. You can see the stars on the nights when the stadium lights aren’t too bright, buzzing in the stillness. As still as you can get in a world that is always in motion, flexing and burning and rebuilding over and over. 

Commitment in the Commonwealth was rare. Why commit with the threat of everything you care about being yanked away from you day by day by day? Why care for anything less than survival when even bare necessity is a privilege? Why build any sort of lasting commitment when in the end, it will all fall through as the sky collapses in on itself with nary a rush of breath to her name?

There was, however, something that the world neglected to tell you. The world, universe, whatever you want to call it— she has a sense of humor, that one. Because in the midst of the pain and anger and trauma, there was a boy out there who did not have to look heavenward to find the stars, for they nestled in the umber glint of his eyes. There was a boy with a heart bigger than the roar of the sea and quieter than the hiss of the foam, a heart that opened itself without question, with everything to lose. His lips curve more perfectly than the edges of any petal, his hands smaller and finer than any pre-war relic. Jihoon is rough, a gem uncut by the sands of time, the grains of struggle. He is beautiful.

Yours. His is yours. You are his. You haven’t been anybody’s in a long, long time. You were a daughter once. Your parents’. And then you weren’t. That too, torn away from you. But here you find yourself, blankets wrapped around your waist, head on his chest, your leg wrapped around his own. Again, somebody’s. His. Yours.

He’s always held you like this, not too tight, but not as if you are about to slip from his grasp. Secure. Security was a foreign concept until he taught it to you. Broke you down easily; once, you didn’t shatter under his gaze like you have for so long. He’d buy you a bottle and take you for a stroll through the narrow streets of Diamond City, silent in that special way of his. Very simply, he would listen. 

It had been so long since anybody listened. In the space he gave, you filled the gap with stories: stories of being young, of wandering too close to a Deathclaw den, of remembering the barest tendrils of compassion from a mother’s face blurred beyond recognition. It was late one night and you were rushing to get the words out, tripping over each other, recounting the boots and the gunshots and the thudding of bodies and—

He is there, everywhere, all around you. His arms snug against your back, your face in his neck as you wept and wept and wept. Ten years’ worth of trauma and terror and running from oneself, and yet you could not find a single ounce of rejection in Lee Jihoon. Not a meager scrap left out for the dogs. Just his hand in your hair and his lips at your temple, and his fingers trembling as he murmurs in your ear. He wishes he could take every jagged edge of pain away, pluck it from your soul and watch it whirl as it sinks to the bottom. He knows he can’t rip out every shard, but he swears to try his best. Your eyelids brush his neck as they flutter shut and squeeze him ever closer.

 Love is a word immense in nature and terrifying in practice, looming like a creaking skyscraper over the land of torment. But with him, it went without question: he loves you. You love him. He didn’t need to form or force out the syllables when he insisted on cradling you that night, staying awake to fend off any nightmares that might force their way into your shell of safety. A completed Xanadu as the devil’s puppet strings play a fearsome melody right outside the door.

When Jihoon sleeps, he exhales through his nose, breath tickling your scalp. His fingers somehow always find your own, even when he is in the sweet throes of dreaming. He cradles you every night, arm around your waist. He speaks in his sleep too, sometimes slurred syllables, sometimes a soft, drowsy sound. If he wakes to relieve himself, he’ll slip out from under the covers and return with the same gentleness he left with. You raise your arm and he snuggles underneath, your cheek to his back. Security. It is so much more with him.

Jihoon had asked you once how you settled in the midst of the dust, how you dealt with the echoes of your past. They crept up on you in the unbridled landscape of your dreams, twisted every hope into a malignant thing whose boots always found themselves mere inches from your face. It was hard to dial back the adrenaline, the pulsing undercurrent in every interaction that told you death was near, be careful, be careful. It was a world he straddled, but did not inhabit; he could not fathom setting up furniture, tidying up the corners. You were frank with him, perhaps too frank; it was all too easy when you lived with that threat every single day, the thought that you could die at any moment. It was comfortably numb, like nursing a bottle of Bobrov’s. How ironic, then, that the boy who straddled two worlds was the one to pull you out of your own by his sheer goodness, raw, unhinged.

Two worlds inhabited in one lifetime. Daughter, companion. Titles, meaningless until meaning is breathed into them by the power of a maker. Two naked lightbulbs hang from two rusted ceilings. An apartment in the city. Everything you wanted, in as much capacity as it could be given. The monochrome may be tarnished and it might get drafty in the winter, but there’s a warm bed inhabited by two bodies, not just one. Two. Two becoming one by unspoken word, and with that thought, Jihoon stirs.

He squirms. A sleepy groan. Your arm slips over his shoulder as he rolls onto his side to face you, gritty eyes cracking open. He whispers to you sweet things, gentle things. “Nightmare?”

“Nah.” You toy with the ends of his hair; his eyelids flutter. “Just thinking.”

He’s fighting consciousness for every word, drowsiness eminent in the way he shuffles closer to your warmth by his side. “Wan’ talk about it?”

“In the morning, baby.” He buries his head in your chest. You bury a smile in his hair. “Sleep.”

Jihoon is goodness and light and comfort. Understanding and tenderness and fondness, unadulterated, unfiltered. Everything you dreamt of in the rosy hues cast by a child’s single wish, stitched in the threads of the quilt of the universe.

His breathing slows. You press a kiss to his forehead, murmur a promise against the bridge of his nose.

The corner of his mouth pulls, just a hair. His fingers twitch. “I love you too.”

The bare bulb flickers, and with one careful movement, you tug on the string and extinguish the light.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Happy Together : 13

In the Cage

Character(s): (deceptively) dark!Steve

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+.

Series Synopsis: The reader is stood up while awaiting a blind date, instead finding herself keeping company with the restaurant’s famous owner; Steve Rogers. After that night, she tries to forget her humiliation but she just can’t shake one thing about that night: him.

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: The reader is left in the dark.

Notes: So, our reader is in big shit and now she must suffer. And we must suffer with her. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I can’t wait for what’s still coming! 

I also want to thank everyone for following this series and their enthusiasm about it. It’s just amazing and I am so astounded that so many feel the same excitement I do for Wednesdays. I really just can’t believe it. You guys are wonderful and I owe you so much!

I looked forward to hearing from you in the replies/reblogs/tags/asks. <3

-

The light stung your eyes. You had spent so long in darkness that when the bulb lit up and set ablaze the small room, you buried your head beneath the blanket. It had been only a day, maybe. If you were to guess by your hunger, it had been longer. You spent your first few hours on the floor in shock. When the pain in your ass and thighs became unbearable, you moved to the bed. You laid on your stomach and wept. Between your tears, there were spurts of sleep. Troubled and unkind.

It was another few hours before you heard the lock. The hatch opened and Steve’s shoes appeared on the top stair. He climbed down silently, a plastic tray in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He placed them on the floor beside your bed without speaking; without looking at you. You watched as he left; his feet heavy on the steps and the door shut with an echoing slam. 

You stared down at the microwaved meal. It looked wholly unappetizing but you were starving. You gulped back the glass of water and took the plastic fork and dug into the overdone pasta. You didn’t care that the noodles were chewy or that the sauce was acidic. Your stomach clutched and clamped in relief. You refilled the glass from the sink and drained it once more.

You laid on your stomach as the food settled. Your ass was still raw. Just moving caused your flesh to sear. You fell asleep again. This time deeper. Without your hunger to keep you awake, you sank into a heavy slumber. Your head swirled with visions of Steve; his blue eyes furious, his hand around your throat. Your descent into the hidden room as you fought against the chains pulling you down. The last two days melded together in a distorted nightmare.

You awoke with a start. You lifted your head from the thin mattress. There was no pillow, only a thin blanket which did not offer much warmth in the underground chill. The plastic tray was gone, but the glass remained, a pitcher of water now beside it. You climbed out of the bed with a groan. Your head pounded and your body was cramped. You stretched and filled the glass; this time you only sipped.

You went to the sink and cranked it on. You removed your bra and panties and did your best to wash yourself. You turned your underwear inside out as you pulled them back on. Steve’s cum had turned the fabric crusty. As you twisted the faucet off, the light died and the room turned black. You felt your way through the dark back to the bed. You laid on your side and exhaled with a shudder. You hadn’t thought it could get worse but now you longed for the constricting dresses and tedious chores.

A sudden whir and rush of air funneled into the room. There was a small vent just above the bed. It blasted a chill into the room. You wrapped yourself in the blanket and shivered. The bluster did not relent. You curled up on the bed and hugged your knees to your chest. He was just torturing you now. You whined and closed your eyes. It hadn’t even been two days. You weren’t going to make it. You couldn’t.

-

You counted the days by the flicker of the light bulb. It would turn on and you would take note of another morning. What was this? Day ten? Eleven? Close enough. After the bulb flicked on, it would only be a few minutes before Steve arrived with your breakfast. Two hard boiled eggs and toast. A glass of milk, too. He came and went without a word; without a glance. Your time was left empty; listless. You would pace, hum, talk to the walls. Do anything to distract yourself from the endless void. 

He would come again in the evening. Then, he left some microwaved dinner or a bowl of canned soup. Water for this meal. You would only have a little time before the pitch black marked the end of the day. When he returned in the morning, he would take the empty dishes and replace them with the next meal. Food became your only solace and yet there was not enough of it. 

The nights were cold. The vent would rattle and the cold air would seep into the room; into your bones. You spent most of the night shaking beneath the thin wool. Sleep was not so easy anymore. You would stare into the black and listen. Sometimes you could hear him; walking around the bedroom or in the shower. The faint pitter of water made you think of the rain. The eerie calm of childhood thunderstorms. When you thought of the world outside, you couldn’t help but cry; often without meaning to. Your world had been set afloat in an ocean of tears.

That night, you didn’t eat the lukewarm soup. You stared into the depths and your stomach churned. You were hungry but nauseous. You couldn’t will yourself to eat even as you felt the familiar pangs. You dumped the chicken broth and noodles into the toilet and flushed. You sat back against the side of the bed, your legs sprawled along the floor. You hung your head and gulped. Your head ached from your spontaneous bursts of despair. You weren’t going to cry again.

The sparkle along your finger caught your eye. You held up your hand to the light; the pink diamond caught the yellow glare and twinkled. You scowled at the stone and ripped it past your knuckle. Your held it up and a surge of anger took you. That came as often as the sadness. These fits were harder to quell. There was no relief for them. You pondered tossing the band down the drain; you were tempted.

You shook your head and the fury slaked away as quickly as it had rose. You dropped the ring into the bowl and dragged yourself from the floor. He could have it back. You didn’t want it. You had never wanted it. You climbed into bed and only minutes after, the light bulb went black. Your timing was getting better. The air shuddered on and you cocooned yourself in the blanket. 

You heard the creak of the bed above. The one you used to share with Steve. It was almost right above your own. It was quiet for a few minutes; you were tired even. Close to dozing. Then you heard the deep groan. It wasn’t unusual. The last few nights it had become a ritual. Steve made no effort to mute his voice. You knew what he was doing. You had heard him before in the shower, only these days, he did not say your name. That was how you knew he was mad. Really mad.

You clamped your hands over your ears and tried to tune it out. It made you feel so gross. Not because of what he was doing; he was human, but because what it made you want to do. So long below, alone, cold; you were desperate for warmth, for the touch of another. The noise of his pleasure made you ache. You didn’t want him, but you wanted someone. Anyone. And that was frightening.

What would happen in another week? Would you have any strength left to you? Would you survive this? With each day, you became more convinced that you would never see beyond this room again. That was when the darkness grew startling. It closed in on you; its fingers around your throat; a weight upon your chest. The beast clawing at your flesh.

Steve cried out and you were drawn back to your reality. Your thighs were pressed together around your hand. You bit your lip as you squeezed your legs together and the vent blew down on you frigidly. You whined tore your hand out from between your thighs. You didn’t even remember uncovering your ear. You couldn’t remember much of anything. There was only the light bulb, the empty trays, and stifling darkness.

-

The next morning, the light buzzed as it turned on. You turned so that your back was to the room and you heard the hatch unlock. Steve’s footsteps filled the room. You heard him set down a plate and gather up the bowl from the night before. The clink of your ring bounced against the glass. Silence. You felt a subtle shift on the mattress behind you but did not look. You couldn’t look at him anymore.

You sensed his eyes on you but still you did not turn around. You pulled the blanket higher and nestled closer to the wall. You were certain it was all in your head. He wasn’t looking at you. You were nothing to him anymore. You would perish in this place. Finally, his footsteps began again, the stairs groaned below him, and the hatch closed. You were alone. Again. Always.

You rolled over as the smell of bacon tickled your stomach. Bacon? He hadn’t brought anything more than boiled eggs or bland porridge. You salivated as you reached over the side of the bed and grabbed a strip. Something hard pressed into your cheek as you leaned into the mattress. You sat up and took a bite as you picked up the sharp object. It was the ring. Steve had left it just beside your head. He wouldn’t take it back. You were almost relieved.

You crammed the rest of the bacon in your mouth and slid down onto the floor. You shoved your finger through the ring until it was firmly in place. You took one of the eggs and began to peel the shell as you chewed the crispy bacon. You noticed then the glass of orange juice. Usually, he brought milk but today, he had been generous. You would thank him when he came again. It was only polite.

-

It was two days before you worked up the nerve. You were afraid to break the silence. Afraid you would anger him again. Or more. You didn’t blame him for being mad. You had stolen from him; destroyed his property; run away. That had been wrong. After everything he had done for you. Sat in just your soiled underwear, it became plain that you had not appreciated his kindness. The clothes, the records, the house...you had been ungrateful.

You were waiting on your dinner. Your legs hurt from pacing but when you sat, they shook in anticipation. You rinsed your plate and glass, and stacked them neatly with the cutlery. You were at the bottom of the steps when the hatch opened. You retreated in fright and backed up to the wall. You watched as Steve’s shoes appeared at the top of the stairs. As he descended, you admired his long legs, lean torso, and muscled arms. His golden hair was neatly combed and his blue eyes clung to the dishes in his hands.

You pressed yourself to the wall as he neared to set down your meal. As he bent down, you knelt and lifted the empty dishes. His jaw clenched as he looked at them and he stood as you mirrored his movements. You held them out and smiled. Or tried to. “Thank you, sweetheart,” You said breathily.

His blue eyes burned into your hands. You could tell he was struggling not to look at your face, but he couldn’t help as his gaze strayed to your chest, then your stomach, and below. He exhaled deeply and took the dishes without an answer. You were trembling as he turned his back to you and marched back up the stairs. The hatch closed and you let out a pathetic sob. You sank to your knees and stared down at the macaroni. You pushed away the plate as you sat back on your heels and slumped against the wall. You were going to die down here.

-

That night you couldn’t sleep. Really, any night, but you couldn’t even lay down. Even after the bulb had flickered to black, you had paced around the small space. You didn’t care that you stubbed your toe or bumped your knee. You couldn’t stay still. You had to get out. There was a panic in you which you had never felt before. The feeling when you know it’s the end and there’s no going back. An inevitability come to pass.

You fell against the stairs as your shins met the bottom step. You looked up at the hatch. Slivers of the light above limned its border. Slowly, carefully, with the thought of throwing yourself back down them, you climbed the stairs on your knees. You couldn’t hear Steve but you knew by the light that he was still awake. Like you. He was sleepless too. Was it for the same reason?

You tap on the door. No answer. You knocked again, louder. You heard the bed creak but no footsteps. You pressed your palm to the wood and sighed. “Steve,” You said. Your voice was thick as your throat closed with the threat of tears. You cleared your throat and forced yourself to speak louder. “Steve, sweetheart. Please…” You got as close to the hatch as you could. “I--I’m sorry.”

You waited. Silence. Everyday silence. It was driving you mad. You would rather death than this endless hush. You banged with your fist and exclaimed.

“You can’t leave me down here!” You pleaded. “Sweetheart, please. I can’t---I-I-I…” You sucked back a sob and hung your head. “I need you. Please.” You sniffed as tears trickled down your nose. “Don’t you love me, sweetheart?” You called to him. “I thought you loved me.” You leaned against the step and wiped your eyes. You didn’t hear anything. “...I love you.”

The hatch opened suddenly. You looked up into the blinding light as it silhouetted Steve’s broad shoulders. His golden hair shone like a beacon and his blue eyes burned fiercely as he looked down at you. You waited with baited breath for him to pull you out or push you back down.

+

tags will be added in a reblog

[antiquechampagne]

Antique Champagne - CH45 - Riding High

“How do you think Oswald got that little rad rat to sit still like that?” Hancock pulled out a chunk of funnel cake from a box and crammed it into his mouth. He shook the box at Payne. She smiled but refused more ancient sugary confection.

“Didn’t he say the little guy’s name was Murphy? I think you could train just about any animal if you get them young enough.” She gave the box in his hand a little poke. “Isn’t that your second box? You better put it away before you make yourself sick. This time you won’t be able to blame it on a ride.”

They walked together across the promenade as the sun set, the slender crescent moon glowing softly in the color-streaked sky.

After one more small piece of cake, Hancock handed the box to Payne to stash away.

“Where do you think we should head next?” she asked.

“I thought I told you that you were driving today… but since you asked so nicely, why don’t we go on a little safari?”

Something about his tone hinted at something more beneath his words, but Payne only let herself flash a coy little smile. “A safari, huh? That might be fun.”

Just inside the gate to Safari Adventure, they saw Nate talking with a burly shirtless man in a loincloth. Nate waved them over.

“Hey, guys! Did you enjoy Kiddie Kingdom? I’m guessing Oswald gave you the royal treatment given how long you were in there.”

“You were waiting for us?” Payne asked.

Nate glanced at them; a bit confused. Hancock looked at a nearby decaying fake tree before Payne could get a good look at his face.

“Never mind,” the Overboss murmured. He turned to the man next to him, introducing him. “This is Cito. He lives here with his family. Cito, these are my friends, Mayor Hancock and Payne. They’re from the Commonwealth.”

Cito seemed to be studying them, stone faced. He did not move.

Hancock extended a hand, but the man just looked at him. “Nice to meet you too, big guy. Is your whole family as welcoming as you?”

“Cito’s a bit leery of strangers. I’m sure he’ll warm up to you as we show you around. You might even meet his family, if you play your cards right.”

“Cito not play. Cito lead. Follow.” With that, Cito dashed off into the park.

“Ooo-kay then…” Hancock shrugged.

The group ran after him, stopping at a large building.

“Go see monster.” Cito ordered as he pointed to the doors. Nate grabbed a bucket filled with what looked like offal waiting by the front door. The three started to head inside.

Nate turned back. “Are you sure you won’t come in with us? It can’t get out. I promise.”

Cito snorted and stood his ground.

Once inside, the hairs raised on the back of her neck. Instinctively, Payne grabbed her weapon.

“It’s okay. The cage is reenforced. Plus, we feed her all the meat scraps we produce.”

Hancock seemed unconvinced. “Her?”

Though the entry way lay a gigantic cage filled with stagnant water. Payne caught a slight movement under the grime right before a large reptilian form rose from the water, splashing them. Its massive jaws snapped at the bars, exposing row after row of teeth. The creature’s huge muscular arms raked the metal as it hissed and sniffed the air.

“What the fuck is that?” Hancock jumped back. He had left his shotgun in the room, but his knife made a speedy appearance.

Nate motioned for them to lower their weapons. “She’s the last remaining gatorclaw.” He nodded towards the exit. “That’s why Cito won’t come in here. It’s a bit of a story, but the gist of it is Cito and his family were plagued by these monsters. They were all over the park, picking off anything that got near them. See, they were coming from a malfunctioning cloning facility under the building. I destroyed the machines and killed every gatorclaw I came across… but I couldn’t quite find it in my heart to kill her, so I kept her here.”

