#got like some fiver ass legs over here

[warlordfelwinter]

dnd is a dress up game right

[ragingbookdragon]

Through Hoods, Through Lace, Through Hearts--We'll Find Our Healing PT.1

Jason Todd x Reader Story (Arkhamverse)

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I started playing Arkham Knight again and got inspired. Who woulda thought?? Enjoy! -Thorne

Gotham wasn’t exactly safe since Batman—or Bruce Wayne—had died. All things considered, it wasn’t as bad as it used to be now that Red Hood had moved in and started tackling the criminals Batman had left behind—permanently. Killer Moth had been the first and Roman Sionis was the second to go, and while Red Hood hadn’t outright claimed it, the leftover crew that hadn’t been pumped full of lead, had said that they saw the vigilante leaving, so it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. And it didn’t stop there.

Red Hood had started in on Penguin’s gang too. Now that Batman wasn’t around to stop the weapons and drug smuggling, it’d given the infamous gang leader a free ticket into Gotham. There were some reports about the neighboring vigilante Nightwing coming over from Blüdhaven to stop him. Rumor had it that someone said they even saw him and the Red Hood working together at one point, but it didn’t seem all to believable as the latter didn’t seem to be the partnering type.

That being said, with no one to stop him from killing all the criminals he wanted, a lot of the small-time fish got out of the business, not wanting to be met at the end of Red Hood’s handguns—it’s the exact reason she got out of the game. The money was good, and she was a damn good thief, but no amount of payout was worth her life. But somehow, trouble always managed to find her again.

***

Her file might’ve gotten deleted from GCPD’s database, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to take the easy way down the street and risk an officer recognizing her. She stuck to the back alleys like usual, ignoring the catcalls and sleazy comments about her outfit, but still keeping her brass knuckles around her hand—could never be too careful in Gotham.

Working an honest job sucked in her opinion, and the only thing more humiliating than working at Super-Babes was the number of tips she was getting at the end of her shift. Maybe if she smiled and flirted a bit more, they’d give her a tenner instead of a fiver. She’d half a mind to shove that five down the asshole’s throat after he ran his hand up the back of her thigh, but she was lucky that Tony had been working the kitchen shift—watching him throw the guy out on his ass was payment enough.

Even if she was managing to scrape by, working a restaurant job was kicking her ass, and something deep inside her itched for one more heist, but with the Red Hood stalking the city, there was no way in hell that she was going to risk it. The man had a reputation for leaving bodies and shell cases, and she wasn’t going to be the former. No, she was working towards a better future, getting back on track, and even if she was waitress, she was doing a lot better than most of the old crew. Most of them had either joined up with Black Mask, in hindsight, a horrible error on their part, or gotten thrown back into lockup. She was lucky—she got out during the recovery of Gotham after the whole Scarecrow and Arkham Knight deal. But that didn’t stop them from sending her the occasional request of her skills. All they received was a big ‘fuck no and fuck you’.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N). Finally tracked you down.” Speak of the devil.

“Alex,” she sighed heavily as she turned halfway, catching sight of her old partner—and old flame, but that wasn’t important. “Figured you would at some point.” Her eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

Alex chuckled and leaned against the wall. “No need to be so touchy. I just wanted to talk.”

(Y/N) shook her head and hiked her purse higher onto her shoulder, fingers tightening around the brass knuckles in her pocket.

“If it’s not about my next shift at Super-Babes, I don’t give a rat’s ass what it is,” she countered, glaring at him.

“That’s where you’ve been working?” he questioned, but his tone gave way to the knowingness in his gaze. “Really?”

“Not like there’s anywhere else for ex-thieves to apply, Alex,” (Y/N) grumbled. “Employers are pretty meticulous when it comes to criminal records.”

“I’m not.”

She glowered at him. “I’m not interested in whatever you want me to do for you.”

“Even if you’ll get paid?” he suggested.

“I can’t believe I’m going to ask,” she sighed, eyes narrowing at the grin that split across his face. “What are you doing?”

Alex pulled out a file and walked up to her. “I knew you couldn’t resist a big payout.”

“Fuck you,” she grunted, swiping the manilla folder from him. “Shine a light for me.”

He pulled out his phone and flicked his flashlight on, watching as she read the papers, occasionally flipping the sheets.

All at once, she paused and gaped at him. “Wayne Manor?” She blinked. “You wanna `excavate Wayne Manor?”

Alex nodded and turned the flashlight off, stowing the phone back into his pocket. “Good plan, isn’t it?”

(Y/N) breathed in shock and lowered the folder. “Are you insane?”

“I’m failing to see your issue with this.”

“You want to excavate the home of a dead man. You really can’t see the issue with it?”

“That he’s dead?” Alex offered. “Technically that’s not graverobbing. He’s been dead for like a year and a half.”

(Y/N) turned and took a step. “That’s not the issue Alex!” She spun back around and hissed, “Bruce Wayne was Batman.”

“Keyword was. Not anymore.”

