#excuse me while I get settled in writing in Jonathan's voice

[kindlythevoid]

(Here is the link to the recipe:)

Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

[sadhours]

Please god picture this:

Billy pinning Steve up against the cold tiled shower wall in the high school. He's fed up with the mind games, the pecocking, the teasing. Steve, intimidated but not standing down, rolls his eyes and struggles underneath Billy's mean smirk and intense stare. He mutters out a "Fucks sake Hargrove, get off me".. Billy, voice laced with need, replies "Make me."

Thank you for this request. I’ve been wanting to delve into Harringrove but haven’t really been super confident. I hope you like this, I had a fucking field day writing it. I love these two.

warnings; 18+ minors dni, all smut baby, Steve is having bi-panic

Steve used to like basketball. Back when it was actually fun and not a goddamn pissing contest with the new blonde asshole from California. Practice went from a nice way to blow off steam and hangout with people he’d known forever without pressure. Then Billy joined the team and every fucking practice felt like a battle. Steve couldn’t pinpoint why he was so dead set on one-uping him but fuck, was it exhausting. The thing was, Steve thought he didn’t care about the status bullshit anymore. Then when it all fell apart with Nancy, he felt himself getting wrapped back up in it due to the distraction it supplied. Or maybe it was the way Billy was so pushy about it, like because it mattered to him, it should matter to Steve.

Today’s practice was particularly brutal. Billy was making illegal moves left and right but Coach didn’t call it out a single fucking time, like he thought letting Billy play dirty would inspire Steve to play better. The motherfucker talked so much. That was the worst part, he’d hog the ball up and down the court, spouting goddamn monologues at Steve. It was clear from the taunting look in his bright blue eyes that he got something from taunting Steve, whatever the hell it was is a mystery but it got under Steve’s skin.

The night he’d been told Nancy skipped school with Jonathan, Steve tried to jerk off before bed and got sick when he’d thought about her. Then something fucking weird happened and he thought about the shit Billy had said to him on the court and in the shower. It didn’t make him go soft in his hand like he’d expected and he shamefully stroked his dick, imagining Billy criticizing how he was jerking himself off. When he’d spilled spunk all over his hand and stomach, he felt so incredibly embarrassed that he did so while thinking of Billy Hargrove of all people. Steve thought about it the next day when he’d seen Billy and his whole body went white hot with shame and unfortunately, arousal.

Steve tries not to think of it as he showers now. How the fuck he ended up alone in the locker room with Hargrove was a mystery to him. They both took too long shit talking after Coach excused them all. Steve curses himself about it, knowing no one sticks around for long and Coach leaves as soon as he excuses them. Feeling uneasy around Hargrove wasn’t new but it was made ten times worse by the fact that he’d become Steve’s jack off material.

They’re showering. Right next to each other. There’s at least 20 other nozzles Billy could have chosen but no, he picks the one directly to Steve’s left. They’re lathering up, silent and fuck, it’s awkward. Steve won’t let his eyes wander, he’d already done so before so he knows what Billy’s working with but if he does it now, he risks popping a boner and Billy might actually beat his face in if that happens.

“You really play like shit, Harrington,” Billy says, eyes rolling over to Steve.

“Do you ever fucking shut up?”

Hargrove snorts, reaching out to shut Steve’s steam off, “Do you ever make shots?”

Steve turns the faucet back on, “When you’re not breathing down my fucking neck.”

“Did you guys even win a single game before I showed up?”

Steve thinks back, of course they did but to be fair, they’d been winning way more in the short month Billy’s been on the team. He can’t inflate this fuckers ego even more, though.

“Yeah,” he settles on, rinsing his hair out and turning off the flow of water.

“Bullshit,” Billy scoffs.

Steve turns to him finally, telling himself that when Billy’s eyes lower that he’s definitely not looking at his cock. There’s no way.

“Why would I lie about that?”

Hargrove frowns, “To make yourself feel better.”

“It’s high school basketball, I don’t really give a shit.”

“Easy for you to say, pretty boy. Daddy’s gonna make sure you get into college no matter what,” Billy retorts, shutting off his shower.

Steve rolls his eyes, “You’ve got no fucking clue.”

It happens quick, Hargrove’s grabbing his wrists and walks him back against the wall. The tiles are cold as Steve’s back is pressed against them. Billy’s palm presses against Steve’s chest and he shoves him harder against the wall. His skin feels hot against Steve’s. He can’t get a boner from this. He can’t. Grandma’s face, dead puppies, every trick in the book to keep his dick from stirring.

“For fucks sake, Hargrove,” Steve seethes, “Get the fuck off me!”

Billy licks his lower lip, smirk spreading against his face as he says, desperate, “Make me, Steve.”

It’s the first time he’s ever called him by his first name and Steve can’t help the way his dick fills out from it, he stares up at Billy with big, brown wide eyes. They hold onto the stare, each of them panting but Billy’s the first to break it, glancing between their bodies and Steve can’t help but follow. They’re both achingly hard, tips red and leaking an absurd amount.

“Knew it,” Billy mutters before he’s crashing his mouth agains Steve’s, teeth clacking before they both roll their tongues out to taste the other.

His words taint Steve’s mind. What the hell did he mean? Did he know Steve’s been jerking off to thought of him? Was Steve being obvious? He thinks about it too hard apparently because Billy pulls away from the kiss.

“It’s okay, ya know,” he mumbles to which the brunette nods, it feels too good for it to be wrong.

“Okay,” Steve chokes out, wrapping his fingers around the back of Billy’s neck and pulls him back so he can lick into his mouth. Fuck expectations, fuck shame, Billy tastes too good and Steve’s dick wants this more than anything to stop. He’s pushing his body against Steve’s, their cocks rub against each other and it pulls a groan from him, Billy swallowing it while he grinds against Steve. Now he’s glad everyone left before them.

Hargrove is a talker so it shouldn’t surprise Steve when he pulls back, “You been wanting this, Harrington?”

But Steve isn’t easy so he grunts, “Shut up.”

The laugh that erupts from the blonde boy is cruel yet so god damn sexy that Steve grabs Billy’s hips and pulls him closer. It’s eager on Steve’s part but he can’t find it in him to care. Billy’s right, he’s been wanting this and he’s gonna let himself indulge in it.

Billy’s hands grab their cocks, loosely stroking them in his grip while he groans into Steve’s mouth. He’s never felt anything like it. He panics momentarily because shit, this is gay but Hargrove is pretty almost like a girl so is it that gay? He doesn’t have time to really think much about it because Billy’s dropping to his knees but grips Steve’s cock at the base and squeezes.

“Oh, shit,” Steve exhales, “Shit, shit, shit.”

Billy Hargrove is gonna suck his dick. He almost can’t believe it’s happening so he doesn’t dare look away. He’s waiting for the sound of his alarm to go off, this has to be a fucking wet dream. Billy’s lips are so red and swollen from the kissing and fuck, Steve’s worried he’s gonna blow his load the second Billy wraps his lips around him.

“Jesus Christ,” he says in disbelief as it happens. He doesn’t ruin it by coming immediately but his hips jerk and he shoves himself down Billy’s throat with the motion and Steve’s confronted with the fact that Billy’s done this before because he doesn’t choke or gag, instead he sucks, hard. His blue eyes intense as he stares back up at Steve. “Dear fucking lord,” he curses, clenching his fists where he holds them against the tile.

He sees Hargrove’s lips curl up with the hint of smile and he’s annoyed slightly. He just knows this is making Billy just that much more full of himself. It’s barely began but it’s the top tier of blow jobs, the best Steve’s ever had. The way Hargrove swallows around his cock which feels so fucking incredible, he’s whining because of it. He wonders what Billy’s thinking. Obviously, he likes Steve in some kind of way to even wanna get his cock in his mouth. But Steve wonders if the pretty boy bullshit was because Billy legitimately thinks he’s pretty. No time to really stew on it though because Billy cradles his balls in his hand while he bobs up and down on Steve’s pulsing length, sucking his cheeks in whenever he descends. He looks downright ethereal, pink lips, flushed cheeks and glassy blue eyes. Fuck, Billy’s gorgeous. He’s floored by it, moving his hands into the damp curls at the crown of Billy’s head.

“Fuck,” he drawls, “You’re so pretty.”

Billy pulls off of him with a pop, “You’re the pretty one, pretty boy.”

Steve fucking whimpers, it’s pathetic but god damn, the name has taken on a whole new meaning for him. Billy’s wanted him. This whole time.

He curls his tongue around his tip and Steve can’t tear his eyes away, jaw open while pants fall out. It’s never been like this. When Steve’s with girls, there’s a goal in mind, he’s focused on getting off but now, he wants this to last forever and somehow he’s able to hold off on his orgasm, though Billy’s blowing him better than any girl ever has. Then he’s moving away, to lick at Steve’s balls and seriously, he’s in fucking heaven. Girls ignore his sack.

“Jesus,” he breathes, watching in awe while the blonde strokes him slowly, thumb padding against his slit.

Steve’s flooded with the promise of his orgasm, Billy mouthing at his sack while he pulls on his cock.

“Shit,” he curses out, voice wrecked, “Gonna cum.”

Billy moves to wrap his lips around his head and sinks down, swallowing his length and Steve busts, shooting cum down Billy’s throat. He can feel Billy gulp it down which only pulls more from him. He looks obscene as he sits back, lips puffy and pupils blown.

Steve pants against the wall as he stares down at him. He’s a little perturbed as he realizes he wants to get his lips around Hargrove’s cock because in all his times of jacking off with Billy at the forefront of his mind, he was never pleasing the blond. But he wants to now. Wants to see if he’s up to the job.

“Your turn?” Steve proposes, a little shy.

Billy chuckles, standing up and grabbing a hold of Steve’s anxious fingers.

“Don’t know if you’re experienced enough to handle it, pretty boy.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit close, Billy might be right. He’s never had a cock in his mouth but he thinks he’s a quick leaner.

“I can try,” he mumbles but Billy just pats his cheek.

“Next time,” he whispers before making his way toward his locker.

Next time, Steve hangs on the words.

[storiesundercandlelight]

I think it would be interesting to explore pre-canon Jonathan Reid! Maybe something about him and his partner before the war?

This is so interesting!! I hope I captured Jonathan alright! As I stared this I had so many ideas that they all fought each other for the chance to be the one I went with 😅 in the end this one won! I veered off canon a bit towards the end.... *cough* Elizabeth just doesn't exist in my world

You knew he'd follow you upstairs, the attention would get to him soon enough, all the praising and compliments on his work would slowly but surely wear him down. You hated these parties, obligations to attend because of your parents, but you would never turn down the opportunity to be around Jonathan.

Neither of you had let it be known that you were together, the idea of giving up this little secret of yours was too difficult to let go of, knowing full well that both yours and Jonathan's family would be all over it in a heartbeat. Asking questions of when. When is the wedding? When will you have children? When When When? Neither you nor Jonathan wanted that just yet.

Besides, there was a certain thrill to sneaking off, hiding behind closed doors and shared glances across a room that no one else noticed. You sat down on the window ledge in the upper sitting room you had found the door to, the sounds of the party downstairs muffled by the closed door only briefly loudened again when Jonathan slipped in.

"God I can't stand that woman" You chuckled, knowing full well you'd ignored Jonathan's pleading look of 'save me' that was thrown your way just before you raised an eyebrow at him and walked upstairs to hunt down a quiet spot. "You are merciless for leaving me like that"

"Well I didn't want to give us away" You said innocently.

"Mm, perhaps there is some error to our choice on that, if everyone knew then I could easily use you as an excuse to avoid yet another conversation about how I'm getting on in years and should really find myself a nice girl to settle down with, especially the many daughters who's names I don't even register enough to remember"

"Such a hard life you live Dr.Reid!" You both chuckled as Jonathan sat down beside you, pulling you close to him as you both looked out the window to the dimly lit gardens outside, a few party goers wandering the courtyard. "I hate that you're leaving"

"I know, I can honestly say I would rather attend a hundred more of these parties just to stay with you" Jonathan sighed, his hand mindlessly stroked along your own as you relaxed into him, willing your emotions not to surface again like they had before. "I won't be gone long I suspect. They just need help treating wounded soldiers, they're overrun"

"I just wish it wasn't you, any other doctor would be preferable"

"I'm sure there's another wife out there who would be saying the same if it was another doctor"

"But I'm not your wife"

"Not yet" You looked up at Jonathan, his lip was tilted up in a small smile you couldn't bring yourself to match. His hand gently brushed a wayward strand of hair from your face. "You will be, I'm coming back"

"But how can we be sure? What if something happens?" You could feel your chest growing tighter at the thought of it.

"I'll be huddled up in some dusty medical tent, I doubt I'll see any of the action" Even Jonathan could hear the lie in his voice, truth be told he himself didn't know what to expect, the very idea of going to France both scared him and filled him with a sense of duty that he couldn't ignore. "I'll write you sappy love letters, you'll be sick of me by the time I return home" You chuckled at that.

"I will be sorely disappointed now if I don't receive those letters. I'll need something to laugh at while you're gone"

"Such cruelty, you'll break my heart"

"Oh well we can't have that, not with you running off to war and all"

"Certainly not! You can make it up to me"

"Oh? How? Is this your not so subtle attempt to get me into a compromising position?"

"Well I haven't failed with that so far" You playfully hit Jonathan who laughed and pulled you closer against him. "Promise you'll marry me when I come home?"

"I hope you have a ring in your pocket" You heard Jonathan huff out a laugh but the smirk on his face wasn't quite as full now. "I promise" You turned to look at him fully, taking a moment to look at every detail of him, you were sure you knew every inch of him perfectly now but still, in this moment you just wanted to lock absolutely everything about him into your memory.

"Did that count as a proposal or will I have to do it again?" Jonathan's attempt to lighten the mood was tinged so blue with sadness you almost didn't want to answer, but with a deep breath you smiled back at him, this wasn't the time to dwell on the future.

"I suppose so... not quite as elaborate as I'd have expected...although knowing you as I do I can only imagine something... clinical? Medical? Hmm...perhaps you could have put the ring in a pill bottle? No?"

Jonathan rolled his eyes at you before leaning close and capturing your lips with his. You both held on as if your lives depended on it, as if any moment some god awful person was about to burst into the room and throw Jonathan on the next boat out of here. You suddenly felt such a sadness for all the many women who'd had to say goodbye to their loved ones before you. Such a sudden sense of being shoved into a club none of you wanted to be in, a club for lonely women awaiting the return of their men... or of the telegram to say they wouldn't be coming home.

The very idea had a tear running down your face, one that Jonathan wiped away gently with his thumb. He held your face still a moment, perhaps taking his own mental image of your face. "A few months... then we'll be together again... probably wishing we could both go back to war to avoid our mothers organising the wedding" the smiles shared between you now were sad ones, ones that wished to laugh it off but couldn't quite life the veil of grief you already felt at being pulled away from each other. Normally you would be checking the clock, seeing how long you could drag out before having to reluctantly return to the party before anyone noticed you were both gone. But tonight? Tonight neither of you could bare the thought of moving just yet, the thought of time standing still just a little longer was too tempting. The thought of just pretending for a moment that the coming days weren't actually coming was too precious to care about returning to a world where you would be split apart.

________________________________

It was only now that Jonathan allowed himself to even think about going to your door. To show you what he had become. This monster that had consumed him.

A part of him wondered if word of his return had reached you yet, he hated that the last few weeks had been nothing but chaos for him. Yet you were all he thought about when the night began to fade into dawn and his body began to shut down in it's new unnatural way.

A part of him wondered if he should avoid you, perhaps he should leave and pretend to have died. But he knew too many people had seen and spoken to him now to be able to pull it off.

So many visions of your face flashed through his mind, the disgust, the horror and fear, the hurt in your eyes. Jonathan found he couldn't even imagine an outcome where you would welcome him back into your life once you found out what he has become. Another part of him couldn't bare to put you in that position in the first place, to ask you to live with him the way he is, a creature of the night, destined to watch all of his loved ones grow old while he lived in limbo.

All the dinners he wont spend with you because he's out scavenging for skall and rat blood. The very idea of you being privy to that information made Jonathan want to throw up.

He wondered if you still had all of his letters... he still had yours by some miracle, he'd spent hours digging through that god awful pit he'd been left in looking for them... the tied together stack finally in his hands again though they were mostly ruined from the rain.

The warm lights of your home were there, the dark wooden door begging him to knock. He knew you were awake, his new senses drew his eyes up to the second floor where he knew you were sitting in your room. Your heat beating gently, he wondered how that rhythm would change when you opened the door and saw him.

As Jonathan stood there he wondered how many more times he would find himself like this...wondering if now was the right time to knock on the door.

[fearfulkittenwrites]

With one last breath in me (I’d die before I’d let you leave)

Word Count: 8053

Notes: Hey @river-bottom-nightmare! I hope you enjoy this! I tried my best to make it angsty but I always go overboard with the fluff on these two. I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you’ll have fun reading it too!

“Superboy, to your left!” Robin says.

Jon uses his laser eyes to destroy the robots, before moving back to Robin’s side, running with him for the exit.

“You have the data?” He asks.

“Who am I, Red Robin?” He shoots back, smirking as he shakes the flashdrive in front of him “Of course I have the data.”

“That was fast.”

“I am fast.” Robin says, using his batarangs to make a hole on the wall ahead of them.

“Careful,” Superboy smiles, picking him up by the armpits and flying them out of the twentieth floor “You almost sound like Flash now.”

“That’s preposterous.” Robin rolls his eyes as his feet carefully reach the ground, patting the dust out of his costume.

“Are you alright?” Jon asks, scanning his friend like his father had recently taught him to.

“I’m fine. Are you?” Damian grunts, rearranging his cape.

“Yeah, I’m okay. But I think we should go before that becomes a problem.” Jon points at the building they just left, with a reasonably sized burning hole on it’s side.

“Great point.” Robin raises an eyebrow at the mess they’ve made.

Jon picks him up by his armpits again, over Damian’s protests.

“Put me down, you wild beast!” He flails around “You’re going to dislocate my shoulders!”

“What do you suggest then? We need to get home!” Jon says. Damian thinks for a second, before sighing.

“Fine. Put me on your back.” He says, resigning to his fate.

Jon doesn’t need to land to throw him over his shoulders, going faster now that Damian was more secure. Robin blushed with the ease that he had been placed on his friends back, wrapping his arms and legs around Superboy’s torso. They still had fifteen minutes to go, so he rests his head against Jon’s back, examining the flashdrive. Jon blushes when he feels Damian’s hair ticking the back of his neck. They reach their HQ after twenty minutes of a comfortable flight. Robin doesn’t complain about the added travel time.

Damian walks to the computer, analyzing the data they had just stolen, downloading whatever seemed interesting and relevant before he could take it back to the cave for further research under his father’s critical eyes.

“Hey, Dami,” Jon calls. Damian freezes at the nickname, and tries his best to disguise it as he feels Jon’s hand on his shoulder “Do you think you have it covered? I kinda really need a shower right now.”

“Go ahead.” Damian’s voice comes out a bit higher than normal. He clears his throat “You wouldn’t be of much use for me right now anyways.”

Jon takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes.

“Whatever.” He pulls his hand back “If you need me, you know where I’ll be.”

Yes, he did. In the shower. And Damian was trying really hard not to picture him there. And he was trying really hard not to think of how nice Jon’s hair must feel when it’s wet and being shampooed. And he tries even harder not to think of how even nicer it must be to have Jon’s hands massaging his scalp for him. And he tries really hard not to think of how much he wants Jon to tangle his fingers into his hair and play with it as he drifts off to sleep. And he doesn’t even know why it is that he needs to try so hard not to think about it.

“I won’t be needing you, Kent.” Damian says “Have a nice shower. You stink.”

“Whatever.” Jon says again, rolling his eyes one more time.

 ...

 “What’s with the face, D?” Jon asks, sitting across his friend at the lunch table.

Damian takes another bite out of the sandwich Alfred had carefully crafted in the morning and frowns harder as he watches a girl sit down next to Jon, followed by her friend. He was almost sure one of them was Delilah, but it might as well be Janet. Jon is – as always – smiling, but the two girls aren’t. Understandably so. Damian didn’t exactly make an effort to be liked.

“So, which class do you have next?” Jon insists.

“Chemistry.” Damian answers.

“Oh, I hate chemistry.” Jon says, overreacting, trying to keep the conversation alive.

“I used to find it rather fascinating. Of course, that was back when I was with mother and being taught something actually useful and challenging, and not now, when I’m forced to go through this with a bunch of functional idiots that can’t even remember the formula for the air that they breathe.” Damian says.

“Huh.” Jon says, tapping the table and bouncing his leg. Damian rolls his eyes.

“Yeah.” The girl – maybe her name was Jessica – says, turning to Jon “Hey, have you seen the soccer game last night? Man, I could barely stay still!”

“Me neither!” Jon says, enthusiastically chattering on about a game Damian had neither seen or been interested in with the girls.

He tunes out the conversation until he finishes his sandwich and leaves without a word, but enough noise to catch a few eyes. Not that he cared.

“Excuse me for a second.” Jon says to the girls, before sprinting after Damian “Hey, D, wait up!” He says, placing his hand on Damian’s shoulder again, forcing him to turn. He wills himself not to blush when he faces his blue-eyed friend “What’s going on? Did something happen? You seem a little down today.”

“Nothing happened, Kent.” Damian spits out “I have a class to attend. Go back to talking about football with your friends.”

“It’s actually soccer, but-”

“Doesn’t matter.” Damian turns around “Americans” He rolls his eyes as he makes his way through the halls, leaving Jon very confused, a little worried, and a little angry.

Damian keeps rubbing and scratching his right shoulder through the day, remembering Jon’s hand forcefully spinning him on his heels. He can’t understand why he wishes it was still there.

The rest of Damian’s classes go by at an agonizingly slow pace, and when he’s finally free to go home, he once again feels a hand grabbing him on the hallways. Jon holds him by his left forearm, and Damian stares down at his friends grip in surprise. His arm is covered by his clothing, but it still feels like it’s on fire under the other’s fingers. Surprisingly, Damian finds that he doesn’t really want to pull away. He drags his eyes up, meeting his friend’s.

“Dami, did I do something? You haven’t talked to me all day.”

Damian frowns.

“You didn’t do anything, Kent.” He pulls his arm back, harsher than he needs to be “Leave me alone at once, I need to go home.”

“Oh, c’mon Damian.” Jon walks beside him. Damian wants to punch him in the face “Don’t be like that. We’ve been friends for such a long time, you can tell me anything.”

“Great. I’m telling you to leave.” Damian shoves his hands in his pockets.

“You’re so rude, Damian.” Jon says.

“Oh look, there’s Pennyworth.” Damian says, monotone and sarcastic “I would hate to keep him waiting. Goodbye.”

Damian walks faster, getting away from a huffing, frustrated Jon, while waving at Alfred. He replies with a polite nod and a small smile. When Damian gets in the car, ready to cuss up a storm on his way home, a friendly face greets him.

“Hey Dami.” Dick says, smiling, sunglasses on “So, I take it school sucked today.”

“Very much so.” Damian dares to open a small smile as he settles in next to Dick “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, missed you too, happy to see you’re safe.” Dick teases.

“Yes, sure, I’m glad you’re back from your mission, alive and in one piece.” Damian rolls his eyes “Not like I had any doubts you’d come home safe.”

“I’m here because I missed you.” Dick says, reaching out to ruffle Damian’s hair “But Bruce wouldn’t let me come alone, says there are too many bruises to be questioned, so I had to stay in the car.” Dick removed his shades to expose a nasty black eye, so swollen Damian could barely see the blue in them. He was taken aback by that, finally noticing all of the other injuries Dick hid so well; there was a healing cut close to his hairline, a splint in his left hand and a deep purple bruise poked out of his collar, probably hinting at a much bigger nightmare underneath.

“I can see why.” Damian says as Dick puts his shades back on. The boy stops for a second, thinking “Can I still hug you?”

Dick has the biggest smile on his face at that.

“Of course you can, little D.” He says, opening his arms “Just mind the hip, I think I might’ve fractured it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Damian replies, already burying his face in his brother’s neck. He hadn’t realised how much he missed Dick when he was away.

“Now,” Dick starts as they separate “Wanna tell me what’s gotten you so down?”

“I’m not-” Damian gasps, outraged for a split second, putting up all of the walls he always did before he remembered this was his brother. He sighs, shoulders falling as he does so “I... Jonathan is getting on my nerves.” Damian rubs his left forearm, curling protectively over it.