Nate stuck a hand in the bucket. “Feeding time, girl!” He put the unidentifiable organ on a long pointed stick. The creature quickly snapped up the bits, never taking it’s tiny eyes off it’s incoming meal. Payne watched curiously. She could tell the creature was immensely powerful under it’s armored hide but was starting to grow round in places.

“Gatorclaw…” Payne mused. “Let me guess… someone had the great idea to mix an alligator and deathclaw?”

Nate nodded.

“That’s one hell of a combination.” Hancock remarked.

“You’re telling me… you didn’t almost have your head bitten off by one!” Nate chucked. The bucket empty, the beast slithered back into the water, perfectly hidden in the murky pool.

When they left the enclosure, Cito was still waiting for them. When they got close, he grunted and sprinted off to the next enclosure. Nate explained that, given Safari Adventure was an exotic animal zoo before the war, he had it cleaned up and renovated to house some of the species found only in Nuka-World.

“The herbivores were the easy ones. Brahmiluffs and gazelles took to captivity relatively quickly. Rad-rats took a little longer. Even the gatorclaw, given enough to eat, has become mostly manageable. Cito has even started to work with some of the Pack members in charge of taking care of the animals.” Cito’s chest seemed to puff out the mention. “Some, however, are proving to be more of a pain than they are worth.”

They stopped in front of a metal cage with multiple layers of metal bars, many broken outwards.

“What was here?” Payne asked.

Nate frowned. Cito grumbled. “That was… a mistake.” Payne could tell Nate was not used to failure. “I tried to house a cave cricket there.”

“A cave cricket?” Hancock balked. “One?”

“Bug angry. Not like cage. Kick. Kill many.” Cito bowed his head slightly. “No more bug.”

“That’s right. No more bugs.” Nate agreed. They walked further down the path. Nate turned to Cito again. “So, Cito, what do you say? Can my friends meet your family?”

Cito stopped and thought. “Family de-cide. Come Hat Man. Come Pretty Lady.” Cito led them through a maze of cages to the Primate House.

Nate drew close to Hancock and Payne. “Let me go in first. They know me. We’ll see what happens from there.”

The Primate House was once a sterile series of concrete boxes and metal bars. Not much had changed through the centuries. They could hear movement and noise from inside, but Payne was not expecting to see a dozen or so squat dark furry bodies on the other side. She froze at the sight of, what appeared to be, a full troupe of completely healthy unmutated gorillas.

Cito was greeted warmly by a pair of females. One even had a small face peeking out from between their stocky legs. Cito grunted, sat on the floor, gesturing to them while they groomed each other.

“Those are his sisters. See the baby? He’s about a year old now. Cito is such a proud uncle!”

Payne was transfixed. As she watched she noticed something very particular and familiar. The baby extended two fingers to it’s forehead and gave them a quick twist before clinging to Cito’s calf. Something dawned on her. She started to study the rest of the family.

“They’re signing!” she exclaimed breathlessly to herself.

“What?” Hancock asked confused.

Ignoring him, Payne quickly scooted away, separating herself from the group, sitting quietly on a nearby concrete step before anyone could stop her. A smaller young adult gorilla had also been watching them intently. With Payne by herself, they crept closer, sniffing, vying for a better looking at the strange people.

Slowly, Payne began to sign. “Don’t be scared. I’m a new friend.”

The gorilla’s eyes widened in surprise, before they excitedly tried to answer her back. Unfortunately, the young one’s enthusiasm made it hard to understand, as they bounded excitedly back and forth.

“You can talk! Look! Look! The stranger can talk!”

More primates inched closer, encircling Payne. Even Cito came over, curious over what his family found so intriguing about her.

“You know hand talk?” Cito asked out loud.

“Yeah.” Even though her was thrilled, she knew better than to startle the powerful animals. She did her best to keep her voice calm. “Growing up, my grandmother lost her hearing. We learned ASL… um… hand talk to talk with her.” She couldn’t help but smile, some of the other gorillas seemed to be just as excited as she was. “I never thought it’d come in handy again.”

The young gorilla pulled on her pant leg to get her attention. As Payne turned to see what they wanted, a large commotion rocked the gathering around her. A huge beast of a gorilla burst through the crowd, scattering them. He stared menacingly at Payne, puffing out its barrel-like chest. Even Cito took a step back. This was the family’s alpha, the silver fur on his back like a shining badge of power and authority.

Nate and Hancock reacted quickly, both going to draw weapon until Payne motioned for them to back off. Payne looked down but calmly continued to sit, refusing to move. The leader of the gorillas paced by her, huffing, before eventually sitting a few feet away.

Reluctantly, he began to sign. “Do not speak to my family. Speak to me.”

Payne nodded. “Yes.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to make new friends.”

He seemed unconvinced. Thinking fast, she thought of a way to hopefully smooth things over.

“I brought a gift.” Payne slowly reached into her pack and pulled out the funnel cake box and presented it to the agitated silverback. He sniffed it before snatching it out of her hand. Everyone, human and primate, watched with anticipation. Ripping the box open, he stuffed a handful of cake into his mouth, still eyeing her.

He put the box on the ground. “Too sweet,” he conceded, sat and relax his posture. At that, the situation was resolved. Some of the family fought over the contents of the box, others began to approach Payne. She was quickly flooded with questions from every side. She kept up as best she could. Not only was her sign language rusty after 200 years of disuse, but cross-species communication came with its own hurdles. Gorilla hands could not do everything a human hand could. Plus, over the centuries, some signs had evolved and changed, the intelligent animals even inventing a few of their own.

Payne could hear Cito taking with Nate and Hancock behind her, but in the drive to keep up with the gorillas, she let the men talk without her. It’s not like she could translate everything thrown at her for them anyway. Soon enough, she was being introduced to every family member, shown every resting spot, rubber ball, bucket… generally getting the inside scoop on everything going with the gorilla troop. As one of the older female members of the family asked her where her family was, the infant who had called Cito ‘Uncle’, climbed up her leg and into her lap. When he looked up at her with his gorgeous brown eyes, her heart melted.

“You are so handsome and brave!” Payne cooed as she stroked his fur, his mother looking on.

“Pretty Lady!”

“Hey, Payne?!” Nate called. Every eye in the Primate House looked over. “Um, we’ve got to get going. Can you wrap things up in there?”

Gently, she put the baby on the ground. “Sorry, but I have to leave.” Quickly thinking, she pulled something from her pack. She handed the stuffed sloth toy she had won in the arcade over to the tiny gorilla. “A special gift for a special friend.” The baby’s eye lit up, but he had to wait until his mother inspected the item before clutching it to his chest. He thanked her quickly before clinging, toy and all, to his mother.

Slowly, she made her way back to the door. Cito and a handful of family members showed them out.

“Well, you’ve quite the impression, now didn’t you?” Nate smiled. “I’ve never seen them that excited.”

“I never thought I’d do anything like that. Not in a million years.” Her grin reached from ear to ear. It was as damn near a pure magical experience as she had ever had. “That was amazing.”

“Well, damn. I can’t believe I got outplayed by a bunch of monkeys!” Hancock teased. “Guess I’ll just have to up my game.”

Stepping out into the night, the stars shown bright, twinkling in the dark beyond the lights of the park. As they walked, a raider ran up to them.

“Sir, there is a bit of a,” he eyed the pair next to the Overboss. “situation that needs your attention.”

“One second.” Nate turned to Hancock. “You shouldn’t need me; everything should be ready for you.” He nodded to them before rushing off into the night.

Hancock grabbed her hand.

“Wait! What are you doing? Where are we going?” she asked as he pulled her along leading her towards the heart of the Safari Adventure.

“It’s a surprise!” He refused to say another word.

A huge tree rose above a dilapidated hedge maze. Without Nate to lead them through, it took a moment to find the correct path. It ended at a rickety industrial lift at the base of the tree.

“Your chariot awaits.” Hancock motioned to the lift. All Payne could do was shake her head as she stepped on. It was obvious he had something planned. The metal contraption lurched to life and raised them up into the branches. They stepped out into what was once a well sized camouflaged viewing platform in the shape of an oversized treehouse. At one end stood a wide patio, open to the sky. The other end had a long counter with a raider stooped over a makeshift grill behind it. He angrily grunted as Hancock walked Payne out onto the patio. Under the stars, a single round table was set with a pair of chairs. There was even a long lumpy candle stuck in a Nuka-Dark bottle flickering in the light night breeze in the middle.

Sitting down, Payne looked around a bit confused. “You know you could have just asked me out on a date…”

“Where’s the fun is that?” Hancock has a misogynous twinkle in his eye. “Besides, I got to pick Mr. Pre-war-ice-cube’s brain what would make a proper romantic surprise.” He gestured lightly around them. “This is what we came up with… a quiet intimate dinner made by best grill master in Nuka-World.”

Almost on cue, the raider unceremoniously announced his presence with a single word “Booze” before plunking a bottle between them, then stomping off back to the grill. Payne stifled a giggle as Hancock momentarily struggled getting the corked out. With a satisfying ‘pop’, the bottle was opened, only to find there was nothing to pour the wine into. Taking it in stride with a shrug, Hancock took a quick sip before passing it over.

Payne sniffed it before taking a swallow. It was slightly acidic and crisp, with an almost fruity taste. It went down more easily than anything she had had in a long time.

“Where in the world did you find this?” she asked. “It’s divine.”

“Apparently, Nate got a prewar bottle from the Cabots.” Unaware of the name, she shook her head. “They are an old Boston family.” Hancock explained. “They’ve been living Downtown since before the war. If you take what some people say, maybe literally… but they take great pride in keeping their stuff in pristine condition.”

Payne took closer at the wine. The bottle looked immaculate, the only signs of age the yellowing along the edges of the label. “Well, it’s better than most of the piss people pass off as wine these days, I can vouch for that.”

“Food.” The grill master roughly placed two plates down before them. Just before leaving, he pulled out a handful of silverware from his grimy apron, tossing them on a pile in the middle of the table.

“Uh, thanks?” Payne called after him. His response was a quick middle finger before heading out of sight. “I don’t think he’s getting a tip.”

Looking down, she was met with a huge slab of seared meat, the juices oozing and mixing with the jumble of roasted vegetables. What it lacked in presentation was made up by the superb aroma, something between aged beef and wild game. Even the smell of herbs and garlic reached her. She felt her mouth begin to water.

Neither Payne nor Hancock waited on ceremony. They quickly picked up their cutlery and dug in. The tasty morsels stemmed any meaningful conversation besides a few words of praise and occasional sigh of pleasure.

Once they regained their composure, they caught their breath with sips of the delightfully sweet wine.

“So, how’d I do?” Hancock finally asked.

Between the calm night with glittering stars, the perfect meal and the thoughtful man across from her, Payne was awestruck. She had not felt this cared for by someone in a long time. That’s just not how the world was anymore. She didn’t realize how much she had missed it. Looking at him across the table, she could not help but smile. He was waiting for her answer, but all Payne wanted to do was drink it all in. Nights like this were all too rare.

Finally, she found the words. “All this… it was a lovely surprise. Never in a million years would I think I would be eating such a delicious meal with such a thoughtful man…” Her eyes drifted from his face to the candle casting shadows on it. She quickly realized that, over the course of their dinner, the candle had burned down, the wax melting into a remarkably realistic phallic shape... complete with translucent drops dripping down from the tip.

Her sudden silence and change in expression must have drawn Hancock’s curiosity, because he let out a hearty laugh. “And here I thought had a shot tonight… but looks like someone else has beaten me to the punch!”

They both roared with laughter.

Finally, Payne leaned back in her chair. “You’re not getting anything until all this settles.” Payne patted her stomach. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a fun idea to pass the time.”

Hand in hand, they slowly made their way back to Fizztop under the dim moon.

[kumkaniudaku]

Savage

A/N: Happy Two Year Anniversary to this blog. I hope you enjoy. 

Summary: CoCo’s trying to get back to herself with a special photoshoot and help from an unlikely source. 

Standing in the bathroom mirror dressed in nothing but the skin God blessed her with, Tasha proudly turned her hips from side to side to examine her body. A small smile crept across her golden features as her eyes raked over her hips before landing on her backside. She used the tips of her fingers to grasp at the cuff of her ass and lift the area.

"Hey there, girl. Been a long time since we've seen each other. Lookin' good." Tasha's hands took the scenic route to her breast, stopping at her stomach and rubbing her palm over the section that had plagued her for years. When she reached her chest, she playfully pushed her breasts together and smiled. "And look at you guys. Sittin' all pretty after all these years."

With her hair loose and untamed and Beyonce's self-titled album playing in the background, CoCo felt a surge of energy that began a swirling motion in her hips. She watched the natural curves and jiggle of her body as she moved and smiled, finally feeling comfortable with the "new" her. A year and half postpartum was filled with the ups and downs of understanding the changes within her and accepting them. Tasha's silly dance moves were a moment of celebration that her husband, who quietly stood in the doorway to enjoy the morning entertainment, understood and appreciated.

In the middle of twirl to the rap portion of Yonce, Tasha was startled by her husband. She quickly rushed to her phone to pause the song and end her private dance party.

"No, don't stop," Chadwick laughed as he stepped into the bathroom. "I'm lovin' the show."

"I feel like you're laughing at me."

"Of course not, baby. I'm laughing with you." His last words became a sultry mumble as he made space for his lips on Tasha's. Goosebumps pebbled on her cold skin wherever Chadwick's warm palms landed, finally finding a home just above her ass. They stood in one position, holding each other and making silly conversations that kept the energy light. In the middle of a debate on which child would be the first to wake and terrorize the house, Tasha decided to share a bit of news.

"I got an email this morning from Rihanna," she casually introduced, keeping her eyes away from Chadwick's as she pretended to take an interest in the chain around his neck.

"Is this for another one of those wild girl's nights that ends up on Instagram?"

"Wow, I accidentally showed a little nipple once on IG Live once, and now it's a whole thing!" Chadwick cocked his head back with his eyebrows raised and a soft smile resting on his face.

Instead of bringing up the instantaneous internet reaction that lasted for days after the unintentional peep show, he laughed at the memory and shook his head.

"Anyway," she emphasized with an eye roll. "It was an invitation to do a little modeling very soon."

"Modeling for Rihanna, huh? Is this the Fenty makeup stuff you look so good in?"

"No, but I'll make sure to bring your compliment up the next time I speak to her," Tasha laughed before going silent.

Her sudden reluctance to continue didn't escape Chadwick as he playfully pinched her backside to get a response.

"Don't leave me hanging, girl, what is it?"

"Ow! Okay! Rihanna wants to see me in some of her new...lingerie."

"I'm sorry what was that," Chadwick asked after noticing his wife's intentional rush past the last word.

"I said Rihanna wants me to model some of her new lingerie."

"Lingerie. Like half-naked, ass out in see-through lace lingerie?"

"Possibly. She says, and I quote, that I have a nice ass that deserves to be seen all over the world. She gave me the entire rundown of the campaign and the process. Baby, I really wanna do this. I'm finally feeling back to being myself after having Noah, and I want to celebrate! I'm not going to have this body forever. I should show it off while I still have time, right?"

Chadwick could hear and see the excitement radiating from Tasha at the thought of working on the campaign, but he worried about her. From the beginning of their relationship, he'd vowed to protect her from the often cruel opinions of the public. While he trusted CoCo's ability to take the comments in stride, he wasn't sure if he would be able to refrain from unleashing his wrath upon some unsuspecting teenager behind a keyboard.

Dropping his head, Chadwick placed a chaste kiss on Tasha's nose. "If you think you can handle it, I'm all for you showing off your little cupcakes within reason."

"Oh, yeah, right. You love these little cupcakes."

"Mm, I do. 'Specially when you have 'em all oiled up for me. Ooh, or in that backless satin dress you wear on special occasions."

Tasha rolled her eyes and smiled as he ran through all of the ways he liked to see her derriere present for his viewing pleasure.

"Do you wanna hear about the overall concept of the shoot or not, lover boy," she laughed while Chadwick nipped at her neck and pressed her body closer to his.

"Go ahead; I'm listening. I can listen and rub at the same time."

"Well, what if I wanted to be rubbed separately?"

CoCo could barely hear her husband's response over her squeals as Chadwick lifted her from her feet to place her on the counter. They quickly abandoned playful tickling for more sensual forms of touching until they were too wrapped up in each other to notice other sounds in their home.

Their escalating round of flirting came to a sudden halt when the repeated clicking of the bedroom's doorknob caught their attention.

"It's time for breakfast," Micah yelled from the hallway. "You guys said playtime was at night! I'm hungry."

"What are we eating this morning, baby girl?"

"I dunno! I'm not a grown-up yet. Can Mommy wake up and make us pancakes? MOMMY WAKE UP!"

Tears pricked CoCo's eyes as she fought to stifle laughter and catch her breath. "I'm awake, Chicken Little. Pancakes coming right up. Go check on your brother."

Micah answered with an unenthusiastic grumble before dragging her feet down the hallway in the direction of Noah's bedroom. One look at each other sent Chad and CoCo into a fit of laughter at the sheer comedy of the moment.

"That's our girl," Tasha laughed.

"She's a little diva. I wonder who she gets that from."

"Oop! Is that sarcasm I hear, husband?"

"Oh, never!" Sneaking a final kiss, Chadwick stepped back to make his way toward the threshold of the bathroom. A mischievous smirk graced his face as he turned to address his wife. "She absolutely gets it from you."

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

"Hit a switch on a fake nigga, like a station. Sex with me so amazing…"

Tasha silently mouthed the words to Rihanna's ANTI album while her house buzzed with staff members assisting with the early morning shoot. Though her exterior was calm and collected on the outside, she was suffering through an awful surge of anxiety.

When she initially accepted Rihanna's invitation, CoCo didn't even consider the specifics. She'd been a part of plenty of photoshoots, but all of them had he styled in clothing that didn't show off very intimate curves and lumps. Never had she been tasked with fighting to cover her nooks and crannies with her olive-colored Savage x Fenty robe.

"You think I can fit this?"

Snapping from her onslaught of negative thoughts, Tasha shifted her eyes to get a glimpse of her sister through her vanity mirror.

"Yeah...in about four months."

"I don't have four months. I wanna have sex tonight. I'm hormonal, and I want it immediately."

"Then, by all means, cram those big lactating titties in that bra."

Tiana laughed from the pit of her growing belly for several seconds until she paused. "I think I just peed a little."

This time Tasha joined in, motioning for the makeup artist to pass her a few tissues to catch the tears welling in the corner of her eyes.

"Sit your ass down, TiTi. The only person allowed to pee on the carpet by accident is still learning how to stand on his own two feet."

"I just love my little chunk muffin," she gushed, referring to her nickname for Noah. "When are they coming back?"

"Hopefully, long after all of this is over. I don't know if I'm ready for Micah to see me dressed so...so scandalous."

Taking a seat on the chaise across the room, Tiana shook her head in disapproval. "Oh girl, hush. You're a woman with a beautiful body, and Micah could stand to learn an early lesson about the power of living in your skin unapologetically. A healthy body image at a young age is important."

"When did you become a damn poet," Tasha asked in faux annoyance. She knew her younger sister was right in her advice and needed a moment to process the statement.

"I became a poet when you invited me over here for moral support. It's my new thing after reading all these rich lady parenting books."

"Who knew my little sister had morals?" The pair locked eyes through the mirror and smiled at each other when Tiana flashed her middle finger and waved Tasha off. "Really, though, thanks, Ti. I appreciate the advice."

"Yeah, yeah. Show your appreciation by directing me to the best snacks in your pantry."

The hairstylist took a break from situating CoCo's pin curls to finally release his laughter, making the Greene sister duo join in.

"You two need a YouTube channel. I would subscribe," he complimented as his laughter subsided. "Feel free to grab some food from the catering station on the deck. Or we can get someone to bring it to you. What's the order?"

"Oooh, fancy! Don't worry about that, sweetheart. I need to get some exercise done anyway. Gotta keep my girlish figure for my Savage shoot one day."