“I don’t give a shit. If Bruce Wayne was Batman, then there’s a very strong chance that there’s still defenses laid around the grounds.”

“In that pile of rubble? Not likely, but that’s why I need you to help me.”

“No,” (Y/N) declared. “I’m not going anywhere near that place.”

Alex let out a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. “And why not? You never really liked Batman. Didn’t he put you in jail once or twice?”

“Bruce Wayne was a good man that did his best to help this city whether he was dressed as Batman or not.” She affirmed. “He saved people, gave them jobs, helped them turn their lives around. No,” she shook her head. “I don’t want any part of this job, Alex. Now, later, or forever. I’m trying to do better, and you should too.”

Alex scoffed. “Oh please, getting tips for dressing like slutty Wonder Woman isn’t doing better (Y/N), and you know it.”

She ignored the insult and shrugged. “Maybe not, but I go to sleep at night knowing that I’m not going to get shot by Red Hood or some greedy gangbanger.”

At that, Alex paused and stared at her. “Are you really afraid of that prick?”

(Y/N) scowled. “That pricktook out Black Mask and his entire operation within twenty-four hoursthen immediately turned his attention on the rest of the scumbags in this city.” Taking a step towards him, she added, “He doesn’t break bones and leave you lying in pain like Batman did, Alex. He makes sure you don’t get up again. Ever. I’m not risking my neck for anything that’s stuck in Wayne’s basement.”

The man across from her was silent for a moment, then sighed. “I can’t sway you in any way?”

She yanked her hand out of her jacket pocket and flashed the knuckles around her hand. “I’d stop swaying and start running instead.”

Alex opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was, “Oh fuck!” then he spun around and hauled off like his ass was on fire.

(Y/N) stood there dumbfounded. Sure, she could be intimidating, but there was no way she was that scary. Instead of questioning it, she shrugged and shoved the folder into her skirt, then turned sharply on her heel to start on her way back to her apartment. Until she walked straight into someone’s chest.

She gasped as she stumbled backwards, knowing she was going to fall on her ass when strong hands grasped her upper arms, keeping her upright. (Y/N) looked up and met the very man she’d been talking about. Suddenly, Alex’s explicative and escape made perfect sense.

“Oh fuck!” she blurted out, and impulsively swung her knuckled fist at the jaw of his helmet. He caught her hand with an ease and spun her around, pressing her front up against the brick wall.

“Fuck me. Oh, fuck me,” she hissed, cursing herself for not telling Alex to stick it where the sun didn’t shine the second he found her. Now here she was about to get murdered by a trigger-happy vigilante with a grudge.

“Really? Right here? But someone could see us?” The humor in his tone drew a startled laugh from her and she pressed her cheek against the wall, so she could see him.

“I swear to God I don’t have anything to do with him. Fuck, I’ll tell you whatever you want about him and his plan if you don’t kill me.” (Y/N) sucked in a breath. “Please don’t kill me. I swear I stopped pulling heists after Halloween last year. I work a decent job. I keep my nose clean. I don’t get involved in that shit anymore. Please, God, don’t—”

“Will you stop talking for like ten seconds?” Red Hood griped, one hand leaving the grasp he had on her arms behind her back to feel around her middle.

“HEY!” she shouted, thrashing wildly. “GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!”

He pressed her harder to the wall. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Calm down.”

“I’ll calm down when you get your fucking hands out of my skirt your fucking pervert!” (Y/N) spat, leaning on one leg to kick at him with the other.

“All I want is what’s in your skirt,” he sighed and pressed one of his thighs against the one kicking him. “Christ,you’re a handful.”

“And you’re a fucking sicko!” she retorted indignantly. “Is this how you get your rocks off? Assaulting innocent women? You’re so fucking disgu—”

“Got it,” Red Hood declared, and yanked out the file she’d shoved in the side of her skirt. (Y/N) fell silent when he held it beside her head. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

She could tell he was smirking behind the red helmet and she scowled at him. “You’re fucked up, buddy.”

Shrugging, he flipped open the file and started reading. “Would’ve been easier if you hadn’t tried to run on me.”

“Well excuse me for thinking I was about to get murdered and having the initial instinct to haul ass.”

Red Hood chuckled at that, and despite how wrong the entire situation was, the low drawl made shivers go down her spine.

“Wanna tell me about your friend?” he coaxed and (Y/N) froze.

“He’s not my friend,” she suddenly protested. “I haven’t been around Alex since last year.”

“Really? You two seem fairly chummy.”

(Y/N) craned her neck to look at him. “We used to fuck when we worked together.”

“Mhm,” he hummed knowingly. “Lover’s spat then?”

Barking a laugh, she countered, “Like you wouldn’t believe.” She stared at him. “I got out when you started putting people down. Didn’t want to be a casualty.”

“That’ll do it,” he snickered. “So, you don’t know what Alex’s been up to since last year?”