“Did he hurt you?” Dick asks, reaching out for his arm.

“No, it’s not that.” Damian answers, sighing, letting his brother check under his sleeve for bruises “It’s his friends, that Denise, or Jennifer or whatever. Following him around talking about ‘soccer’.” He makes a face “And of course, since he insists on following me, I am forced to listen to that... annoying little voice, blabbering on about meaningless subjects.”

“Hm.” Dick listens with a smirk “Y’know, it sounds to me like you’re jealous.”

Damian huffs.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it though?” Dick squints a bit.

“Yes.”

“You hesitated.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I did not!”

“Yes you did.”

“Kids, please, no more yelling.” Alfred says.

Damian huffs.

“Alright, I’m sorry, I was only teasing you.” Dick says “But, um, just in case I was right, then... you do know it’s okay, right?”

“You were not right, so it doesn’t matter. Now leave me alone already.” Damian looks out the window, frowning.

“Okay, okay, I’ll back off.” Dick says, putting his hands up.

“Good.” He shoots back. There are a few minutes of silence before the kid speaks up “When will you be able to go on patrol with us again?”

Dick frowns.

“Tonight?”

And there it is, the string of curses Damian had been holding back on, bullying Dick hard enough to get him to stay at home for at least a week.

 ...

 “So... the school dance is coming.” Jon says over Damian’s shoulder.

“And you are bringing this up because?” Damian grunts, searching the room for any other crooks that could be hiding.

“Because this is boring.” Jon replies, grabbing a hidden guy by the back of his neck “And I was wondering if you’re going.” He shoves the guy to Damian, who hits him with a perfect nerve strike to keep him down for a while.

“-tt-.” Damian rolls his eyes, walking to the next room “As if I would be willingly joining those stupid peasants for an evening.” He takes down two men while Jon leans against a door frame.

“Wow, okay.” He says “Forget I asked anything.”

“Why? Are you going?” Damian scoffs.

“Yes.”

Damian looks at him in disbelief and disgust.

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun.” Jon rolls his eyes “And there are three more guys coming from the hall, I can hear their heartbeats.” Damian attacks before they reach the door “And Elise invited me. I think I might say yes.”

“What?” Damian scowls “You can’t-” He dodges a punch “A little help?” He growls at Jon, who sends a laser beam into the man’s foot “As I was saying, you can’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Because! It’s preposterous!” Damian yells, knocking down the last guy.

“Well, I don’t think so. I think it will be fun.” Jon says, making his way out of the place “And the police are near. We should be on our way.”

“I’m not allowing you.”

“You’re not the boss of me, Damian.” Jon rolls his eyes.

“You have patrol.” Damian shoots back.

“I can miss a day of patrol.” He crosses his arms “Just stay with your family for the night. Besides, hasn’t Nightwing just gotten back from a long mission overseas? Just spend more time with him, I’m sure you two miss each other a lot.”

“That’s besides the point!” Damian stomped his foot “You’re gonna leave me all alone for that... weird football girl.”

“Once again, soccer.”

“Ugh! Whatever!” Damian exclaims “I’m going home. Since you can’t take this seriously enough, I believe we should call it a night.”

“Robin, c’mon, don’t be such an ass.”

Damian clenched his jaw.

“Go back to Metropolis, Superboy. Gotham clearly doesn’t have a good enough soccer league for you.”

Damian shoots his grapple gun, letting it pull him to the top of a random building.

“Agh! You’re so frustrating sometimes!” Jon yells, shoving his hands in his hair.

After Damian sees the boy leaving, he sits on the edge of the building, feet dangling down. He picks up his comm, switching it to a private line.

“Nightwing,” He calls “Are you awake?”

It takes a while, but after a small static noise, Dick picks up. Damian sighs in relief.

“Hey.” He answers “I’m up. Is everything okay?”

“It’s... fine.” He sighs “I think...” He blushes “I think that you were right.” He looks down at his dangling feet “I think I did hesitate.”

There’s silence for a short while. Dick knows this is as close as Robin gets to crying.

“Where are you?” Dick asks “I’m picking you up.”

 ...

 Back home and under weighted blankets, Damian held on to a cup of hot cocoa Alfred had made for him while Dick ruffled his hair.

“Feeling better little D?” He asks, sitting down next to him. Damian sniffles a little.

“Not really.” He admits, staring at the steaming liquid in his green mug “I don’t understand. Why does it feel like I’m... like I’m dying?” He looks up at his older brother with watered eyes.

“I don’t know, Dames.” Dick replied gently “Maybe if you talk to me about what happened, I could help.”

Damian sighs, putting the mug down and hugging his knees.

“Her name is Elise.” Damian starts “The annoying girl I was talking about. And... he’s taking her to the school dance.” He closes his eyes for a second “I don’t understand. He’s... above her. Why would he subject himself to such a humiliating situation?”

“Why do you think he’s above her?” Dick frowns a little.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I think you might be forgetting that his mom is human too.” Dick replies “I don’t think he-”

“No. God no. You misunderstand me.” Damian interrupts “It’s not the human part that’s the problem. It’s the way she is. Such an annoying waste of space and matter.”

Dick tries his best to conceal his smile.

“Little D... you feel like you’re dying because you’re jealous.” Dick says. This time, Damian doesn’t protest “And it’s fine. It’s part of life.”

“But I don’t want to feel like that.” He says, hiding his face in himself.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s a possibility.” Dick smiles.

“How do I make it stop?” Damian asks.

“You could try asking Jon to go with you instead.”

“Never!” He hisses back “I’m not taking part in such dreadful events.”

“Oh, c’mon, what could be the worst that could happen?” Dick responds “Some harmless fun?” He teases “Oh no! The mighty Robin is afraid of music and watered down poncho!”

“Quit it Richard.” He growls “I’m not going and that’s final.”

 ...

 “I don’t understand.” Jon says, burying his face in his hands “He’s just so... difficult.”

Clark watched attentively as his son stared at his slice of pie, waiting for him to continue speaking.

“It’s like he doesn’t want me to be happy.” He frowns “I had no clue he hated me this much.”

“He doesn’t hate you Jon.” Clark says, gentle eyes scanning his son “We both know that Damian’s family life is... complicated. He cares about you very much, but has a hard time expressing it. He never really learned how to express it.”

“Yeah, well, remind me again of why I put up with it.” He complains, shoving a bite of pie into his mouth “It’s not like it’s my responsibility to teach him how to be a decent human being.” Clark waits patiently as his son finishes chewing “I mean... it’s so unfair. Why do I have to keep on... getting hurt by his mean words and he gets to just... walk away and have fun with his siblings? He was the one being rude and now I’m the one that’s upset.”

“Uh, I’m sure Kon would love to patrol with you, if that’s the issue.” Clark tries, unsure on what to say. God, he wished Lois was home. She was the one that knew what to do in situations like these.

“Ugh, dad, no.” He presses his temples with the palm of his hands “I mean that like... I have to carry around this weight that he puts on my shoulders! And it’s not fair.” He sighed “Why did I have to fall for someone who treats me so badly?”

Clark blushes at the words, unsure on what to say. These topics always made him a bit uneasy. But there was his boy, his little miracle, teary eyed and hurt, and for once in his life, there was nothing he could do about it. He reaches out a hand to his son.

“I don’t know, son.” He starts, holding Jon’s small hand in his “We can’t really control the desires of our hearts. Especially not at your age.” He smiles.

“I wish I could.” He mumbles, letting tears fall out of his eyes.

“I know.” Clark replies “We all do.”

“It feels like the world is ending right now.” Jon sobs “Like nothing matters anymore.”

“I know.” Clark moves to sit next to his son, hugging the boy “But I promise you it’s not ending.” He gently rubbed his arms as silent tears fell from his boy’s eyes “Everything seems so much bigger when we’re young. But this bad feeling will fade away, I promise you. Just give it time.”

Jon nods, wiping his eyes with his sleeves.

“Do you think I should talk to him?” Jon asks “I could... tell him how I feel?”

“I think that could be good.” Clark swallows “But... remember who he is. Damian might not be as kind as you would if he doesn’t feel the same.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jon sighs “But it’d be nice to put something of mine on his shoulders for once.”

 ...

 The next day, Damian doesn’t go to school. Jon spends the entire day anxious, wondering why his friend was allowed to skip class. Was he sick? Was he upset? Was he sent on a mission away from home? Was he dead? Oh no. If he was dead, then how was Jon supposed to confess his love? Wait. No, this wouldn’t be the worst part of him being dead. Jesus, Jon, come on.

At night, he can’t contain himself anymore. They weren’t supposed to patrol together, but Jon suits up and flies to Gotham regardless, heart beating desperately in his chest as he lands close by the cave’s secret entrance. He walks in, hoping he’d need to ask for Robin’s whereabouts, but instead he finds him as soon as he walks in, analyzing fresh samples in the batcomputer.

“Damian?” He calls “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here, Superboy?” Damian growls in response.

“I was worried.” Jon says “You weren’t at school today.”

“Very perceptive of you.” Damian rolls his eyes.

“I thought you were sick.” Jon crosses his arms, walking towards his friend “But clearly that isn’t the problem.”

“Stop scanning me.” Damian scowls.

“Stop being such an ass!” Jon shouts back “I’m here because I care about you, and you still say rude and mean things!”

“I didn’t ask you to come!”

“Well, but I’m here! And you could at least try to be polite!” Jon stomps his foot down.

“Did you come here to yell at me? Are you done already?” Damian asks, finally turning his entire body to face the boy, walking towards him as well.

“No! I came here to see if you needed help.” Jon replies “But you can’t help yourself, can you? You need to push away people that care about you.”

“Great. I don’t need help.” Damian replies, walking back to the computer “You’re done around here. Have a safe fly home.”

“What is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this, Damian?” Jon asks, frowning.

“Because I still feel your touch on me!” Damian shouts, turning around to face the other, ripping away his mask. There are tears gathered in his jade eyes. They break Jon’s resolve and they break Jon’s heart “Because even after you leave, your scent is burned into my nostrils and I can still feel you, everywhere!” Damian shoves his gloved hands into his hair “And for the first time in ages, I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know what this means, and I don’t know why I keep on feeling like my entire body is on fire when I’m next to you, why it feels so cold when you’re away, and why every bone in my body feels like they are breaking simultaneously when I see you next to someone that isn’t me!”

And then, the unthinkable finally happens.

Damian sobs.

He covers his mouth just in time, but the pained, loud sound still reaches Jon’s ears, and he feels it; the pain Damian just talked about, shattering every unbreakable bone in his half-kryptonian body. He watches as Robin falls to his knees in front of him, crying, crying so much it scares him. Because to this very day, Jon was certain that Robins didn't cry. Superboy had been warned of that several times.

No, Robins don’t cry.

But Damian does.

“D, I...” He reaches out a hand, crouching in front of him.

“No!” Damian yells, slapping his friends hand away “Don’t. Stay away from me! I don’t want to keep on getting hurt.”

“Dami, I don’t-”

“Don’t call me that!” Damian pushes Jon back, forcing him to stand up “Don’t call me that when you don’t mean it!”

“Please, just listen to me!”

“Leave me alone! Get away from me! Get out of here before I make you!” Damian keeps shouting out over Jon’s words.

“Damian, please-”

“Leave!” Damian reaches into his boot, pulling out a shard of kryptonite “I will not stand in your way any more, Kent.”

Jon puts his hands in front of his body, staring at him and at the green stone and he feels sick. He’s not sure if that’s on the kryptonite or if that’s on... everything else. Finally, he flies away, whispering his goodbyes and his apologies. If he cried on the way home, no one had to know. If he cried on his father’s shoulder when he got home, no one had to know. If his mom had to help him out of his costume and into bed after he calmed down, no one had to know.

And if Damian broke down and cried until his voice was hoarse and he ran out of tears, no one had to know. And if Dick rushed downstairs and held Damian’s small body against his own, no one had to know. And if his father had found them and caressed his hair and cupped his cheek with concerned eyes, no one had to know.

Because life would go on, no matter what. It had to, no matter how much pain there would be. It had to keep moving, no matter how heartbroken Jon was when he didn’t see Damian at school for the following week, only to find out he had been transferred to Gotham High. It had to, no matter how Damian’s body seemed to refuse to move on his first day in his new school. It had to. It simply had to. There were things to learn, people to protect, dances to attend, a world to save, and none of those were willing to wait on Robin or Superboy.

 ...

 “I can’t go.” Jon says “I’m sorry, but I really can’t go to the dance with you Elise.”

“What?” Elise says “The dance is tomorrow Jon! Who am I supposed to go with?”

“I’m sorry.” He says again “I know that I should’ve said something sooner, but... something came up.” He scratches the back of his head “Something that I can’t miss.”

“And what exactly is that?” She crosses her arms, upset.

“Well...” He shoves his hands in his pockets “A chance to make some things right.”

 ...

 Robin sits on the highest tower in Gotham. Nightwing sits by his side. He looks down at his own dangling feet. The dance in metropolis high was happening as they sat there. Damian couldn’t understand why he still felt a knot in his guts. He hadn’t been able to eat properly before patrol, but he also wasn’t hungry at all. He hasn’t been hungry since the night of the screaming match in the cave.

“Robin,” Nightwing speaks up “Since there’s no way he’ll ever be able to sneak up on you, I think I should tell you that Superboy is on his way here.”

“What?” He exclaims. Dick pulls him away from the edge “How do you know that? Did you invite him?”

“Yes.” He says.

“You-”

“Before you insult me, let me speak.” Nightwing interrupts him. Damian grunts, but crosses his arms and waits for an explanation “After that night, Clark came to me.” He sighs “He was worried about what happened, because it seems that Jon had been crying so much he wasn’t able to explain what happened and for a second he worried about your safety.” He joins his hands, intertwining his own fingers as he speaks “I explained the situation giving as little detail as possible. Clark told me that... he said you two needed to talk. And that he could convince Jon to come, but he’d need my help getting you to be there.”

“So you tricked me into it.”

“Would you have come if I had asked you to?”

“...No.” He grunts.

“There we have it.”

“I don’t have anything else to say to him.”

“Apparently, he has a lot he wants to say to you.” Dick massages his own gloved hand “Just hear him out, okay? I think it might at least alleviate your suffering.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Damian asks.

“Look, if I didn’t have some sort of certainty that this would help and not hurt you, I wouldn’t have agreed to this in the first place.” He sighs “Last time you two spoke, it wasn’t good. Leaving it at that is killing you inside, baby brother.” He smiles at him “Just try, okay?”

Jon lands on the rooftop as Dick finishes speaking.

“So, you didn’t go to the dance afterall.” Robin says, walking away from Nightwing and closer to Jon, arms crossed.

“Alright, there’s no easy way to say this, so here it goes.” Jon says, taking a deep breath.

Damian braces himself for the worse.

How could Dick possibly think that this would be good for him? Had he really been brought here just to be painfully rejected?

“I love you.” Jon says. Damian’s eyes widen “I have always loved you, I think. But now, I love you more than I ever have. More than as a friend.”

Damian doesn’t know how to respond.

“I...” He tries “Me too.”

“Yeah. I kinda figured that out in the bones breaking part.” Jon smiles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So now what?” Damian asks, looking at the ground.

“I don’t know.” Jon says “What do you want to do?”

Damian's stomach growls.

“Well, we’re in Gotham.” Jon grinned at him “I think a vegetarian Bat-burger would be nice.”

“Yes.” Damian smiles shyly “I believe so too.”

 ...

 Jon lands next to Damian, on top of a Metropolis building.

“How was school today?” He asks.

“Awful.” Robin answers, removing his gaze from the street to look at his partner “I shouldn’t have asked father to change schools. Now not only do I have to put up with annoying commoners, I also have to spend the day missing you.”

Jon blushes and giggles, looking down. Damian smiles at him.

“It’s a quiet night.” Damian says “But then again, I suppose Metropolis is a lot quieter than what I’m used to.” He examines Jon’s face “You could... do the thing again.”

“The... thing?” Jon asks, frowning.

“Yes.” Damian stares at him “Like... the sky thing.”

“Oh! Oh, that thing.”

“What else did you think of?” Damian crosses his arms, smirking.

Jon blushes violently.

“Nothing! I was just confused!”

Damian laughs.

“Yeah, alright, Superboy.” He walks forward, wrapping his arms around the other’s neck “Now do it.”

“Bossy.”

“You like it.”

“And cocky.” Jon says, wrapping his arms tightly around Damian’s waist before taking off, pulling them both up to the air.

Damian smiles, looking down at the now small city under them.

“Aren’t you ever afraid of falling?” Jon asks as he stops on the highest spot possible before the air got too thin for Damian “My mom said she was always scared to death when my dad would do this.”

Damian stares into his eyes, bright blue sapphires that seemed even more alive from up close.

“I know you won’t let me fall, beloved.” Jon swallows, reactionless for a moment. Damian allowed himself the smallest of smiles “God, I love you so much.” He cups the other’s cheeks “But I’m getting cold, so I think it’s time we go down.”

Jon chuckles.

“Can I kiss you first?”

“You can kiss me whenever.” Damian smiles, pressing their lips together “Just not in front of my team. Or my family. Or yours. Or-”

“Okay , I get it!” Jon stops him, giggling, stealing another kiss “Just when we’re alone.”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re gonna have to patrol with me more often then. Since we don’t go to school together anymore.” Jon argues.

“I thought that was a given.” Damian replies “As long as you keep doing the sky thing.”

“I’ll do it as many times as you want.” Jon nuzzles into Damian’s neck.

“Jon?”

“Yes?”

“I’m still cold.”

 ...

 Jon is cuddled up to Damian on the couch while the fireplace crackles and Alfred the cat is curled up at his feet. He is reading a book about Gotham’s economic history while Jon scrolls through his instagram feed, eventually laughing softly at some joke that pops up on the screen. Damian mindlessly plays with his hair.

“Dames?” Jon calls.

“Hm?” Damian responds, not taking his face out of his book.

“What are we?”

“What do you mean, beloved?” Damian puts his book down, gently brushing Jon’s hair back.

“What are we?” Jon sits up “We’re not friends. But we...” His words die inside his throat.

“Boyfriends?” Damian asks, raising an eyebrow. Jon’s eyes widen.

“We are?”

“I... isn’t it obvious?” Damian looks at him with concern “We go out together, we hold hands, we kiss, we cuddle... I told you I love you multiple times. Why the question? Don’t you... want to be my boyfriend?”

“No I do, it’s just...” Jon scratches the back of his neck “We never... said anything, I guess. I was afraid you didn’t want to be my boyfriend.”

Damian shoots him an exasperated look.

“I swear Jonathan, you are so confusing sometimes.” Jon rolls his eyes, looking down “But fine. I don’t have a ring on me so I hope a kiss will be a good enough substitute.”

“What are you...”

Damian gets down from the couch, kneeling in front of Jon.

“Jonathan Lane Kent,” Damian says, holding the other’s hand “Will be my boyfriend?” He gave his ring finger a feather light kiss.

Jon blushes intensely.

“Yes.”

Damian smiles, sitting back up on the couch and picking up his book again.

“No, put the book down.” Jon pouts climbing on Damians lap “I need kisses from my boyfriend.”

Damian rolls his eyes.

“You are so childish sometimes, beloved.” He sets his hands on Jon’s waist, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles. He kisses Jon regardless of his complaining, and when he pulls back, he gazes into the other’s blue eyes “How could you think that I didn’t want to be your boyfriend, you idiot?”

“I don’t know I guess... it’s just that... it’s a big deal. Right?”

Damian makes a face.

“I never thought it was.”

“I guess we just have very different views of love.” Jon whispers. Damian nods, biting his lips.

“I’ll...” He sighs “I’m sorry. I’ll try to... see things your way too.” Damian grabs Jon’s hand, staring at their intertwined fingers for a second “But you have to understand that I might let you down at times. I wasn’t raised to be a romantic. I don’t know what is normal and what isn’t in a relationship. I don’t understand the rites of passage properly. I didn’t know that the title boyfriend required a formal request. I might not know many other obvious things. I’ll try, I swear. I’ll try to learn and I’ll try to... be a good boyfriend.”

“You already are a good boyfriend, D.” Jon says softly “I’m not upset at you, I promise. I just really needed the clearance, that’s all.” He cups Damian’s cheek gently, giving his hand a light squeeze “And I’ll try to be patient. I won’t take silly things to heart and I promise to tell you when something bothers me.” He kisses the tip of Damian’s nose “And you promise to do the same?”

“Of course.” Damian smiles.

“Good. Now, I’m not done with kissing my boyfriend.” He sings out the last word, pulling giggles from Damian.

“So childish.” Damian mumbles against the other’s lips.

 ...

 Damian throws the ball as far as he can again.

“Go fetch!” He exclaims, watching as Titus clumsily runs after it, giggling as he jumps up to catch it mid-air “Good boy.” He scratches his chin when the dog brings the ball back to him.

Jon openly stares at them, grinning like a fool at the fact that he could call that boy his, forgetting that they were surrounded by their combined families for a barbecue at the Waynes’ huge garden.

“You really are as lovestruck as they come, huh?” Dick smiles, settling next to him.

“Oh, um...” Jon blushes, embarrassed.

“Don’t be embarrassed, it’s adorable.” He places a hand on the teen’s shoulder, shaking him slightly “I’m not really the overprotective type. That’s Bruce.”

“Yeah, I figured that out pretty quickly.” Jon scratches the back of his head, remembering the expression on the billionaire’s face when he heard the news of their relationship.

Dick laughs at the boy’s shy reaction.

“Don’t worry too much about him. He’s more talk than action when it comes to that.” Dick reassures him.

“Still...” Jon looks over at Bruce, who’s standing next to Clark as he handles the grill, shuddering, before redirecting his gaze to Damian, biting his lips nervously “Y’know, sometimes I struggle a lot to understand him.” He admits, and feels Dick straightening his posture by his side “Don’t get me wrong, I love him, I really do, but... he somehow over explains everything and still leaves doubts in my mind. I feel like I’m always looking at an out of focus picture, and no matter how much I try, I can’t get the image clear in my eyes.” He chews on his fingernail for a second “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, a little.” Dick crosses his arms “I gotta say, sometimes I felt like that with him too. He’s too... reserved. Dangerously so. I had to constantly push him for little bits of information that may be crucial to my understanding of who he is as a person.” He tilts his head from side to side, considering “But in time, it got easier. Dami is... he’s not much of a talker, I guess. It’s easier to perceive him if you look at him, instead of just listening. After all, we are talking about a picture, right?” He smiles, charming and understanding.

“I guess so.” He ponders “Wait...” Jon frowns at Dick “He lets you call him that?”

“Call him what?”

“Dami.”

“Yes?” Dick raises an eyebrow “Why?”

“That one night... the fight...” Jon shakes his head lightly “He told me not to call him that when I don’t mean it.”

“Oh.” Dick smiles “Of course.” He chuckles a little.

“I... was it a bad thing?”

“No, no,” Dick smiles softly at him “It’s just that... when you pronounce it like I do, more like ‘duh-mee’ than actually ‘dami’, you’re kinda saying my blood in arabic.” Jon seems confused and scared “I heard once that in arabic, people say things like, ‘my heart’, ‘my lungs’ and stuff to their loved ones. I tried it with Damian once and...” He shrugs “So that’s probably what he meant for you not meaning it. I’m sure that he’ll be over the moon if you call him that now.”

Jon blinks at him.

“So that’s why he gets so mad at being called that?”

“I mean, if someone you’re not close with called you sweetheart, wouldn’t it feel super invasive too?” Dick shrugs.

“Yeah.” Jon chews on his bottom lip again, looking back at Damian “Dami.” He whispers under his breath, trying to say it like Dick did “Dami. Dami.”

“Yeah, like that, but maybe say that to him instead of me.” Dick taps his back as he leaves, and Jon is suddenly startled by the man, having completely forgotten that he was standing next to him.

“Dami.” He says, louder this time, running for the other teen “Dami. Dami!”

“Jon?” Damian frows, startled as his boyfriend nearly tackles him to the ground with a hug and a kiss.

“Dami. I mean it. I’ve always meant it, you dumb bird. Even when I didn’t know what it meant.”

“You’re an idiot Jonathan.” Damian smiles, cupping his cheeks “Such a huge fucking idiot.”

“Your idiot.” Jon corrects him.

“Yeah, whatever.” Damian blinks some tears away, laughing as he presses their foreheads together “God, I missed hearing you say that. I was wondering when you’d say it again.”

“I would’ve said it sooner if you had explained what it meant and why you said what you said back in the cave.” Jon says.