Tiana gave the room a show as she playfully ran her hands up her legs and twisted her hips in a sultry dance. Once she exited the room in search of lunch, silence filled the room once again.

Megan Thee Stallion became the soundtrack of Tasha's thoughts as she pondered Tiana's advice. Maybe it wasn't Micah that needed the body positivity message. Though she didn't necessarily hate her body, she was used to living in her shell in public, and only embracing her natural self in private. It was time for a change.

"Knock, knock." A set of knuckles rapped against the hardwood door of CoCo's vanity area inside of her closet, making her pause to catch her breath. Such a melodic blend of West Indian charm and homegirl inflections could only belong to one person.

"Rihanna?!? In my house?!? Am I dead?"

The Bajan Beauty chuckled as she moved further into the room to check on the progress of Tasha's glam prep. "If you're dead, then I'm gonna need all this shit back."

"Wow, so you wouldn't let me represent the Fenty brand for Jesus?"

"Who said you were going to see Jesus?" Everyone in the room fell into a fit of laughter as Rihanna wrapped her arms around CoCo in a warm embrace. "You look so good right now! Like...damn!"

"Do I? Because I feel like an old lady trying to be young again."

"Oh, please! Stand up." Tasha immediately began to protest, but her words fell on ears that would not take 'no' for an answer. Before she could make a mad dash for the bathroom, Rihanna rushed to pull Tasha in front of the full-length mirror to get a good look at herself.

They stood in silence for a moment, allowing CoCo to quietly regard her body while Rihanna adjusted the straps of her racy bodysuit. The custom Savage by Fenty silk robe hanging off of her shoulders hid most Tasha's body, but what she could see brought a small smile to her face.

"Cross Fit is full of a bunch a dudebro white boys, but I have to say, it works," she laughed as she turned her body to get a better look.

"I told you! I know a bunch of old bitches that need to take a seat and hang it up. You are not one of them." Finally done with her adjustments, Robyn stood on her tip-toes to rest her chin on Tasha's shoulder and smile. "Now that we're on the same page, you ready?"

Taking a deep breath, Tasha nodded and smiled, "I'm ready."

"Good. Now, get this bitch some wine and turn up the music. She needs to get loose!"

As ordered, CoCo took a break for red wine before settling in the mood of the shoot. Rihanna explained her vision for the afternoon as a beautiful look into the sexiness of motherhood and being a wife.

"It's like Desperate Housewives meets XNXX," she described as Tasha downed the last of her Merlot. "Ho, but make it, mommy."

Though the visual was funny, CoCo understood the intention and used it to fuel her movements from scene to scene. Exaggerated arches while pretending to vacuum or make up the bed felt silly initially until the praise of the photographer began to boost her confidence. In her second outfit, a floral lace teddy, she felt covered enough to be comfortable and exposed enough to feel like the most beautiful woman within 100 miles.

"Look at me like I'm your husband walking into the kitchen after a great night, and you're making breakfast to thank him. Give me those bedroom eyes."

Everyone in the kitchen could sense an energy shift as Tasha bit her lip and gave the camera a coy look over her shoulder. Flashbacks of a scenario matching the request made her stomach flutter with the emotion of seeing her man waltz down the stairs after their first night together.

"Oh, she's feeling it," Tiana smiled as she leaned over to speak to Rihanna. "I recognize that look, T!"

"You fantasizing over there, girl?"

"Let the master work in peace, please. Thank you!"

CoCo's thoughts of Chadwick became a reality when her exhausted husband walked through the front door with both kids in tow. The sight of a full crew roaming his home added an extra layer of anxiety to an already turbulent afternoon. But, taking a step into the kitchen and laying eyes on his wife gave him a second wind.

He watched her charm the room and the camera like a pro.  

He wasn't the only person speechless for her display.

Micah's eyes sparkled as she watched her mother dazzle, and she couldn't help her tiny squeal. The sound drew everyone's attention while she rushed into the room.

"Mommy, you look like a movie lady," she exclaimed.

Tasha turned just in time to intercept Micah's hug before pulling her off the ground. When she looked up to find Chadwick, he gave her an apologetic look.

"I know I said we'd be gone, but Noah was fussy and I -"

"Baby, it's okay." Tasha's laughter caught Chadwick off-guard.

"You...you sure? I can take them to the park or something."

"It's fine! Right, Robyn? It's cool if they stay?"

"Girl, this is your house! It would be very Karen of me to tell you who you can and can't have in here," Rihanna laughed. "Plus, I wanna hold the baby. Gimme!"

Chadwick took Rihanna's request as an opportunity to get closer to CoCo, who welcomed him with open arms and a kiss to the cheek. Leaning in to return the gesture, he made it a point to brush his lips across her ear.

"Keep this outfit for another time. You look amazing."

"Yeah? Maybe you can help me into the next one." The thought of another racy number had Chadwick on high alert and more handsy than he would generally be in front of a crowd. "Hey, now! Get on out of here. You're holding up the crew."

"Bold of you to assume we didn't get all of that. I want some more," Rihanna added as she tickled Noah. "Miss Micah, you wanna take some pictures?"

"Yes! Please please please, Mommy! Pleaseeeee!"

CoCo looked to Chadwick for confirmation that he granted her with a nod and a smile.

"Of course, baby. Let's go find you an outfit."

With some help from the team on set, Micah found in a dress that matched the styling direction of Tasha's bodysuit. The bright sun provided perfect light for the outdoor setting, making the backyard's greenery and the blue water in the pool. Micah was a star from the first click of the camera. For a child that had only been in the world for a little over 6 years, she had knowledge of her angles and how to interact with another person in the shot. Her facial expressions mimicked Tasha's as they posed together under Rihanna's direction. Her apparent excitement to be part of her mom's moment put CoCo at ease.

Soon, Noah joined the shoot for the final 20 frames. His baby giggles infused the perfect amount of energy to finish the day.

Long after the shoot had ended and the house cleared of visitors, Tasha still found herself buzzing. Standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom, she smiled at her reflection.

"You think I could model full time. Like for AARP?"

Her comment made Chadwick choke with laughter before he could respond. "Yes to modeling, no to AARP."

"That's the right answer. Good job, babe." Once she'd had enough of looking at herself, Tasha flopped across the bed and closed her eyes. "Today felt so...good. I've never felt this free before. And seeing Micah look at me like a superhero made me feel important. She is six years old and giving me more validation than anyone in the world. It's wild."

"She thinks the world of you, trust me. We all do."

Popping her eyes open, she got a glimpse of Chadwick smiling down at her, making her feel warm all over. This was the high she's been chasing as she made the journey back to herself. In all of the photos taken and posted for likes and commentary from the public, nothing could compare to the way she felt when her kids told her 'I love you' or when her husband winked at her from across the room. His comments were confirmation of the lesson she'd finally learned. She didn't need to look a certain way for people she didn't know or care about.

All the love and adoration she desired was already around her.

[laylacooke]

Did You Just UMWC Me Fall? || Morgan & Layla

timing: Earlier in the month. parties: @mor-beck-more-problems & @laylacooke summary: Morgan talks to Layla about life and college.

While college hadn’t been the main thing on Layla’s mind anymore, it had been a lingering thought. So, with nothing better to do, the nineteen-year-old decided to check out UMWC for the day.

The campus, a beautiful sight, hadn’t been quite as big as some of the colleges she had toured back home in Tennessee, but it did remind her of her past residence. However, it was the lingering memory of what she had done to Blanche and her car nearly a month ago that left a bad taste in her mouth. Walking this campus would forever be a reminder, and as she moved from one part of the university grounds to another, she hadn’t quite noticed where she was going, resulting in the collision with a parked row of bicycles that sent her tumbling over and to the ground.

With a groan, Layla sat up, cheeks bright red, hoping no one had seen what had just happened.

Morgan, having just finished her last summer session, was carting out the books and resources she’d kept on hand so she could cram the next semester’s reading list onto her tiny shelves in her office. With her new zombie strength, she could almost get the books to her Subaru in one go. She was nearing the parking lot when she spotted a girl take a tumble over the bike racks. Morgan rushed over, shifting her heavy box to one side as she bent over to help her up. “Hey, are you alright? Do you need a lift to student health services? That uh, looked like a big yikes.”

Layla rubbed the pain out of her shin and leg, before attempting to find her footing. The sooner she was up, the sooner she could forget about embarrassing herself in front of anyone that had seen her. It was the offer of a hand and a trip to student health services that caused the once subsiding redness of her cheeks to come back stronger than ever. Looking up, she gave the woman a weary smile and utilized the help. Her leg was still aching, mainly from where Ariana had clawed her, but otherwise, she had been fine, “I’ll be fine, and thank you. I think it was my pride more than anything. Plus, I doubt they’d see me. I don’t actually go here. I was just checking out the campus.” She dusted herself off and hobbled back away from the woman to give her some space, “Question is do you need help? That box looks pretty heavy.”

Morgan was too concerned with giving the girl a once-over for obvious signs of injury to think about hiding her confusion at her question. “Do I--huh?” Then she looked at her box, crammed to the limit with books, balanced easily with one arm on her hip. “Oh! Yeah, you know I uh…” She pulled back and switched to both arms, twisting her face into her best grimace. “It is really heavy. Just--whew!” Without thinking, she lifted a hand to wipe her brow, trying to really sell the idea. “But I work out, you know? Lifting...weights and stuff. Anyways, I don’t mean to keep you if you’re headed to class. Unless there’s something I can help with? I’ve only been teaching here for a little bit, but I know my way around pretty well I think?”

The teenager narrowed her eyes for a moment but shrugged it off. If she had it under control, “Right. Well as long as it’s not hurting you or anything.” Layla eased up and shifted a little in her stance, still adjusting from the fall, “I’m not a student or anything like that. I mean I’ve thought about coming here. Well college. I’ve thought about college. But life kinda got in the way, and I don’t know if it’s something that will ever really be in the cards now.” She shifted her eyes to the ground. The redhead had imagined so much for her future. Getting away from her parents. Starting her own life free of the supernatural. Marrying the love of her life and starting a family. But her plans had changed the night she was bitten. “Do you maybe have some brochures or something?” It wouldn’t hurt to take some home, right? At least she could look them over and have something to hold onto and dream about.

Something about the girl’s words struck Morgan as familiar. It reminded her of Frankie, of course, who was still too new to town and wary of hope to enroll just yet. And by extension, she remembered herself. ‘Life happened’ and ‘things just came up’ were her favorite shorthand for her curse. Saying the word itself was out of the question, and if she went down the line of particulars, she always feared someone would think her too needy and dramatic. And, heck, maybe she was, but when you had to keep your chin up while the world fell around you for the third or fourth time, sometimes you wanted the world to turn on a spotlight and notice and say it was fucking sorry. “I’m just an adjunct for now, but I do have an info sheet for drop-ins somewhere in here. You know, UMWC is one of the more affordable universities out there and I think the financial aid office is more understanding than most, which is the best one can hope for until we get free education someday--but, anyway--” Morgan set down her box and started digging through all her books. Of course, the folder she was looking for was smushed down at the very bottom. “If you’ve got the time and the will, I’ll try and do what I can to help you out here, if you decide to go for it. You wanna tell me a little about your situation, or at least your name, so I know who I’m helping?”

She watched as the woman sat the box down and began digging for papers. Dropping in on a class could be fun. Layla had always taken pride in learning new things. Well, things that interested her. Having her parents force her to learn about werewolves, survival in the wilderness, first aid, and other practical things a hunter needed to know had never been her idea of fun. Except for archery. She had taken on a love of archery. About the only thing she had found pleasant at the expense of her mother and father’s fortune, “Really? I mean I don’t exactly have the means to afford college right now, and I got into some trouble a little while ago…” Every day she had regretted what she had done to Sam and Took’s, and now, she would be paying for it; as she rightly believed she should. Biting at her bottom lip, she was almost hesitant to give her name, but decided to anyways, “Uh, Layla. My name’s Layla.”

“I’m sure whatever happened, the admissions office has seen worse,” Morgan assured her. She had to unload all the books, and the magic game of Tetris she’d been able to rig together was doomed to be wrecked. She paused in her work just as she fished out the folder in question. “Wait--Layla. Do you--?” Her face wrinkled with curiosity. It seemed unlikely, but White Crest was a small town… “Are you friends with Ari and Ulf? I just--I’ve heard of you from them. And Blanche. I’m friends with them too, to be clear. Whatever happened to you before, it’s safe with me. Oh, and uh, that goes for whether you’re the same Layla I’ve heard about or not, obviously.” Morgan passed her the info sheet. “I’m Morgan, by the way.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” Getting in trouble with the law wasn’t exactly a good thing, especially when it came to jobs and college admissions, but if she didn’t at least try, she’d never know. It was the woman’s reply that caught Layla off guard. So, this woman did know of her. Did she know about Blanche’s car? “Yep. I...I live with them. So, I’m guessing if you know Blanche, you probably know some other stuff…” She looked towards the ground embarrassed, before catching the info sheet out of the corner of her eye. Slowly reaching out for it, she gave the woman a small smile, but kept her head down, until her name was confirmed. Morgan. She knew Blanche. She had seen them interacting online before. Did that mean that she knew about the car situation? “I think we’ve talked online before, about pie prizes and college and stuff.”

Morgan clocked Layla’s embarrassment instantly. From what she knew of the girl there were a lot of reasons she might feel that way. Between her public social media and a truly ridiculous crisis with a fidget spinner, she had gotten herself into a lot of trouble. The mention of Blanche, however, gave her some idea. “We have,” Morgan said. “And I do know about some of your more dramatic misadventures. Including that it wasn’t your fault. The stuff with your fidget...toy thing? You, at the very least, were not in full control of your actions. So, if you’re looking for a guilt trip about Blanche’s car or what you did to Ariana, I’m just not that person. And, I think I said this online at some point, but just so we’re clear: you’re still a good kid, Layla. And even if life is happening a lot to you, you shouldn’t give up on your future.”

Morgan had said something that Layla had needed to hear. In so many ways, people had shown the girl that they cared and believed in her. But for some reason, hearing it from a stranger, she had only briefly talked to online, seemed to linger in her mind. Whether it was just the right moment or something in the air, she was glad she had run into Morgan. With a little more confidence, she forced herself to look up and make eye contact, “I guess I just struggle with believing I deserve those things. I was told all my life that if I didn’t follow a certain path, I was going to fail. And I didn’t, and the failure part kind of came true…” She kicked at the ground, her eyes settling downward for a moment as she fought back tears, “But I want a chance at a future and a good life.” Raising her head, she looked back at Morgan, “I just don’t know how to achieve it. And, I know this sounds crazy, but I’m...scared…”

Morgan gave the young wolf a knowing look and started to re-pile her things all over again, now with much less paranoia about showing her super strength. “This might sound wild, but you’re really not alone in that feeling. I feel like for some people you just...get so used to being stepped on, it gets easier to think you deserve it than to believe that you don’t. But, you’re still here. And you’re still a good kid. And not every voice in your head is telling you the truth.” She smirked good-naturedly at Layla’s last statement and threw in the rest of her things. “First of all, you’re talking to a gal with a decent-sized history of depression and anxiety. Crazy-slash-scared-slash-sad is sometimes just another Tuesday if I’m in a low. Second of all, this is a pretty rational thing to feel scared about. Everyone’s afraid of the future, and of things not turning out the way they want. We want to plan, and we want to make our dreams come true, and…” Morgan paused for a moment, letting out a sigh for her past self. “The more we want something, especially when we’re not used to having good things at all...I think for some people that can be one of the scariest things there is. The trick is not letting the fear control you too much. So uh, maybe try out that application? Think about what you’d wanna major in?”

She hadn’t expected to come to campus and have a therapy session, but it was appreciative. And she knew Morgan was right. Layla’s life, while full and financially stable up until this last year, had been full of heartache. Coming from a home with parents who constantly put her down had certainly done a number on Layla’s mind and own self-worth. But the woman was right. What did she have to lose? The worst that could happen is she would be rejected. She just wasn’t sure where the money would come from to pay for college, but at least if she applied, it would be a step in the right direction, “I guess I could try that. At least I would know if they would accept me.” She chewed on her lip and thought for a moment, “Well, I was thinking about fashion, but I don’t see White Crest, Maine as being a big fashion town.” She laughed softly, once more looking down at the application, “What would you recommend?”

Morgan hefted her box on her hip and dusted herself off. “There’s more offered here than you’d expect,” she said. “I wouldn’t give up on something so fast just because you’re not in the epicenter of New York or Paris or something. I bet whatever textile arts program they have here can set you up with an internship in Augusta or Bangor later on in your degree plan. But there’s nothing that says you have to decide right away either. Just, show up as undecided. Take your time with some basics and electives. See what you really like and what you’re really good at.” She shrugged and reached out a comforting hand to squeeze Layla’s shoulder before backing away, gesturing to the young wolf to follow her to the staff parking lot. “Obviously I think you should take my lit seminar for your English credit, because my students get to do things like write their own stories and read cool, sometimes creepy books, in my humble opinion. But I’m a bit biased, obviously. And look, the more you try things out in the beginning, the easier it’ll be to figure out what you really want. What matters is that you let yourself actually try, Layla.”

Layla took in all the words carefully. There was some good advice to be pulled from what Morgan was telling her. She had a lot to think about. If she wanted to go to college, it was now or never right. Maybe signing up for a few classes wouldn’t be so bad, if she could get financial aid. She had remembered talking to her high school guidance counselor about her options, but scholarships had been on the table back then. Nevertheless, at this moment, it was just her standing in her own way...or so she thought. In all her talk of going back to school, she hadn’t even taken her parents into consideration. If she was trying to lay low, this wasn’t the way to do it. But she still wanted to hear Morgan out and following her to her car meant that something in her life could feel normal for at least the briefest of moments. It might have been a pipe dream, but the more information she got, the better off she would be if she, in fact, was able to have a future that held her dreams, and that was something she was holding out hope for.

[myflutteringheartcondition]

anyway so TROS has a brutal, loveless, miserable ending that was completely unnecessary (and makes me feel sick).

obviously im talking about the fate of Ben Solo, and how it's probably the least hopeful ending i could think of for him. here's my numbered list on the top 5 worst things TROS did to Ben (in no particular order, they all suck).

Palpatine threw him down a pit. Basic fact, Ben spent his whole life tortured by Palpatine/Snoke, canonically even when he was still in the womb. Palpatine/Snoke poisoned his entire life, and I’d like to make the obvious statment that: it wasn’t Ben’s fault. He was child, and no one around him was there to/willing to help him. No one looked at him and wanted to protect him, not really. Leia may have sent him to Luke under the guise of protection, but really it was all fear based. She just wanted someone to fix him. Ben Solo has been disregarded and shoved aside his whole life. Here are a few quick examples:  -as i just mentioned he was sent away (despite his mother being a fully trained Jedi) because his feelings and the force conflicted. -Luke tried to kill him for the same reasons his parents feared him -Snoke treated him like a play toy and was never satisfied with him (literally throwing Kylo to the ground when he disappointed) -and then at the end of TLJ, Luke just openly taunts him for being a screw up! Therefore, being disregarded as unimportant in the final take down (with his life long abuser), like he has been his entire life is the worst sentiment. At the very end, when Kylo Ren is dead, and Ben Solo has reemerged you’d think that the narrative would finally give him a strong standing. He knows who he is, he finally knows what he wants, and after being tortured he rises up to dig his feet in, AND YET Palpatine was still able to treat him like actual garbage. Throw him down a pit! And that's it! Just Ben Solo disregarded... again. 

Leia's love redeemed him. Relax, I think Leia reaching out (and giving Ben the Han memory/vision thing? correct me gently if I’m wrong) was fantastic. Like despite feeling rejected by his parents, and in an ironic twist telling Rey to stop needing her parents in TLJ, Kylo can’t stop needing his parents. After killing his father, it’s so clear that he was full of intense amounts of regrets, but to him it was his moment of no return. He did it, because he was brainwashed into believing that this is who he was meant to be. Leia was afraid of him, Luke saw evil in him, Palpatine/Snoke whispered in his ear forever convincing him that we was supposed to be the bad guy. The New Vader. But Leia reaching out, Han’s memory, and the forgiveness it afford him is what gave him strength to go back to light. That’s beautiful. He finally understood that his parents loved him, no matter where he stood. BUT. But, here is the flaw. This is why I feel this was dirty. What was Leia's motive? It was completely ambiguous. All three movies we are unsure how she feels about Ben, other than: she thought he'd come back, then she was sure he wouldn't (oh and i guess she didn’t initially want to forget about him). She only decided to reach out when she could sense Rey (and the whole of the Resistance) was in danger. Apparently, she could have called to his resoundingly conflicted heart, at anytime but for whatever reason she didn't. Who’s to say if the intent really was to make him feel loved/understood, I mean Maz has a speech about it explaining what Leia was doing--the last attempt to save Ben Solo. But without that???? Totally unclear. What was she even doing? The timing that she did it in, can’t lead me to any other can conclusion than a last stitch effort to save the Resistance. Ben recieved so much from it. It literally caused his transformation, but was that even Leia’s intent? I think the movie wants you to assume that it was. But it’s also confusing, and holds itself up for scrutiny because she called to him at the perfect moment for Rey to kill him. I guess she just hoped Rey wouldn't???? I mean it seems like Rey sensed Leia’s presence/message too, and maybe that was Leia finally protecting her son. If this was all Ben needed, his mom to say his name, and his father to forgive him, it irks me that Leia wouldn’t try before that moment. 

“Just you,” and then it was literally just Rey. Let’s do a quick play by play, Kylo gets the upper hand during the Death Star fight, Leia distracts him, Rey decides to kill him, hears Leia too, force heals him, tells him she wanted Ben Solo’s hand not Kylo’s, ditches his ass again. Then Kylo sees Han, throws the coolest light saber ever into the ocean, and is finally Ben Solo. Amazing. Ben then goes to Rey where Palpatine is, kicks ass against the Knights of Ren, alone (apart from that dope force bond light saber trick), he and Rey team up again, the find out they are two halves of the same soul, Ben gets tossed like garbage, Rey did that, she dies, Ben saves her, they kiss, and that’s the end of Ben Solo. That’s it. No one sees Ben Solo but Rey. All Kylo could see in the force bond was Just Rey, and the only person who got to see Ben Solo alive and complete, was Just Rey. That’s not pretty. That doesn’t even strike me as romantic. That’s soul crushing. Ben Solo will never get to exist outside of what Rey saw. He died hated by everyone. He died, and he will be forgotten. Left behind like a villain, who’s redemption was saw by only one. If Ben had lived, he would have been able to thrive and become someone who was loved and appreciated by others. It’s sick, and unfair that he died essentially alone. With only one person to remember him fondly. The Skywalker legacy ends in unseen heroism, and a whole galaxy of hate. 

Rey fought Palpatine alone. Most of why this is garbage is in point 1, but I have to expand it a bit more with Rey V. Palpatine. Ben and Rey should have fought Palpatine together. Rey didn’t need a shining moment of heroism where she did the final battle all alone. Rey and Ben, as canonically established, are two sides of the same coin. Two halves of the same soul. One protagonist, two characters. She had Luke’s light saber, and Leia’s. Ben should have gotten to use Leia’s against Palpatine. They should have fought side by side, in the final stand of being together, being one. Because Rey had even LESS build up to deserve a win over Snoke. All of her backstory and connection to him was crammed in our faces in the third act of this trilogy. Ben's fight has been waiting since day one. It was bizarre and cruel to give Rey both light sabers. 

He died.

[flightfoot]

We’re the Same Ch. 6

AO3/FFN

The Hawkmoth confrontation at last!

Disclaimer:  This is a Lovesquare fic, with Identity Reveal, Hawkmoth Reveal, and Hawkmoth Defeat. It is NOT a salt fic.

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“You remember the plan?” Damian asked.

Adrien, Marinette, and Ducard nodded. 

About an hour after he’d left Ducard, he’d seen reports that Ladybug and Chat Noir were running around Paris. Deciding that this probably meant they were done talking for now, he’d met up with them again. 

Ladybug had yelled at him about kidnapping them and stealing their Miraculous. He’d just stood there, bored. He’d had worse.

His mouth twitched as he suppressed a smile, thinking of when she asked about the position she and Adrien had found themselves in.

“And another thing!” she yelled, clearly trying to get out all her pent-up frustration and anger before they faced Hawkmoth, “you had no right putting us on top of each other like that!”

Chat looked hurt, eyes dropping to the ground, tail drooping.

Ladybug noticed immediately. Her voice softened. “I’m not complaining about the result, just that he put us in a somewhat intimate position like that without even knowing us, much less with consent.”

Chat perked up again, his tail doing a happy little twitch, and he nodded, agreeing with her.

Damian sniggered.

Ladybug scowled at him. “And what’s so funny?!”

“Ducard and I DIDN’T position you two on top of each other,” he said. “Both of you were a few feet away from each other, backs against the wall.”

Ladybug’s eyes furrowed. “Then how-”

She stopped.

And groaned.

“I crawled into his lap I’m guessing?” Ladybug said, resigned.

Damian nodded, still smirking.

She sighed. “I really shouldn’t be surprised. When I was little and stayed in Maman and Papa’s bed, I’d apparently end up sandwiched between them regardless of where I started out. Papa used to call me a heat-seeking missile.”

She glared at Damian again. “You’re still on the hook for everything else though.”

Damian leaned back, waiting for her to finish berating him. He’d survived Pennyworth’s lectures. This? This was nothing.

“What’re you smiling about?” Marinette asked him suspiciously.

Damian ignored her, checking the cameras instead. “Gabriel’s in the dining hall, so we should have a good window right now. I just started looping the cameras. We’re invisible starting… now!”

The four of them quietly snuck from Adrien’s room to Gabriel’s atelier, Damian quickly picking the lock. Child’s play for a former member of the League of Assassins, or a Robin for that matter.

Damian made his way over to the portrait of Emilie, pressing the sequence of buttons he’d captured Gabriel using to access the massive underground chamber.

He wanted to know where the second sequence he’d seen Gabriel enter on the cameras would lead, but now wasn’t the time. While he suspected that it had something to do with the other secret room, the one he’d been unable to gain access to, he couldn’t be sure. Even if it was, he didn’t know what to expect to find. He could handle anything Hawkmoth threw at him, he was sure. But his companions? Maybe not.

Plus…

He looked over at Adrien.

Truthfully, Damian didn’t need to visit that underground chamber again. He’d seen most of what he needed to for now.

But Adrien DID. 

He hadn’t asked, but… he needed to see his mother.

If Damian had a beloved family member he thought was dead, but turned out to be merely asleep, no force on heaven or earth would have been able to stop him from seeing them. Hell, when he’d discovered that Grayson had faked his death, had reunited with him - well, Damian didn’t initiate hugs often. 

But that day? He’d taken a page out of Grayson’s book and glomped him.

(Not that he’d tell anyone ELSE that, and if Grayson ever brought it up he’d just claim he must have memory loss in his old age)

When proposing entering the chamber, he’d justified it as having the kwamis take a closer look at Emilie, see whether they could glean more than he could. Which wasn’t a lie - they may be able to figure out what was going on with her even when he couldn’t - but it wasn’t the main reason. They could go back and examine Emilie after defeating Hawkmoth. 

He wasn’t going to make Adrien wait that long.

No one had questioned his proposal. Probably because everyone agreed - even if no one stated the true reason out loud.

The elevator activated. 

The four of them looked at the small hole in the floor that had opened up, then disappeared.

“...I thought maybe there was some sort of visual distortion with how small that hole looked,” Ducard said.

Damian grimaced. “Nope.”

“...This is gonna be cramped, won’t it?”

“Yep.”

And that’s how the four of them ended up crammed together within a circle maybe two feet in diameter, heading downwards.

While he had a feeling that Marinette and Adrien were enjoying being so close, he’d really rather not be shoved up against them.

Luckily, the elevator expanded slightly as they moved downwards. It was still cramped and small, but more “sardines in a can” and less “Grayson playing Twister”.

As they descended, the cavern opened up around them, the lights coming on.

A sharp intake of breath came from beside him.

Damian looked in the direction of the noise.

Adrien stared forwards, eyes fixed on the distant capsule.

When the doors opened he stumbled out, quickly regaining his balance, and dashed towards the pod where his mother lay.

Marinette ran after him, seeming to not want to let more than a few feet separate her from her partner.

He and Ducard hung back, as Adrien reached his mother.

SHE WAS HERE.

He ran his finger over the pod, fighting back tears. Just a few feet away, his mother lay, ALIVE.

Frantically he glanced around, searching for a button or switch or something to open it.

“I’ve got this, kid.”

He glanced up.

Plagg flew out, entering the pod’s control system. A few seconds later, it opened.

There she was.

Trembling, he stretched out a hand, fearful that she would dissolve into mist.

What if she was an illusion?

But - no.

He touched soft skin.

She was cool, but- she didn’t feel dead.

His head snapped up, and he opened his mouth to ask-

There was no need. 

Plagg flew around Emilie, Tikki joining him as Marinette caught up.

“She’s definitely in a magical coma,” Tikki announced after a few tense seconds. “Caused by using a broken Miraculous I’m guessing.”

“Can… can you wake her up?” Adrien asked hopefully.

Tikki shook her head. “If it was that simple, Nooroo could’ve done it.”

“Then… how can we heal her?” he asked.

He desperately wanted her to be okay. To have her RIGHT HERE and still lose her…

He bit back a sob. 

“I’m not sure yet,” Tikki replied. “The last time this happened, I wasn’t privy to the details on how the victim was woken up.”

“But they DID wake up?” Adrien asked.

She nodded. “Unfortunately, the people who held that knowledge aren’t around anymore.”

“Even…?”

She shook her head, cutting him off. “ALL the people.”

“So it’s hopeless after all?” Adrien asked, heart falling.

He KNEW it was too good to be true.

“No. It’s not.”

Adrien turned around.

Robin looked at him, eyes weirdly gentle. “I know some people, many of whom are skilled in magic. Maybe none of them know the method that was used to wake up the other victim, but I bet at least one of them can come up with a way to bring her back.”

“You sure?”

He knew he sounded plaintive, like a small child asking whether the family dog would be okay after being taken to the vet for a severe injury, but at that moment, he felt like a small child.

He just… he just wanted his mom back.

Robin shook his head. “Nothing’s for sure. But I can give it my best shot. She WILL be taken care of, whatever happens; THAT, I can promise you. And this time, she won’t be hidden away. You’ll be able to visit her while I try to find a cure.”

Adrien bit his lip, tears filling his eyes.

There was hope.

Not much, but more than he’d ever had before.

Marinette placed a hand on his back, giving him a soft, sad smile.

He leaned against her, melting into her touch.

Most of his world may have been upended. But his partner was still here. 

An alert sounded from a device Robin was holding, the same one that had displayed the feeds from the cameras Robin had installed. He checked it, eyes widening.

“Down below, NOW!” 

Wait, what?

He didn’t get a chance to ponder it further. 

“Tikki, Spots On!”

Ladybug grabbed him and jumped off the edge of the railing, hooking her yo-yo on one of the supports. Before they descended out of sight, he saw Robin hit a button on the capsule, sealing it once more.

Adrien blushed. They did this kind of thing all the time as Ladybug and Chat Noir, but up close like this untransformed? He felt vulnerable, but… kinda in a good way? He knew that she was more powerful - WAY more powerful than him like this, but also that she would never hurt him. That she’d care about any discomfort he showed. That she’d never take advantage of him, or try to get him to do something he didn’t want to do. That she’d protect him.

He didn’t need to put up barriers with her to protect himself, didn’t need to pretend to be okay when he wasn’t. Not now.

He buried his head against her shoulder. Ladybug adjusted her grip, pulling him closer so she could stroke his hair comfortingly.

He fought back a purr. They needed to be stealthy now, and a purr might be a giveaway.

But damn was it tempting.

He felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

He lifted his head reluctantly.

Robin had apparently had the same idea Ladybug did, having fired a grappling gun at one of the supports. His friend had done the same thing, though she’d actually managed to find a small ledge to stand on.

Robin activated the display on his device, zooming in on one particular screen - the one pointed at the elevator shaft.

Someone was descending.

Adrien’s stomach twisted.

Hewasn’treadyhewasn’treadyHEWASN’TREADY-

Gabriel Agreste, fashion mogul, magical terrorist, and his FATHER, stepped out.

Adrien stopped breathing.

Eyes locked onto the display, he stared as his father strode to the pod.

To his mother.

Footsteps sounded overhead.

Adrien flinched, convinced that somehow his father would hear them. Would charge down and-

And do what?

He shuddered. Before this, he thought the worst he could do was yell at his friends and bar him from seeing them.

Now? Now he was worried his father would flat-out MURDER them if he thought it might help with his goals. He’d never seemed overly concerned with how dangerous his akumas were before after all, and didn’t give a crap that they were kids.

Oh no, wait. He DID care, but only because it made it easier to sneer at them about how weak they are. 

He really didn’t give a damn about anything or anyone outside of his goals, did he?

*kaCHUNKwhirrr*

Adrien shuddered as he heard the pod’s door open. Right now, his father was looking at his mother. His mother, who he’d been able to see and visit all along. Could have taken HIM to see her.

But he hadn’t.

“There were some new superheroes today.”

Adrien gasped slightly, restarting his breathing. Hearing his father’s voice - hearing HAWKMOTH’S voice - down here? Made it seem more real to him.

“Robin, from Gotham City, and some new girl, both riding atop a massive beast. Any one of them would make good prey for my akumas, though one seemed more susceptible than the others. There was much turmoil in young Robin, a deep undercurrent of guilt. I just need to figure out how to bring it to the surface, and I’ll have my most powerful akuma yet.”

A deep undercurrent of guilt? Robin was just a kid - he wasn’t even certain he was old enough to be in collège, he was so small. Heck, he still had baby teeth! What could’ve happened to him that made him feel so guilty?

He looked over at Robin, gauging his reaction. Robin had gone stony-faced, holding himself rigidly.

Adrien had a sudden urge to give him a hug. He may not have been too happy about being kidnapped - though he’d never regret the sleepy cuddles that’d resulted from it - but right now, he just wanted to tell Robin that whatever he was feeling so guilty about, it was okay. 

“Oh, Emilie… I miss you so much. My last plan may have failed, but soon, soon I will succeed and bring you back to us. I will destroy Ladybug and Chat Noir and take their Miraculous!”

Destroy.

That sounded an awful lot like ‘kill’.

“Until then, I’ll look after our son. He’ll never truly be happy until you come back. Everything I do, I do so we can be a family again.”

He- he thought- and for that he threatened MURDER- for HIS SAKE?!

For his HAPPINESS?!

NO.

“Plagg, Claws out!”

“No!” he heard Robin hiss.

He knew he shouldn’t do this.

That he should just sit still and quiet.

But hearing him talk about destroying - about KILLING - him and Marinette?

And that it was all for his and his mother’s sake? As if they wanted this - As if it EXCUSED this?

He’d sat quietly and done what he was told his whole life.

Now that he could fight back? When his father was THREATENING the people he cared about, and claiming it was for his sake?

He couldn’t hide any longer.

“Wha-? Nooroo, Dark Wings Rise!”

As Chat propelled himself onto the walkway, a light flashed over his father.

Leaving Chat facing Hawkmoth.

“How did you find this place?!” Hawkmoth spat at him, tapping on Emilie’s pod, sealing it shut.

“Because you’re an idiot.”

Chat glanced back, seeing Ladybug and Robin swinging over the railing. Briefly he wondered where Ducard was, then dismissed the thought. She was Robin’s friend, anyone who could keep up with him could probably take care of themselves.

 Robin continued, “Honestly, did you really think NO ONE would notice that the floor plans didn’t match the actual Manor? You wouldn’t have lasted a week in Gotham.”

His father scoffed. “This will be your undoing. You think that mere CHILDREN can defeat me? Or did you return for another beating?”

“How. Dare. You.” Ladybug hissed, looking like she dearly wished she was Kryptonian so she could murder his father with eye lasers.

“...Why.”

His father frowned. “Excuse me?”

“WHY?!” Chat yelled, clenching his fist. “Why would you DO this?! HOW could you do this?!”

“To bring her back to me,” His father gestured at the pod behind him, “I would do ANYTHING.”

Chat gritted his teeth. “She would HATE what you’ve done. Hate YOU. Mom wouldn’t want this!”

He froze.

OH NO.

“...Adrien?”

He didn’t answer, just intensifying his glare in response.

“You would let your mother stay like this? How ashamed would she be of you, of her SON, who should love her above all else?”

Ashamed?

No…

NO.

She wouldn’t be… Mom wouldn’t be… she cared. She was a GOOD PERSON. There’s no way she’d go along with father’s plans! 

She- she wouldn’t be ashamed of him… right?

Guilt gnawed at his stomach. 

He glanced over at Ladybug, still glaring daggers at Hawkmoth.

Even if she was… he couldn’t betray his friends. Couldn’t endanger people.

He may be a bad son. 

But he just… couldn’t do that.

His father rushed forwards suddenly, driving his cane into Chat’s stomach.

All air left his lungs as he was flattened on the floor. 

Leaving him motionless, unable to scrape together the energy to do more than twitch.

His father loomed over him, glaring down, angry and disappointed.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

Ladybug barreled into his father, sending him flying. 

Leaning down, she took Chat’s hand. “Don’t listen to a word he says. Don’t let him reverse the roles. HE’S the bad guy, NOT YOU. You hear me, Chat? NOT. YOU.”

He teared up, giving her a quick hug.

Wait.

Why wasn’t his father attacking?

“TOUCH HIM AGAIN AND I’LL KILL YOU!”

*sning* *sning*

Chat watched as Robin swiped at Hawkmoth with the long metal claws he’d just extended from his gloves.

Ok, how did ROBIN have retractable claws while he didn’t?!

Hawkmoth dodged most of the blows, though a few connected.

Mere metal couldn’t pierce a Miraculous-made suit.

But it didn’t need to.

Chat narrowed his eyes.

At first glance, it looked like Robin was simply swinging wildly in a rage, attempting to hurt Hawkmoth as much as possible. But looking closer, most of the blows were just below the neck area.

Right where the Butterfly Miraculous rested.

Unfortunately, his father realized it too.

He jumped back thirty feet, far out of range.

Cursing profusely, Robin attempted to follow him, firing off a zipline, swinging himself closer to Hawkmoth.

But to no avail. His father simply jumped out of range again.

Chat staggered to his feet, Ladybug slinging her arm around his shoulders, propping him up. “I’m- I’m okay. We have to-” he sputtered out. 

He glanced behind Ladybug.

“MOVE!”

He threw himself and Ladybug to the side, rolling them out of the way of Hawkmoth’s attack.

But that didn’t save him from the follow-up hit.

His father slammed his cane into Chat’s back. “You’d go this far for HER, for some girl, but not for your own mother?!” he sneered. “These friends of yours… they only want to drag you down, use you.”

Ladybug extracted herself from Chat’s embrace and threw her yo-yo, attempting to lasso his father. He knocked the yo-yo aside. “If Ladybug cared for you, she’d use her Miraculous and yours to revive your mother!”

He kicked Ladybug to the floor, leaving both her and Chat groaning. Slowly he walked towards Chat, seeming to savor the moment. “Oh Adrien… I gave you everything you could need. I raised you to be perfect. I gave you tutors, let you build your brand and influence by allowing you to model for me, even allowed you to hang out with your so-called friends, so long as they weren’t proving harmful to your education or reputation. I see now that was a mistake. They’ve poisoned you. The son I knew would never have done anything to endanger his mother. Would have obeyed his father.”