“Whatever.” Damian rolls his eyes “Say it again.”

“Dami.” Jon presses their lips together.

“Again.”

“Dami.” He kisses him again “Dami. Dami, Dami, Dami.”

“I love you, Jon.” He lets a tear slide down his cheek.

“I love you too, Dami.”

 ...

 “Hello!” Bruce greets the salesman with a wide smile, best dumb, kind, billionaire like grin that he can muster.

“Good afternoon, mister Wayne.” He replies politely “How may I help you?”

“We’re here to look at some promise rings?” He joins his hands “They’re for my son.” He looks over to Damian, who is sporting his typical frown paired with over-analytic eyes. Dick walks right behind him, smiling enough for both of them.

“Oh, surely. If you’d follow me, please.” He walks them to a table they can sit down at, and pulls out a bunch of rings “These are the most popular ones at the store. What do you think your girlfriend would like?”

“Boyfriend, actually.” Damian shoots back, examining the rings with a frown “And none of these will do. I don’t believe either of us would enjoy wearing a...” He twirls one of the rings between his fingers “Silver butterfly or a...” He frowns at a second one “Is that supposed to be a rose?”

“I think it’s a carnation.” Dick says.

“I-It’s a rose.” The man interrupts, smiling awkwardly “We should have more discreet options, if you give me a second.”

Damian crosses his arms and leans back on his chair.

“Little D, you should try to lighten up a little.” Dick ruffles his hair.

Damian glares at him. It would make a weaker man nervous, but Dick simply chuckles.

“It has to be perfect, Richard.” Damian answers, looking forward “I already messed up once by not doing this sooner. This time I can’t let him down. Besides,” He turns around, coming closer to his brother and whispering “He’s enough of a lovable idiot that he might wear it out on patrols so... it can’t be recognizable.”

Dick laughs at his concern.

“And what makes you think that the world will be deeply interested in Jon Lane Kent from Metropolis, to the point of checking his rings?”

“Other than the fact that his mom has a Pulitzer?” Damian grins wickedly “What do you think?”

“You’re going...?” Dick’s eyes widen “Oh my God, you’re going public with your relationship?” He smiles “Dami, that’s great!”

“Shhh. Keep your voice down. And yes, that’s great, if he agrees to it.” Damian settles back “We haven’t discussed it yet. I was hoping that the ring would help him with that decision. So it has to be perfect.”

“It will be, son.” Bruce says, smiling “We’ll find something perfect either here or somewhere else. You know that money is not a problem.”

“Yes, which just makes this even more stressful.” He shoves his face in his hands “If we were on a budget, it would already make whatever I found special. But no, you had to be a billionaire. That’s just my luck.”

“Well I’m so sorry that I have enough money to buy you a luxury car to give Jon if you want me to.” Bruce replies, amused.

“Can we do that?”

“No.”

“Can I have a luxury car?” Dick asks.

“I thought you didn’t want my money.” Bruce smirks.

Dick shrugs.

“I don’t want your money, but I think that I’m ready to start accepting gifts again.” He smiles, and the trio can’t help but laugh.

“I brought you some more discreet options.” The salesman smiles.

Damian twists his nose and scowls at every single one of the rings.

“I might as well give him the ring Timothy found in a cereal box.” He frowns, crossing his arms. The man is sweating, staining his dress shirt.

“Damian, don’t be rude.” Dick sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“I-I... I could bring you the engagement rings we have.” He swallows “But they are a bit more expensive.”

“Money is not a problem.” Bruce says, finding it difficult to keep up his happy and silly facade already.

The man comes back with boxes full of rings, having trouble to properly balance all that he’s brought down. Damian set his eyes on a pair of white gold rings.

“Let me see those, please.” He stretches out his hand in the direction of the rings.

Damian analyzes them for a second.

“If I need them in different sizes?”

“That can be arranged.”

“Can you engrave our initials inside?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I want this one.” He says.

Dick breathes out in relief.

“Oh, thank God. Fucking finally.”

 ...

 “Beloved,” Damian says, sitting up on the couch “I need to talk to you about something.”

“What is it Dami?” Jon puts down his book, looking at him with worry.

“You know how... you always talk about going to a restaurant or something, for a change, but father’s concern for the cruel public eye of Gotham stopped us?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I... I’ve been thinking.” He puts a hand in his pocket “I would quite like to go out with you. Take you out of the manor for once, when you come over to Gotham.” He swallows “But if we’re doing that, then it means our relationship will most likely be on every Gotham’s newspaper, and every single gossip site that bothers with the romantic endeavours of d-listers.” He looks up at Jon expectantly “Would you be okay with that?”

“Yes.” Jon says, immediately “Yes, yes a million times yes.” Jon hugs Damian.

“Alright, alright.” Damian smiles, pulling himself free “That’s good. Because our six months aniversary is coming up and I have a place where I’d love to take you, if you let me.” Jon is already nodding “But before anything else, I need you to close your eyes.”

“What?” Jon frowns “Why?”

“Close your eyes.” Damian says.

“If this is going to be like, a prank, Damian, I-”

“It’s not a prank. Just close your goddamn eyes, Jonathan.” Damian sighs.

“Okay.” Jon does as he’s told.

“Now give me your hand.”

“It’s sounding a little too much like a prank.”

“Give me your fucking hand.” Damian presses the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, alright!” Jon smiles, placing his hand on Damian’s palm.

Damian gently slides a ring into his finger.

“Oh my God.” Jon whispers, eyes still closed “Is that-”

“Yeah. You can look at it now.” Damian says, blushing “It’s white gold. If you don’t like it, I can always buy you a new one.”

“Damian this is perfect.” Jon covers his mouth with a hand while he admires his new promise ring.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“Give me yours. Let me put it on you.” Jon demands, stretching out his hands. Damian hands him out his ring and lets him slide it into his finger, smiling “Perfect.” He whispers, bringing his hands to his lips and kissing it delicately.

Jon giggles, pulling Damian closer to his chest, getting them both to lay down as he admired their hands.

“Dami...” Jon starts, pulling him closer with one of his arms “You make me so happy.”

“You make me happy too.” He whispers back, tracing little patterns on the exposed skin on his lover’s arm “I can’t even fathom how painful and dull my life would be if I had to live without you.”

“You have to stop outdoing me with your declarations.” Jon smiles, wrapping both of his arms around Damian’s body now, nuzzling into his hair “It makes me sound stupid.”

Damian giggles.

“Well, you are a little bit stupid.”

“And you are a little bit rude.” Jon laughs too.

“Oh yeah?” Damian laughs, turning around to face him.

“Yes, very rude.” Jon pouts “So rude to me.”

“Let me make it up then.” Damian whispers, admiring the other’s face as he pushed his raven black hair out of the way.

“How are you going to do that?” Jon asks.

Damian pushes forward and gently kisses his lover.

“Yeah, that works for me.” Jon smiles.

Damian blushes and hides his face into his chest. The blue eyed teen lets him, pulling him closer and resting his chin on his head.

“I love you.” He says “I love you so much, Damian.”

“I love you too, Jon.” Damian smiles “And I’m glad you liked the ring, because if I ever catch you without it, you’re done for.” He looks up at him “I’m sure Elise is still dying to put her hands on you, and I need to make sure my territory is marked.”

“I’m not a tree and you’re not a dog.” Jon teases.

“But you’re mine.” Damian jabs a finger into his chest “And now everyone will know. Especially her. Hear me?”

“I hear you.” Jon smiles. Damian settles back down.

“Good.” He mumbles “Because who does she think she is? Is she Robin? No. Does she smell as good as me? No. Did she buy you a white gold ring? No. Is she-”

“Babe. I got it.” Jon stops him “And you don’t have to worry about her. She’s not even my type.”

“And... what is your type?” Damian frowns at him.

“Hmm...” Jon pretends to think “Dark haired, green eyed boys who smell good, punch criminals and buy me white gold promise rings.”

Damian smiles.

“Good to know, Superboy.” He buries his face in his chest again “Good to know.”

Hey! I hope you liked this! Please consider rebblogging it if you did, it helps with spreading my works and makes me super happy! Also, I gotta thank @3ambird for telling me about Dami’s name thing, hahaha! Go check out their fics, they are an amazing writer.

[randomwordprompts]

If It's Magic | Chapter 11

Summary: Let's meet some new characters!

Taglist: @wakandan-flowerz @bakarilennox @yaachtynoboat711 @wakandas-vibranium @brwnsugababe @storibambino @thadelightfulone @reaperdeldrunk

A/N: I'm trying to get back into writing regularly, so feedback is always great.

The sounds of a big band playing old standards was the background music to the idle chatter that floated around the Manhattan ballroom. With various doctors, lawyers, and city officials scattered throughout, one might think that the Lector children stood out like a sore thumb. But, thanks to Hannibal's published studies being known globally they didn't get a second thought for being there in his place. All of that aside, the siblings were on a mission. Francois met up with their information source on the inside, who took them to meet the mark in question.

"Dr. Black, there are some people that would like to meet you."

Pausing the conversation with his wife, he turned to face the group with a smile that was so practiced it was believable if you didn't know any better. Jacob Black was a handsome man that had clearly aged well, his salt and pepper hair styled to perfection.

Dr., this is Francois, Jonathan, and Amira Lector. They’re here on the behalf of their father, Dr. Hannibal Lector?”

“Ah yes, Dr. Lector! I’ve read many of his studies and am a bit of a fan of his work. It’s nice to meet you three. I trust you’re enjoying yourselves?”

Francois spoke to the doctor of how happy they were to be attending in their father’s stead and the usual spiel of small talk that came about at events such as these. As everyone was talking and getting to know each other a bit more they were joined by another person. A young man who looked to be about the same age as Jonathan, slim and blonde with Jacob’s jawline and Mrs. Black’s eyes approached. He smiled at the small group before speaking.

“Hello mother, father. Who are your new friends?”

Before Jacob could introduce them Amira spoke up, her hand extended towards him with a warm smile.

“I’m Amira Lector and these are my siblings, Francois and Jonathan. We’re here on behalf of our father, Dr. Hannibal Lector. You must be Joseph, your parents were just talking about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” he replied as he took her hand and kissed the back of it.

She smirked coyly before going, “Anything bad you can prove wrong...or right.”

Jacob and his wife exchanged a knowing look behind their son’s back, recognizing the blatant flirting he was doing. Before Joseph could go any further Jacob decided to speak once more.

“Son, this is Amira’s first time here. Why don’t you show her around?”

“I’d be more than happy to if that’s what the lady would like.”

Amira stepped closer with their hands still connected.

“The lady would love to. Let’s start with a dance?”

Joseph’s brows rose at her forwardness but happily led her to the dance floor as the band began to play Frank Sinatra’s “Witchcraft”. He pulled her into his arms with ease and a smile that has probably charmed the panties off many of the daughters in that very room, but Amira found herself amused at how open his aura was. She knew he’d be easy to get info from once she got him to drop his “just a nice rich boy” act. With that in mind, she decided to take the direct approach.

“So, I think we’re far enough for your parents not to hear us. I go to the New School and heard there was this guy selling goods that looks a lot like you. What’s up with that?”

Joseph almost stumbled while they danced but caught himself before smiling at her forwardness.

“What’s up with what exactly, doll face? I have friends that go there, but I need to know what kind of goods you think I’m peddling.”

Amira leaned in so that their lips almost touched, her front pressed tightly against his before whispering, “I heard you have access to the best coke, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t give for a taste.”

Joseph audibly swallowed as her scent invaded his nose in the most delicious way, that combined with the softness of her body and voice casting a bit of a spell over him. His body immediately reacted and she noticed, subtly stroking her thigh along his crotch as they danced. Before he lost his mind she pulled away a bit, an innocent smile on her red lips as they continued to dance.

“When you put it that way, I think I just might have something for you. Meet me in the coat check in about 10 minutes and I’ll have something sweet just for you, beautiful.”

As the song ended they parted ways and she returned to her siblings to catch them up. She found them chatting up Dr. Black and some of his colleagues, the thought of how proud Hannibal would be to see his children rubbing elbows with these prestigious people brought a genuine smile to her face as she approached.

“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt you all,” she started before turning to her siblings, “I have some writing to finish for my psych class so I’m gonna grab a drink, freshen up a bit, and my siblings can escort me back to my dorm?”

Francois and Jonathan understood what she meant and let her know they’d have the car brought around. Amira left the group to meet up with Joseph while her siblings continued to converse for a bit longer.

Once at the door of the coat check room she gave two soft knocks to the door and was quickly greeted by the young man, who invited her in with that same charming smile.

"You know, I wouldn't have expected such a beauty to be into this stuff. But how much are you looking to buy?"

Amira shrugged, "We all have our vices, Mr. Black. But I think an eighth is enough to start. How much?"

"Only 100 for an eighth, but I've got other things as well. You ever tried heroin with the coke?"

"You mean speedballing? Heard of it, never tried it."

Joseph grinned with a devilish glint in his eyes, clearly having either tried it or seen its effects before.

"It's pretty damn good from what I've been told. Since I like you, I'll give you some heroin on top for an extra 50 just so you can try it out."

Amira hummed thoughtfully before reaching into her clutch and pulling out 200 dollars without batting an eye, Joseph holding a bag he kept stashed in the room in case he got any high-end "customers". He pulled out the pre-packaged and measured drugs, handing them to her as she handed him the money. She placed the drugs into her purse and thanked him before leaving the coat check room, looking around to make sure no one saw her. A vibration from her phone alerted her to a call from Jonathan.

“Hey, you good?”

“Yeah, I just got the candy. You brought the car around?”

“Yeah, me and Fran are in the car now. We’ll see you in a few.”

“Alright, on my way.”

With that, she slipped down the stairs towards the lobby as Joseph came out of the room behind her, heading back towards the party. Once Amira reached the lobby, she gave the doorman a smile and another to the driver that opened the door of the town car in which her siblings awaited her. As she got comfy and settled, the driver began to take them to their next destination.

“So what did you get?” Francois asked, lighting up a pipe filled with weed.

Amira pulled the drugs from her clutch and handed them to Jonathan, who inspected the packaging carefully.

“Coke and heroin? What the fuck did you do to get him to give you both?”

“He offered it for an extra 50 bucks and wanted me to try a speedball.”

Francois sat up, “What is a damn speedball?”

“It’s when you inject coke and heroin together. Very dangerous since they do the opposite shit to the body, but the high is said to be unreal.”

Jonathan shook his head after hearing her explain it, “Well, either way, he put what's gotta be his burner number on here so I think that part is for you, short stack.”

Amira pulled out her phone and put the number into it, saving it while reading some texts she missed while at the party. During this time they ended up back at the dorms as the car came to a stop. Jonathan sat back and slipped the drugs into his pocket before speaking again.

“Okay, so we’re gonna take these to the lab for some testing to see how pure it really is. We’ll get back to you in like a day or two with the results, you just see what other info you can get from Joey in the meantime.”

Amira nodded, “For sure, I’ll keep y’all updated if I learn anything. I’m sure he’ll be happy to get a call from me, given that he was imagining what was under my dress the whole night.”

“Of course he did, I made the dress.” Francois snorted.

After exchanging a bit more information and some goodnights, the three Lectors parted ways. Amira got out of the car and walked into her building, a smile spreading across her face as she spotted a familiar figure waiting for her in the lobby.

“I see you got my text,” she said.

“Of course, and looking at you now I’m so glad that I did. You look good enough to eat, Mira.”

Xavier walked up to her and looped an arm around her waist, pulling her close and pressing his lips to hers in a slow kiss. Amira slipped her arms over his shoulders and returned the kiss eagerly, pressing herself even tighter against him. When they finally broke the kiss she giggled seeing traces of her lipstick on his lips.

“You look pretty edible yourself, but I’m kinda tired tonight. Let’s go up to my dorm and just chill tonight?”

“I’d love that, mon petit. Want me to order some food from Night Owls while you change?”

Amira grinned, “You know me too well. Make sure you order some drinks too.”

“I know you well enough to know not to order food without drinks. Now let’s go so you can change before I try to wake your fine ass up.”

She snorted out a laugh before turning to lead him towards the elevator, looking forward to spending some time with the towering demon.

[schrijverr]

I Wrote My Own Deliverance

Chapter 2 out of 10

Alexander Hamilton is reborn as Alex Hambleton. He is desperate not to make the same mistakes twice, but it seems he is stuck in the narrative, unable to get out. Familiar faces pop up all around him as he attempts to keep his previous life a secret and write himself out of the story.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: Mild homophobia, beginning and ending indicated with a *. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!

~~~~~~~~~~

Over the course of the first semester he fell into a nice rhythm, wherein he spend most of his days cooped up in the library or following his courses. He and Aaron rarely spoke, but they had fallen in a sort of camaraderie where they proof read each others work and studied in silence.

Alex was lucky that he did not share any classes with former acquaintances, since he was still a spit-fire, ready to argue with anyone about his beliefs and that would come back to bite him sooner or later.

The fact that it was working, should have alerted Alex that it was going to come crashing down, but alas he was oblivious when he exited his dorm near the end of the first semester.

*

He was trudging over the field when he heard a posh voice preach: “Homosexuality is a sin. It is unnatural and the people who follow the Devil will meet them in Hell.”

Alex stopped and did a double take.

As much as he tried to keep out of too much trouble in public, this guy got on his nerves more then anything and it did not seem that anyone in the crowd was about to say something to the guy.

So, he hauled his poly bisexual ass over there and got ready to fight.

“Homosexuality is a lot more natural than your haircut, fuckface.” he called out loudly, not missing the relieved slump in some of the bystanders that were glad someone else had stood up first.

“Excuse me?” the fuckface in question replied.

“Same-sex couples have been identified in nearly every species on the planet, reincarnations have kept their gender identity and sexual orientation over many lives and countless of bodies. Just because you’re ignorant and stupid, doesn’t mean you can go around insulting people who are just existing.” he said.

Fuckface was starting to say something back, but Alex just steamrolled forwards: “Not to mention how redundant Hell is when we have verified reincarnations, just because someone remembered a past life and interpreted it as a vision, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

He glanced around and added: “No offense to religious people, of course, just that you cannot force your beliefs on anyone else and I’m not even going to start the argument of how cruel God would be to send his saved souls back.”

People were rallying behind him as fuckface started to look more and more uncomfortable on his little box.

“I would tell you to suck my dick, but alas I have standards.” Alex said, “Now, if you excuse me, you can shove your backwards and ignorant ideals up your ass and pray for forgiveness, since you are not really loving your neighbor as thyself.”

*

And with that he marched away, not caring that the guy was getting mobbed by the fired up bystanders.

He didn’t get far though, before he was stopped. A friendly freckled face smiled: “Hey man, I really appreciate that, I was about to give him a meeting with my fist, but perhaps better that I didn’t. Sorry, I’m Jonathan Lawson, call me John.”

Alex smiled back, mentally cursing himself for being caught unaware, as he replied: “Alex Hambleton, pleasure.”

Johns eyes grew wide and this was exactly what he had wanted to avoid. Trying to save himself the lie, he asked: “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, sorry, just a familiar name.” John smiled back sadly, excitement falling of his face.

“Ah, I got that before, always awkward.” Alex assured him, “I was on my way to the library.”

“Hey, me as well, I was meeting two friends there, I’m probably late.” John answered, “Here, I’ll walk with you.”

“Sorry for holding you.” Alex said, starting to walk.

“Nah, don’t worry, if you hadn’t shown up I would have fought the guy and I would have been even later.” John grinned and, by god, Alex had missed that smile, “You being there will be the best explanation anyway.”

“Glad to be of service.” Alex grinned back, a pang in his heart that he couldn't hug his Laurens.

Alex had been right that Herc and Laf would be the people waiting for John. Their eyes widened when they came into view and Alex pretended he didn’t see the small shake of the head John gave them and how sad they looked afterwards.

Instead he smiled and stuck out his hand as he introduced himself: “Alex, nice to meet ya. I am here to verify that John has a valid excuse for being late.”

And that was Johns cue to jump in: “Yes, you see there was this asshole, and when I say asshole I mean asshole.”

“Homophobic asshole.” Alex added for him.

John nodded: “And you know me, I wasn’t about to let that slide, but then before I could punch him Alex here jumped in and he verbally ripped him apart, which was glorious and probably better since now I’m not bleeding or at a police station and somewhat semi-on time.”

Lafayette and Herc looked back and forth between them, then Herc sighed and said: “Of fucking course, anyway I am Hercules, but call me Herc.”

“And I am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Marquis de La Fayette, but everyone just calls me Lafayette or Laf.” Laf grinned, shaking Alexs hand excitedly.

“It’s a pleasure.” it hurt Alex to let go of Lafs hand after that.

“So are you a reincarnate?” Laf asked.

Alex forced himself to look surprised and scandalized. To ask about someones past life was similar to asking ones sexual orientation, it wasn’t that weird, but also not really a socially accepted thing to do.

“Oh, desolé, I forget you Americans don’t ask that.” Lafayette smiled innocently, but Alex had known the other long enough not to trust it.

“No problem, but no, not as far as I am aware.” he lied smoothly, feeling slightly bad at their crestfallen expressions, “But you’re French? Je parle français!”

Lafs eyes lit up as he spouted it in quick French: “Quelqu'un d'autre qui parle la plus belle langue du monde! ”

“Je dois dire que j'aime beaucoup ça, oui.” Alex grinned.

“Hey, no excluding.” John pouted.

“Don’t you speak French too, John?” Herc asked.

“I used to, but I forgot.” John grimaced.

“Anyway, as fun as this is, I still have an essay to finish and a few sources to find.” Alex changed the subject. It was fun to see his friends, but it hurt that it couldn't stay like this and every moment was a moment he could slip up.

“Same, here I’ll come with you.” John offered, “We were planning on studying already. One more person at the table won’t hurt.”

Alex hesitated, then gave in.

One day wouldn’t hurt, right?

Wrong.

One day turned into two, turned into a week and before he knew it he had befriended all three of them to the point of no return.

He wasn’t complaining, because being here with his friends, alive and in the flesh, was amazing, but it got increasingly harder not to join in whenever they made references or jokes only past him would have gotten.

Naturally he pouted about exclusion and Lafayette would give him a kiss on the cheek as he apologized and changed topics, never explaining.

It was good, especially when they found out they all took American History together next semester, which was given by Professor Washburn. Not hard to figure out who that would be, given, well given everything so far.

They were all excited of course, but Alex was more nervous than anything. Would he be able to keep his mouth shut when faced with Washington?

Seemingly he was not the only one who had put together who their teacher was. When he entered the room with John and Laf both gave the man a lazy salute while Herc nodded at him, Alex settled on looking confused hoping to avoid any conversation.

Washingtons eyes widened and John said: “Hey, Alex, save me a seat, I wanna talk to the prof for a sec.”

“Yeah, me too.” Laf added.

Herc and Alex didn’t ask questions, just waved them off. Alex watched closely as his two friends greeted Washington. The man grinned broadly and he clasped both on their shoulders, sending a pang of longing and jealousy through Alex, before it was replaced by fear as Washington gestured over to him.

Lafayette and John shook their head sadly and said something to Washington that Alex couldn't make out as Washington nodded in reply, a small sad frown on his face.

The three said their goodbyes, before Laf and John made their way back. Alex couldn't help, but ask: “So, what was that about?”

“Oh, nothing much really.” John tried to avoid the topic.

“Why did you point at me?” Alex asked, god why did he always have to know everything? Make sure everything was going as planned?

“Because.” John answered.

“That’s not really a reason honestly.” Alex told him.

“Just let it go, alright?” John said.

“Laf?” Alex turned to the Frenchman.

Laf in turn shrugged: “It’s a past life thing, mon ami, we knew him. He thought he recognized you, but we explained, so that it wouldn’t be awkward.”

“Ah, thank you.” Alex said, curiosity sated and suspicions confirmed, “Why was that so hard to say?”

John threw his hands up in the air and snapped: “Because you are really similar to someone we knew and it still kinda sucks that you either aren’t him or aren’t remembering.”

Then he got up and sat somewhere else, the pit of guilt already forming in Alex stomach, he just had to keep fucking up, didn’t he?

Herc noticed and tried to comfort him: “Don’t take it to personally, Alex. You’re still great and we’re glad we know you. John was just close with the other Alex, well, Alexander.”

It didn’t really help and Alex just nodded, deciding to just keep his head down for now, not wanting more attention then necessary right now. Especially knowing who was standing in front of the board.

Of course the intention of keeping his head down did not last long and before he was really aware of what he was doing, he was ripping into this kid, Chris something or whatever. It didn’t matter, he was dumb and his opinions were shit, and Alex was letting him know.

“How on earth can you think that General Gates would have been a better leader for the Revolution instead of, oh, I don’t know, the Father of Founding Fathers, General and President Washington, who lead the American troops to victory?” he argued angrily.

“Washington took unnecessary risks and suffered many humiliating defeats that General Gates could have prevented.” the other kid sniffed.

“Those risks, as you like to call them, paid off.” Alex spat, “You’re sitting here because of them, deserving or not, and I suggest you pay better attention so you can realize how absurdly wrong you are.”

It looked like the kid was going to say something else, but before he could, John had stood up and threatened: “If you don’t keep your fucking mouth shut, it will meet my fist. Don’t test me.”

“Mr.-” Washington began.

“Lawson, sir.” John supplied

“Mr. Lawson, as much as I can appreciate discussions, I have to ask you keep the violence to yourself since it will not be condoled in this classroom.” Washington said.

John sat down, but he’d kept glaring at the Chris kid for the rest of the lecture. Though he seemed to have cooled down at the end and less angry at Alex since he joined them again while walking out of class.

“Hey, sorry for overstepping earlier.” Alex told him, just in case.

“It’s alright, just fresh wounds, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” John replied, he’s always had a big heart, “Besides, you made it up by fucking up that stupid Charles kid.”

“Charles? I thought he was named Chris.” Alex said, putting together why the argument had felt familiar, and getting a few snorts.

“You got really into that debate.” Lafayette said, a silent push to explain hung unsaid in the air.

Alex shrugged: “I’m an immigrant, I tried my whole life to get onto American soil, read all about the history and it irks me that privileged fucks like that don’t realize how fucking lucky they are to be born here. I know the Founding Fathers did some fucked up shit, of course, but, I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”

“Nah, I get it.” John slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him a side hug. Alex went willingly, the novelty at being allowed to do this was still amazing.

They talked some more as they walked when a black girl in a mellow pink top stalked her way over to them. Herc asked: “What the hell did you all do to piss her off.”

“Hey, I did nothing!” John exclaimed offended.

Lafayette looked scared, but turned up his sweetest smile as he asked the girl: “Hello, mademoiselle, what can we do for you?”

“I’m hosting a party, you’re invited.” she told them, “All of you. I’m Angie.” then she rattled off an address and a date, “Don’t miss it.”

“Wouldn’t dream off it.” Laf managed before she was gone.

The four of them shared a look and Alex said: “Was it just me or was that weird.”

He looked to the girls retreating back and saw her meet up with two other girls. One of them had wide eyes as she said something to Angie, then looked their way, blushing when she locked eyes with Alexander.

“No, that was definitely weird.” Herc assured him, snapping him back to the conversation.

“But it’s a party.” John cheered, “We have to go, I missed parties over the winter break, god the Christmas Galas were not something I looked forward to, but this will be fun.”

“Christmas Galas?” Alex raised a brow as a shit-eating grin crept onto his face.

John pushed him away with a fuck off and Alex silently mourned the presence of a warm arm over his shoulders as he tried to focus on John telling him about his father who was a Senator in South Carolina.

They laughed at John for a moment, before Alex mused: “You think it would be okay to drag my roommate with me? He never does anything fun, I want him to loose the stick that crawled up his ass.”

“Just take him.” Herc said.

“Yeah, what’s the worst that can happen?” Laf added.

Alex grinned and said: “You don’t want me to answer that. I am a chronic over-thinker with a tendency for the negative.”

“Try me.” Lafayette challenged.

“Well at this rate he murdered her previous lover, probably, and she kills him in return, she seems severe enough to pull it off and then I was there and I get charged just for being an accessory and my visa gets revoked and I get deported.” Alex theorized, taking small joys in bouncing off the truth for Aaron, though he had not realized how close to the truth he was for their invitee.

John laughed and ruffled his hair: “You’re a tiny idiot.”

“Like you’re one to talk. You’re hardly taller than me.” Alex pouted, his new life had not granted him more height sadly while it seemed that everyone elses had.

They traded more jabs as they walked before they had to split up for their dorms. He threw open the door and greeted Aaron, who startled violently at the noise, with a: “I have been invited to a party and you are going. I cannot let you die of being a boring nerd.”

“Alexander, do you want me to remind you of how much time you spend on your own studies?” Aaron asked, he had grown less skittish around him through time, especially when Alex showed no signs of remembering.

“Yeah, but I don’t have a stick up my ass.” Alex whined, “Come on, Aaron, please. Just for once in your life do something other than being the prime student who has no opinions.”

He watched as emotions warred on Aarons face. It was a low blow to call upon his last life while the other couldn't bring it up, an ultimate guilt trip.

“Alright.” but it worked.

Alex cheered and told him that it was that weekend, before plopping down at his desk and starting up his laptop, planning to finish the essay Washington had assigned for the end of the month, three weeks away.