Chat turned over, attempting to crawl away - both from his father, and from Ladybug. 

His father was targeting him. If he could lead him away, then maybe His Lady could flee, get away long enough to come up with some sort of plan. 

Besides his… his father couldn’t really- he knew he was awful, but he’s his own son! He’d- he’d-

“Stop,” he forced out, attempting to put as much distance as he could between him and his father. His father stared down at him with cold, hard eyes. Same as he always did.

He reached for Chat’s hand.

“CATACLYSM!”

The black, destructive energy surrounded his hand. His father cursed, grabbing Chat’s wrist tightly enough that it felt like it was leaving bruises, lifting him off the ground.

A light dawned in his father’s eyes. He grinned.

“You want to keep the ring? So be it.”

He pressed a button on his cane, opening the top.

Chat watched, horrified, as an akuma fluttered out.

“ADRIEN!” 

He looked to the side. Ladybug ran toward him, a polka-dotted bag in her hand.

She was too far away. She wouldn’t be able to get to him in time.

She didn’t have to.

A figure dropped from above.

The butterfly entered Robin’s left glove.

“Well, this is unexpected,” his father mused. 

Robin clutched his head. “GET. OUT.”

“You believe that no one will forgive you for your past actions, that you’re irrevocably tainted, incapable of washing the blood off of your hands.” his father crooned. 

“Shut up…” Robin gritted out.

Blood on his hands? The kid hadn’t even hit puberty yet. 

What the heck was Robin’s past like?

“Your mother had you killed, your father and brothers only tolerate you because they don’t know the true depths of your evil.”

“YOU. DON’T. KNOW. ME.” Robin screamed.

“But I understand. I can help you. With my help, you can erase everything wrong you did, undo all harm. You won’t have to worry about the rest of your family abandoning you anymore, and finally you can be free of the guilt.”

“I… I don’t…”

Robin sounded… lost. Confused. Like a small child, wandering around looking for something, anything familiar to cling to.

From what his father was describing, it was no wonder. Seriously, what the HELL had this kid been through?

“Just bring me Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s Miraculous, and I can help you fix EVERYTHING.”

“I…”

*THWACK*

A red-and-black spotted bag rammed down on Hawkmoth’s head, using Chat’s staff as a handle. 

Which normally would probably be as effective as using a plastic bag on Robin had been earlier.

...Except that Ladybug had apparently learned from that and decided to do more than just temporarily blind Hawkmoth for two seconds. 

Namely, by using the make-shift butterfly net to scoop up several of the soon-to-be-akumas in it first.

And with his father already having his mouth open to continue monologuing…

He coughed and sputtered as several butterflies invaded his mouth.

Taking advantage of his father’s distraction, Chat quickly rolled to his feet, reaching out and touching Robin’s glove with his still-active cataclysm.

The glove disintegrated, freeing the akuma.

Ladybug quickly caught it in her yo-yo, before attempting to wrap it around his father again.

He stumbled back, spitting out butterfly wings - but still managed to just avoid the string.

The butterfly brooch pulled away, seemingly on its own.

His father froze, as Hawkmoth was replaced by Gabriel Agreste.

“Wha-” 

He tried to snatch the brooch out of midair where it floated, but it darted away.

The brooch zoomed off. His father tried to run after it, but Ladybug was having none of it. For the third time, she tried to lasso him.

This time, she succeeded.

He crashed to the floor, cursing.

The brooch floated towards Robin.

Ducard flickered into view, holding the Miraculous.

Oh.

So his memories of her appearing out of thin air weren’t delusions; she could turn invisible.

She must’ve been sneaking around the entire battle, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Shakily he walked over to his father.

He glared up at him, sneering - but with a hint of fear in his eyes.

Only a couple minutes ago his father had loomed over him.

Now their situations were reversed.

Looking down at him like this, he didn’t seem like the powerful, terrifying figure he’d been moments before - had been for most of Adrien’s life if he was being honest with himself.

But now? He was just a guy.

He wasn’t some overwhelming force, overshadowing everything Adrien thought or did. 

Nor a looming threat over all of Paris, waiting to prey on any negative emotion, any moment of sadness, anger, or fear.

He was just a man.

He always had been.

“Well?” his father spat. “Are you really going to do this, my son? Leave your mother in a coma? Strike back against me?”

“Stop calling me that,” he hissed. “DON’T call me your son - not after this. You never cared about me as a person, as your son - just as your property. You didn’t ‘allow’ me to model for you - you mandated it. I didn’t want to ‘build my brand’ - just have friends, go outside - be a regular kid! But that wasn’t something you cared about so it didn’t matter to you. 

And you’ve been doing the same thing as Hawkmoth! I love Mom, I want her back - but the price would be to submit someone else to her fate. I can’t do that. Even if I didn’t know them, someone else would still pay the price. Whether they were close to me personally, they still matter.

But not to you. You only place value on those you consider to belong to you. And even then only when they do what you consider ‘acceptable’. Everyone else is just… just tools for you to get what you want, or obstacles to get in your way!”

He turned away. “I won’t be your tool. Not anymore. I’m not yours.” 

“How COULD you! I gave you everythi-”

*CRACK*

Chat whipped around.

Gabriel lay on the ground, unconscious. Robin standing beside him, fist still extended. 

“What? Did you really need to listen to him rant on anymore?” Robin asked.

Chat shook his head. “No, I- thank you.”

 His Miraculous beeped twice.

Three paw pads left.

“Claws in.”

Light flashed over him, Plagg leaving the ring.

Adrien pulled out some cheese for him from his inside jacket pocket. 

Watching Plagg devour the cheese wedge, his stomach seized as he thought of something. 

“I’m- I’m going to have to give you back,” he stammered, his face green.

Plagg paused his eating. “What nonsense are you talking about? I thought we settled this before. I’m not leaving. You’re stuck with me, kid.”

“But - I don’t have a choice now,” his eyes watered. He fought to keep them down. He had a feeling that if he started crying right now, he wouldn’t be able to stop. “He knows I’m Chat Noir. He might not be able to do anything himself, but what’s going to stop him from just telling everyone? Even if the media refused to air it, he’s bound to run into people in prison he can tell.”

“He won’t tell anyone, because he won’t remember.”

Adrien turned towards Robin, worried. “You knocked him out so hard you gave him amnesia?”

Robin scoffed. “No. If I tried, he’d probably end up in the hospital for brain damage. I know of an organization with a special tool that can erase memories like that.”

“...Should I ask whether this is legal?”

“No.”

“Is it safe at least?”

“For this? It shouldn’t cause him any harm. There’s not much to make him forget.”

He breathed out. He was still trepidatious, but… well, some part of him wanted to trust Robin. And if it came between Gabriel’s safety and Plagg’s safety? (And he wasn’t going to kid himself, Plagg would try to follow him even if he gave the Black Cat Miraculous back to Fu.) He would choose Plagg.

Ladybug put a hand on his shoulder. “Adrien? Are you- of course you’re not okay, who would be? But…”

He shot her a small smile. It felt false. “I’ll be fine.”

Her eyebrows creased. She looked even more worried, but didn’t press the subject.

Ducard walked over to Ladybug, handing over the brooch. “I’m guessing you know what to do with this?”

She nodded. “We’ll make sure the Miraculous goes where it belongs,” she said, taking the piece of jewelry and stowing it in her yo-yo.

Adrien wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It was so… final. He kept on believing that in a minute he might blink and be back where he was, with Hawkmoth leering over him, winding up to hit him.

But… the brooch was gone now. He couldn’t just… wake up and grab it. It was out of his reach, even if he did wake up unexpectedly.

It just seemed unreal.

Ladybug retrieved her Lucky Charm, throwing it into the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!”

The ladybugs swirled around them, repairing what little damage had been done.

The raw ache in Adrien’s body disappeared. He hadn’t even realized how much he was still feeling his father’s beating until it was gone.

A ringtone sounded from his father’s unconscious body. Adrien blinked.

Mechanically he walked over, looking at the caller ID.

Nathalie’s face greeted him.

He stared numbly. In the excitement, he’d forgotten about her.

Robin checked his monitoring device. “She’s in Gabriel’s office, heading over to the painting.”

Heading over to-

His stomach seized.

She definitely knew.

He’d assumed she did, but-

“Everyone, HIDE!” Robin hissed.

Ladybug’s earrings beeped. He glanced at them. Only one dot left now.

She cursed, dragging his father into the foliage before crouching down herself.

Adrien followed her lead, crouching down beneath a bush.

“Spots off,” she muttered, detransforming.

The yo-yo string that had been wrapped around his father disappeared, leaving him limp on the ground.

Adrien froze, staring at him.

Marinette was right there, within easy reach if he woke up. 

He wasn’t moving beyond the slow, soft rising and falling of his chest.

But- what if he was faking?

He shook his head. No, no. Robin had knocked him out himself. And while his way of making friends was… questionable, his skill was not.

So why couldn’t he stop seeing images of him waking up? Of him grabbing her by the neck while she was looking away? Ripping her earrings out, and-  

His train of thought ground to a halt, refusing to contemplate what his father might do if Marinette resisted.

“Breathe, kid, breathe,” Plagg’s voice whispered. 

He took a breath, letting it out slowly.

Still, he couldn’t help staring, looking for the slightest twitch of movement.

*whirreeee*

Until the noise started up, that is. 

He looked over to the elevator, tensing. He wanted to keep watching his father, but with danger on two fronts…

*clunk*

The elevator landed, its doors opening.

Nathalie - his father’s assistant, the woman who’d been mostly parenting him since his mother... disappeared, who he thought might even become his stepmother - stepped out.

Hawkmoth’s accomplice.

She looked around. “Sir? You didn’t answer your phone, are you- AAAH!”

Tripping seemingly on thin air (though Adrien suspected it was rather more solid than that), she faceplanted onto the floor.

As she struggled to get back up, something seemed to be pinning her in place. 

“Wha- who-?”

Robin jumped down from where he’d been hanging, retracting his grappling gun’s line.

“This is assault!” Nathalie spat. “I don’t know how they do things in Gotham, but-”

“I don’t think anyone’s going to protest taking down Hawkmoth’s accomplice,” Robin sneered. 

Fear flashed across her face. Still, she did her best to maintain her composure. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Robin rolled his eyes. “Right. You just HAPPENED to wander down to Hawkmoth’s lair, filled with the butterflies he uses, Gabriel’s comatose supposedly-dead wife, while calling for Gabriel.”

She glared at him as best she could while face-down, pinned to the ground. “Our lawyers will hear about this.”

“You do that.” Robin put one of his gloved hands over her face. Within seconds she stopped struggling, going limp.

“You can come out now,” he called out.

Adrien emerged from the bush. He looked over at Marinette, making sure she was well out of Gabriel’s (potential) reach, before walking over to Nathalie’s prone form.

“What did you do to her?” he asked slowly. Intellectually he knew that Nathalie had helped his father, had helped Hawkmoth, but… right now, it was hard to see anything but the woman who’d taken care of him for the past several months. Even knowing what she’d done, he didn’t want to see her hurt.

“Same thing I did to you and Marinette. She’ll wake up in a few hours.”

“Wait, you had that stuff still on hand?”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Then why didn’t you use that to knock my father out?”

“I wanted to punch him,” Robin said simply.

Adrien opened his mouth… and then closed it. He couldn't really deny that sentiment.

“What now?” he asked instead.

Robin looked at him. “You two can head home. I can take it from here.”

Marinette stalked up, seeming like she was about to protest… and then glanced over at Adrien. Her face softened. She looked back over at Robin. “DON’T hurt Nathalie, and make sure to give Gabriel back after wiping his memory. They’ll need to stand trial. And if you find the Peacock Miraculous, give it STRAIGHT over. No tests, no funny business. Got that?”

He glared at her a moment, but nodded. Ducard cut in, “I’ll make sure you get the Peacock back, don’t worry.”

She stared at them both, as if searching for their intentions, then nodded. 

Turning towards Adrien, she gave him a small smile, putting her arm around his shoulders. “Come on kitty, let’s go home.”

Home…? Where…?

With her.

She meant going home WITH HER.

Shakily he drew in breath. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

His father might be a monster.

His caretaker might be an accomplice.

His mother might be unconscious. 

But he still had people who loved him.

He still had places to call home.

[kilyra]

Some Tawdry Notch

Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer) One-Shot

A/N:  I received a request from @suitsofwo3 for a follow up to “A Deal is a Deal” with the following prompts from “100 Dialogue Prompts to Break a Reader’s Heart”: 52. “Oh, I was just another notch in your bedpost?”, 47. “You’re angry with me, I know.” and 64. “I’ve never seen that side of you.” (I had to modify 52 a bit to make it fit better, fyi). 

Lucifer had convinced you to join him at a charity event where he was trying to track down the source of the new Morningstar drug flooding the streets and ruining his reputation. Only things went sideways for you there and left you questioning your relationship.

Warnings: Language - eff bomb. No spoilers though. If you want to be on my tag lists, (all or just a character) just let me know!

Your utter exhaustion forced you into a few hours sleep, but you kept jerking awake with the image of a gun pointed at your face. Of course, even as you laid there, staring at the ceiling, you still saw it. It was too much. As dawn finally broke, you knew had to grab your stuff and move on from the man who put you in that position in the first place. Move on from Lucifer.

The plan was to get in, pack your shit, and get the hell back out.

You waited for a time where Lucifer wouldn't be home. It was late enough that even if, for some reason, he was hung over and moving slowly, he'd still already be at work. And it was early enough that even if a juicy case didn't cross Decker's desk, they'd still be at the precinct. Although considering the dramatic scene that unfolded at the charity event the night before, you expected they'd be busy.

But all that careful planning was for naught. As the elevator doors open, you saw Lucifer going through the desk he told you was all yours. Disappointment and rage battled for the right to lead as he looked up at you.

Letting the open folder slip from his fingers, he let out a long sigh as he smiled. “There you are! I was hoping to find a clue for where you might be in your desk, but all I found was boring work stuff.”

“No kidding,” you said in a flat tone. Crossing towards the bedroom you decided to pack your clothes first.

Taken by surprise with your curtness, his smile dropped. “Yes, well, no matter, because here you are. You had me worried when you disappeared on me last night.”

Scoffing, you went straight for the closet and pulled out your small suitcase. “I thought you weren't supposed to lie.”

Trailing after you, his voice got higher as insult crept in. “I don't and I'm not.”

Standing at the doorway, he watched as you roughly folded your clothes and shoved them in the case. Running his hand down the front of his dark vest, his perfectly sculpted eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Darling...what are you doing?”

“I'm packing.”

“Well, I can see that. But why? What's going on?”

Cramming the shirt you were holding into the case, you finally stopped to openly glare at him. Anger won the battle of emotions as he stared at you, dumbfounded. The absolute nerve of that man was unfathomable. “I'm just another notch on your bedpost, what the hell do you even care?”

His head darted back as though you slapped him. “I beg your pardon. You absolutely are not, whatever gave you that impression?”  

As he waited for your answer, his dark eyes were glued to yours. Shaking your head, you looked back down at the case as you zipped it up.

He couldn't let your icy silence hang in the air for long before trying again. “Okay, you're angry with me, I know that much. But I'm at a loss for why.”

Lucifer turned to the side, giving you plenty of space as you stormed out of the room, pushing past him. Not slowing until you reached the desk, you shoved your files to one edge to clear a spot for your suitcase. This time, it was files of paper you slapped on top of the clothes.

“If I'm not just a notch, then I don't know how else to explain last night.”

“Last night? You mean when gathering information was so successful, the detective ended up making a key arrest on the spot?”

You let out a low growl. Of course that's how he'd see it.

“No. I mean when you asked me to come with you to make you look less suspicious, to be a decoy at the most...and you used me as fucking bait instead.” Your voice cracked, betraying just how furious you were.

Confusion drifted across his pointed features as he tilted his head. “Bait? It was never my intention to use you as bait.”

Stopping with a loud smack, you kept your hand on the paper pile as you glared at him. His lost expression made it all worse. "Right. So then why was it floating around the event that I wanted to meet with the councilman?

“I haven't the faintest idea. When I put the word out that someone wanted to meet with the councilman, I meant myself.”

Clenching your hand, you crumpled papers under your fingers as you fought to keep your anger at bay. He deserved it; he deserved all your anger, but you just wanted to finish packing and get out. You were so exhausted it was hard to think straight. Gritting your teeth, you struggled to keep your voice even.

“Then why did I have a gun pulled on me?”

“Because having money doesn't equate to intelligence, I'm afraid. And that includes the councilman. I mean honestly, pulling out a gun in the middle of an event like that? What did he think would happen?” Lucifer let out a soft chuckle as he tried to lighten the mood.

It didn't work.

Massaging your temples, you tried to combat the headache that started from the sudden head rush of your racing pulse. Colours floated over your vision from how hard your heart was pounding. You needed sleep. And for this to be over.

Narrowing his eyes, he cocked his head and took a few slow steps towards you. “Wait...is that what this is about? Because I promise you, with me and the detective there, you weren't in any real dang-”

“He had a gun pointed at my head!”

All the rage exploded through your chest, and your fingers trembled violently as you tried to grab more files. Looking down, you sniffed loudly, trying to pull back the angry tears that threatened to fall.

You wanted to add more, but you knew it would be your utter undoing.

Oppressive silence filled the room, bearing down on you. The only noise was the rustling of the papers you continued to gather. Soon, it was joined by the heel of Lucifer's shoes clicking on the floor as he wordlessly crossed to the room.

“Oh, Y/n,” he breathed as he reached you.

Just as you heard him take a sharp inhale, you pushed yourself to finish. “I'm done, Lucifer. You don't do that to people you care about, so either I'm just another lay or you care more about your reputation. Either way, I'm done.”

Stepping around the side of the desk, Lucifer's fingers grazed your arm. “Y/n, now just hold on a-”

“Don't touch me!” The words burst out as you slapped his hand away.

His mouth dropped open, and he kept his hand up, facing the palm to you in a submissive gesture. Hurt flashed behind his stunned expression as his widened eyes scanned your face.

“All night, all that existed was the end of a gun barrel and that fear...that certainty...that I was about to die. All night. And all you cared about was grilling that asshole for more information on Morningstar. You didn't even notice I was gone.”

Everything came out shrill as you fought against your tightening throat. Even as it all spilled out, you knew it wasn't exactly true – your phone was filled with ignored calls and texts from Lucifer starting almost immediately after you took off.

But as he lowered his hands, he didn't even point that out. Instead, he squeezed his eyes closed and bowed his head. Letting out a long sigh, his voice was soft. “Love. I'm so sorry. I truly am.”

If his tone hadn't knocked the wind from your sails, the sorrow in his eyes when he looked back up at you would have. He broke eye contact almost immediately, dropping his gaze to the floor by your feet in an unfocused stare.

“I swear to you, I was not using you as bait. In fact, I only realized what happened after the councilman pulled his stunt. And you're right, I was so focused on the case it didn't even occur to me that you might be upset.”

As he continued to readily agree with you, it gave you nothing to continue fighting against. Tightly folding your arms, you stayed quiet.

“And I'm especially sorry for that. I see the detective in dangerous positions so often it starts to feel like a normal part of life. I forget she's an officer of the law and trained for those situations. It's her job and her choice to be in harm's way."

From the corner of your eye, you saw his hand hover above your crossed arms as he hesitated to touch you. You could feel his eyes on you as he silently implored you to look at him. You refused.

“But you...you're a sweet, beautiful, thoughtful, caring woman who was only in harm's way because you were doing your idiot boyfriend a favour. You have every right to be angry with me. I'm upset with me too."

Eventually, he breezed his fingers over your arm with a light touch, quietly testing the boundaries. This time you didn't pull away.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to give him hope. “Please, you must know that you're not some tawdry notch on a bedpost. You mean more to me than anything in this world, and I would do anything for the chance to make this up to you.”