~~~~~~

Sorry for my Google Translate French, I gave up on learning the language when I was twelve. The convo was this:

A: “I speak French!”

L: “Someone else who speaks the most beautiful language in the world!”

A: “I must say I’m quite fond of it, yes.”

[drawlfoy]

Wonders of Ohio P.2

masterlist request guidelines jesus christ this story just flows off the fingertips

pairing: draco x muggle!reader

request: from 14 year old me

summary: instead of having a traditional senior year of high school, american y/n is roped into hosting a british exchange student who is...a bit strange.

warnings: cursing and draco being cold and sad :(

a/n: i’m doing it guys! i’m managing my time! and also i really like writing this for some reason...maybe because i can do shameless self insertion. also sorry for going on “hiatus” and then posting...when i said “hiatus” i really meant “i’m only going to write fics that are easy right now”

tags! @accio-rogers @eltanin-malfoy @geeksareunique 

word count: 2,028

music recs: alright by supergrass, killer queen from queen

The Y/L/N household wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t a mansion by any definition. There was a guest bed and bath right across from Y/N’s room and bathroom, but that was about it for visitors--no drawing room, no library, no large dining room, no parlor. Her family had hailed from a wealthier family, but after the stock market crash and subsequent policy changes, they had moved out to Ohio and settled down for a proper middle class lifestyle.

Draco Malfoy was clearly unimpressed by the spectacle, and he made his opinion entirely obvious as they moved from room to room of their home, his forest green cloak nearly sweeping the ground next to his dress shoes and his nose upturned.

“And this is your room,” Y/N said. She opened the door, standing by it in a desperate attempt to sell the idea. “I know it’s probably not as big as you’re used to, but you get your own bathroom, so that’s nice.”

Draco stared at her with nothing but disgust written across his face. 

“I’ll leave you be,” said Y/N, noticing how hostile he was being. “If you need anything, I’m right across the hall. Don’t hesitate to ask. You’re not the first exchange student, and while I’ve never personally been one, I can understand more than you’d expect.”

He laughed at this, though there was no humor behind it.  He seemed dead set on staying silent. Frustrated by his lack of response, Y/N snatched his arm and yanked him inside his room, shutting the door behind them and ignoring how violently he ripped himself away from her.

“Allow me to be honest,” she said softly, unable to meet him in the eyes. “I don’t really want an exchange sibling this year. It doesn’t seem like you want to be one, right?”

“Your point?” His voice was clipped and unenthused. 

“My point is that I’m going to leave you completely alone unless you want to be friends, which I don’t think you’re interested in at all. If you want a, uh, friend, I’ll be here for you, but I’m not gonna push it.”

She looked at him, noting how he had backed himself into the corner, his jaw clenched tight. 

“I have a feeling there’s a lot that my mom isn’t telling me about why you’re here, but I guess that’s alright. We’re happy to have you anyways. I’m gonna go now, have a nice nap. And, I, uh, I meant what I said. About being friends if you want us to. It’s probably lonely to be so far away from home, so if there’s anything I can do...” Y/N swallowed, cutting her ramble short. “See you later. I’m gonna go out for a bit.”

He simply nodded, walking over to his bed and sitting down on it awkwardly. Y/N curiously took notice of the fact that he hadn’t so much as touched a phone since they had met. But he was rich...so he had to have one.

She nodded back, exiting the door and making her way to the front door. She needed to get out.

<^>

“He kind of seems like your type though,” Lizzy said, propping her chin up on her palm. “Platinum blonde? Blue eyes? Broody and unapproachable?”

“Literally stop it,” Y/N retorted, rolling up to get another handful of popcorn. “He’s so sick of us already, I can feel it. This is just going to be a question of how long we can tolerate each other.”

“Whatever you say, girly,” she said. “When do we all get to meet him? Do you have to take him to orientation on Wednesday?” 

“You might see him on the first day of school, or maybe you can come over before that. And, yeah, I think my mom wants me to go with him.” Y/N frowned, her nose crinkling. “Which totally sucks. I’m gonna have to get up early to hang around freshman.”

“That’s fair. I could come with you, if you’d like?”

“You don’t need to do that, I can handle him,” said Y/N. “But you should come over tomorrow, we can try and get him to go out on the town with us or something.”

“That sounds fun, but I can’t go,  I’m sorry,” said Lizzy. “Tuesdays are bad for me. And plus, I have to finish the physics summer homework.”

“Ugh, me too,” Y/N groaned, flopping onto Lizzy’s bed. “I never should’ve gone in for a second year. Physics is gonna be the death of me.”

“Speaking of death...” Lizzy leaned over to look at the clock. “I feel like it right now. I had a bad night...I was up late talking to Jonathan again, you know. I’m really tired. Let’s plan to meet up this Thursday? Before school?”

“Oooh, Jonathan.” Y/N grinned at her, wiggling her eyebrows. “I expect a full update on that later. I’ll go home then and start on physics, then.”

They finished saying their goodbyes, and Y/N stepped out into the early September night, the air still warm with the last of summer.

<^>

When she arrived home, she was immediately met by her mother, who motioned for her to come into the kitchen, a finger poised to her lips. 

“What is it, Mom?” Y/N asked, keeping her voice a hushed whisper. “Is he still sleeping or something?”

“No, I think he’s taking a shower right now. His luggage came just before you, so he told me he was going to unpack it.” Mrs. Y/L/N poured some leftover coffee into a mug, stirring half & half in the brown drink. “I just wanted to let you know something and check in. You can’t tell anyone about this, alright? Not even Lizzy. Do you promise?”

“Yes, of course I promise!”

“Shh. Okay.” Her mother took a sip from the mug and took a seat at the cheery yellow coffee table. “I was just given more information on Draco’s situation back home. It looks like it was much worse than we were originally told.”

“How bad?”

“Quiet, Y/N. But, yes, very bad. His father is imprisoned in some foreign facility where no familial contact is allowed.”

Y/N gasped. “What?”

“And it doesn’t look like he’s every getting out,” Mrs. Y/L/N finished, stirring her drink even though the milk was already evenly distributed. “He doesn’t seem very nice, and I suspect that that’s an accurate depiction of his character, but promise me that you’ll be nice to him. The boy has been through enough already, and that’s only concerning the things we know.”

“Is there more, do you think?”

“I know there’s more,” Mrs. Y/L/N answered darkly. “I’ve asked questions that they refuse to answer. But his personal experience back home is none of our concern. What matters now is that we give him a good place to stay while everything else is figured out.”

Y/N, speechless, fell into the chair next to her mother and reached out for the coffee mug.

“Ugh, I shouldn’t let you drink this at night,” her mother chastised. 

“You sound like you’re talking about a dog,” Y/N said. She took a small sip, setting the cup back down and sliding it over before her mother could give her any more lip. In doing so, she caught a glimpse of movement in the doorway, just out of her line of sight. Curious, she turned her head and promptly met a pair of very stormy grey eyes.

“Oh...H-hey, Draco,” Y/N greeted, plastering a smile across her face. “How long have you, uh, been here?” Her mother lightly kicked her shin under the table.

The blonde was propped up against the doorway, his hair looking almost grey with the water it was dripping. “I was just coming down to ask for a glass of water.” 

“Oh, of course!” Mrs. Y/L/N was on her feet before Y/N knew it, bustling towards the cabinets. “You don’t even need to ask next time. The glasses are in here, and the water’s in the fridge...and of course there’s Y/N’s cabinet of tea here...”

“Mom!” Y/N butted in, her cheeks flaming. “You can’t just stereotype him like that!”

“Hush, you have more than enough to go between the two of you.”

“That’s not the point!” 

Draco was still leaned on the door, watching the interaction like one might watch a particularly boring color of paint dry. 

“Would you like some tea, Draco?” asked Mrs. Y/L/N.

He turned to look Y/N right in the eyes, a smirk forming across his face. “Yes. Thank you for asking.”

Y/N glared at her mother and strode over to the drawer, motioning for Draco to come too. “Pick whatever you want. I’m relieved to know that my mother’s cultural insensitivity didn’t offend you.”

“Now, when did I say that?” Draco drawled, towering over her as he flicked through the various packages of loose leaf teas. 

“Draco, I offer my most heartfelt apologies if I have,” her mother said, her voice becoming more distant as she walked out of the room. “If you two will excuse me, I’m going to call your father to arrange his pickup at the airport tomorrow. Goodnight!”

Y/N was left to awkwardly stand next to Draco as he was preoccupied with the selections available. It felt wrong to leave him alone--he didn’t even know where the kettle was kept--but at the same time, it was very uncomfortable to stand next to him in silence.

“I know about your father.”

The sentiment rushed out of her mouth before she could stop it, and the second she had done so, she knew it was a mistake. Draco’s entire body tensed up, his hands now frozen. 

“What about my father?” His voice was harsh, but the beauty of his accent was not left on Y/N.

“I mean,” she rushed out, “I’m sorry to hear what happened. I only heard that he was being held in a facility without any contact to you or your mother...and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry that that had to happen to you.”

He frowned, plucking a bag of tea and throwing it on the counter. 

“And I know that there are things that I’ll never understand,” she continued, “But  I guess I kind of get what it’s like to not have a father. Mine’s gone all the time on business. But it’s not like he’s in pris--Yeah, you know what, nevermind. I don’t understand. But if you ever need someone to talk to...”

She trailed off, noticing how murderous his look was and swallowed. “Yeah, uh, if you ever want someone--”

“You’re here? I understood it the first time, thank you,” he clipped. “Where’s your kettle?” 

Y/N pointed to the cabinet below the drawer. “Right below the tea, if it’s not being cleaned.” She thought she did a very good job at pretending like what he said didn’t hurt. 

Draco snatched the kettle and filled it with water before puzzling over the stove.

“Don’t worry about that, it’s a little confusing for the first time,” Y/N said, darting next to him and demonstrating how to flick it on. She acted like she didn’t notice him flinch at the close proximity. “And mugs are by the glasses, but I’m sure you saw that..before. Uh, anyways.”

She gulped again, stepping away from him to lean nonchalantly on the table behind her. “Your parents let you get a tattoo?” Desperate to change the subject, she pointed to the tiny peek of ink on his left arm, exposed by his jumper riding up. 

He stiffened up, and Y/N knew that she had once again made a mistake. 

“No. They didn’t.”

“So you just did it on your own accord? That’s pretty metal.”

“I don’t have a tattoo,” he snapped, yanking his sleeve down. He seemed to take the time to collect himself again, drawing in a long and shaky breath. “And if I may be so bold to ask, can I enjoy my tea alone?”

“Uh..yeah, yeah, sure. Sorry about that.” Forget that Y/N didn’t know exactly what she was apologizing for (existing in her own kitchen?), she wanted to get out of that situation. “Goodnight, Draco.”

He sent her an irritated glance in return. 

final a/n: ohhh gee i sprained my ankle really badly and now i literally can’t walk so you know what that means...more fic

[kchuarts]

Flowers in Blood

A/N: This is actually really fun to write!! I am definitely trying to go for a bit slower build with romantic feelings being realized in later chapters. Right now they are just like frenemies of sorts. 

Summary: The mission begins. 

Warnings: Attempt at assault 

Taglist: @lucywrites02​ *(Let me know if you’d like to be added!!)*

Chapter 2: Wolfsbane

BEEP, BEEP! BEEP, BEEP! BEEP, BEEP! 

Jonathan’s hand slammed down on the alarm clock, turning the irritating machine off. He raised his head and groaned as it was 4:40 AM and it made him wonder why in the hell he set the alarm that early. Angela told he and Katie to be at her office at 6 AM sharp, but for god sake- 

“Five more minutes…” He mumbled, ticking the alarm to ten minutes instead of five like he said so. 

He was trying to sleep off his moderate hangover and dull headache from last night after he made the dumb decision of upsetting his partner for the investigation. It was not until 1 AM that Pine decided to call it quits on the partially helpful alcohol and head back. The way that Katie had rushed out after he let slip that he was her brother’s friend and watched him die made him feel horrible. So much for a first introduction of sorts and hoping to form at least a decent bond with the young woman. Pine pleaded to whatever God was listening that the mission they were assigned on would pass by quickly or become cold again. It was rather dark to think that, but he could not deal with the literal lingering guilt at his side. He would have to come up with a way to push those feelings aside and quick in order for their mission to go as smoothly as possible. Just as the thought settled and Jonathan’s eyes lulled shut, the incessant beeping returned with a vengeance and for some reason, it was louder than before. Once again, Pine’s large hand slammed down on the noisy clock and forced himself from the confines of his bed. A shiver ran down his body from the cool air of his room as he stretched his waking body from the stasis of sleep. His blue eyes glanced over to the window and naturally, it was raining. He sighed with slight irritation and rubbed the bridge of his nose as the headache made its presence more apparent. Hopefully a hot shower before he left would help ease the now growing throb of his head. 

Unfortunately for Katie, she had not gotten a wink of sleep last night and spent her waking moments dissociating. Logically, she knew that it was not Pine's fault that Cameron had died but she couldn’t help but let herself morbidly blame him for it. Her opinion of Jonathan had quickly changed as did her attitude of working with him as he was a man. She guessed by her reaction, he would show his true colors like all men did once they upset a woman and be an absolute prick. The brunette shook her head and let out a deep sigh, smacking the heel of her palm against her forehead. “Stupid, stupid, stupid…” She muttered to herself, getting up and whining from the unpleasant tingle that shot to her feet. Maybe she could convince Angela to let her go on her own? If she told the truth and her discomfort of men? No. She had only met the woman yesterday but she seemed like the type of person to tell you to bite the bullet and stick to it. “Fuck me.” She groaned softly, walking toward the bathroom and shedding her clothes off to shower before she left. Why did she even accept this stupid job? Sure it meant being paid well and going to travel, but she would be risking her life along with another person. If she chickened out now, then all those years of study and training would go down the drain. Katie also assumed that Cameron would be super disappointed in her after she had worked so hard to get where she was now. “I just had to be partnered up with your old buddy, didn’t I?” She asked out loud while scrubbing the chill from her skin with warm water and soap. After spending around ten more minutes in the shower, Katie just about screamed from noticing what time it was. The clock read 5:30 AM and the ten minutes spent basking in the hot water was not ten minutes at all. “Shit!! Wonderful first impression off to a good start!!” she grabbed the clothes that were set out for this morning and quickly shoved them on the best she could as her body was not completely dried off. Katie wanted to hit her head against a brick wall as hard as she could at this point and hopefully knock herself unconscious. Thankfully, the only thing that seemed to be in her favor was that her suitcase was already packed and good to go. The brunette furiously brushed her teeth and jumped around while trying to pull a sock onto her foot. “MMMGH!!” She clenched her teeth together and almost fell to the floor as she hit her exposed knee on the doorwall. Foamy toothpaste dribbled from her mouth as she shut her eyes tightly and eventually did fall flat on her bottom and cried. She prayed no one heard her or that she woke anyone up, though it was unlikely she did not. 

“Perfect, just fucking perfect!” She spit into the sink and rinsed her mouth, growling in frustration and shoving her toiletries into her suitcase. “Hi Angela! Sorry I’m like twenty minutes late on my first fucking day of the job!!” She began to monologue and search for her wallet and phone charger. “I didn’t get any sleep last night because of my fear of men and my existential dread over my dead brother-” she fished the last of her needed items out and grabbed the door handle, “because the asshole you paired me with is the guy who killed him-!” Katie’s jaw dropped as Pine had been standing right outside of her door, presumably waiting for her. Her hands flew over her mouth and her eyes quickly fell to the floor from shame. “To answer your question, I heard everything. Even the part about me being an arsehole and “murdering” your brother.” His tone was cool and face unreadable. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me…” Katie’s voice became quiet. 

“Well I did because I thought that maybe I should apologize about last night and perhaps talk things through. However, it seems apparent that your mind has been made up already.” Pine snapped, huffing and turning on his heel to walk out. Here he thought maybe talking to her would start them off fresh and possibly help to deal with the guilt he felt. Turns out that was not an option in the slightest and further wounded the ex soldier after hearing her rant. 

Katie raised her hand to stop him from walking so fast, but he had already left her alone in her doorway. Sighing loudly, the brunette girl did a once over around her flat before locking the door and slamming it shut. She didn’t really give a shit if she woke anyone up now as this mission was already a complete failure. 

Naturally, Pine was first to arrive at Angela's office and took the time on his walk to cool off and shove what happened to the back of his mind. All those thoughts were forced back up front when Katie stumbled in five minutes later, panting. Angela’s brows knit together at the girl, “You’re late.” She bluntly stated. The younger woman waved her hand and took another second to catch her breath, shooting a glare at Pine who subtly smirked at her being called out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I swear to God I am NEVER late-” 

“Except for now?” Jonathan spoke sarcastically and raised his brows, amused by how little it took to anger the American woman. 

Katie glared at Pine, stomping her way over and pulling the chair aggressively seated next to the man away. Rob slowly lifted his head from some papers to witness what all was happening, keeping to himself. “Aren’t you two just chummy.” Angela muttered under her breath and rolled her eyes, “Great to see you took my advice of trying to get to know each other.” She frowned, folding her hands on her desk. “Excuse me!! I wasn’t aware that I would have the displeasure of being paired up with my dead brother’s killer-” 

“Killer!? There you go again with blaming his death on me. I did not kill him, Katelyn O’Connor. If you knew half of what went down that day, maybe you would have a different outlook!” Pine swivelled his body around to face Katie. 

The younger woman’s nostrils flared, “Really?! Then why was he sent home in fucking pieces!? Did you know we had to have a closed casket funeral that oh by the way, I never saw you, Jonathan Pine, attend?! It is your fault he is six feet underground when you could have saved him!!” 

Jonathan stood up abruptly and loomed over the shorter woman who also rose from her seat, half tempted to spit in his handsome face. “You-” 

“ENOUGH!! Fuck!” Angela slammed her palms down on her desk and growled. “I swear you two are worse than my fucking toddler! I don’t know what the hell went on last night, but it ends now if we are going to solve this case and bring whoever is running this circus down! I’m sorry to say that there is not anyone else I have to take your places and that you are stuck together. So unless you want to get killed out on the field over personal matters, I suggest you put it aside and at least be civil with each other!” The Director looked at both of them and threw her hands up, “Sit down!!” 

Not wanting anymore issues, the agents obliged to Angela’s words but still cast nasty glances at each other. “Now if we are done being school children, I would like to debrief on what is going to happen. Can you handle that? Or do I need to bring out a get along t-shirt?” Angela waited for a reply, but got a silent nod from them instead. Whatever, as long as she got the information out and them on their way. “There has been a new break in the investigation and evidence has been found in Moscow. See here, there are poppies on the arms of victims from over in our neck of the woods and another similar marking on victims across the pond.” Her brown eyes glanced up at Katie before she continued, “However, with the recent uprising with this strange group making a comeback, a new flower is being used. Wolfsbane.” She tapped a picture that was recently printed. Pine quickly snatched it from Angela before Katie had a chance to look at it, causing both women to roll their eyes. “What’s with the flowers anyhow?” He shook his head and gave the picture back to Angela who then handed it to Katie. The Director shrugged, “Haven’t a clue. I suppose that’s just a signature they like usin’ after they finish with a crime.” 

“Could have to do with poison.” Katie cleared her throat and handed the picture back. “Poppies and Wolfsbane are poisonous flowers, I’m just making a guess here but I think they’re using those kinds of flowers as a warning that these people are not to be messed with.” She folded her arms over her chest. “No, I thought that maybe they wanted to decorate the crime scene with pretty flowers.” Jonathan shot at his partner who in turn clenched her fists. “What the fuck did I just say?” Angela whined, dragging her hands down her face and growling from irritation. “Sorry, Angela. I think some of us just don’t have the decency to hold back any snark when they aren’t in the spotlight.” Katie smirked and slyly winked at Pine. The nerve of this woman! Pine could definitely see the side of his late friend in her that he absolutely detested. “Right then. Anyways, while I like your theory Katie, the reasoning behind these symbols are still unknown. 

If the two have any correlation, report it back immediately. In the meantime, your target is Abaddon Hasapis.” Angela pulled a picture of a very elegant, yet sinister looking woman out. Her hair was curled and frame confident, knowing. Her eyes held a nefarious gleam and bow shaped lips cast a dirty smirk. “I want details on this woman as her name seems to be popping up in each new case that we receive on the Wolfsbane crimes. She is a socialite and often attends auctions, charities and parties for the wealthy. Naturally, none of the money in the charity events actually goes to the intended group. There is a gala in Moscow that she will be attending within the next three days.” Angela took a deep breath in, pursing her lips and looking at her agents sternly, “You two will be attending this gala and are a lovely couple who recently got engaged.” 

Both of their jaws dropped slightly and each made a move to complain about their roles before Angela stopped them. “No, no! I will not be having any other interjections! Katie O’Connor no longer exists for the time being nor does Jonathan Pine. Instead, you are Steven Ranger and Natasha Romans. Your hotel is the Metropol and let me just say it was not an easy feat to get reservations. It is around a 10 minute drive from the gala and a bit of a hike should you find yourselves without transportation. I’ve had your measurements marked down and your appropriate attire sent to your room.” She clapped her hands together and raised her brows, sighing quickly. “Any questions before you go? And not about why you’re a couple.” She shot that complaint down faster than the agents could say uncle. The room went silent and Angela looked from Katie to Jonathan one last time before standing up and ushering them out. “Off you go then! As soon as you reach the train, shoot me a text, the hotel give me a call and then keep track of whatever information you gather. You won’t be returning to England for some time so I expect your best behavior. I cannot believe I am having to even say that. Please try not to bite each other’s heads off.” Her arms fell to her sides and she gave a frown. Pine nodded, flashing a small smile “There won’t be any biting since her bark is the worst she can do.” 

“PINE!!” Katie smacked the tall man’s arm hard and growled. 

“Ah, ah. Steven is my name, dear Natasha.” 

Katie had not the faintest idea how in the hell she would survive this mission with this asshole or if she didn’t end up killing him by the end of it. 

The way to the train station was relatively quiet for the most part except for the occasional grunt or cough. “Watch where you’re going! Fuckin’ wanker.” A pedestrian bumped hard into Katie and made her turn around, glaring before catching Pine smirk out of the corner of her eye. “You think me getting called a wanker is funny?” She clenched her jaw. Jonathan made a disgusted face, “Please refrain from saying that word ever again. It does not sound right when you say it with your, your whatever American accent. In fact, please refrain from speaking at all. Your voice is annoying.” He felt the girl sock him in the ribs with her elbow and trudge through. As she stomped forward to the conductor, Pine noticed a group of men eyeing Katie up and down while she was too busy being a piss ant. “She yours?” One of them asked, pulling a cigarette from his lips and blew smoke. The men must have seen her little stunt that she pulled earlier. “Ah, no. She’s not. I actually do not even know her, she’s just some rude American. Bloody foreign women, feisty they are.” He lied, giving a curt nod to the men before following Katie in short. They sat 3 rows apart as neither of them wanted to even so much as look at one another. At least now Pine could get some peace and quiet for a bit with the two day trip to Russia ahead of them. Technically, they didn’t have to put on the gag-inducing task of acting like a couple right away, but unbeknownst to them, it would have been wise to do so in the first place. 

Pine shot Angela a text before putting his phone away to read up on the case and a book he had brought. He was an avid reader and quite enjoyed Shakespearean works and complicated theories. The book he had brought would serve great entertainment as it was packed with an abundance of Plato’s work. A few more passengers hurried onto the train before it departed, rudely shoving their way through the corridors. “Watch it!” One of them bumped into Pine rather harshly and caused his book to fall. The dark blonde man looked up while grabbing his book at the stranger and scoffed. He thought about retorting back, but decided it wasn’t worth the time to get into a fight when he already knew of the nonsense he’d be bickering over with Katie. Shaking his head, Pine dusted his book off and sighed. Around fifteen minutes had passed since the train departed and a very strong smell of nicotine permeated the air. Normally, Jonathan didn’t mind it as he was an occasional smoker himself. However, it was overwhelmingly pungent and particularly disgusting. Unfortunately for him, the source of the smell was sitting nearby and likely not to change carts soon. 

“Hey there poppet.” A rough looking man took a seat in front of Katie, flashing his yellowed teeth. Two more men followed in suit, one of them sitting next to her and causing her to scrunch her nose from the strong odor of nicotine. Her heart began to race as she could practically feel the intention of these men radiate off them. “Please don’t call me that. I don’t mean to be standoffish, but I’d like to be left alone.” Katie’s voice cracked and she turned to look out the window, trying to calm down as past trauma was racing into her bloodstream. “That chap from earlier was right about you American women.” A dirty hand snatched Katie’s chin as the owner forced her to look at him. He licked his cracked lips and eyed her up and down with his soulless gaze, “Pretty one she is though. You may be a bitch, but that makes ‘em all the more fun to toy with.” He chuckled and released her face, grabbing her arm. Katie’s eyes widened and she shook her head. She was completely frozen as she felt grubby fingers crawl over her knee and up her thigh. Small, quiet noises of panic were the only thing that could escape her throat as fear came over the young woman. The touches stopped once a tear slid down her cheek and her body flinched hard as one of the men wiped the tear away. “Aww little poppet’s scared. What’sa matter? You still a maiden waiting for the right one?” The third man’s breath was enough to make Katie want to throw up. She shook her head no, unable to speak still and felt the fingers resume their unwanted caresses. Her breath began to pick up and her eyes flicked down as the button on her jeans was undone. “Please don’t-” She muttered, her body trembling as she felt fingers start to slide down her pants. “Please.” She cried softly, shutting her eyes before feeling the touches aggressively ripped off of her. 

“Oi! What’s all this about!? You’re that bloke from earlier!! I thought you said she wasn’t yours!! Bloody liar, she ain’t about to be yours no more-” 

The sound of Pine’s fist hitting one of Katie’s assailants had everyone in the cart turn their attention to the sudden fight. Jonathan grabbed the other two and tossed them out, bringing his elbow down on the back of one's neck and twisting the arm of the other until he heard a pop. A scream of pain erupted from the man and the train suddenly jolted to a complete stop. Pine grabbed the front of the man who initiated Katie’s attempted assault and growled, “She belongs to no one but herself. Unlike people of your ilk, I actually respect women and don’t fucking touch them without their consent! You would be wise to use the single brain cell in that thick head of yours to exit now considering our interaction has caused an issue. Get. Out. NOW!!” He threw the man to the ground and saw the trio scamper off the train as the doors opened. Police shortly put them in handcuffs before another came in to interrogate Pine. “I’d have you in bars too for what you did, but these three have been a problem for months now with harassing women. Keep yourself outta trouble, will ya?” The officer nodded to Pine before waving to everyone as a signal the situation had been handled. Once the officer departed and the doors shut, Jonathan held his hand out to Katie. “I doubt you want to continue to sit here and reminisce over those pigs. I know we aren’t on good terms but-” Jonathan stopped as Katie took his hand and got up, her bag over her shoulder and her eyes full of tears. The spy nodded and exhaled, leading the way to where he was sitting and helping Katie settle in. It was only until she finally calmed down that the girl released Pine’s hand. 

“Why?” She sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Why’d you come to my rescue? You hate me.” 

“I hate it when women are taken advantage of.” His blue eyes sparkled for a moment as he thought of his late Sophie Alekan. “I don’t… I don’t hate you, Katie. Just because you blame me for that,” He paused, choosing his next words carefully, “Doesn’t mean that I hate you. Actually, if you would have let me explain earlier I still feel that it was my fault. I have nightmares about that day and there isn’t a moment that goes by where I wish I would have been in his stead.” He looked at her, an honest expression resting on his face. 

Katie’s brows turned upward and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Pine-” She closed her eyes and then sighed, “Steven.” She corrected herself, “I’m sorry for what happened i-it’s just it was so sudden and you know how humans are; we have a horrible habit of putting the blame onto someone and-” She stopped as Jonathan waved his hand as a signal that he no longer wished to dwell on the topic. “We can talk about it some other time but right now, are you ok? They didn’t hurt you?” His tone became soft. Katie shook her head and she gave a small, wry smile. “Thankfully, no. I just couldn’t fight back.” She admitted weakly, not wanting to see the disappointment in Jonathan’s stunning baby blues. “Is that why you were so nervous around me yesterday evening? And your flinch when we shook hands?” his question caused her to force her gaze back up. Katie’s pink lips parted as she was flabbergasted at how easy she was to read and nodded slowly. She pulled her arms around herself and swallowed the urge to cry down, “I’ll admit when Angela told me I was working with you, I felt afraid. For two years, I lived in a nightmare and never thought I would escape. By the time I did, I changed.” She rubbed her lips together, unable to stop the tears. “His name is Travis Smithson and he is the man that made me frightened of men and unable to live normally for three years.” she sniffled, wiping her tears and rubbing her face in her sleeve. 

Jonathan’s heart sank and he felt the urge to hug her, but did not do so. “I’m so very sorry to hear that, Natasha. You certainly didn’t deserve it…” He made a mental note of her ex's name, stashing it in the back of his head for future reference. “Are you still afraid of me?” He asked softly, leaning forward just a bit. Katie shook her head and gave a shaky exhale before giving him a tiny smile, “No. I’m just mad I’m stuck with an asshole.” She began to giggle and brighten up, causing Pine to smile as well. “Well if we’re going to be on those terms again, then you’re just as much of an arsehole as I am… No, not as much because you’re too short.” He laughed as Katie hit him with her sleeve that wasn’t covered in snot. “Leave my height out of this!!” She smiled at him and chuckled softly at his jeer. “Hey, thank you for rescuing me. Maybe you aren’t as much of an asshole as I thought you were, even if you did call me a bitch to those men.” She smirked and pulled her tablet out. “To be fair, you kind of were acting like one.” He received a playful kick for his comment and shoved her leg away from anymore kicks. “But, I would at least like to make up for earlier and it is the right thing to do. Your brother would have kicked my ass if I didn’t.” He saw a smile at the mention of Cameron. “Yeah he would have. No one messes with Cam’s little sister and gets away with it.” 

The rest of the trip went smoothly with Katie and Jonathan coming to civil terms and an agreement to have a long in depth discussion regarding Cameron’s death. “Shit.” Jonathan smacked his forehead and groaned softly to himself. “What? What is it?” Katie became alarmed and sat up from her light snooze. “I don’t know a lick of Russian. Please tell me you know enough to get us by? I did read your file but didn’t see anything about languages except Japanese.” He opened one eye, looking at his younger companion. “Luckily for us, I do. Unfortunately, I can’t read jack shit of it and I only know a few basics. Other than that, we will have to play stupid.” She immediately ate her words as a smirk crept onto Pine’s face. “I thought you already were playing stupid- Hey!!” He laughed as she quickly changed seats to get him into a sort of choke hold and rub her fist on his curly head. Jonathan fought her off after a few more seconds before she returned to her seat. “It says you’re 24 but you certainly act like you’re a teenager.” He mused, raising a brow at her as the train came to its final stop. Katie stood up and smiled at him, shifting her bag “What’s the fun in life acting like a 38 year old who bullies young ladies?” She grinned, watching him pack his belongings before exiting the train with her. “You forgot- Short, young ladies.” his large hand grabbed Katie’s head gently and ruffled her hair before chuckling at her pout. “Watch it, you-” Her smile soon faded as police lights flashed brightly ahead with plenty of caution tape to spare. Jonathan looked behind himself and gently took Katie’s hand, walking fast and attempting to get a glance at the scene. Russian officers kept shouting at the ongoers, telling them to move along and that there was nothing to see. A tarp had been laid out over the apparent victim with their pale arm visible to Katie and Jonathan’s view. 

A wolfsbane flower had been carved into the victims arm along with the same flower decorating the scene.

[dongiovannaswife]

Sempiternal; Vampire!Giorno Giovanna x Fem!Reader (Teal and Burgundy sequel)

Side note; Alright babes, last part of Teal and Burgundy. What. A. Ride. I hope you all appreciate this series as much as I enjoyed writing them! ♥ I cried writing this, btw :D Warnings; PTSD.

Feedback is always appreciated. When Mista steps inside the restaurant, one of the ones Passione has control over, with Polnareff on his hand, it doesn’t take him a lot to localize Jotaro Kujo, who sits with his back at the door. “He’s here.” He says, whispering. Even if the people there already knows who he is, he still chooses to be as unnoticed as possible. After all, he’s surrounded by civilians and Giorno —through Fugo, — wouldn’t allow a massacre against the people, even with his condition; he’s been keeping a close eye through informants and Purple Haze’s user. “Alright,” answers Polnareff, “put me on the table. Could you give us privacy?” Mista nods, not really worried nor offended by his request. “Roger that.” Doing as he was told, Mista quickly greets Jotaro and excuses himself signaling the counter and once settled down, he asks for the typical morning coffee, keeping a close eye to Polnareff, but trying not to be invasive. With Mista at the counter, Polnareff speaks. “I’ve been observing him since that happened, and let me tell you something, he’s trying so hard to be like Jonathan, he’s trying so hard to follow what Mr. Joestar said. If anything, he may look like Dio, but he’s fighting against himself to be human.” Jotaro sips his coffee. His eyes are fixed on the table, as if the patterns of the wood are the most interesting thing in the world. For a second, it seems like he’s spacing out, but for the way his brow furrows, Polnareff knows he’s thinking about their friends and slowly looking up, Polnareff doesn’t fail to notice the similarities between Giorno and Jotaro. They aren’t completely like each other in any way, but their eyes are different shades of the same color, perhaps the same; but the difference between those two, there’s a huge gap that the Consigliere knows, will never be closed. “He will never be Jonathan Joestar. Do you expect me to call him Joestar? With what he did?” “He’s not trying to be him. He’s trying to be like him, to follow his example. You can’t blame him, no one can; it’s not like he decided to be born or chose to awake his vampire instincts. In fact, I think you are just trying to avoid him, and for what I know, Giorno developed the same condition as you. He’s avoiding people too. Just like you.” “Did I ask? I don’t want to know about him.” “I can’t force you to keep on touch with him, but at least respect him.” “I thought I was talking to Polnareff, not the counselor of a criminal.” “You tell me, who am I talking to? It seems like the Jotaro I knew isn’t here and I’m dealing with someone else. I’m not asking you to talk to him, this isn’t about him anymore. It’s about you; your reaction back at his office, before all of this started four months ago it’s a red flag. You need help, Jotaro.” “I don’t want to talk about that.” •••

Sapphire moonlight. Endless night. He doesn’t need to sleep or breath anymore. He’s been forcing himself to sleep, even if he’s not tired or in need to rest. His human instincts still make him breathe, even if instinct is supposed to be made to survive. Instinct. The same thing that made him drink from her. The same thing that made him harm the only person who’s loved him in a sincere way in all his life. The same thing that has him relishing in a cup of black coffee, sitting in the corner of the room with the moonlight pooling through the window, bathing part of the office, that now looks clean like nothing happened. The broken wine bottles are out of sight, the shirt she used to stop the bleeding of her arm now in the trash; he’s not a materialist, the things in the trash or out of his office don’t matter, but to think that he made so much damage to her, his treasured (Y/n) makes it feel like he’s the same as Dio Brando. Dio Brando. A name he wants to forget so bad, a name he doesn’t want to think about as his father. The photo resides now on the desk, face down under a copy of “The only woman in the room” by Marie Benedict.

Blinking tears back, Giorno sips his coffee. Sadly, he doesn’t find comfort in the strong, sweet taste of it like he used to do; in fact, it doesn’t even taste. It feels like it’s just a liquid on his mouth, but with no actual flavor. Gulping it down fiercely, the lump on his throat and the anger rising on his chest makes him act without thinking and throwing the cup aside, the sound the porcelain makes while breaking and the liquid staining the carpet resound on his ears. Trembling, the images of (Y/n) trying to get away from him with fear clouding her eyes welcomes him, as if his own brain is making fun of him. Sinking his hands through his messy blond locks ad bringing his knees to his chest, his body shakes with the weight of his emotions acting. Suddenly, a hand combs his hair, the other, soft and warm, kind and humble presses its palm against the back of his own hand. Looking up, (Y/n)’s kinds eyes welcome him. Bloodshot teal eyes, trembling lips and fragile appearance. She never thought she would see Giorno like this, so out of himself; then again, everything has a start and an ending. Nothing lasts forever, and if it does, the complications should be expected. Kneeling between his legs after he unconsciously opened his legs in a more welcoming position, (Y/n) doesn’t stop herself from touching his face, wiping the tears away with the sleeves of her shirt. Once his skin is dry again, she proceeds then to kiss his cheeks, up to his eyes, that close under the soft touch of hers. When she’s placing a kiss on his forehead, Giorno’s arms are locked around her waist and his face against her neck. The sound of her blood running through her jugular calms him, and for a moment, his thirst calms down. “Please, (Y/n), don’t get too close, I’ll only hurt you if you— if you let me this close to you.” He whispers, weak and anxious. Despite his words, he’s still holding her close to him. His voice may ask for her to leave, but his body screams for her to stay. “Giogio.” She whispers, then, taking his face between her hands. Running her thumb through his jaw, noting the sharpness of it mentally. “You won’t hurt me.” The don’s eyes seem to look for something and once he finds it, his trembling fingers touch slightly the scar of his fangs on her neck, his point doesn’t need words. Sometimes, one could speak through actions. “Gio, listen, please.” (Y/n) takes his hand, kissing the tips of his fingers, locking her eyes with his. Mirroring her actions, Giorno stares at her, blinking repeatedly when the lump on his throat makes him start to hear the blood running through her body.

“I forgive you. I did it when the arrow chose me. But I need you to understand, please, that I could forgive you a thousand times, over and over again; but if you don’t forgive yourself, nothing will ever change. You will keep feeling like this, and you may never complete your dream. Where’s the determined Giorno I met when we were teenagers? Where’s the Giorno who never gives up? I know he’s not gone; I know he’s here; in front of me. He’s strong and will get over this.”

Giorno’s lip trembles. “I’m thirsty, (Y/n). I’m so damn thirsty I can’t think straight. I’m scared, I’m so scared to end up like that man. I don’t want to be like him; I want to be a good man. I know I’m a criminal, but I want to use my power for the good things, I want to be like him. I want to be the gentleman Mr. Joestar said he was. I want to love you with all my heart, I want to protect you. I want to be human.”

“Love, you may be a vampire by race, genetics; whatever you want to call it. But in heart,” (Y/N) presses her open palm against his chest, and even if there’s not a beating but the cold feeling of his skin, it’s symbolic for her next statement. “you are human after all.”

Giorno’s arms circle her waist again and burying his face on her chest, his shoulders shake once again. (Y/n) reaches at her side, taking a blanket from the floor she brought with her, using it to cover his naked back. Giorno’s hands take the ends of the fabric, embracing her with the soft, warm sensation of the fabric.

“How will we go through this?” He asks, his voice slightly determined, contrasting to the defeating tone from before.

“We can ask or pay for medical resources, we can work in your confidence and feelings, we can help you with your paperwork— but right now, you need to understand that you are not alone.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I have you.”

“No, you have us all.” Looking up, Giorno finds Fugo, Mista and Polnareff in the doorway. Their expressions kind, heavy with sleep, but what really matters is the way they all seem ready to fight alongside him.

[bytheangell]

if you're still taking prompts, could you write something (maybe set in the future like post finale when they are ... happy at last) about the fact that alec's self-harming habit has come up again? (like in 3x16, and kinda in what he does with his hands at the end of 3x17 too). i feel like the show is not gonna bring it up again and i would love to read a fic where magnus & alec talk about it!

shed my skin, my scars(Read on AO3)

The mission went so wrong, so quickly, none of them had time to process what was happening until it was all over. The intel was bad and instead of just a demon or two the patrol Alec sent out on what should’ve been a routine mission found itself outnumbered by a clan of rogue vampires. They were down three men before they knew what hit them. By the time Alec arrived with back-up the patrol of 7 was a patrol of 3, and they lost half a dozen more after that.

It’s one of his first back after his and Magnus’ honeymoon - which Magnus had to practically beg him to take in the aftermath of everything with Jonathan and Asmodeus and a very long string of ‘what can go wrong, will’ messes to clean up. Things looked like they were finally settling down. He was happy. They were happy. So of course it couldn’t last forever.

“I’m just going to finish the report then notify the families. You can go,” Alec dismisses Jace who hesitates.

“It isn’t your fault, Alec. We all thought the Intel was solid.” “Yeah, I know.” Alec nods, but they both know he doesn’t agree.

“At least let me help. You don’t have to do this alone, Alec,” Jace insists, lingering by the door.

“No, it’s-” Alec sighs. “They were my responsibility. I’ll handle it.” Alec looks back down resolutely at the paperwork on his desk and ignore the unsure look on his parabatai’s face until he hears the click of the door closing.

A: Hey, this is going to take all night to wrap up, so I’m just going to crash here when I’m done. See you tomorrow, love you

He sends the text off to Magnus so that he doesn’t wait up for him, not wanting his husband to worry.

Alec finishes the filing. He makes all the calls, one after another, nine in a row. Each one breaks him a little further. Each one weighs a little heavier, hurts a little more. He feels guilty for not doing this in person but there are too many, it’d take all night and half the day tomorrow that way.

When he’s done he doesn’t go home - he goes to the training room, taking off his ring and placing it carefully to the side, but forgoing gloves or bandages as he starts on the bag. Slowly at first, hard and controlled, until the hits grow sloppy and desperate. They’re soon accompanied by sobs that sting his throat and tears which blur his vision of the splitting skin and bruising. He’s already exhausted from the fight and the fact that he’s been up for nearly 20 straight hours now, but exhausted is good. Exhausted is what he needs. Alec hits and kicks until he doesn’t think he’ll even have the energy to make it back up to his room and debates collapsing right there on the mat until he hears a voice at the door.

“Alec?” It’s Jace. Of course it is.

“Hey,” Alec huffs, reaching out to lean against the wall. He wipes the moisture from his face, not sure if it’s tears or sweat… probably both, before carefully shoving his hands into his pockets so Jace can’t see the extent of the damage. “What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same question.”  His parabatai’s voice is suspicious. Alec knows Jace isn’t stupid, but Alec also knows that Jace isn’t about to come at him while he’s like this, either.

Alec glances at the clock on the wall and sees that it’s 4:00 in the morning. How late did stay up making the calls? How long had he been in this room?

“I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” he lies, quick to cover for either. Jace relaxes under the false belief that Alec at least got some rest, and some of the tension in Alec’s shoulders eases as well. As long as Jace doesn’t push this, as long as he doesn’t have to snap and get defensive, it’s fine for now. “But I’m actually pretty worn out now, so I’m going to shower and see if I can sneak another hour or two before morning patrol.”

Jace nods, watching as Alec wipes the bag down with a black towel he carries specifically so it won’t show the blood stains. Alec frowns lightly as he uses it - he didn’t plan on doing this, it just happened. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself, ignoring the fact that he subconsciously grabbed the black towel he hadn’t used in months, the one reserved for this very scenario.

Just a convenient coincidence, he tells himself, because he’s better now. This isn’t him any more, though the throbbing pain in his hands says otherwise, especially as he slides the ring back on over a swollen finger. He does nothing about it through the rest of the day’s training and missions, and only reluctantly allows Magnus to heal the worst of it when he goes over that night, the lie that the injury is fresh from patrol sliding past his lips with terrifying ease.

--- --- ---

“Jace, you’ll head the team canvassing the north end of the city. I’ve got the south. Everyone grab your weapons and get ready to roll out in ten.”

The group of Shadowhunters in front of him disperses, breaking off into their teams to strategize and pick the best weapons for this particular strain of demon infestation. It’s nothing more than a bitter warlock summoning nests of lesser demons to make their lives miserable, chaos for chaos’ sake, but it’s spread far enough that it takes half the institute to split up and cover the ground needed before things get out of hand.

Alec already has his bow and arrows in hand, and so he lingers in the Ops Center waiting until it’s time to go. He watches as everyone leaves except one person - Underhill stays behind, not going to the weapons room with everyone else straight away.