Reluctantly, you let your arms relax. His hand traced down your skin until he wrapped his fingers around yours. When you looked up at him, his soulful eyes had a hint of panic to them you had never seen before. Even his small, hesitant smile couldn't mask it.

The look struck at you, forcing a moment of hesitation past your anger. “I...I don't know. I don't know that there is a way to make up for this sort of thing.”

“I just want the chance to try, please. I don't want to lose you,” he said as he grabbed your free hand, anxiously twisting his fingers through yours.

You had been through a lot together; it was just so much to throw away. And you weren't sure you wanted to...

“It would...it would take a lot, Lucifer. I just...”

His grin grew more assured as he nodded. “Anything, you name it. Your wish will literally be my command. Plus, I've never seen that side of you and I will do absolutely anything it takes to avoid that again.”

Shaking your head, you leaned forward. Immediately taking the hint, Lucifer wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tight against him. As the scent of his expensive cologne settled around you, a deep sigh rumbled through his chest. His relief was palpable.

And despite yourself, a smile...a small smile...tugged at the corner of your lips.

Taglist:  @foreverfaeries  @flower-two  @getlostinyourparadise   @selfishkiddo @angelicshinigami  @johnwickthirstclub @pegxcarter  @liamakorn​

[supersweethoneybee]

Mother: Chapter 2 - Swell

This chapter contains: Force-feeding, bondage, gags, tube feeding and clothes popping.

The vibrators just kept going, buzzing away, clicking against each other, wobbling your whole gravid belly around and allowing it to ripple. You had lost how many times you had moaned wildly at how it just hit those perfect spots, how it tightened the coils inside of you. You also had lost how many times you came, your own spunk a shiny puddle between your spread legs, the bottom of your belly covered in its slick.

But what killed you the most was how you couldn't reach your own pussy to pleasure yourself. Your own stomach covered up your pussy and your hands didn't even reach your belly button anymore after Ardyn dumped probably three gallons of cum into your stomach.

It wasn't fair how you could be this helpless, this powerless.

You whined, pressed your lips together and clenched your ass cheeks against the anal plug, a vibrator knocking and vibrating against it quickly, only ramping up how fast this orgasm was coming.

You honestly had no idea how much longer you can go on for. You knew you lost most feeling in your legs, not only from coming for hours on end but also from the heavy weight your stomach pulled down, blocking some circulation.

You had tried multiple times to reach down and pull the anal plug out, but you only somehow managed to either push it in deeper or knock it against a moving vibrator and forced yourself to orgasm from the sudden explosion of pleasure. You tried peeling your belly up slowly, you tried using what little slick of orgasm you could reach to try and slip your hands under your belly to pull it out. Your only option now was to reach from behind.

You took a deep breath and swallowed a moan pressing against your throat and craned your arm behind your swollen side, down to the curve of your ass. It was so hard to even gather enough strength to push yourself, but you somehow managed to pull yourself up by maybe less than two inches, just enough for your fingers to grasp at the lip of the anal plug and tug roughly.

You cried out when it just popped out of you like a champagne cork, a small splash of dark sludge leaving your gaping asshole until it became plugged with a vibrating egg. You bit your lip as pressure quickly gathered in your ass, pain quickly spreading like wild fire. Your body gave up quickly, but you were able to throw the weight of your gravid belly to the side just enough to land on a bloated side. The pressure of squishing Ardyn's spunk around managed to push the vibrating egg more and more. You screamed and cried, clawing at your face and back, just above your ass cheeks until it finally popped out.

You could feel your ass gape open, a wave of more spunk and the rest of the eggs quickly flowing out and leaking behind you.

You chucked the anal plug far away from you and crawled away from the vibrating eggs now rattling on the dirty floor.

You were covered with a mixture of blood, your cum and whatever this black sludge was from the top of your mostly deflated belly and down.

You quickly became worried when you noticed that your belly still retained that slight, taut roundness, just less inflated from a medium beach ball to maybe the half-way point of a pregnancy. You could feel the leftover sludge slosh around like you were drinking alcohol on an empty stomach.

The door to your cell quickly opened, your eyes pinned to Ardyn's strict figure, his muscles locking up upon seeing you mostly deflated and the vibrating eggs on the floor with most of his cum.

"You naughty little minx, you filthy whore!" he boomed, stalking towards you.

"Ardyn, please, no," you whimpered as you clutched your still throbbing tummy.

"How dare you disobey me?" he snarled, his hand grabbing at your tight little belly. "You were not ready to deflate yet!"

"Ardyn, I couldn't!" you wailed. "I couldn't take the pain of being stretched!"

Ardyn reeled back, his face morphing from furious to amused.

"Perhaps I can find a new way to stretch you out," he eyed your belly full of his cum. You shivered and tried to cover your belly with your hand, but it barely did anything. "Poor little pet. I know a way to fix our little problem, and something tells me you'll love it."

A magi-tek soldier came around from behind Ardyn, a long needle in its robotic grasp.

"No, no no, don't!" you sobbed as you pressed up against the wall.

You cried out when the needle struck into your neck, the plunger forcing various liquids into your body. Your vision swam, you grew nauseous once more, you became heavy until your head hit the floor and you were out like a light.

~*~

Your eyes slowly opened to see Ardyn standing before you, his back turned as he was lining up carts of... food?

You didn't realize how hungry you were until your stomach suddenly roared and rumbled, catching the man's attention.

"You're awake, pet. Just in time too," he cooed.

"Where..?"

"We're still in your little bird cage, dear, I just had some things placed in here just for this. I even had you dressed a bit."

Your eyes slowly peered down to your torso where a button-up covered your body despite being tight. It wasn't tight enough to tug at the buttons and show skin, but tight enough to hug every curve and bump of your belly and hips still full of his spunk. There were also multiple belts strapped around your belly where the curve sat the longest. The belts looked to be those auto-adjusting belts which slowly made your stomach twist. You shifted a bit, but realized your wrists were strapped down to the arms of the table, your ankles too. It was a big chair though, wide and very sturdy, metal. Your legs were strapped so far apart, your belly sitting in open space.

"What's inside of me?" you murmured, gazing up at him with swollen eyes. "What did you make me swallow?"

"My seed, of course. Scourge. It won't really by leaving you for a bit, what's left of it that is, especially now that you have a brand new plug waiting for you once we're done with your treat."

Treat.

The word made you shiver.

"Treat?" you questioned.

"Indeed. It's a treat for both of us. You get to be overindulged by the most filling treats and meals the finest chefs here have to offer for my broodmother," Ardyn stroked a finger down your curved gut and pressed his finger to your belly button, "and I get to watch you grow plump and heavy, to pop out of these clothes and grow."

"What?! No, you can't fucking do this!" you shouted.

"Oh, but I will." Ardyn strut over to the carts of food and picked up a small plate with a piece of cake. "My scientists have been hard at work, testing the effects of ingesting my cum, and some of the results have been an increase in hunger and a hard stop to the metabolism." He turned to you and smiled, simply strutting his way back to you. "And that results in quick weight gain, which is good for expecting mothers."

"Fuck you," you spat.

A swift crack against your cheek was all it took to get you to scream, giving Ardyn the perfect chance to stuff the piece of cake into your mouth and force you to swallow.

You shivered at the heavy spongecake and thick sugary frosting as it crept down your throat, but you were quick to groan once it quickly hit your stomach. You could feel it fighting against the scourge sitting inside of you, as if gas was forming. You wanted to rub your tummy, but your bound wrists refused.

"Are we going to have the same issue again? If so, I will get the tube, and I'm sure you won't want that. It's too quick, too painful, neither of us would enjoy you stretching to be the perfect mommy. And besides, it might even get stuck and I won't be able to save you from popping."

You gulped and fought the urge to burp as you stomach battled with its contents inside.

"Don't," you whimpered.

Ardyn smiled and set the plate down next to you and reached for another. A plate filled with chocolate covered strawberries so big they rivaled the eggs that were just in your ass not even an hour ago.

"Open wide like a good girl," he teased, holding up a large strawberry to your lips.

What choice did you have but to comply?

You opened your mouth and gasped when he shoveled the whole berry into your mouth, ripping away the leaves and allowing you to chew and swallow before cramming the next one in. One dozen strawberries felt like bricks going down your throat, joining in on the war between the spongecake and the scourge cum.

The next plate was a small pie stuffed to the brim with what looks like wildberries with thick globs of honey and caramel on top. You groaned as Ardyn dug out a chunk of the pie with a fork and forced you to scoff it down. Your tongue started to burn from all of the fattening sugars, you were starting to feel sick. You glance down at your stomach and saw nothing had happened yet.

Yet.

Ardyn quickly got impatient by your slow chewing and decided he wanted to hurry onto the next dish, opting to shovel the rest of the pie in by the forkful and clamping a hand over your stuffed mouth so you couldn't spit it out. You whined and begged him with your eyes, but Ardyn only pushed down harder on your lips, forcing you to swallow.

As Ardyn turned around, your stomach suddenly growled loudly, catching you off guard as it suddenly became a little harder to breathe. Ardyn turned his head as he lifted a hefty plate ambrosia, his eyebrows flying up in amusement.

Your chest suddenly grew tight. You glanced down and saw that the buttons towards the top of your button-up were starting to stitch apart, showing just a bit of skin.

"Breasts first? That's interesting," he laughed.

And just like before, Ardyn shoveled spoonfulls of ambrosia down your throat until you suddenly pulled away to burp and sob out from the pain growing in your stomach.

"Ardyn, please," you whimpered, "it hurts."

"Aww, my pet, does your little tummy hurt?" He curved his free hand down the slab flab of your under belly, massaging the clothed skin. You whined, hating how him giving your belly a rub was making you feel better. "But, sadly, you get nothing more until you pop out of these clothes." He tapped at the three belts around your thickest section. "These haven't even loosened one notch. Your breasts are the only thing growing."

You whined, but you were quickly stuffed with ambrosia once more, forced to swallow in order to breathe.

As soon as Ardyn placed down the now empty plate of ambrosia, you heard clicking noises and felt your stomach swirl and stretch. The belts had loosen by a few notches. It wasn't enough to show the tug at the buttons just yet. Ardyn's brows lifted playfully as he eyed the belts. Three notches lost to each. You felt a brief comfort before the need to belch overcame you.

Your jaw ached like high heaven and your tongue was burning from all of the fattening sugars scraping against your tastebuds. You groaned, feeling bile bubble at the back of your throat. But you knew... You knew you wouldn't vomit, because he doesn't want his "broodmother" to deflate and whatever crude and disgusting shit that spatters from his mouth. Your breasts ached, like you were on your period. You felt bloated, gassy, stiff.

Ardyn had produced a bundt cake, layered with chilled chocolate sauce and powdered sugar. It was hefty, taking up a large silver platter. You shivered at the size of it! It was bigger than your head!

"I think after this, we should speed things up, pet," Ardyn hummed as he cut slices into the cake.

He wasn't suggesting the tube, was he? Didn't he say you could pop if he did that?

Your thoughts were cut off by him shoveling forkfulls into your mouth. You barely had a chance to breathe as he clamped your mouth closed with every mouthful, forcing his fingers in for you to swallow. Each swallow was worse than those strawberries. Compressed, soaked, cold and dense cake did not mix well with the contents inside of your belly as you quickly whined and sobbed as it roared and growled in disagreement. You writhed in your chair, clawing at what you could and yanking at your wrist restraints. Ardyn watched in sick enjoyment, placing an empty platter down onto the stack of dishes.

Through your whines and sobs, you heard the belts popping again followed by the creaking of the chair below you. Your body was forced to shift, your legs forced apart bit by bit. You could feel the button-up slowly become more snug against your chest.

You looked down through the tears and whimpered at the size of you. You could have sworn you thought your breasts would start leaking from how much you looked like a pregnant woman.

Ardyn tapped at the belts with his knuckles and smirked.

"I think this is taking too long, dear. What do you think?" he purred.

"No... Please-"

"I think we should try what some online claim works when it comes to fast bloating." You eyed him, not caring about the hot tears and snot dribbling down your face. Ardyn only smirked and turned away from you, going to one of the carts that had nothing on top of them. Instead, he opened the top and reached in. "I've done a bit of research while you were being naughty and deflating without permission. Browsing online, combing through countless websites." Ardyn pulled out a tube used at frat parties, meant to chugging beer. "And there are a lot of weight gaining websites out there. Many have sparked my interest." Next was a two liter of diet soda. "And from what I've watched, pet, should help us both. Granted, it won't put on many pounds as it is only a small, short chemical burst." He produced a long tube of mints.

You froze.

He wasn't going to do that... Right?

With a simple wave of Ardyn's hand, you heard Magi-tek soldiers in both corners of the room behind you slowly come forward. You were oblivious to their presences, not being able to turn your head that far to see. One forcefully grabbed at your jaw, driving its fingers between your teeth through the skin of your cheeks, forcing you to not be able to bite down while the other seized at the beer tube. You fought against the soldiers as Ardyn opened up the soda bottle, eyeing you playfully before a tube was driven down your throat.

You choked and coughed, struggling a bit more, feeling the tube creep farther down the back of your throat until you couldn't feel it anymore. Ardyn handed the soldier holding your jaw the bottle.

"Do the honors for me," he purred as he stood in front of you. He placed both of his hands on your belly, sliding his fingers in between the belts now pushed a little far apart than before. "I want to feel her grow plump and soft in my hands."

You eyed Ardyn for mercy, whimpering and slobbering against the tube, only for him to smile.

You watched as the soldier slowly tipped over the big bottle and watched as the dark liquid bubbled down the tube, rushing down before exploding in a cold mess so far down your esophagus. You cried and yanked at your wrist bindings, feeling your stomach wretch and fight back at the sudden filling liquids.

You had only realized how much cake and cookies and brownies he had forced you to eat. This was his plan: Stuff you with all of these spongy desserts, and once you add liquid, everything expands.

And now, he's going to push your belly even more by adding mints.

You choked and gasped at the tube, feeling your belly slosh worse than the eggs and cum from earlier. You could feel everything expanding inside of you, pressing up against your gut's tight walls, forcing your organs and skin to stretch. It didn't help that your breasts also gained weight with your belly.

Ardyn watched in astonishment as your belly swelled like a water balloon, pushing out to match the size you were earlier, but it was still going. Even after the bottle ran empty, your gut and breasts still expanded.

You were throbbing and heaving, choking and slobbering.

You couldn't even count the amount of snaps the belts made, but you saw the top one had vanished under your breasts now straining against the stiff cotton. You could barely feel the bottom one clinging on to the bottom on your gravid stomach, threatening to sink under and be crushed. You barely made out your stomach over your breasts. All of the buttons were pulled to tight apart, but managed to stay closed.

"Marvelous, marvelous, pet. So big, so full, so stretched for me and my brood. Your progress only makes me want to forego the mints and let you sit pretty like this." Your nose twitched. You knew he wouldn't. "But, I can tell you know it too. I won't, even though you look as round as an award winning hog." He slid the roll of mind from his pocket and handed it to one of the guards. "You won't leave this chair until everything has snapped off of you."

You sat in defeat, looking at Ardyn with a dead gaze as he poked at your woefully stretched skin through the pockets in between the buttons. You paid little attention to the mint packaging being torn, only when they rattled down the tube did you care, as that was when the soldiers yanked the tube out and gagged you.

To say your stomach was not happy with you was a severe understatement. The buttons snapped off all together, flying out to different corners of the room, knocking into the carts and trays of food. Two of the belts popped open as the shirt collapsed around you. You went limp, your body shutting down from pain. Your eyes blurred, but you still looked at Ardyn as he stood once the rumbling of your mound of gut stopped growing. You could feel those splitting, bright red stretch marks claw at your skin.

Ardyn tutted and reached under your breasts, tugging at the last belt that had yet to snap. You could feel it was close though.

"What a shame this one didn't snap. If you'd like, I can keep stuffing you until you're nothing but a ball?" He glanced at your face and sighed. "As you wish. But, this calls for a drawback." He traced patterns into your stretched skin and pinched at your breasts. "That toy I promised will be saved for another time. And that belt will stay on until you deflate or you grow softer for me soon." He tugged at the belt before flicking at your belly, watching it jiggle and ripple. "Besides, I don't think even the Magi-tek would be able to pry you out of your chair. You seem to have gone flabby around it." He grabbed at the fat on your thighs now peeking through the gaps under the arms of the chair. He was right, you were to heavy, to stuck in this chair to even move your knees. "My, how you've let yourself go," he teased, walking away from you as if he didn't force you to gain so much weight.

The clasps around your wrists retracted, your hands immediately flopping onto your belly to rub circles into the painful skin. You moaned softly, petting your skin as Ardyn smirked before closing the door.

[medea10]

My Review of Wotakoi: Love is Hard for Otaku

[jinmukangwrites]

hi! i love ur bad things happen bingo!! i was wondering if u could do electrocution? (and even tho it’s not on the card could u do fear toxin? maybe w all dicks brothers seeing?) sorry if it’s too much to ask i just love ur writing!!!

The car came to a stop and Robin couldn’t help but wince as the movement pulled ruthlessly at his bonds. He was tied up in such a way that made his shoulders and collar bones ache, with cuffs cutting off circulation to his wrists behind his back and tape digging into his upper arms and chest, making it difficult to breath.

He was disappointed in himself. He hadn’t felt this useless since… since Grayson was Batman. He shouldn’t have been caught. He could have easily fought off a hundred thugs by himself and still be home in time to take Titus on a walk, however he had been recovering from the flu, which made him a bit below par in his fighting abilities. It didn’t help that he and Batman decided to split up to cover more ground and that he was completely alone when the very people he saved from getting mugged started to attack him. A cliche, yet apparently an effective one. Fighting off seven muggers and two faux victims became his down fall when combined with his weak state. It was only a matter of time before a taser was jammed ruthlessly into his gut.

He blacked out, then woke up a second later to find himself restrained and crammed into the trunk of Kia.

He heard the sound of footsteps approach the back of the car and he tensed up. He wasn’t about to allow them to do whatever they wished with him. If he had to fight then with just his legs he would. He could, even. He was trained by Ra’s and Batman themselves, he could one hundred percent take on even Grodd with just his legs.

The trunk popped open and Robin was about to jump out and kick ass, but it unfortunately seemed that kidnappers were not about to take any chances and he was suddenly being pinned down by multiple pairs of hands. His shoulders were roughly pressed further behind his back, making his chest protest in agony, as his head was shoved hard enough down for him to see stars. He kicked out his legs, catching one of the kidnappers under the jaw, but it was a short lived victory when his legs too were being locked down. He violently twisted himself, attempting to get free or at least bite the hand bruising his cheek, but he could hardly do a thing. He was helpless. Tt.

“I told you to tie his legs,” a deep voice said. Robin couldn’t see who spoke and who was holding him down with his face pressed down the way it was.

“Ran out of tape,” explained a second voice.

“I gave you a whole roll?! How-”

Robin worked a leg free and kicked the hand that had been holding it. His foot slammed the hand between it and the wall of the trunk he was stuffed in and he heard satisfying //snaps and an agonized scream.

“The brat!” The man who now sported a broken hand snarled with tears in his voice.

“Just get him to the chair!” The first voice yelled as he himself grabbed Robin’s legs.

Robin lashed out, counting four pairs of hands on his body and calculating in his head how long it would take to kill each of them. The hand digging into his cheek was removed but before Robin could even think about moving his neck, rough fabric was shoved over his head. He yelled out in frustration as he was forcibly lifted from the trunk with bruising grips on his upper arms and legs. He kicked and squirmed, trying to get free and trying to get the bag that smelt like flour off from his head. It was all for naught as he was eventually shoved into a hard wooden chair and held down as his legs were shoved against the chair’s legs and duct taped in place.

“Let me go!” Robin snarled in frustration, shaking his head, as three pairs of hands held him against the chair and another worked off the layers of tape around his chest, moving his cuffed hands behind the chair and taping his chest back again with a new roll of tape.