“Something wrong?” Alec asks. They’re on good terms - friends, Alec would go so far as to label them, though he hasn’t had enough of them to say for certain. But he doesn’t like the anxious look on Underhill’s face just then.

“May I be honest with you for a minute, Sir?”

Alec rolls his eyes. “If you’re calling me ‘Sir’ this can’t be good. You can always be honest with me, you know that.” “Right. In that case - I think you should sit this one out.” Underhill says, coming right out with it. His eyes flicker across Alec’s face, no doubt taking in the dark circles underneath his eyes, before dropping to where his hands rest at his sides with the slightest tremble from the amount of coffee he drank that morning to compensate for the lack of sleep he got the night before.

“And why would I do that?” Alec asks, growing immediately defensive, a flash of his eyes daring Underhill to say he’s unfit for duty.

“Because you didn’t come in from last night’s patrol until 3 am, and then you woke up at 5:30 to go out with the morning patrol at 6. And you tagged along with Nightshade’s group to handle that single rogue werewolf after lunch-”

“What are you, keeping tabs on me?”

“I’m Head of Security, Alec. I’d be a shit one if I didn’t keep tabs on who comes and goes, and that includes you. Tell me the last mission you dispatched without going along?”  The challenge in Underhill’s tone isn’t unwarranted after Alec’s initial defensiveness but it still rubs Alec the wrong way.

“Just because I’m the Head of the Institute doesn’t mean I have to live behind a desk,” Alec deflects, willing Underhill to drop the topic. He begins to fidget with the ring on his finger, twisting it back and forth between his fingers without realizing.

“Just because you’re the Head of the Institute doesn’t mean you have to be there to personally protect every Shadowhunter you send out. We all know the risks. What happened last week--”

“This isn’t about that.” Alec cuts him off, believing the words that leave his lips about as much as Underhill appears to.

“It is. You’re torturing yourself over this, Alec. You need to rest.” Underhill looks like he’s about to say much more than just that, except the first of Alec’s squad comes back from the weapons room before he can.

“Ready, Sir?” The Shadowhunter questions, and Alec nods.

“What I need,” Alec says to Underhill, ending this conversation in no uncertain terms. “Is to go lead my team. If you’ll excuse me.”  

He doesn’t look back, grabbing his stele to activate his stamina and endurance runes right off the bat - well aware that this isn’t the first time that day he’s used them, and positive it wouldn’t be the last.  

--- --- --- 

The following weeks draw on in a similar fashion. Alec spends longer hours at the Institute. He appears to be fine on the surface but that’s just because of the care he puts into keeping up appearances - gloves cover the bruising on his hands, long sleeves hide the marks from where his bow snaps back to sting his arm during practice and field work. He tells himself it’s because he’s too busy to stop and heal himself, that he’ll get to it later, except he never does.

That’s the same excuse he makes for eating, too. Always on the go, he tells Magnus in the morning as he skips breakfast to catch the morning patrol that he’ll eat at the Institute. Once he’s at the Institute he swears he’ll grab something on his way home from patrol. At some point of the day he’ll grab something to get through the day - a banana, a muffin, a mostly stale pretzel from a cart along the street - but if asked he’d be hard pressed to recall the last full meal he sat down to.

Or the last time he sat down at all.

He chalks it up to being busy and forgetting, nothing more. It isn’t a big deal.

He’s wrapping up a report to head back to Magnus’ for the night when Izzy stops him at the door to his office. “Want to grab dinner? I’m famished after a day of scouring the sewers.”

“Sorry, I’m heading over to Magnus’. I’ll eat there.”

Izzy sighs.  “Fine. Guess I’ll brave the cafeteria on my own.”

Alec laughs, shooing her away so he can finish getting ready. It’s about an hour later when he finally makes it to Magnus’, greeting his husband with a long, lingering kiss before collapsing onto the sofa.

“Please say you’re up for a night of cuddling and terrible reality television?” Alec half-suggests, half begs.

“Whatever you want, darling,” Magnus agrees easily, though a small frown catches on his face. “Are you hungry? I can cook some dinner first.”

“Not really,” he shrugs, settling into the sofa.

“Did you eat at the Institute?” Magnus prys, an eyebrow arched. Alec knows he should admit that he hadn’t, he’s pretty sure he grabbed a hotdog from a stand near the park that afternoon… or was that yesterday?... and a voice in the back of his head reminds him how much he loves Magnus’ cooking. But he’s tired. And he doesn’t have much of an appetite lately. He’s too exhausted to be hungry just then, and all he wants is to have Magnus wrap his arms around him for the evening. Is that so much to ask?

“Yeah,” he says, figuring it’s easier than explaining all of that. “I already ate.”

“Alright, then.” Magnus says, changing direction and heading back over to the sofa to join him where they both fall asleep somewhere in the middle of the second episode of a show they put on mostly for background noise.

And when he wakes up before the sunrise the following morning Alec slips out before breakfast without a second thought.

--- --- ---

A quick glance at the calendar shows him it’s been three weeks since the Mission Gone Wrong. He makes his third set of weekly check-in calls to the family. He doesn’t have to but he wants to, making sure they’re doing alright and asking if there’s anything they need. Anything at all he can do for them in the aftermath. He knows he can’t give them what they want, but he can do the next best thing. He owes it to them.

Each family says the same thing - that they’re fine. That these things happen. That it isn’t his fault.

Except that it is. Their loved ones died following his orders, on his watch. He should’ve been there. It wasn’t their oversight that sent everything sideways, it shouldn’t have been them to pay the price for his mistake, it should’ve been--

“Alec?”

He looks up to see Magnus opening the door to his office, sliding in quickly before shutting it behind him. The look of concern on Magnus’ immediately softened features is the first sign that something is wrong. It’s only when Magnus approaches him slowly, bringing a hand up to wipe away something from his cheek, that Alec realizes he was crying. “What are you doing here?” Alec asks, clearing his throat and forcing his lips to turn up at the corners.

“Checking in on my husband who was due home for dinner two hours ago,” Magnus states, but he doesn't sound mad about it, instead taking Alec’s hand to lead him away from the desk and over to the sofa for them to both sit down on. “Talk to me.”

Alec sighs. “It’s nothing. I’m fine, really.” His hands rest on his lap, thumb nail picking idly at an already split patch of skin on the side of his left hand, and both of their eyes fall on it at once. Alec snaps his hands back to his sides.

“Alec, please. Talk to me.” When Alec remains resolutely silent Magnus speaks again instead. “Then how about if I talk? Because I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t have to be. I told you, I’m fine-” Alec starts again, but this time Magnus cuts him off.

“I think you really believe that, which is what worries me the most. You haven’t let yourself rest long enough see what the rest of us have.”   

“The rest of you?” Alec asks, frowning.

“Maryse noticed you were losing a lot of weight lately, which is when Isabelle and I pieced together that you haven’t been eating anywhere. Or sleeping much. Or resting at all between missions. I should’ve realized when you kept coming home hurt--”

“No, this isn’t… you shouldn’t have noticed anything. I didn’t notice what I was doing, how the hell could you have?” Alec knows that isn’t entirely true, but he caught himself in moments, in bits and pieces of the whole. To hear it all thrown together like that is jarring, even for him.

Magnus doesn’t sound upset, and it’s the only thing that encourages Alec to lift his gaze up from where it rests stubbornly on his lap. “I noticed it before, when I didn’t have my magic… just little things here and there, and I thought maybe it was just a one-time thing so I let it go.  But ever since that mission you’ve been getting worse, and… I don’t know how to help you besides forcing you to acknowledge it. I know you don’t want to but I can’t just let you go on like this.”

Alec nods. “I’m sorry I worried you, Magnus, I-”

“Don’t apologize. That isn’t--” Magnus sighs in frustration. “I don’t know how to help without making you defensive. And I don’t want to push you away.”

“I don’t want to push you away, either” Alec agrees, realizing that’s exactly what he’s done. And not just to Magnus, but Jace and Izzy and the others as well. “I guess I haven’t been myself since that mission.” He knows he doesn’t have to say which mission he’s referring to.

“Or perhaps you’ve been entirely yourself since that night. Alec, you care so deeply for everyone around you. And you take your leadership position to heart - maybe more than someone who is bound to lose good men and women should. But you can’t just distract yourself and hope it goes away - and you can’t punish yourself the way that you do. Hurting yourself isn’t helping them.”

Alec knows that, on some deeper, rational level. But it doesn’t take away that it makes him feel better, at least in the moment, to hide behind the pain and self-inflicted punishment.  

“Do you want to talk about it?” Magnus asks again, but with everything out in the open and nothing left to dance around the question seems to hold that much more weight to it. Alec can’t lie and say he’s fine again this time.

“No,” Alec admits instead. “But I can try to anyway.”

It’s a small step, but an important one. He doesn’t talk about everything that night, not even close, but it’s enough that there are fresh tears stinging his eyes when he finishes and Magnus portals them both home for the night, not allowing Alec anywhere near the bedroom until after he eats a full meal. He gets a text from Jace (You weren’t in your office when I came to look for you. Good. If you’re late tomorrow that’s even better. Get some rest, man.) and, when he winces sliding into bed, reluctantly asks Magnus if he wouldn’t mind healing a few cuts from a demon’s claw he didn’t iratze away in time. Magnus agrees with unchecked enthusiasm.

They’re all little things but they feel so monumental. And maybe, Alec starts to realize, it doesn’t always have to be all-or-nothing. He doesn’t have to flip a switch from ‘not okay’ to ‘totally okay’, and that’s, well, okay. As long as he’s trying.

As long as he’s letting people catch him when he starts to slip.  

Because he isn’t alone in this, not by a long-shot; so long as he has Magnus to catch him Alec knows he never has to be afraid of falling.

[ashes-2-cashes]

Chapter 4 of Glitter and Gold is out now!

I've been working on this chapter for a while now and the very last 2 scenes were honestly the most difficult to write because I just couldn't get the feeling of right.

After a few frustrating attempts, I settled down for those two and honestly, I think they're the best visuals I've written lmao

anyways, thank you for all the kind messages, and I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Pale pink lips blew a puff of smoke from them, tentative blue eyes watching as the smoke swirled up and dissipated into the humid, spring air that blew in from the window. The sound of muffled footsteps on rug caught his attention as he watched from his peripheral vision. The steps stopped before the door, and soon, came a knock from the other side. He could see the shadow of the person through the cloudy window looking into the room, tall and patient as he rolled his eyes and took another puff, not uttering a sound in hopes they would go away.

“Jonathan, I know you’re in there. Can I come in?”

The detective blew the addicting nicotine from his lips slowly, sighing quietly and crossing his leg over the other. He still refused to answer his mentee, desite a feeling deep in his gut telling him to say something. He shrugged it off as paranoia and heard as Tyler sighed and leaned against the door, the old wood creaking with his weight.

“Acting like bad news and smoking isn’t going to help this case. Weren’t you the same person who told me that sometimes, we can’t save everyone, even when we try our hardest?”

“Just cut out Tyler. I’m sure Montoya needs you doing other things around the station.”

Before he knew it, Tyler threw open the door to the office and stomped his way inside, a scowl on his face as he glared at Jonathan and crossed his arms. The older man glared back, but showed no signs of moving from his place. The room was suddenly filled with a heavy silence that settled onto their shoulders as the younger tightened his hands into fists.

“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden? One second, you’re all over this case, the next, you step out and chase away the only two people with our best lead. Is there something you’re not telling us about? What did-”

“Ice it, Tyler. The only thing you should know is the reason I am doing this is to keep you and everyone else involved safe. This thing, person, god knows what at this point, is far more dangerous than any of the cases I’ve worked on before.” Jonathan took a last puff of his cigar before he put it out on the ashtray beside him, the last of the nicotine making swirls around his head before being blown away by the air coming in from the window.

“Every single case that you have taken that got you to where you are today were dangerous. You hunted and took down a drug lord with a single revolver when you were 20. You took down a knife-wielding, intoxicated murderer with your bare fucking hands when you were 21. So don’t give me that bullshit that this case is too dangerous.”

“Yeah but back then I wasn’t having visions of my dead mother!”

Tyler immediately went quiet, big blue eyes looking at his mentor with regret before he looked away and rubbed his arm. Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head, mouth dry from all the cigars he had been smoking. He caught sight of his bloodied clothes bundled up and kicked underneath his table in an attempt to forget the events that had happened not even a day ago.

“Look I. . Just. . We’ll be at the hospital downtown if you need us.” whispered Tyler, so soft and vulnerable, that it nearly convinced Jonathan to accompany him. Almost. He knew Tyler was pulling the guilty card, and he’d be damned if feel for it so easily. He simply watched as Tyler sighed and walked to the door, standing at the doorway before glancing back over his shoulder at the detective.

“We need to catch this fucker, Jon. Not just for the people, or for your reputation, but for the city too.”

“Whatever you say, detective .” he mocked with venom in his tone as Tyler simply shook his head and left, closing the door behind himself. As soon as the footsteps faded away, the detective sighed and stood, walking over to his desk and pulling open a cabinet underneath. He stared at the typewriter stored inside and thought for a few seconds, before pulling it out and setting it down on his table. He loaded some paper into the old machine and sat down, staring at the buttons for a while before he started typing away.

When he thought he had enough for the time being, he stood up and grabbed the papers, clipping them together and placing them underneath a pile of folders. He grabbed his black jacket off the couch and threw it on, going towards the door and placing his hand on the light switch. Before stepping out, he glanced back at his empty office and took in the silence, dim light pouring in from a slight gap in the blinds.

He turned the lights off and closed the door behind himself, his shoes padding across the navy blue carpet underneath him.

“Sir, you’re going to have to talk to someone, you can’t just refuse information to detectives.”

“I ain’t talkin’ to no bull, sharper or not.” spat the injured man, crossing his arms and looking away almost childishly. Scott sighed as he rubbed his temple with one hand, the other holding onto Marcel’s leg gently.

“You cannot just refuse to help an officer, Marcey. It’s against the law.”

“Don’t call me Marcey.”

Cartoonz pinched his nose as he sighed with frustration, leaning back against his chair with his legs crossed. Ryan bit his lower lip as he fidgeted in the hard seat, moving a pen between his fingers almost impatiently. Tyler’s fists were closed tight, biting his tongue in order to hold back a nasty comment towards Marcel childishness. Before anyone could say anything, a nurse knocked on the door before peeking her head in, light brown hair tied back into a small bun in the back of her head.

“Excuse me for interrupting, but Detective Smith just arrived.”

Pushing open the door, she held it open for Jonathan who walked in and gave her a grateful, handsome smile. She giggled, before excusing herself from the room. Jonathan smoothed his shirt out before walking towards the bed, sparing not so much as a glance at the other three.

“I was told you refused to walk to my men about the events that happened.”

“Indeed I did, Detective. I have my reason.” Marcel said with confidence, sitting up slightly taller despite the pain in his ribs and chest. Jonathan nodded, before taking a seat beside the bed and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Well, now you have me here, so will you start talking or risk getting fined for obstruction of justice, Mr. Cunningham?”

“I’m ready to talk, Mr. Smith .”

“Then let’s start with the events that led up to the shooting. Where were you earli-” before he could finish, Marcel held up his hand to stop him, looking around at the other 2 detectives and Tyler with an ambivalent look. Seeming to understand, Jonathan turned to Tyler and jerked his chin towards the door, which had the younger man nearly fuming.

“What? No, we’re not leaving. We spent so much time trying to get this bum to talk, and once he actually agrees, you want to kick us out? I’m staying right here.”

“Tyler, this is an order. Get out before you’re forced to.” Jonathan hissed with an impatient look in his eyes, which had Tyler glaring back and shaking his head. Before he could stand, Ryan placed a gentle hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, quickly retracting it once Jonathan jumped away from it.

“To be quite honest, I agree with Tyler. Not only that, you seem to forget that we’re also helping solve this case, and anything this man tells you might be important to what we already have.”

With a sigh, Jonathan turned towards the injured man and his partner, who looked at him with a lack of agreement but said no more. Marcel leaned back into the pillows that were propping him up and sighed, before looking at Jonathan and licking his chapped lips slightly.

“You heard them, didn’t you?” he asked quietly, caramel skin glowing a pretty shade form the light that came in. the detective looked at him with confusion clear on his features.

“Hear what?”

“The windchimes. You heard them too, right? That��s why you came into the shop. You heard the windchimes.”

“Jon, what’s he talking about?” Luke asked as he say the younger man go stiff in his seat, blue eyes blown wide as a pale hand gripped the arm rest. He blinked, trying to force himself to say something, but all that came out of his mouth was a weak ‘what?’.

“Detective, you have done something foolish. This whole case will put all and every single one of you in danger, as well as your family. You need to drop this as soon as you can.”

“What the hell is he saying? We aren’t just going to drop this case, we’ve come way too far into investigating to simply leave it.” Tyler argued as the other two mumbled in agreement. Jonathan turned to look at them, before turning his attention back to the injured man. Scott looked equally confused on the other side of the bed, his hold on Marcel’s knee slightly tighter.

“How. . how did you-”

“No one just goes into that shop. Hell, know one even knows that shop exists . You coming in out of nowhere was no coincidence, unless. .”

“Unless what? Answer me!” the panic in his voice was evident as Jonathan tried to swallow back his nerves.

“Unless you understand alchemy.”

An unnerving silence settled over the hospital room as Jonathan felt the air had been punched out of him. Not a single person dared to move, not even breathe at that point. Soon, Scott broke the silence by pushing back his chair and getting up, walking to the other side of the room and looking out a window. Ryan gave his partner a look that had the older man shaking his head in confusion. Tyler stared at the dark skinned male with wide eyes, mouth feeling like cotton as a chill went up his spine.

"There's no way-"

“You told me you weren’t practicing it anymore, Marcel.”

All eyes were now on Scott as he had his arms crossed over his chest, slowly turning to glare at Marcel, who hung his head in shame.

“I know, but I had to. It was the only way I could get someone to listen.”

“Wait, what do you mean practice? Alchemy is a form of science, you can’t just simply ‘practice’ it without the necessary materials, none of which were found in both the store and your home.”

Marcel turned towards a confused Ryan, taking a deep breath in and sitting up all the way.

“Do you mind passing me the piece of chalk in my jacket?” addled by the bizarre request, the detective hesitantly nodded and got up, heading to the bloodied jacket stuffed in a plastic bag. Pulling a small piece of white chalk out of his pocket, he walked back over to the bed and handed it to the younger man.

“Thanks.”

Hissing in pain, he slipped his feet off the mattress, much to the protests of the rest. When he felt Scott and Ryan try to pull him back, he moved their hands off with a look in his eyes and slowly stood up, whimpering slightly at the white hot pain that shot up his chest and burned his lungs. Before anyone could tell what he was doing, he shuffled over to the nearest wall and started drawing something that had everyone but Scott’s attention.

“I don’t think this is really the time or place to be drawing-”

“Just watch.” Scott interrupted Luke, eyes glued on the wall with a disappointed impression in them. Before they could say anymore, the caramel skinned man stepped back slightly, letting the piece of chalk fall to the ground as he inspected the picture before him.

He had drawn what appeared to be a large circle, a smaller circle inside and with a bigger triangle overlapping them. Three smaller triangles crossed both the smaller circle and the triangle, their sharp edges barely touching the outer circle that seemed to bind everything together. Jonathan stood from his spot and came to a stop beside Marcel, looking at the piece with fascination as Marcel simply kept looking forward.

“What is this exactly?”

“It’s called a transmutation circle. It’s what helps begin an alchemical transmutation, such as turning lead into gold, or wood into a carving. This is one of the most basic circles that anyone who knows alchemy could use.”

“So you’re saying that, with this circle, alchemy is in fact possible without the need for science?”

Marcel turned towards Ryan, who was trying to sketch the picture in front of him into the leather bound notebook in his hand. He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled nervously.

“Not exactly. . In order to understand alchemy, you need to understand the basic rule of equivalent exchange, which is where something can only be changed if another thing equally as valuable is offered. Uh. . to sum it up quicker, it’s understanding what makes up the object, the deconstruction of said object, and the reconstruction of it into a different thing.”

“Jesus Christ, how the hell do you exactly know all of this?” Tyler mumbled from his place, head swirling with the information Marcel spewed out like nothing. The shorter man shrugged and rubbed his arm, before clearing his throat and facing the circle once more.

“Step back a bit, please.”

Jonathan immediately moved backwards and watched as Marcel got into a stance, before suddenly clapping his hands together in a form that resembled that of someone praying. What sounded like the echo is metal scraping something filled their ears, before a bright flash of electricity burst from the circle on the wall, forcing them to cover their eyes.

When the blast of wind and electricity faded, their eyes slowly opened to reveal Marcel holding a stone carving of a dragon in his hand. The wall was missing a chunk of it, making an indent that went in, in a weird pattern. The dark skinned man turned around to face the others as he held the dragon towards the detective, who hesitantly took it and examined it.

“This. . how. .”

“I deconstructed the wall and reconstructed it into this, while giving back what it needed to form. I’m pretty sure the alchemy you were taught does nothing like this, huh?”

“No. . not at all. .” mumbled Ryan, coming up next to Jonathan and looking at the small dragon with wide, curious hazel eyes.

Marcel smiled.

Suddenly started coughing hard, hunching over and gripping the front of his white shirt. Jonathan and Ryan immediately were on his side, trying to get him back into bed while Scott rushed out, his voice resonating the empty halls as he yelled for a doctor.

The dragon laid forgotten on the floor, it's head broken off from the impact.

“Y-You. . need to. . dr-drop it. .”

“Marcel, stop talking. You’re coughing up blood already, this isn’t any good for you!”

Marcel wheezed for air as he clapped his hands together once more, falling against the wall and returning it to its original state.

Two bloody handprints stained the white porcelain wall.

Both doctors and nurses rushed in, pushing him back into the bed as the detectives stepped back. Before Jonathan could go anywhere, Marcel grabbed the sleeve of his sweater and pulled him close, whispering through bloody lips,

“Trust no one.”

“Sir, his lung has collapsed and he’s going into shock, we need you to leave right now.”

Jonathan slowly nodded as Marcel let him go, eyes fluttering shut as he kept heaving for air. As the detective left the room, he closed the door behind himself and leaned against it, frozen for a moment as Marcel’s last words raced through his mind.

Trust no one.

Luke, Ryan, Tyler and Jonathan stayed with Scott, who looked like he was ready to have a mental breakdown any second. After what seemed like an eternity, a doctor opened the door and came out, which had Scotty jumping on his feet and rushing towards the man. The detectives stayed behind and, although they couldn’t hear the quiet conversation, knew what the news was by the way Scott’s shoulders fell defeatingly.

Jonathan slowly stood and walked over to the younger man, throwing his arm around his shoulder and attempting to lead him back to where they were sitting. Before he could even take five steps, Scott was pushing Jonathan away and glaring at him, backing up from the group of detectives.

Trust no one.

“Don’t fucking touch me. . It’s your fault this all happened and now. . now he’s gone. .”

“Scott-”

“Shut up! Just go away, leave!”

Before any of them could say anything, Scotty was walking back into the room, leaving them all in a silence that was deafening. Luke slowly stood from where he was and shook his head, walking towards Jonathan and placing his hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t save everyone, no matter how hard you try. Come on, we have more research to look for now.”

The blue eyed man simply nodded, still staring at the porcelain white door with a look of regret. Luke left him alone as he walked back to Ryan, who threw Jonathan a sympathetic look before walking into an elevator and leaving. Tyler stood by the chairs and waited for his ment- no, his friend to walk back, not saying a word as they both took the elevator down to the first level and walked out, leaving behind their only lead in the case.

Trust no one .

Three weeks later, Marcel’s warning came true.

He remembered that day so fucking clearly, so painfully. He remembered it as clear as crystal, the happiness he felt just days before at his wedding ripped away and torn to shreds with a few simple words. The blood he tasted in his mouth as he bit his lower lip, trying not to cry before the officer at his door, in front of the rest of his friends. The repulsive metallic taste that was left in his mouth, his swollen lip adding to the disheveled look he wore all day. Getting home and not being able to mourn, not being able to cry for him, not at his funeral, where he drowned in the sea of black rippling around him.

(distant - n u a g e s)

He remembered finally being alone in that church, black tie loosened and hair sticking up in various places as he made his way up the aisle, alone. He remembered reaching the shiny coffin, deserted in the church with marble statues of saints to accompany his abandoned soul. He remembered suddenly falling to his knees and letting out the most woeful cry, clutching the front of his suit as he cursed the heavens above, the hells below, cursing himself as he sobbed and screamed for the person who’d never come back.

He remembers the day Tyler died.

Jonathan found himself sitting in a large velvet wing chair in the little lounging area beside the chapel, chin resting on his pale hand and his suit wrinkled. His ankles were crossed as he was faced away from everybody else, the dim blue afternoon light washing over him and the carpet covered floor below him. He drowned out the quiet chatter in the background from mourning family members and friends, his mind wandering far, far away, to a place where only the statues of saints and the paintings of Jesus accompanied him in such a lonely little room. He could feel the cup of tea resting on his lap get colder by the minute, the smell of jasmine reaching his nose. Despite that, he kept gazing out the window, despondent blue eyes watching the waves hit the sandy beach, pulling the grains resting on the shore back to the depths of the endless ocean, where they’d rest until the end of times.

He could hear someone walking towards him, coming to a stop beside him and letting their hand rest at the top of the tall chair. Jonathan refused to move, watching from the corner of his eye as the person finally came into view and sat across from him.

Sitting in the chair in front of him was Tyler, his light brown hair combed back in a way that showed all his young and handsome features. He was dressed in the suit he wore to Jonathan and Evan’s wedding, his brown tie just a bit crooked like he always wore it. The sleeves of his grey blazer were rolled up, the blazer just slightly unbuttoned to reveal the cream coloured dress shirt underneath. Camel coloured chinos were custom tailored to rise just slightly above his ankle, leaving his brown leather shoes to shine in the dull light. The younger man crossed his right leg over the left one, resting his ankle on his knee and leaning lazily back against the chair.

For a second, the detective felt like falling apart all over again, letting the dam in his eyes break and leave a cascade of tears falling down his face. But instead, he watched Tyler from his position, not daring to move in case the vision of his best friend went away. The younger looked at him with an unreadable expression, baby blue eyes blinking slowly, lashing fluttering with every close of his eyes.

“Are you going to continue?”

Tyler’s voice sounded far away yet somehow, close, echoing for eternity inside his head.

“I don’t know. .” the detective whispered, afraid that the rest would think him crazy for talking to himself. Tyler smiled knowingly and huffed a soft chuckle.

“Liar.”

“What?”

“Liar. You’ve lied to me before and now, here you are, lying to a ghost. You do know what you’re going to do, Jonathan, you just haven’t come to terms with it because you’re afraid of letting go.”

Jonathan nearly threw his head back and laughed, but settled down for a quiet chuckle instead, blue eyes going as dark as the ocean outside. Tyler, however, simply kept on smiling, linking his hands together and playing with the ring on left hand. He looked so real, so alive, Jonathan nearly reached over to run his fingers gently over the pale cheek.

“Tyler, I’m-”

“Don’t. It wasn’t your fault. Nothing could’ve stopped the events of that day, no matter how much you wish and pray.”

“I’m just. . I’m so sorry for dragging you into this investigation. If I had just listened. .”

“If you would’ve listened to everyone else, you wouldn’t have come this far. You did good Jon, you really did.” Tyler whispered to him, his rich, gentle voice carried by the wind and blown like the petals in a white dandelion. Jonathan shifted and placed his tea down, before resting his elbows on his knees and hiding his face in his hands.

“Could you do me one last favour?” the younger asked, so small and soft, it made a lump form in Jonathan’s throat, making him unable to speak. He simply nodded, pressing the palms of his hands harder into his eyes to stop the tears from slipping out.

“Take care of Kelly for me, will ya? She’s a strong, independent woman, but right now, I know she needs all the support she can. She’s tearing, and I don’t want to see her breaking apart completely, dead or alive.”

“I-I promise. . we’ll take good care of her. .”

“Thank you.”

Looking up, he saw the image of Tyler slowly start disappearing, his outline becoming fainter and fainter by each passing second. Jonathan bit his lower lip, before letting a sort of whisper-cry escape his throat.

“W-Wait, Tyler. . ! I. . I need to know. What exactly did you find that night. . ?”

The dead look in those baby blue eyes sent a chill down his spine.

“The end of all.”

(Spiritual Fog - Sloati)

“That was a close call, Father. Are you absolutely positive you want to continue letting these filthy humans investigate us?”

“Do you dare doubt your father, child of mine?”

The strong, deep, rich voice of a man boomed through the empty room, silencing the person in a second and leaving them under an intensive gaze that could kill anyone, human or not.

“No, Father. I do not doubt the almighty strength and wisdom you bear.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you go introduce yourself to your new sibling?”

Slowly, the powerful man stood from his throne of stone and metal, walking down a small set of stairs and to the much shorter figure waiting for him with their hands behind their back. With a heavy hand on their shoulder, their Father led them further back into the tunnels, where a tall man struggled to get up, the muscles on his arms and back rippling underneath his shirt.

“Meet your new brother.”

Brown eyes watched as his new brother slowly turned to look at both him and his Father, head tilted slightly and watching them curiously.

Baby blue eyes blinked in the dark.

[gotham-ruaidh]

Uitlander

Previously…

Chapter 24

Plan

Saturday, August 12, 1826

Claire gasped, awake from the abyss of deep sleep. The bed was still cold and empty beside her – save for Adso, the family cat, who Angus and Rupert had so thoughtfully brought to her room before bed. She had retired early, after the long journey home from the Cape School and the even longer talk with Uncle Lamb upon her return.

 “I woke up this morning and thought to myself, well this is a quiet farm!” he had exclaimed, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of Janna’s own rooibos tea. “Only when I came downstairs and spoke with Janna and Jan and Mistress Crook…and they explained what had happened…”

 “I’m sorry I didn’t wake you.” Claire sipped from her own mug of tea, a thick shawl tucked around her shoulders, sitting side-by-side with her uncle on the front porch. “It all happened so fast. We were making it up as we went along.”

 “If you were, that’s not evident at all. You did right, Claire. As best as you could, given that the Governor isn’t around.”

 “And now we wait. There’s no guarantee that Frank will deliver the message – or that Jack will acknowledge it.”

 “Ah. But something tells me that Jack will be more than happy to acknowledge it in his own twisted way. Which means that we must prepare accordingly.”

 So they had – Murtagh and Suzette and Elin and Janna and Jan and Lamb and Claire, occupying every spare seat in the sitting room after supper, talking through the different scenarios, deciding who would play what role. Strategizing.

 All through the day and then into the night they had sat and discussed and sipped endless rounds of rooibos tea. Claire had excused herself for bed – it really had been a trying day.

 Jan later told her that he had heard it first, just as they decided to prepare for bed – the unmistakable clip-clop of hoofbeats on the long drive. As quickly as he could, he hurried to the front door, Murtagh at his side – and opened it in time to catch a dirty and tired but undoubtedly still alive Brian Fraser.

 Suzette and Lamb had helped him to the kitchen, where Mistress Crook quickly poured a warm bath. When Claire flew into the room moments later, Elin was already tending the still-raw wounds where shackles had dug deep into Brian’s flesh.

 Automatically Claire knelt on the other side of the tub to feel for herself Brian’s wounds, her mind racing in ten thousand directions, hearing only half of the tale Brian’s cracked voice shared…

 “Separate cells, we couldn’t even see each other…didn’t have it so bad, I was with some drunks the first day. But the warden told me that Jamie was further down the hallway…yes, with the men awaiting execution. The prisoners kept there are routinely beaten.”

 Claire must have paled visibly – for Brian gently lifted her chin with his damp finger. She paused in wrapping a bandage on his other arm, and met his kind, tired eyes.

 “I don’t know what you did, Claire, to get me out. I’ll be grateful to you for the rest of my days.”

 “She went to Frank Randall,” Murtagh said softly, somewhere in the room.

 Brian smiled for the first time since his return – and Claire couldn’t help the small, warm glow of pride blooming in her chest.

 “Did ye now? You are a brave thing. After what he asked you – ”

 “We need to get Jamie out,” she whispered. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so very glad you’re here with us, but – ”

 “Aye. I understand, lass. And it can’t come quick enough. Captain Randall takes a personal interest in all prisoners kept in that area of the prison…”

 “Brian, that is simply barbaric.” Lamb shook his head, dumbfounded. “That that poor excuse of a man is still somehow able to wear his coat and represent His Majesty…”

 “Why should it surprise you?” Elin patted Claire’s shoulder and traded places with her beside Brian, finishing wrapping the bandage while Claire gratefully sank into one of the comfortable kitchen chairs. “You’ve seen what our life is like here.”

 Claire rubbed her belly. “Jamie told me once that we’re very far away from London. I didn’t understand that at the time – but Uncle, I think you would now.”

 “But that’s no excuse. My darling Claire – and Elin, and Brian. Would you greatly mind if I endeavored to meet with Governor Grey on your behalf?”

 Elin frowned. “But you can’t – not yet. He’s still on his tour – we told you, he won’t return for at least another few days.”

 Lamb straightened up to his full height. “I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you.”

 “Tell us what?” Brian sighed. “I do appreciate your help, Professor – but with respect, you’re a visitor here. I don’t know how you could sway anyone to release my son.”

 Lamb’s thin lips curved into a soft, knowing smile. “The Governor and I – yes it’s true, I’ve known him since he studied with me at Oxford. And I know his brother, and his father, too.”

 Suzette wrapped a comforting, maternal arm around Claire’s shoulder.

 “But John and I – we know each other more than just as teacher and former student. We are members of what you would call a…a particular kind of club. Made up of men like us, with certain…habits.”

 “I don’t understand,” Claire interjected. “At Oxford you would never go to any meetings –”

 “My dear, with respect – it’s strictly on an invitation-only basis. Our membership is not extensive, but our network is vast. We never congregate in groups larger than three, so as to not attract attention. I’m violating one of our basic rules by even telling you about it.”

 Brian’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, the network is vast? Does it extend even here, to the Cape?”

 Lamb’s smile widened further. “It does. I hope you don’t mind, Claire, but as soon as you came down here and began writing me about the Randall brothers and their various positions in society, I…activated the network. Searching for anything about Captain Jonathan Wolverton Randall, Esquire.”

 Claire stilled. “What did you find out?”

 Lamb considered his response for a long, tense moment. Claire watched the steam rise from Brian’s bathtub; felt the creak of floorboards overhead as Janna settled Cato; heard the soft beats of Suzette’s heart beneath her cheek.

 “My dears – it is positively damning.”

[kindabraveandlittlestupid]

Couples Costumes

So Halloween snuck up on me this year because it’s fucking tomorrow and I kinda forgot about it with all the things on the news. I had a handful of Halloween related posts that I wanted to post and while I managed to get a few done, the ones that require some photoshop work are still on my ‘To Do List’. Clearly, I went a little overboard with my post here posting 45 Halloween Costumes above (I am counting the classic Batman Costumes and the Wayne/Garth pics as just two costumes, so yes my math is sound).

I WAS planning to do a Velma/Shaggy or Salt/Snail costume with my S.O. but I am remarkably alone yet again, woe is me and my pity party. ^_^ Not being a downer, I promise. *Slaps Cheeks* Back on topic, Michael! You're rambling again. Yeah so here is a list of costumes. I might make another list next year but let's be honest the best couples costumes will be on this post. If you have your ideas/suggests I love to hear/see them in the notes.

Cartoons

Ash & Misty (Pokemon) - Kind of a classic costume these days as they are both iconic. Who wouldn't want to see their girlfriend in some jean shorts tiny yellow tank top? Misty can be switched out for sexy Pikachu.

Bob & Louise (Bob’s Burgers) - Lots of great characters in the show but none better than Bob and Louise (sorry Tina fans). This would be a fun outfit to host a party and cook burgers. Just a thought.

Birdman & Birdgirl (Harvey Birdman Attorney at Law) - Fun costume for Adult Swim lovers. I love for my girlfriend to do that inner monologue out in the open the way Birdgirl does. I could also switch Harvey out for Phil because “Ha Ha Naughty”. 

Max & Roxanne (Goofy Movie) - Simple costume with some paint on the nose and select clothes. I suspect only the 80′s thru 90′s kids would make the connection but the Z Generation has proved me wrong before.

Wanda & Cosmo (Fairly Oddparents) - Not my favorite costume set but one that would be fun if we had a kid who we were fairy godparents too.

Curious Georgia & Man in the Yellow Hat (Curious George) - This is all the excuse you need to jump on my back or my front or my bed. 

Alice & The White Rabbit (Alice in Wonderland) - Alice in Wonderland has lots of males to dress up as between the March Hare, White Rabbit, Mad Hatter and more. I am sure you girls like options.

Lilo & Stitch (Lilo & Stitch) - If I had four arms the sexy stuff we would do in bed but I don't sadly. However, I can make a great stitch voice not that a cartoon voice does much for you.

Jack Skellington & Sally (Nightmare Before Christmas) - I might be too broad shouldered for this sort of couples costume but if my partner is willing I am game. 

Mavis & Jonathan (Hotel Transylvania) - Mavis is perhaps a little to cute. I mean kind of a strange crush on a little vampire girl, so yeah I am not against someone cosplaying her for me.

Nick Wilde & Judy Hopps (Zootopia) - A little bit anthropomorphizing of Nick and Judy but they got good chemistry and so do we.

Spinelli & T.J. (Recess) - Not to take an innocent toon in a wrong direction but you know they probably smoked weed in high school together and T.J. convinces her to wear a dress for prom but no doubt still has her boots on. They make a cute couple to say the least.

Finn & Fionna (Adventure Time) - Heroes of Adventure Time! Sadly (not really sad about that) I am not blonde but we can always up on some 

Velma & Shaggy (Scooby Doo) - Yet another cartoon crush. I like a nerd and a little thick Velma.

Fred & Wilma (The Flintstones)  - Costumes are epic enough being basically caveman tunics. I can get behind this costume more if we had a Pebbles or Bam Bam to take out trick or treating.

Movies

Black Widow & Captain America (Avengers) - If I could afford it I would be Stark. If my hair was longer I would be Thor. Perhaps Hawkeye would be a better pairing. Regardless Black Widow is a woman among many men. This means you get your pick of which hero I dress up as.

Sam & Suzy (Sunrise Kingdom) - Kind of a hipster approach towards Halloween but sometimes being a nitch audience is ok.

Max & Furiosa (Mad Max) - If my girlfriend had a buzzed head, (for whatever reason that was) Mad Max would be an awesome costume to do together.

Mask & Tina Carlyle (The Mask) - I am a big Jim Carry fan so any excuse to dress up as his characters is a win. Camren Diaz was also smoking hot in this film.

Ash & Sheila (Army of Darkness) - Ash is pretty badass and the number 1 reason to dress as him is to have a chainsaw on your hand and double barrel shotgun on your back.

Dorthy & Scarecrow (Wizard of Oz) - I can also be a Tinman or Lion for your pleasure. That and you can be a green witch... no, I think prefer Dorthy.

Mary Poppins & Bert (Mary Poppins) - This costume would be so much better if I could sing or dance but I can't so I won't.

Aragorn & Arwen (Lord of the Rings) - If I find a woman into the Lord of the Rings (and Game of Thrones) she might be a keeper.

Harry Potter & Hermione Granger (Harry Potter) - Am I the only one who is upset Harry didn't hook up with Hermione? Am I the only one upset Emma Watson didn't hook up with me? Am I rambling? Should I shut up now?

Peter & Gamora (Guardians of the Galaxy) - Might easily be my favorite couple in the MCU. Gonna be a long night painting my girlfriend green.

Beetlejuice & Miss Argentina (Beetlejuice) - Again painting the girlfriend green and myself white! I suppose you could be Lydia and I can actually do a great impression of Michael Keaton's Beetlejuice.

Morticia & Gomez Addams (The Addams Family) - I would pay Thing if I could but sadly I can not disembody may hand and have it run around. I will have to settle for Gomez but your free to pick between Morticia or Wednesday. 

Wayne & Garth (Waynes World) - Playing to males? Meh sure. I loved this movie and I don't mind some cross-dressing for my partner. Just gonna be weird when Wayne makes out with Garth.

Shows

Burt Macklin & Janet Snakehole (Parks and Rec) - I am a special agent on a mission and your a wealthy widow with a secret. Only Parks and Recs fans will get this and that's just fucking great. Two rules though we don't break character and if I find a Johnny Karate, I must fight him.

Dexter Morgan & Hannah McKay (Dexter) - Might have been one of the hottest love scenes in a TV show ever. This costume works well with the plastic wrap and doubly fun to take it off you later.

Eleven & Mike (Stranger Things) - Pretty adorable couple on screen. Not sure about Season 2′s ‘rebel’ storyline in the city but still awesome all the same. I can't wait for season 3.

Batgirl/Catwoman & Batman (Batman Show) - I’m Batman. *Coughs* I mean I am dressed as Batman. The 1960′s Batman costume were simple but fun. Woman didnt look bad at all in their costumes either.

Daredevil & Electra (Daredevil) - I may keep it simple with the black mask and black shirt combo over the body armor. The good thing about those Marvel shows is the outfits are basic as hell.

William Riker & Deanna Troi (Star Trek) - Loved the TNG. Loved Star Trek. Can't go wrong with simple clothes and the Starfleet badge.

Comics/Video Games

Wonder Woman & Superman (DC Comics) - Open to interpretation about which Superman or Wonderwoman we are dressing up as. I have to admit the Wonder Woman movie costume was awesome. 

Batman & Catwoman (DC Comics) - Few romances have ever been so ‘Cat and Mouse’ or rather ‘Bat and Cat’ than that of Batman and Catwoman. The skin-tight body suit and whip make Catwoman all that much alluring. You can decide if you want to go TV show, Cartoon, Comics, Video Game or Movie versions of Selena Kyle.

Rogue & Gambit (Marvel Comics) - A man with deep love and a woman who can never be touched by him (at least skin to skin). This is some Shakespeare level tragedy for this lovely duo.

Spiderman & Black Cat (Marvel Comics) - What can I say its the costume on Black Cat... 

Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda) - I am totally open to also as playing as Ganon if you want me to capture you and tie you down to the bed. 

Misc

Mimes - A whole day of not talking to one another and miming shit out?! Sounds horrible lets just talk in private when no one is looking.

Fireman & Dalmation Girl - Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl? You are! Yes you are!

Little Red & Big Bad Wolf - I won't lie 90% of the reason this costume works is that it leads to sexy time in the bedroom.

Waldo & Wanda - We go to Good Will, buy a bunch of random junk. Write Property of Waldo on it and leave it around the neighborhood all night long. We can set up a Waldo themed house so people can bring items back to us.

Snail & Salt Shaker - Oh ho ho am I clever? Probably not someone has been bound to make a costume like this before. I think it be fun for you to avoid me the whole part as I walk around as a Salt Shaker.

Frankenstein & Bride of Frankenstein - Classic movie costume and its really all about the hair for the bride. I can imagine this being a big hit with the kids and fun for a monster movie night.

Regards Michael California

[lostinthe-pines-blog]

Fate Doesn’t Write My Stories pt. 6 - Dreamers

This is a multi-chapter story about MC, and Chris finding their way back together after years of being separated post graduation. Chris’s career takes him to Boston, a city he’d promised was her territory. But it’s not just Chris, fate has seemingly brought the entire Hartfeld crew back together.

NOTE: This is a fictional story based on Pixelberry’s Choices App. *Books The Freshman, The Sophomore, The Junior. I am not affiliated with Pixelberry nor do I own the rights to their original characters.

 Tags @jared2612  @katurrade @annekebbphotography 

The little red light on the bottom left of MC’s ancient laptop began to flash, her battery was dying. Had they really been talking that long? MC grabbed a pen to continue taking notes as she powered down her laptop. She’s really hit it off now with the young athlete and his stories intrigued her. Three hours they’d been talking, shocked the pair of them hadn’t been kicked out of the small coffee shop she looked around her gaze focusing out the bay window she’d looked out before. Her focus was pulled from the conversation as she noticed Chris sitting on a park bench a crossed the street. Her mind began to wonder… had he been there the entire time? MC looked back to Miles as the two of them finished their conversation.

“Thank you again for meeting with me” She thanked him graciously. “I’ll do my best to put out the honest and true version of who you are. The Patriots are lucky to have a player like you.”

Miles nods humbly but doesn't dwell on her praises. “Would you mind if I asked you a question? You don’t have to answer it…” he pauses patiently waiting her response.

“Sure?” she responds cautiously.

“I know nothing about you or your past with Chris, but I do know whatever he did he’s extremely sorry for it. Would you ever think about giving him a second chance?”

Miles inquiry settles in her mind as she looks down to her lap. How was she supposed to tell Miles that Chris had ruined any chance of that when her body was telling her otherwise. After a few uncomfortably long moments MC looks up to Miles. “I have a boyfriend” she gives a simple and childish answer.

“That is the most bullshit excuse..” Miles yells and MC knows it’s true. “I spent 3 hours baring my soul to you MC and the best you give me is ‘I have a boyfriend’. I would have rather you taken my offer not to answer at all” his voice playful now. “Seriously set your boyfriend aside, does my friend” he pauses “Does my best friend, even have a chance with you? Or should I tell him to move on?”

MC takes a deep breath and admits to herself, and the stranger before her something she’d know for the last 4 years. If Chris ever sobered up, if he ever apologized and came back she knew she’d fall for him again. MC’s eyes meet Miles now as she tries to resist the urge to speak the truth. “Yes, he does” she says lightly and shoves her notepad in her purse. Reaching her hand out quickly for a handshake she stands from her seat. “Thank you for the interview, I’ll send you a copy of the article before sending it to publish.” she harshly changes the subject and Miles yet again stops her.

“MC you promised me something in return for this” he reminds her his gaze moving out the bay window to where she’d been looking before.  “That man has waited outside on that bench for 3 hours.” his voice soft, “Him and I drove separately, he’s not out there waiting for me.” Miles looks to her shaking her hand and walking away, as he reaches the door he looks back to the auburn haired writer. “Don’t break your promise to me MC.” his voice serious and almost threatening.

MC stands in the coffee shop her head and heart pounding. She needed to get home she needed to start writing but her moral compass was leading her toward the rusted park bench. “Ughhhh.” she exclaimed while forcing her laptop into her bag out of frustration. She looks out the window, Miles gone and Chris still waiting. She swings her bag over her shoulder and jay walks a crossed the street quickly.

Chris is so focused on whatever he’s reading on his phone he doesn’t even see her coming. He’s startled when her voice fills his ears.

“I keep my promises, whether I want to or not.” her voice stern now as she fights her body’s instincts. “So you wanna talk? This might be your only chance.” MC was straight forward and bold. She’d been burned by this sandy haired boy before and she had truly learned from it. She was independent now, she didn’t need a man anymore, not even Carter.

Chris’s eyes meet hers already apologetic. “Can I walk you somewhere?” Chris asks standing to meet her. “If by the end of it you don’t want to talk again, we don’t have to. I’ll continue to run Miles’s publicity through you but that will be the extent of our communication.”

MC nods one hand resting on the strap of her bag she falls in line next to the man who’d once consumed her every thought. The pair of them walk silently for far too long before Chris realizes he’s missing out on time with her.

“You look great” he starts and immediately regrets his choice in words. “Not that you didn’t before MC.” his eyes fall to the ground as he leads her up the street. “I’m an open book now and I want you to ask me anything… I’ll answer. You deserve answers.”

MC looks to him but his eyes never leave the ground. She studies his face and feels worry radiating off of him. Four years ago she would have used this opportunity to yell about anything but now she only had a few questions. “Was it hard? Your recovery? Was it hard?”

Chris looks over at her shocked and for the first time in four years their eyes finally meet. He mindlessly studies the hazel coloring and she focuses on the once comforting blue. He’s shocked that out of everything she could ask her question was about him, about his healing. He’s taken back but he does his best to answer honestly.

“It took a year to truly snap out of it” he recalls “I moved back home and for the sake of my siblings my mom cut me off of everything. I’d be lying if I said it was easy. The pain and headaches, detoxing it was all horrible. Having to face my sister knowing that she knew I wasn’t truly myself anymore, that was harder. I couldn’t be the brother she’d looked up too... It was around Christmas that year that I finally started to find myself again, I worked for a Christmas Tree lot. I spent a lot of time chopping, wrapping and driving trees around. That time alone in the cold was what truly healed me. By March I’d finally stopped craving alcohol though it still tempts me even today. I haven’t had a drop since that March.” he answers with a hint of pride. “It was the longest year of my life though there were a few small victories. Almost a year to the date of the crash I won the lawsuit against the driver. He was jailed  and I came into enough money to get me back on my feet.”

MC analyzes his response, “I’m happy for you Chris.” she says softly almost hoping he wouldn’t hear it. “How’d you end up working with Miles?” she questions avoiding the subject of their demise at all.