A new voice suddenly called out. “Holy shit, is that the demon brat?”

Robin was so surprised by the voice that he stilled just long enough for the kidnappers to finish securing him to the chair.

Todd…?

“We’re all in suits,” spoke another voice suddenly. Drake.

Or, Red Robin, more like it.

Great. Not only had he been kidnapped, but he had been kidnapped with Red Robin and Red Hood, two of the most annoying people he knew.

“Enough,” said one of the kidnappers. A new voice. How many kidnappers were there?

The man must have given some kind of silent command, a nod or something similar, because suddenly the flour bag was ripped off Robin’s head, tugging some of his hair with it. He winced as a bright beam of light assaulted his vision but thankfully it didn’t take much blinking to focus on the scene before him.

His gaze darted around rapidly, instantly taking in the underground parking garage, the number of kidnappers (12, most men, some women, all had guns. Each bat protege had their own guard behind them, the others were spaced around the garage), and his so-called adoptive sibling’s states.

Red Hood was missing his helmet with only his old mask covering his eyes. He looked worse for wears, like he had actually managed to put up a fight (scoff, as if), but didn’t look too injured; he was blinking furiously, trying to focus—probably the beam of light that came from a rather large LED lamp directed mostly towards him. Red Robin was doing much the same as Robin, taking in the surroundings. He had a stream of blood running down his left temple and there were signs of black bruising poking out from under his mask. To the other side of Red Robin, was Nightwing. Robin hadn’t realized that Nightwing would be there too, probably because he hadn’t made a noise till then and had lived a few hours away in Blüdhaven. There was also the fact that Robin had a bit more faith in Nightwing compared to the others. He looked fine, just a little ruffled and really pissed. He was glaring at the man who must be the leader, probably had already completed his assessment of their situation.

They were a tied up similarly to Robin, hands forced behind the chairs and tape forcing their backs to press against the support and their legs taped trapped. Robin looked over to the leader who was standing in front of them all with his hands folded across his chest. He had a hospital mask covering his lower face and nose and a buret sitting on top of his head. His suit looked fancy, though the purple color threw Robin off. He was standing on the other side of the LED lamp, so it was hard to get much details about him, but Robin could swear he saw tuffs of green hair.

His stomach dropped.

“Joker,” Nightwing growled, gaining the came conclusion.

Red Hood startled in his chair and Red Robin’s lips pressed together paper thin as the leader suddenly began to wheeze a very familiar laugh. Robin stared at the villain, for the moment, very unsure of what to do. He hadn’t had much contact with the Joker in his time working with Batman. Joker doesn’t stay out of Arkham long much anymore, with Batman getting more alliance and Joker getting almost predictable, but Robin had heard so many stories about Batman and Joker in their younger years, when Joker was new, insane, and a complete mystery. When he tortured Grayson, very early into Robin’s career, because it was a good laugh. When he killed Todd. When he had massacred entire neighborhoods and it was all Batman could do to find a trace of him.

The Joker today wasn’t calmer, per se, but he was more like an earthquake than the ticking bomb like he used to be. Earthquakes could be deadly, they could topple buildings, kill thousands in one fell swoop. They could start tsunami’s and wipe out cities. They could open up the ground and crumble mountains. Yet, humans were more prepared for them than they used to be. They could look and see that they live in the area of occasional 5 point magnitude earthquakes and that they should prepare for it, that way when those quakes hit, their buildings aren’t demolished, just slightly shaken.

Still didn’t make the experience of meeting an earthquake any less scary though. Didn’t matter how many times in your life you had felt the very ground beneath you shiver and the walls tremble, it was still terrifying.

“HAHAHA,” Joker laughed. He bent down and whacked his knee with a skeletal hand. “Way to ruin the surprise, Champ! I wasn’t expecting to be recognized so quickly!”

-o-o-o-o-

Read the rest on AO3

[the--highlanders]

The Marketplace

The Doctor and Jamie enjoy their day off.

on ao3.

Glancing around himself nervously, Jamie fought the impulse to press himself closer to the Doctor, instead forcing himself to take a step away. Too many people had given them disapproving looks already for him to risk walking too close as they approached the heart of the citadel. “Are ye sure we should be here?”

“Of course!” The Doctor spun in a joyful circle as he walked, beaming up at the burnt orange sky above them. “It’s our day off. No missions, no pompous CIA agents telling us what to do, and the whole of Gallifrey at our fingertips.”

“Aye, but...” A tall figure dressed in immaculate red robes swept past them, looking over them disdainfully as they went. Jamie tugged at the hem of his kilt awkwardly, but the Doctor seemed not to notice. “We dinnae really look like we belong here.”

“No, we don’t,” the Doctor agreed cheerfully. He reached up towards the trees that arched across the wide road, plucking a waxy leaf and tucking it behind Jamie’s ear. “That’s half the fun.”

“Maybe for ye,” Jamie grumbled, but he stepped closer to the Doctor again, wrapping his arm around his waist. The contact settled the ball of worry in his stomach, and he relaxed his shoulders, looking around the street properly for the first time. “I’m no’ so keen on being stared at like we’re doin’ something wrong.”

“Don’t worry. I’m taking you somewhere a little more open-minded.” The Doctor gestured around them, taking in the intricate mosaics laid out beneath them, the buildings with their upper storeys hanging over the road, the bustling crowds of people all dressed in the same shade of red. “Besides, we’re in the ancient city of Prydos. This is the home of my chapter – and yours, too, since we’re married.” He nodded towards Jamie’s kilt. “And you’re in the right colour for the occasion, aren’t you?”

Jamie stopped dead in his tracks, pulling the Doctor to a halt beside him. “This is where you’re from? Why didn’t ye tell me earlier?”

“Well – not here, precisely, but -” The Doctor tapped his finger against his lips thoughtfully. “Near here somewhere, yes.”

Grinning, Jamie surveyed the people around them with fresh interest. His gaze settled on a gaggle of children, all quiet and serious until one tugged on another’s robe, setting them off into a squabble. “Did ye come here? When ye were a kid?”

“Ah – yes, I suppose I did.” The Doctor waved his hand uncertainly, setting off again at a brisk pace as if trying to run away from the question.

“Hey!” Jamie broke into a jog to keep up with him. “What’s the use of bringin’ me tae your old home if you’re gonnae be all mysterious about it?” He nudged the Doctor’s side, laughing. “I bet ye were a cute kid.”

The Doctor snorted. “I’m not so sure about that. I think I must have set some sort of record for inspiring my teachers at the Academy to retire prematurely. And I haven’t brought you here just to see my old home, you know.”

“Why have ye brought me here, then?”

The Doctor turned a corner so sharply and suddenly that Jamie was almost left behind, standing awkward and lost in the middle of the street before the Doctor caught his hand and pulled him on. They turned again, hurried down a twisting lane, and emerged in a large square, its grand expanse edged with overhanging buildings and crammed with stalls. Items of all kinds crowded the shelves and counters, spilling over onto the ground. Most of it was entirely alien to Jamie, but some of the wares were vaguely familiar to him, and a few even looked as if they came from Earth.

The centre of the square was taken up with a great hologram that flickered between galaxies and stars and plants, with the occasional tangle of circles that passed for writing on Gallifrey. A crowd of Gallifreyans was clustered around it, pointing towards the writing and talking amongst themselves. Jamie wondered briefly if the hologram was listing products for sale, or perhaps their prices, but found himself too distracted by the people to dwell on it. They seemed more relaxed than elsewhere in the city, standing closer and closer together, their uniforms looser and more varied.

When he glanced over at the Doctor, his face was filled with a rapture he had only seen a handful of times before.

“The Prydonian markets,” he said, breathless with excitement. “Best markets on the planet. Gallifreyan traders can go anywhere in time and space, and most of what they bring back ends up here.” He paused, leaning forwards to survey the stalls closest to him. “There, see – spices from seventy-second century Venus, carvings from the Hyxn cluster, a complete copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh...” He dove into the fray, leaving Jamie standing startled on the outskirts, and emerged a moment later with a pair of intricate glass vials, each holding a fizzing, pinkish liquid. “The elixir of life, taken directly from the sacred springs on Vidajh Minor. Guaranteed to make you feel three regenerations younger.

Taking one of the vials, Jamie shot him an incredulous look. “Is it real?”

“Hm?”

“The elixir of life. Does it really work?”

The Doctor laughed, downing the liquid in his vial. “Not at all.” He took Jamie’s elbow, leading him on a meandering path through the square. “But – ah – it has a marvellous flavour. It used to be quite the treat, when I was at the Academy.”

Jamie frowned down at his drink, then took a cautious sip. “It’s a wee bit like strawberries, isn’t it?” Linking his arm through the Doctor’s, he gazed out at the hive of activity that surrounded them. Merchants displayed their wares eagerly, currency of all shapes and sizes was passed around, and the silent fog that seemed to lie over the rest of the city was lifted. It was a livelier and friendlier place than Jamie had ever seen on Gallifrey, and he wondered if the Doctor had thought the same, when he was a child. “Hey, did ye pay for these?”

The Doctor scowled at him a touch too indignantly. “Of course I did.”

“Of course ye did.” Smiling to himself, Jamie decided to tactfully change the subject. “I thought your people didnae believe in interferin’ with other planets?”

“Trading and interfering are – ah – two quite separate things,” the Doctor explained. “The traders take precautions when they visit pre-contact times, and border control scans each product to make sure nothing of temporal significance is brought in. They say a shipment of Earth fruits had to be sent back once, because the trader had brought in the apple that started the fourth Martian revolution.” He lowered his voice, leaning in closer to Jamie. “I don’t know if that story is true, but I do know that I was the one who threw the apple.”

Jamie laughed, shaking his head. “I wouldnae have thought people here would buy this stuff, though. It’s no’ like they’re keen on me being here.”

“Well, buying something from another world and having an alien neighbour are two different things, too,” the Doctor pointed out. “Most of the people here haven’t ever left the planet, let alone our system. The chapters’ markets were a convenient way of giving people something exotic without them having to leave Gallifrey.” They crossed the street to lean against the railing that bordered it, looking out over the city as the land fell away beneath them. The Doctor smiled wistfully, staring out across the endless plain below the great mound of the city. “But it was never enough for me.”

“Aye, I can imagine,” Jamie said softly. “An’ I cannae imagine that you’re too happy tae be back.”

The Doctor glanced around them surreptitiously, clearing his throat. “Well – of course not. I’d rather not be doing their bureaucratical work. And it’s true, I don’t get along with other Time Lords – but Gallifreyans, that’s quite another matter. The planet isn’t entirely full of dusty old aristocrats, you know. I just couldn’t stand to be one of them.” He nodded back towards the markets. “I know we can be rather – ah – difficult to live with, but I’d like for you to be happy here.”

Jamie bumped his shoulder against the Doctor’s. “’Course I’m happy. Ye know I’m happy so long as I’ve got ye.”

“Well – yes, of course I know that.” The Doctor twisted his hands together, looking a little flustered. “But it doesn’t hurt to make sure, does it?” He fell silent for a long, thoughtful moment. “I suppose I needed something of a reminder, too. That there’s still something beautiful here.” He pushed himself away from the railing, turning to trot back towards the markets. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder, his nonchalance a jarring change from his earlier seriousness. “I’ll get you another elixir of life.”

“Aye, alright. So long as ye pay for them this time.”

[libraryscarf]

Payback

“Which one?” she asked helplessly. She couldn’t parse the blur of songs on the screen with Yato sitting so close to her. Kofuku collapsed on her other side, leaning on her shoulder to browse the titles. “Ooh! This one! Sing this one!” She snatched the screen and poked a button. The song began to play. Hiyori choked. “No. No.” “Come ooon,” Kofuku whined piteously. The corners of her rosebud mouth turned down when Hiyori balked. “You have to sing this one, for me. Please?” Blushing up to her ears, Hiyori slowly stood up and took the microphone. “Okay,” she said, heavy with reluctance. “But…it won’t be good.”

Chapter 7: The Karaoke ( ao3 / ff.net )

Hiyori stared at page 449 of her textbook for half an hour, scanning the same two sentences over and over with glassy, unseeing eyes.

A knock on her door startled her out of her stupor. When she called a welcome, Ami cracked the door open a few inches. Her glasses reflected the sterile blue of Hiyori’s desk lamp, making her look a bit like a sinister scientist.

“How goes the cramming?”

Hiyori looked down at the page of her notebook, which was covered in eyeballs. Not literal, squishy eyeballs, but sketchy doodles of eyes that her hand had been creating absently while her mind wandered.

“The cramming goes shittily.”

Ami hummed in sympathy. Then she was silent, but she didn’t close the door, obviously lingering to say something else. Hiyori spun around in her old, squeaky swivel chair.

“Something on your mind?” she asked pointedly.

Ami opened the door a fraction wider, but still didn’t step into the room.

“Just thinking…maybe you should get out for a bit. Do something besides study.”

Hiyori pinched her eyebrows together with a thumb and forefinger. “God, it must be bad if you’re telling me to go out and be social.”

Ami didn’t seem to take offense to the comment. Instead, she continued standing silently in the doorway. A surge of irritation rushed up Hiyori’s throat.

“Can you spit it out?!”

She hadn’t finished speaking before she regretted the harsh tone, and her head drooped with penitence. Ami cleared her throat softly.

“Oh, nothing,” she said. “Just that he’s here.”

Hiyori’s head snapped up again. Ami could only mean—

“The delivery guy,” she clarified, holding up two plastic bags of takeout as evidence.

Hiyori melted back into her chair, weak with both disappointment and relief. After that damn party, she wasn’t sure she could look Yato in the eye without fainting from humiliation.

“Thanks,” she said without enthusiasm, and reached for one of the bags. Ami pulled her arm back, dangling the food—which smelled mouth-wateringly of broccoli and beef—out of reach.

“My credit card was declined,” she said. Hiyori stared at her in disbelief.

“So...you want me to…?” She trailed off, hoping Ami would show a modicum of shame.

Ami’s shoulders hinted at a shrug, but didn’t quite make it all the way. “Sorry.”

Hiyori dragged herself out of her desk chair, stomping past Ami and down the stairs to the front door, where the delivery-person was, apparently, still waiting for payment. The door wasn’t completely closed, so she flung it all the way open. And then she nearly swallowed her tongue.

“Yato—!” she gasped.

He was dressed in a stained, dubiously gray uniform, and stood with one arm awkwardly extended, holding the electronic card reader in front of him. They stood like that for several seconds.

“You deliver Chinese food?” she blurted stupidly.

Yato didn’t answer for a half-second, his jaw still hanging slightly ajar. Then he inhaled quickly, as though just realizing she had asked him a question.

“Yeah. I got—uh—kind of fired from my other job.”

Hiyori covered her mouth with one hand. “Oh no!”

He shrugged awkwardly with one shoulder. “It happens. Apparently ‘repeatedly missing shifts’ and ‘stealing product’ is not smiled upon in the pizza industry. Plus I smelled like pepperoni twenty-four-seven.”

“Well, now you’re just gonna smell like MSG!”

At that, Yato grinned. Then he realized he was still holding the card reader out, and quickly lowered his arm. The movement jogged Hiyori’s memory, and she pulled out her wallet and rummaged through it for a card.

“Right. How much?”

She brandished a credit card, only to be met with a blank look.

“Huh?”

“The credit card,” Hiyori prodded. “Ami’s didn’t work?”

Yato stared at her in vacant confusion. “No, it worked. It’s all paid. She said she had to go grab some cash for a tip.”

Sudden understanding punched through the top of her skull. Hiyori half-turned her back to Yato, of a mind to find Ami and box her ears.

“Oh, that little—” she fumed, before clamping her teeth onto her tongue and forcing herself to smile prettily at him.

“Of course. Sorry. Um. I guess I should…tip you, then?”

Yato’s mouth shaped several silent syllables before he managed to get any sound out.

“Oh. N-no, I mean, it’s fine! I just—it felt rude to just leave, so—”

Hiyori stuttered for a second, before an immediate, searing realization folded her gut in half.

“I haven’t paid you!” she cried.

Yato stopped with his mouth open, halfway through his string of excuses. Hiyori thought she was sweating much more than was necessary, and had to stifle the urge to fan her damp forehead with both hands.

“For the—the other thing,” she said, dropping her voice just in case Ami—Judas that she was—might be lurking somewhere in earshot.

He shrugged again, though the pause before it was just long enough to be suspicious.

“It’s…y’know, whatever,” he said, obviously wanting to just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible.

The sweat on Hiyori’s forehead was starting to drip down her temples. Feverish with discomfort, she dug through her wallet again for her checkbook.

“I know we didn’t discuss payment or anything, but, um—”

She scribbled three figures on the check, signed it messily, and thrust it toward his chest, hoping she hadn’t already smeared the ink with her clammy hands. Yato stared at the check for a moment, then gingerly took it from her. His eyes were frozen to the total scrawled on the front.

If he didn’t say something soon, Hiyori was going to cry.

“Je-sus,” he breathed.

Oh god, she’d insulted him.

“It’s negotiable,” Hiyori gasped. She eyed the pen in her hand, wondering if it was sharp enough for her to use to commit seppuku.

Yato’s eyes traveled, slowly, from the check up to hers.

“Negotiation isn’t necessary,” he said. “But…this is a lot. Are you sure?”

Hiyori nodded vigorously. “Please. You’ve helped me so much. I really can’t thank you enough.”

It seemed to take Yato some effort to pocket the check, and even when he did, his posture was very subtly altered, as though there were something sharp poking him in the spine. He was quiet for a few more seconds. Something started to push at the bottom of Hiyori’s stomach, worming its way up her throat like an eel.

“Thanks,” Yato said. After another half-second he remembered to smile, but the strain of his facial muscles looked unnatural.

The pressure in Hiyori’s throat quickly became unbearable. If she opened her lips she was going to either puke or scream. She turned back to the open doorway, hoping to put some distance between herself and Yato before she did either of those things.

“Hiyori!” he cried.

She stopped, halfway inside the house. She couldn’t look at him, but the writhing in her throat subsided.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat loudly.

“I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay, after that night, but I wasn’t sure that—I didn’t know if…”

It sounded like he was forcing the words out with something heavy sitting on his chest. His voice finally trailed away, and after a moment of collecting herself, Hiyori turned back to him. Her cheeks and eyes felt warmer than usual.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

Yato’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m fine,” she repeated with more conviction. “Really. Thank you.”

His lower lip twisted, but he managed to turn it into a slight smile.

“Good.”

It could have been a moment for her to go back inside, for him to walk away.

Could have, but wasn’t.

Yato scratched the back of his neck. “Oh,” he said. “I was also going to ask: has anyone…caused trouble for you since then?”

Hiyori’s eyelid twitched. Fujisaki hadn’t surfaced since the episode at the party, but the mere thought of him becoming litigious towards Yato made her head pound. She felt sick with worry that he was, even then, brewing something awful in revenge.

But she hadn’t warned Yato. She hadn’t offered any help at all. Her own cowardice made her feel ill.

Yato misread the tortured expression on her face, and his expression darkened in anger.

“No!” Hiyori said quickly. “No. No one’s caused any trouble for me. But Yato, you shouldn’t have attacked him. That was so stupid!”

Yato looked like she’d shoved electrodes into his chest. He took a step back, and Hiyori’s hands twitched after him. She sputtered miserably.

“I-I mean. I appreciated it, of course. A lot! So much. Um.”

He looked like he wanted to speak, but she blathered on.

“And I mean, if we’re talking in terms of stupid things we did, I did…um. Stuff that was stupid. Definitely. So it’s not like I can really scold you for punching somebody.”

She shook her head even harder, and fought the urge to clutch her ears.

“Except I am—because he could hurt you, Yato! Do you know how powerful that family is?! And you broke his nose! He deserved it, yes, but…you can’t! You can’t go around punching horrible people’s noses. Because sometimes those horrible people’s noses are attached to just…just a whole lot of money. And lawyers.”