“My recruiter from the Eagles, he met with me in August of the following year. He was very good to me when he didn’t need to be. He said he saw promise in me not just in my sports talent but my business talent as well. He offered me a job to assist him for a year, try my hand at the business side of the NFL.” Chris laughs, “It was the closest I’d been to a football field in over a year and I loved it. After my year I got a couple recommendations and a coworker Jonathan asked me to move with him to co manage a new player for the Seahawks. While Jonathan quit halfway through the season Miles asked me to stay and I can’t imagine turning my back on him now. He’s frustrating, but he’s also wise beyond his years.”  

MC doesn’t respond this time allowing silence to fall over them again. She begins to recognize the streets they were walking down. She didn’t know what exactly he was playing at but he was leading her to Harvard. They enter through an opening in one of the gates and they begin to walk through the connected courtyards surrounding the old stone buildings. MC knew this campus as if she’d attended here. She toured the school three separate times in high school.  Chris leads her to the cement steps outside of the Widener Library. They sit next to each other sharing a step near the top in the shade. MC is uncertain of why he’d lead her hear, but her heart knew he had deeper intentions behind the choice.

“I know this place means a lot to you.” Chris begins knowing now he’ll be entering treacherous grounds. “I don’t want to ruin it by talking to you here but I need you to know a few things.” he looks over at her trying his hardest not to break eye contact no matter how truthful he became. “The biggest mistake I have ever made was letting you go. I had convinced myself that you would be better off without me. And you have been, you’ve built a life for yourself. But that Christmas I realized how much I really missed you. I knew you’d never forgive me so I had to live without you. I tried dating” he laughs “None of them worked out… in fact some of them were completely disastrous.” he chuckles at the memories running through his head. “None of them were you.”

“Chris…” MC begins but doesn't know how to continue. Her mind wanted to scream and yell and remind him of the pain he’d put her through but her heart and her gut wanted to hug him to remind him of what her embrace felt like. She’d never really felt this type of conflict before.

“I just want you to know that you’re the only girl for me. I’m sure I could fool myself into loving someone else, but deep down I know they wouldn't be you. Regardless I made my bed and I fully intend to lie in it. I let you go and that was my mistake.” he moves his eyes from her proud yet saddened by his confession. Looking at his fidgeting hands in his lap now he speaks again. “Harvard was your dream, and NFL was mine. While neither of us truly accomplished those dreams they are still apart of us. It’s my hope that in the last four years you haven’t stopped dreaming. I hope that you still wear your Harvard sweatshirt from your Jr. High years whenever you get cold at night. I was truly unlucky to not be there to share the past few years with you but it is my strongest hope that you will let me share the next few. Maybe not by your side but as your friend and truly as one of your biggest fans.”

MC boldly moves her right hand over his and slides her left hand to his cheek to lift his eyes to her. “You broke me.” She admits her eyes full of pain. She watches the pain transfer to his eyes though he doesn’t look away. “And I would love nothing more than to let you in, to let you fix this. But I’ve changed and unlike you I have fallen in love again.” she lies now, she’s using Carter as an excuse not to open up. MC loved Carter but knew she would never be with him forever. She selfishly kept him around.

“Friends then?” Chris questions.

MC flashes him a smile “Friends” she agrees.

The two of them wandered the campus for hours stopping at bookstores, coffee shops and gift shops as they caught up. Chris shares the stories of a few disastrous dates and MC shares about her promiscuous roommate Molly. They laugh about both of them avoiding Becca’s wedding in fear of seeing each other. The sun has gone down now and MC has lost all her writing time and forgotten her promise to celebrate with Carter. The two of them finally approach her apartment building and she turns to say goodbye. “Chris, Kaitlyn has a concert here in Boston tomorrow night. Zack, Becca and I are all going… you should join us.” she offers.

“I wouldn’t miss it” he nods and takes a step backwards down the steps leading toward her door.

“Wait!” MC says reluctant again to say goodbye. She follows his movements down the step and kisses his cheek softly, lingering longer than she should have. “It’s good to have you back.” she admits before turning inside quickly.

[hairringtonsteve]

two ships passing in the night.

(billy hargrove x reader)

request: remember me w/ Billy? 💕 (from dating prompts: Leave a “Remember Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character trying to get another to remember them)

summary: reader is home for the holidays, and meets an old enemy (ish). turns out late night diner talks aren’t the worst thing in the world. 

word count: 2,568

warning: there are mentions of abuse in here. nothing detailed, but it’s mentioned.

part ii. part iii.

The holidays are a lot of things, but after high school, they went on another level of special for you. You’d ended up missing your friends and family a lot more while you were at college, so a couple of weeks at home was on par with heaven for you - even in your junior year.

You’d been home for a couple of days by that point. The first day home had been spent in your bed catching up on all of the sleep that you’d missed out on during the fall semester. The second and third day, however, had considered of the party crowding into your house, Dustin and Steve making hundreds of cookies while the rest tried to steal any amount of cookie dough that they could.

It was weird, being older. The kids were growing up, all but Will having grown taller than you (Will was as tall as you now, and you had no illusions that in a year, you’d be the shortest one). Nancy and Jonathan were in college as well, due back within the next few days. Steve had - to the frustration of his father - decided to stay in Hawkins and join the police force to work alongside Hopper.

“Who else is going to save his old ass when the weird shit hits the fan again?”

So it had been nice to see them all again, the pain in your chest abating a little the longer you were all together.

You loved your family and spending time with them, but with the party, it was different. Shared trauma, and all that.

Eventually, though, everyone ended up heading out. Lucas and Max had talked of going to the movies, while the rest of them were heading to their various homes. Except Mike, who was taking El home himself.

(The thought of him driving disturbed you on a whole other level.)

Once they’d all left, you shrugged on your coat and shoved a hat on your head, wincing as you stepped outside. The cold stung your face, but you tried not to pay much attention to it. Hawkins Main Street was calling to you, and you’d be damned if you didn’t go.

From the time that you’d been a child, you’d always loved walking into town, late at night in December. It was like your own private Christmas lights show. String lights were strung from street lamp to street lamp, with wreaths shaped as bells and Christmas trees lined the pole lights. The storefronts were all individually decorated to the owner’s preference, but most had Santa and presents in some form or another.

You’d just made it into town, your hands shoved deep into your pockets when you heard someone calling your name. You froze at the sound of the voice, trying to place it.

“Y/N! Y/L/N, is that you?” You turned around slowly, furrowing your brow as your gaze settled on the man approaching you. The voice reminded you of Billy Hargrove, but the man in front of you…

He had short hair - no mullet in sight - and was grinning easily at you. Sure, towards the end of your senior year, Billy hadn’t been bothering you anymore, but that was due to Max almost taking a nail-ridden bat to his crotch.

“Uh, yeah? Do I know you?”

“You don’t remember me? Do I look that different without the mullet?”

Your eyes widened. Holy shit, it was Billy Hargrove.

“Nah, I just didn’t recognize you without you harassing me and my friends.” You raised your eyebrows at him as he looked down at his shoes. His lips pressed together into a thin line as he looked back towards you.

“I was a pretty big dick to you, huh?”

“You were a bigger dick to Lucas Sinclair. And your little stepsister.”

He let out a sigh, nodding his head slow a couple of times.

“I know I was. I had a lot of shit going on, but that doesn’t excuse what I said. Or what I did. I’m, uh, I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You stared at him, your gaping mouth resembling a fish. It had been around three years since all of that had happened. People could change in that amount of time, but Billy Hargrove? Really?

“What the hell happened to you?”

He barked out a humorless laugh, ducking his head once more before taking in a deep breath, and letting it out through his nose.

“You wanna grab some coffee?” You furrowed your brow, giving him a look that made him chuckle. “It’s kind of a long story, and I’m starting to freeze my ass off.”

After a moment of consideration, you gave him a sharp nod. Without another word, you headed down the street towards the new little diner that had sprung up while you were off studying. It wasn’t that special, but it was open twenty-four hours and was close by.

The two of you made it in without a single word spoken to each other. You went to the far back booth, sliding in as you looked at him under the fluorescent lights. He looked older, but out of the orange-y glow from the street lights, it was easier to recognize him. He opened his mouth as he sat down, but you shook your head.

“I’m gonna need coffee for this.”

He smirked a little at your words, settling down across from you. The older waitress ambled her way over, giving the two of you a warm smile.

“What can I get the two of you?”

“I’ll have a coffee and a slice of pecan pie, please?” You grinned at her before looking to Billy as he ordered the same. He turned his attention to you as she left, quirking his brow in a silent question.

Can I begin?

You returned his look with one of your own.

Not yet.

Within a couple of minutes, the waitress had returned, coffee and pie on the tray. Billy waited patiently, watching as you took a small sip of your coffee and gave him a nod.

“So, you know I left when I turned eighteen,right?” You gave an affirming hum, taking another sip of the coffee. “I ended up back out in California, and uh, got into a fight with this guy. Real fucking big guy. We beat the shit out of each other, and I hit him a little too hard.” There was a pause. “In the end, I get hit with six months jail time, if I agree to go to therapy and anger management counseling once I’m out.”

You kept quiet, but your mind was racing. It was almost too much to comprehend. Billy Hargrove had actually gone to jail - and  had willingly gone to therapy. Wow. After a beat too long of silence, you ask, “you learn anything from therapy?”

“I learned a ton. Apparently, kids that have abusive fathers tend to have pretty short fuses. Not that that excuses anything, but… you know… it explains some shit.” He kept his eyes on you, almost inspecting your bland expression. It was as though he’d been waiting for some sort of reaction. When you didn’t give him one, he sat back in his seat, nodding slow. “So you already knew, then, that my dad beat me?”

“Yeah, Max told me about it after you’d left.” Billy looked down at his coffee mug, hands wrapped around it as he sighed. “He didn’t hit her. After you left. He’s a prick, don’t get me wrong, but he never laid a hand on her.”

You weren’t sure why you told him that. Reassuring Billy Hargrove wasn’t something that you’d ever thought that you would do. He offered you a soft smile in gratitude.

“I know. After I got out, Max and I ended up taking on the phone. Not a lot. Just a couple of times a year.” He lifted the coffee to his lips and took a sip. “Thanks for looking after her. She’s a good kid. I was just too pissed at the world to see it.”

“She is a good kid. It’s hard to believe that she’s actually growing up,” you mused, smiling at the memory of Max’s scowl as she skateboarded around the street just a few years ago.

Billy watched you as you laughed softly, smiling a mirror of your own.

“So what about you, Y/L/N? What have you been doing for the last three years?”

That question launched a conversation that last until well after midnight. You talked about what you were studying at college, and what the party had been up to, and what your plans are for the holidays. And Billy just sat there, asking you questions and listening intently and honestly?

It was nice.

“Holy shit, it’s late,” you laughed, glancing up at the clock that hung above the door to the kitchen. “I think I might need to head home.”

By that time, you both were on your fourth cup of coffee, and had finished your second slice of pie.

“You want me to walk you home?”

Despite the growing up that he’d done over the years, you still hesitated. It was difficult to reconcile the Billy that sat before you with the one that you’d known your senior year. Seventeen year old Billy would have tried to make a move on her while they walked. This Billy… she wasn’t sure. The cocky, self-assurance was still there. She’d caught him messing with his hair twice when he thought that she hadn’t been looking (she had been looking. a lot.). He laughed like he was barking, and she’d spotted the cigarette carton in his coat pocket. His mannerisms were still the same.

But the angry, controlling air that had surrounded him at seventeen wasn’t there anymore.

“Sure.”

The two of you slid on your coats once you stood up, you reaching for your wallet only for Billy to tap his finger against your wrist.

“My treat, Y/N. Call it a peace offering.” You looked up at him, your heart beating a little faster when you realized just how close he was to you.

“Then I pay next time.” You hadn’t even thought about the two of you hanging out beyond that night, but the words flowed easily. Too easy, really. But then Billy’s entire face lit up, and it was making it hard for you to regret saying it.

“That sounds good to me,” he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk. You rolled your eyes at him, muttering something about shutting up or you would make him shut up, to which his smirk grew even wider.

After he’d paid and covered the tip, the two of you headed outside. You pulled your hat over your ears, trying to guard against the chill in the air. Billy walked closer to you than he had earlier, his arm brushing up against yours with each step that was taken.

It was quiet as the two of you walked. There was a light dusting of snow on the streets and sidewalk, while larger piles were littered against the curb. Dustin had mentioned a pretty big snowfall a week or two ago on the phone. You glanced up at Billy, blaming your red cheeks on the cold as he looked down at you.

“So, why were you even walking around anyway? It was kind of late, don’t you think?” Billy asked, his hands going deep into his pockets as the wind picked up. You inched closer to him, the warmth from his arm brushing against  yours a welcome feeling.

“I always liked Hawkins at night around this time of year. It’s pretty, with the lights and all,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Besides, it’s been kind of hectic. The party’s been at my house for the past two and a half days, pretty much. I missed them, but the quiet’s nice too.” You paused for a moment, thinking of something. “Did you move back here? Or are you just visiting for the holidays?”

“I’m just visiting. Some old guy is letting me rent his apartment over December and January for cheap if I take care of his cat for him.”

You wanted to ask why he wasn’t staying with his family, but the answer seemed kind of obvious to you.

“Do you have somewhere to go for Christmas?” He ducked his head, shaking it slowly as his tongue darted over his lips, wetting them despite the almost guaranteed drying with that wind.

“You worried about me or something?” For the first time that night, there was a hint of that edge in his voice from all those years ago.

“I’m just curious, Billy. That’s all.”

“Well, good. I don’t need your pity.” You rolled your eyes. There it was, that pride of his rearing its head.

“It’s not pity. Pretty sure that I lost the ability to pity you when you were about to beat the shit out of Lucas. I just… It’s got to suck, coming back and still not -” You cut yourself off, struggling to find the right words that would convey just what you were trying to say.

“Max wanted me to come. Wants to make amends, or some shit. So uh, she’s coming to the apartment Christmas day sometime. So we can talk.”

“You’re staying for two months because she wants to make amends?”

“My therapist said that it was a good idea, that it’d help somehow. I mean, I get it. I fucked up a lot when it came to her, and how I treated her. I just want to make it right, I guess.”

The two of you fell quiet after that, with Billy staring straight ahead and avoiding any eye contact with you, while you couldn’t help but glance at him over and over again. He wanted to make things right. It was mind blowing.

You reached your house faster than you’d expected to, the porch light emanating a warm glow that beckoned you in. Billy followed you up to the porch, leaning against the railing as you fished in your pocket for your house key. Once your fingers wrapped around the cool metal, you stepped towards the door and put it in. It slid in easily, but you didn’t turn the handle. Instead, you turned around to face Billy.

“You fucked up a lot whenever we were younger. But you’re not a dickhead now, Billy. You’re kind of a decent person.” The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, neither of you making a move. Billy was the first to break, a small - almost shy - smile easing across his lips.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Y/N.” He took a step towards you, then another, until he was forced to look down at you. “I guess I should head home, then.” He leaned down towards you, and you’d never admit it, but your breath caught in your throat. His lips landed against your cheek, warm against your cold skin. Your heart was doing double time, beating so hard you thought it come right through your chest. He lingered for a second or two longer than necessary, eventually pulling away with a small smile on his face. “G’night, Y/N.”

You stared at after him as he headed down the steps, blinking in shock as he walked away.

“Night, Billy,” you called, causing him to turn and give a quick wave of his hand. You waited until he was a little ways down the road before you headed inside, heart still pounding the entire time.

Well fuck.

[runningwitches]

Loved

Summary: The reader is sad because they feel useless. Steve makes sure they know that’s not true and the party cheers them the heck up.

Request?: Nah M8 I’m just sad as heck

Word Count: 1819

A/N: i mean, seasonal depression and a neverending fear that nobody will ever love me and that I will die alone drove me to binge read a shit ton of steve harrington x reader fics and cry despite the fact that i havent finished season two of stranger things but im gonna write this anyways.

i guess this is steve x reader but thats not the main point of the story

idfk i just want to be loved

(umm, henderson! reader who is loved by everyone, i do not give a shit if this follows the exact storyline, ok? i just wanna be happy again) (also i do not look anything like a henderson! so reader can be adopted or some shit? maybe a cousin?  who tf knoes? not me, thats for sure !!

Warnings: Probably Season Two Spoilers, No Editing, Probably super OOC and all that because I started this at almost three in the morning and now its four and I’m exhausted but I cant sleep because I’m sad. Anyways I’m just trying to say that it’s bad but I’ll love you if you read it anyways.

I was curled up in my bed, isolating myself from everyone as per usual. After the events with the mind flayer and demodogs and upside down, I realized something pretty depressing. Nobody needed me. I mean like? Sure I was Dustin’s sister. And sure, I was kinda helpful in saving Steve’s ass from the demodogs and Billy, but it just feels as if I weren’t there, nobody would even notice. As if my presence had no positive value to anyone in The Party™.

So instead of socializing with them while they all played DnD and joked around, I sat myself in my room, wrapped in a blanket burrito, holding back tears. I had my music on in the background as I mindlessly flipped through one of the magazines my mom had bought for me. Everyone was downstairs as it was Dustin’s turn to host the DnD night, and everyone was over. I mean, Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan, and I definitely wouldn’t be surprised if I walked downstairs to find Joyce and Hopper there too. Every once in awhile I would hear some loud laughter come up from the group, signifying how happy they were without me there. It definitely wasn’t easy for me to sit there by myself staring blankly at the pictures of celebrities I didn’t even care about, but I continued to tell myself that they would be happier without me, attempting to drown out the sounds of their joy with the mixtape I had made for myself a little while back.

As I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing, trying to force the tears that had started to pool back into my eyes, I heard someone knocking on my door. I quickly wiped my eyes to ensure there weren’t any stray tears, pulled the blanket tighter around my body, and attempted to look miserable. But miserable in a sick way and not in a sad way. If it were anybody except Dustin or Steve, I knew I was going to be able to pull off the “I’m not feeling very well” charade, so my chances were pretty good (though odds were rarely skewed in my favor).

Of course with my luck my little brother came bursting through the door.

“(Y/N)! Why aren’t you down there playing DnD with us?!” he asked, voice booming loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear. As I prepared to try my excuse with him to see if my acting skills had gotten any better, I noticed someone else walking through the door. Looking up, my watery eyes met the concerned look on Steve’s face.

“Hey shithead, stop screaming. You don’t need to tell everyone in Hawkins about your sister’s lack of participation in game night,” he said to Dustin, ruffling his hair and then muttering for him to go back downstairs. Dustin looked angrily at Steve for a moment before looking between us for a second, muttered something to himself, and then left the room, surprisingly closing my door as he left.

“What’s up with you lately? It’s not like you to miss game night, but you haven’t been to a single one these past few weeks.”

“I’m just not feeling well, Steve, don’t worry about it,” I told him, looking down at the magazine in my lap and trying to will the tears away.

“Don’t try that bullshit with me, (Y/N). I know you better than that, do you really think I’d believe that crap?”

“There’s no bullshit to be had Steve, just go back downstairs, I’ll be fine,” I told him, yet I still refused to make eye contact. So when he sat down on the edge of my bed, put two fingers under my chin, and lifted my head up in order for me to make eye contact, I saw his face immediately soften.

“I’m not gonna go back downstairs until I figure out what’s wrong with my favorite girl.”

It took all of the resolve in the world for me to not break down at those two words, and it still didn’t even work. “Favorite girl?” I repeated, but only in my own head. “There’s no way I’m his favorite girl, he’s lying to me. Everyone always lies to me” I told myself. And in that second it was like the dam was broken. The tears started to fall freely from my face. I curled myself into more of a ball than I already was, which was a surprising feat of human flexibility, if I’m being completely honest. Steve’s arms immediately went around me, pulling us closer to each other, and practically pulling me into his lap.

I didn’t say a word as he stroked my hair and shushed me softly, I simply let out a series of what I would consider disgusting sobs.

He continued whispering to me, little things telling me that I’d be okay, or that he was there for me, or that everything was gonna be fine. As my breathing finally evened out, he hadn’t asked me what was wrong like I had expected, so I knew I had to speak up.

“Why are you even here, Harrington?” I asked him bitterly.

“What do you mean?” he replied, exasperated.

“Why do you even care about me?” I reiterated with a sniffle.

“Why do I care about you? (Y/N) what are you on about? It would take me ages to list all of that back to you.” I didn’t respond, but I allowed myself to relax a bit, leaning now onto his chest instead of holding myself as far away as I could while somehow still being in his lap. “(Y/N) you’re wonderful. You care so much about all of the kids, sometimes I think you out-mom even their own mom’s.” That was greeted with a sharp exhale from my nose which was (correctly) interpreted as a laugh. “You’re fucking badass. You can use a gun, a bat, a hockey stick, and pretty much anything else you can get your hands on to slay monsters, like real life monsters.” He checked my face after this comment, and was lucky he did, because he almost missed the slight curl of my lips. “You never let anybody get in the way of doing what needs to be done. Not even racist douchebags that show up and kick my ass. And you certainly don’t take shit from anyone.” A few more tears fell from my eyes, but he grabbed my face and used his thumbs to wipe them away, looking into my eyes. “And you’ve got a whole group of teenagers sitting down there worried sick about you because you mean so much to all of them.”

I sniffled again and threw my arms around his neck, whispering an almost inaudible, “Thank you.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Now let’s go get you cleaned up so we can finish that game of DnD.” I almost blushed at the pet name he gave me, if he didn’t sweep me up into his arms and carry me to the bathroom so I could rinse my face off. He made sure to grab my blanket from my bed and grabbed my hand to lead me down the stairs.

“Wow, it’s so nice of you to join us,” Dustin said the second we were down the stairs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Steve shot him a look that said, “shut up or I’ll kill you,” while I just gave him a small smile. Before I even got settled on the couch I was smothered by two bear hugs.

“I missed you (Y/N),” El told me, gripping me in probably the tightest hug I’ve ever had. “You were gone for three weeks!”

“Yeah dude! Don’t leave us alone with these losers for that long ever again!” Max exclaimed, hugging me almost as tight as El was.

I smiled down at both of them, hugging them back just as fiercely. Looking up, I saw the smile Steve had on, but I ignored it in favor of the smiles on my girls’ faces. Ruffling their hair, I removed myself from their grips and went to sit on the couch between Steve and Nancy.

“It’s a good thing you came back (Y/N). I almost killed your brother, and not in the campaign, in real life. I’m pretty sure you’d be the only one who could stop me.” I chuckled to myself and then smiled at Lucas.

“It’s a good thing that I’m back then, huh?”

Will looked up at me this time, “Definitely! I was waiting for you to come down so I could show you this drawing!” I smiled down at him, glancing briefly at Jonathan, only enough to recognize the immense pride on his face at the fact that Will was genuinely happy and smiley. He brought it up to show me a picture that he had drawn of me fighting a monster, a cute little label that pertained to my name at the top. “Steve said you fought a monster and won! And I didn’t even get to see it. So I thought I’d draw it out for you.”

“I love it Will!” I exclaimed, pulling him into a hug and looking at the drawing again. It wasn’t until this second look that I noticed a label by the monster’s head as well. It simply read, “Billy” with a little arrow to indicate that the monster I was beating up was named Billy. I laughed at the naming of the monster and pulled Will into another hug, pressing a light kiss to the top of his head. He grabbed the drawing and placed himself back into his spot.

“(Y/N), you want to hop in on this campaign? We’ve still got a while left to go and we’re in a pretty good spot to add another character?” Mike offered, as he was playing Dungeon Master.

“Yeah, come on (Y/N)! You haven’t actually played in forever!” Dustin added.

The rest of the group added their own chorus of “Yeah”s to try and convince you to join.

“Okay, I guess. But only if I get to be a healer! I’m tired of killing the monsters,” I joked, earning a laugh from everyone in the room.

“Okay, okay, so the group walks up to the tavern in town, hoping for a nice evening away from the fighting for once. But the open the door and see, A MOM, not just A mom, it’s their mom!”

“What?” El asked.

“Mike what are you on about?” Lucas added.

“OH MY GOD, (Y/N)’S GONNA BE LIKE OUR TEAM’S MOM!” Max shouted in realization. The whole group looked at Mike in anticipation. “Well obviously, how else would I have gone about this? It’s perfect, and the perfect position to make her the healer.”

“I mean, technically she’s my sister,” Dustin announced, implying that you couldn’t be his mom.

“See (Y/N), I told you I was gonna kill him.”