She was extemporizing to the ground at Yato’s feet. For some time now she had been at the mercy of her mouth, waiting for the stream of fragmentary nonsense to run dry. At last, it did.

“Money and lawyers,” she trailed off in a whisper.

Yato made a funny sound in his throat, like he was gargling wasps. Hiyori’s eyes flicked to his face for a second, and saw in it a sort of tortured resolve that bewildered her.

“It’s fine,” he said, quickly composing himself. Hiyori was about to say that it wasn’t fine, and that he ought to consider what kind of damage both money and lawyers could do to him, but then he said:

“Do you like karaoke?”

She frowned. Maybe he’d misheard her.

“Do I what?”

“Do you like karaoke,” he repeated slowly.

Hiyori tried to remember the last time she’d done karaoke. Certainly not in the last several years.

“Um,” she said. Yato must have seen the question mark hovering above her head.

“I was just going to say that there are a few people I know who are going tonight. And I just wanted to know if you liked karaoke, and if you wanted to come.”

He said it all in one breath, so quickly that Hiyori almost couldn’t process it. Taking a few beats to untangle his meaning, she felt her ears catch fire.

“Oh.”

Yato blinked, his face pale and sweating. He looked like she had him on some medieval torture device, ratcheting up the agony with each silent second.

“People?” she repeated, hesitantly.

“Friends,” he hurried to supply. “My friends. You met Daikoku before. He and his girlfriend Kofuku were at the party, but you probably didn’t see her. I’ve known them forever.”

“Oh,” she said, in revelation. “A couple.”

Yato was so white that he could have passed for a corpse, and judging by the expression on his face, he would have found that state of existence preferable.

“Yep,” he choked.

Hiyori couldn’t find her tongue.

What was he asking, exactly? Was this another building block in the pyramid of falsehoods that made up their “relationship.”

“Oh, and Yukine will be there too. Actually—he’s the one who told me to invite you.” Yato laughed uncomfortably. “I think he might have a tiny crush, to be honest.”

Hiyori’s stomach did a nasty somersault. Her eyes stung fiercely. “Ah.”

The door opened behind her, and Ami poked her head out. Both of them jumped at the intrusion. Yato dropped the card reader he was still holding, and it clattered against the sidewalk.

“Did you get kidnapped?” Ami asked. “Food’s getting cold.”

“No! Sorry. I’m just…” Hiyori trailed off, watching as Yato picked up the card reader, straightened, didn’t look at her. She turned to Ami.

Two minutes, she mouthed. She smiled, praying her face didn’t look unnatural. Ami squinted.

Hiyori widened her eyes. Please.

“Okayyy,” Ami said suspiciously. “But I’m picking out all the best pieces if you take too much longer.”

She shut the door with a severe bang. Hiyori gathered her wits.

“Yeah, I’d love to come along!” she said exuberantly. She winced as her fake-bubbly voice shot up an octave. “It sounds fun!”

Yato raised his head. “It…does?” A shade of color was coming back to his cheeks.

“Yeah! Totally!”

Her mood swing was giving both of them whiplash. Hiyori couldn’t handle the insane false cheerfulness that had her in its grip. She grinned like an effervescent demon. She giggled like a cheerleader on speed.

“Great,” he said cautiously. “I’ll…let you know when we’re leaving?”

Hiyori bounced on her heels, smiling a deranged smile. “Yep! Awesome!”

Yato started backing away from the house. Hiyori couldn’t blame him. He smiled back, his eyes a little terrified. “Okay, um. See you later.”

“Uh huh! Great!”

Hiyori spun around and fumbled for the doorknob, hoping to exorcise whatever had possessed her by cutting herself off from any more human interaction. Slamming the door behind her, she found Ami on the other side of it, regarding her clinically over a plastic bowl of Chinese takeout.

“Please,” Hiyori moaned. “Please. Don’t say whatever you’re about to say.”

Ami innocently pondered the broccoli beef between her chopsticks. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

There was silence, punctuated only by the raucous gallop of Hiyori’s pulse.

“So.” Ami popped the beef into her mouth and spoke around it. “How’re your karaoke skills these days?”

Hiyori straightened her spine, cast her friend a withering glare, and stomped up the stairs. She would spend the next three hours staring at her phone, failing to convince herself that the hollowness in her chest was normal, that it was nothing, that she was fine, just fine.

: : :

Following the instructions from Yato’s text, Hiyori arrived at a tiny building hiding between a bustling beauty supply store and an equally bustling porn emporium.

She walked inside to see three people waiting for her. One of them was Yato. The other man she recognized from the umbrella store. The third was a tiny woman with a bubblegum pink bob, who squealed as soon as Hiyori walked in, and flung herself into her arms.

“It’s so good to meet you!” she said rapturously. “I thought Yato was lying about having other friends, but you’re so real and pretty!”

Hiyori laughed nervously. “It’s—um—nice to meet you too?” She cast a helpless glance at Yato over the top of the girl’s pink head.

“This is Kofuku,” was all the explanation he provided, as though this happened all the time. The “pretty” comment did turn his cheeks a bit pinker than usual.

Kofuku released Hiyori from her stranglehold, though she did attach herself firmly to her elbow as they got their drinks and were escorted to a small, bench-lined room by an employee wearing a T-shirt that proclaimed “UNDERWORLD” in bold, dripping red font across the chest.

“This is an…interesting place?” Hiyori observed. The memory of the porn emporium next door was still technicolor in her memory.

“They couldn’t get an alcohol license here,” Kofuku said brightly. “So it’s almost always empty. And cheap!”

Hiyori looked mournfully at what she now realized must be a virgin mojito, and sighed. Behind her, Yato chuckled.

“Trust me, you won’t need alcohol to enjoy hearing her butcher Madonna,” he said. Kofuku let go of Hiyori’s arm long enough to smack his shoulder.

Daikoku growled: “My woman’s got the voice of an angel.”

“Yeah!” Yato said gleefully. “The angel of death!”

Hiyori laughed at that: a loud, undignified snort that, after it escaped, seemed to echo in the room. She slapped a hand over her mouth, mortified.

The other three looked at her for a second. Then Kofuku squealed, clasping Hiyori so tightly in her arms that she swore two of her ribs cracked.

“You’re so, so, so so adorable! I just wanna squeeze you into my pocket and take you everywhere—!”

Yato began scrolling through song options, and Daikoku sipped broodingly on his drink. Neither of them offered to help her. As she turned steadily bluer in Kofuku’s embrace, Hiyori had a revelation.

“Hey,” she wheezed. “Where’s Yukine?”

Yato glanced up from the song list. “He said he was busy again.”

Daikoku frowned sadly. “Aw, damn. I like that kid.”

“He’s been acting so shady recently,” Yato complained. “Why are teenagers like this? I thought he wanted to hang out with Hiyori, but then all of a sudden he has ‘botany assignments’ and ‘study partners,’ and then he’s ditching me to go to the ‘library,’ and—”

“Sounds like he’s just being a responsible kid,” Daikoku pointed out. Yato sulked.

“I didn’t tell him he could do that.”

“You’re not his dad.”

Yato bristled. “Well…I feed him!”

“Day-old pizza and ramen is not a balanced diet for a growing boy.”

Hiyori, overcome with curiosity, interrupted their disagreement.

“Wait,” she said. “Where are Yukine’s parents?”

Yato’s mouth was open to make some retort, but he shut it again. He shrugged, almost nonchalant.

Almost.

“No idea,” he said.

There was a second of silence. Hiyori’s eyes darted from Yato, to Daikoku, to Kofuku. There was a secret here she was being shut out of, and she wasn’t sure how hard she could press before her prying struck too deep a nerve.

“So…you’re basically his caretaker,” she stated to Yato. He shrugged again.

“More or less.”

Hiyori’s chest squeezed tight and hot with sudden, inexplicable grief. “Oh.”

Something in her voice made Yato look back at her. When he saw her stricken expression, his attitude flipped 180 degrees.

“Hey,” he said loudly. “This sure is a bummer conversation! Can we sing yet?”

Kofuku cheered and grabbed a mic. Yato reached for the other, but Daikoku snatched it away with a smooth, lightning-quick motion.

“You gonna take the first duet with my woman?” he said menacingly. Hiyori had no idea whether the threat in his voice were real or playful.

She wasn’t sure Yato knew either. He threw his hands up in surrender.

At that, a wide grin spread across Daikoku’s face. He guffawed, slapping Yato’s back with such thunderous force that he was nearly driven face-first into the table. Hiyori winced.

“Agh,” Yato groaned, giving a weak thumbs-up. “Funny.”

The music started. Kofuku had chosen a syrupy, woeful Lady Antebellum song that she and Daikoku lumbered through with more enthusiasm than skill. Yato’s earlier statement proved true: by the end of the song, Hiyori was dissolving in giggles at Kofuku’s death-defying commitment to the drawn-out, yearning notes.

As the doomed duet drew to a very flat close, she found her shoulder being tapped. At some point during Kofuku and Daikoku’s performance, Yato had scooted along the couch to sit nearer to her.

“You wanna go?” he asked.

She nodded, and took the song selection device from his hands. Their thighs brushed, and heat crept from her collarbones up her neck. She scrolled quickly through the song options, trying to distract herself from the warmth of his leg.

“Which one?” she asked helplessly. She couldn’t parse the blur of songs on the screen with Yato sitting so close to her.

Kofuku collapsed on her other side, leaning on her shoulder to browse the titles.

“Ooh! This one! Sing this one!” She snatched the screen and poked a button.

The song began to play. Hiyori choked.

“No. No.”

“Come ooon,” Kofuku whined piteously. The corners of her rosebud mouth turned down when Hiyori balked. “You have to sing this one, for me. Please?”

Blushing up to her ears, Hiyori slowly stood up and took the microphone.

“Okay,” she said, heavy with reluctance. “But…it won’t be good.”

The song’s intro was building to a crescendo. Soon, she would have to sing.

She met Yato’s eyes by accident. He was grinning broadly—no doubt anticipating her failure—and something hot and hungry in her awoke.

She wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug look off his face.

She lifted the mic.

“I think I did it again.”

Hiyori didn’t recognize the voice that came out of her. Sultry, seductive.

Britney.

She only struggled with a few of the lower notes, and finished to an insane round of applause, mostly provided by Kofuku. Daikoku smiled his approval, which made him seem much more like the gentle young man he was, rather than a hired gun. Yato looked like he was going to pass out. He was sitting motionless, mouth agape, too shaken to even clap. Kofuku elbowed him in the ribs, and he finally joined the applause, though it still seemed like a stiff wind might knock him over.

“Are you okay?” Hiyori asked, sitting back down. She was a bit breathless, but her head was light with elation.

“Uh,” he said. His voice was airy, like the breath after a punch. “Who—Where did you—? You can sing?”

She giggled. It was nice to have surprised him. Too nice.

“I think that was just a good song for my range,” she admitted. “But…thank you. I assume that was a compliment?”

Yato was still staring at her, slackjawed. Then he nodded silently, at a loss for words. A blush climbed into her cheeks.

“Well.” She cleared her throat. “It’s your turn now. What are you going to do to show me up?”

As soon as she said that, his persona shifted. He plucked the microphone from her loose grip, and reached over to snatch the song selection device from Kofuku, who was threatening Daikoku with another sappy duet. As he reached behind her, his arm grazed the back of her neck, raising a host of goosebumps across her neck and arms. Hiyori swallowed.

“You’ll see,” Yato said quietly.

As soon as he pressed the button, Freddie Mercury’s rich, soaring voice broke on their ears.

“Caaaan…anybody….”

“Oh god, no,” Daikoku groaned.

“Fiiind meeee…”

Yato stood up.

“Somebody to…”

He looked straight at Hiyori, and his mouth twitched.

“Loooooove?”

The piano began. And then Yato started to sing.

She had to admit that he was a natural performer, though his falsetto was rocky at best. He had a surprisingly pleasant, deep voice, which resonated with something in the pit of her stomach that she didn’t entirely trust.

He committed utterly to the spirit of the piece, and by the end was lying supine on the floor, kicking one leg feebly in the air as he warbled the last few notes in a dying voice that was only a distant cousin to the song’s key signature.

As soon as he finished, Hiyori burst into applause, quickly joined by Kofuku’s enthusiastic cheers. Daikoku’s face was dark red with suppressed laughter, and Hiyori suspected he was enjoying the spectacle of Yato making a fool of himself more than anything else the night could bring him.

Yato flung himself back onto the couch next to her, his face shiny with exertion.

“Very nice,” Hiyori said sincerely. “Though I don’t think you were supposed to try and sing backup vocals along with yourself.”

He grinned, unperturbed by her critique. “I like a challenge.”

Daikoku’s ears perked up.

“Oh yeah? You up for some Underoath, dude?”

Yato paled. “Do…do they have anything by Underoath?”

Hiyori, who had taken charge of the song selection, shook her head.

“No, but they do have a whole lot of Simon & Garfunkel. Like…too much. And one Katy Perry song. Have they updated this since 2009?”

“Which Katy Perry song?” Kofuku asked brightly.

“I Kissed a Girl.”

“Ooh!” Kofuku squealed. “I wanna do that one. Gimme.”

: : :

Hiyori couldn’t believe it when Daikoku glanced at his watch and yawned.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“9:30.”

Yato scoffed. “What are you, 80?”

Daikoku glowered at him, but before he could retort, Kofuku turned white and clasped both hands over her mouth.

“Oh no,” she whispered. “I just remembered. I think…I think I left the oven on.”

Yato groaned. Daikoku lowered his head into his hands.

“I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I’m so sorry! I don’t even know why I was using it!”

Daikoku stood up, shaking his head in mild disappointment. “Well…I guess we’re heading home now. If it’s still standing, that is.”

Yato slumped back on the couch, and as he did so, his elbow overlapped Hiyori’s. She tried not to react, but the effort to keep herself from shivering at the contact was monumental.

“Don’t worry,” he muttered to her out of the corner of his mouth. “She does this a lot. It’s usually a false alarm.”

Hiyori’s eye twitched. “Usually?”

Kofuku allowed herself to be pacified, receiving repeated assurances from the other three that the oven was probably not on, that the house was probably not ripe with combustive gas. However, she and Daikoku still made movements to leave.

“We were supposed to have the room for another hour,” Kofuku said. “So you two stay and get your money’s worth.”

Then she looked at Hiyori. Somehow, without either of the men noticing, Kofuku shot her a bold, saucy wink.

Hiyori’s stomach dropped. She suddenly harbored doubts as to whether the oven had actually been left on.

“Um,” she said.

“Okay!” Yato broke in, more than enthusiastic to take up the offer. “We’ll sing enough for both of you.” He turned to her, and the joy on his face was so infectious that Hiyori thought it would be outright cruel to puncture it.

“Sure,” she said. Then, after a moment of hesitation: “It was really great to meet both of you.”

She meant it. There was something almost familial about how the two of them had immediately welcomed her as Yato’s friend. She gave Kofuku a warm hug, and had her shoulder affectionately patted by Daikoku.

“Nice singing,” he said sincerely, and Hiyori beamed.

As the couple left the room, Kofuku shot one more mischievous, meaningful smile over her shoulder. Yato caught a glimpse of Hiyori’s expression, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” she said, too quickly. Searching for a distraction, she punched a random song on the screen. As soon as the opening notes played, she and Yato exchanged a look of wide-eyed terror.

“Oh man,” he said. Hiyori scanned the screen for a “skip” button, but the programmers had cleverly hidden it in an obscure corner. Before she could conduct a more thorough search, Yato grabbed her wrist.

“We can’t skip it,” he said earnestly. “That’s cheating!”

“You can’t cheat at karaoke—” Hiyori protested, but he wasn’t listening.

“I got chiiills.” His voice cracked badly, but he soldiered on. Hiyori winced. John Travolta, Yato was not.

“They’re multiplyin’. And I’m looosing control.”

He grabbed her hand, dragging her up from the sofa. She yelped as he swung her in a circle, then pushed the other mic into her hand. Hiyori shook her head, though a grin tugged at her lips.

“You better shape up,” she sang—cautiously at first, then louder as her confidence grew. “‘Cuz I need a man, and my heart is set on you.”

Yato was doing some sort of upper body wiggle that made it seem like he was dislocating his shoulders. Hiyori burst into laughter, losing the tune. He picked it up again, and somehow they blundered through the chorus. At one point, they abandoned the melody entirely, instead resorting to shouts of “ooh, ooh, ooh, HONEY” at random intervals.

Hiyori was weak with laughter by the time the song ended. Yato was sweating, and his hair was wild from all the disco he’d just put it through.

“How have I never done this before?” she marveled, trying to catch her breath.

“Because you needed a cool, hip friend to take you!” he said.

Hiyori turned her gaze on him, and saw that he was one hundred percent serious. Her cheeks warmed.

“I think you might be right.”

She put him in charge of the song selection after that, because she didn’t trust herself to not pick something that would embarrass both of them. Yato was no better at choosing appropriately, as Hiyori discovered upon finding herself trying to carry the tune of “Eternal Flame” a few seconds later. He was belting out the operatic backup vocals, with only a passing nod to intonation.

After butchering The Bangles, Hiyori sank onto the bench again, her throat sore with laughter.

“Aren’t we almost out of time?” she asked, half-regretfully.

“Just one more?” Yato sank into a crouch in front of her, his eyes wide and pleading. “Please?”

She tested her throat and winced. “I’m not sure I can. My karaoke stamina is not nearly as impressive as yours.”

At that moment, one of the employees poked her head in.

“Um. You guys have to leave soon. We’re closing.”

She stared with open curiosity around the humid little room and the two disheveled, sweaty people who had obviously been occupied in some sort of strenuous activity for the last half hour.

“Are you…” The employee cleared her throat self-consciously. “What have you been doing in here?”

Hiyori took in her expression, the state of the room, the state of herself—

“Oh!” she cried out. “Oh. Oh no. We’re…we’re done. Sorry. We’ll leave.”

Yato however, was still caught up in the spirit of karaoke. He grabbed her wrist before she could set down the mic.

“One more?” he begged. “I promise it’ll be great.”

Hiyori cast a helpless glance at the UNDERWORLD employee, who shrugged and withdrew—probably to report to her manager about acquiring a hazmat suit to clean the room after they were through.

“I’m not kidding, Yato,” she said. “My voice is shot to hell.”

“That’s okay,” he reassured her. “This’ll be my solo.”

Apprehensively, Hiyori watched him pick the final song. As soon as it began to play, she couldn’t restrain a bark of laughter.

“Are you serious?” she asked incredulously.

“It’s a grand finale!”

“Yeah, but—“

It was too late; the chorus to “I Will Always Love You” had arrived, and Yato was giving it his all.

His all, in this case, happened to be an unholy screech. His raw, overtaxed voice couldn’t handle the strain of keeping up with Whitney’s extraordinary vocals. The auditory effect came closest to the cacophony of sixteen cats being disemboweled, and was enough to summon the manager of UNDERWORLD to kick them out of the room.

“Well, that was rude,” Yato said in a hurt voice, once they had been unceremoniously hustled outside. Hiyori was still holding her stomach and trying to breathe through stitches of laughter.

“I think you did break their sound system, though,” she wheezed. Yato frowned, clearly displeased with how the management of the place had treated his artistic endeavors.

Once she’d recovered her wind, Hiyori looked around the dark, nearly abandoned street. Her car was the only one in sight.

“Did you walk here?” she asked in disbelief.

“Oh, no.” He winced and scratched the back of his neck. “Daikoku and Kofuku drove. I…forgot about that. Whoops.”

“Well, I’m headed in the right direction.” She shot a sideways grin at him and jingled her keys.

“Need a lift?”

shit got real and i barely got this chapter up today. i'll try SUPER HARD to not make you guys wait more than two weeks for the next one! pleas forgiv