“No, and I want it to stay that way, but he thinks that if he waves enough heists in my face, I’ll cave and run back to the money.” (Y/N) groaned and rested her head against the wall. “Look, I don’t know what he’s planning, and I don’t care. I don’t want anything to do with whatever that plan it. Honest to God.”

She gazed at him, feeling something akin to tears gathering in her vision, and pled, “Take the file. Hell, take all the money I’ve got in my purse if you want, just don’t kill me.” A single tear ran down her cheek. “Please, I’m begging you. I don’t wanna die now.”

Red Hood’s weight disappeared from her back and he murmured, “I’m not going to hurt you. I want the opposite in fact.” The honesty in his words made her body feel weak and her knees started to go out beneath her. “And there she goes.” He caught her before she fell.

Gently lowering her to the ground, he helped her sit against the wall. (Y/N) leaned her head back and let out a long sigh.

“Oh, thank God.”

He laughed. “Life flashing before your eyes?”

She gave a half-hearted smile. “You’ve got no idea.”

This time when he laughed, it was dark, and it made her stomach churn. “Actually, I do.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them, then he knelt in front of her, handing her purse back to her.

“Here.”

(Y/N) took it with a nod and stared at him. “So, what happens now?”

He was quiet for a moment, then he waved the file. “I go stop your friends from digging around Batman’s home.”

“Good luck,” she replied, starting to her feet when he tutted.

“Ah-ah-ah.” He motioned for her to sit back down. “We’re not done yet.”

She grunted at him. “What do you want?”

“Information on your friends.”

(Y/N) felt her brows furrow. “Can’t you find that out yourself?”

Red Hood shrugged. “I could, but I’m always looking to make my job easier.” He observed her for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of hundred-dollar bills.

Waving it in front of her, he said, “You tell me what you used to do for them and what all they’ve got going on, and you can have this.”

(Y/N)’s jaw went tight as she stared at the roll. That could pay rent and bills for at least two months. She needed the money. Her eyes darted to the mask and she swiped for the roll, but he raised it out of her reach.

“Nope,” he ribbed. “Info first.”

“Ass,” she grumbled, but conceded with a sigh. “Fine. Have it your way.” (Y/N) clambered to her feet and dusted off her tacky skirt, watching as he did the same.

“Follow me to my apartment.” Before he could say a word, she thrust a finger into his chest. “And do it from the rooftops so people don’t see you.” Her face set in a glare. “I don’t need any unwanted guests trying to get in because they saw you following me.”

She started off when Red Hood grabbed her forearm, not harshly, but firm enough to make her stop and stare at him questioningly.

“What’s your name?”

She blinked, not expecting that. “It’s (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).”

He nodded. “And what did they call you when you worked as a thief?”

(Y/N) huffed. “Not everyone has an alias, Red Hood.”

Chuckling, he retorted, “Yeah, but someone as pretty as you no doubt had one.”

She felt her stomach flutter at his flirt and her cheeks warmed as she looked away and replied, “They used to call me, ‘The Lady in Lace’.”

“The Lady in Lace?” he repeated, then stood next to her and pulled out a grappling gun. “Have a matching outfit, Lady Lace?”

(Y/N) shoved him in the side. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I think I’d rather see,” Red Hood flirted and pressed the button, shooting off towards the roof of the building.

It was gonna be a long night.

[marmolady]

Homecoming: Part Two

Continued from PART ONE

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC, Graleister, Variego

Summary: Endless Ending. Back on La Huerta for the first time since the world's resurrection, there are some heart-to-hearts with old friends in order.

Word Count: 4680

Chronology: After 'The New Taylor' and 'A Ride to Remember', sort of midway through 'Inheritance'.

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove @mauvecatfic​

Thanks for reading!

“Howdy there, pilot. Have you thought of a name for her yet?” Taylor asked as she stepped into the cockpit, squinting as she adjusted to the bright light that shone through the large windows as they soared over the Caribbean.

“You comin’ in here to annoy me is just part and parcel of my La Huerta jobs now, ain’t it?”

“Oh, Top Gun, so sentimental,” she teased-- but really, like she could talk.

Jake rested his hands behind his head and looked out over a familiar green spot in the blue expanse, now fast approaching. “Well, she’s no ‘Delilah’, that’s for sure. If something comes to me, it comes to me. But like I say, it ain’t the same. It’s not as if you people are about to let me hide from the world with this baby as my only friend.”

“Damn straight.”

“Thought as much. Well, everything’s reading as normal; think we might make it, sans freaky storms this time.” Jake turned to his visitor with a smirk. “I’m still gonna want you to get your ass in a seat. A landing’s a landing.”

Safely in her seat-- Estela by her side, and little Fenix in a pet carrier tucked against the seat in the next aisle-- Taylor felt her stomach doing violent flip-flops as the green spot in the ocean came closer, beginning to take on detail. Rivers she’d bathed in snaking out to the sea, Atropo looming, and the now-abandoned Celestial-- still standing by all appearances unchanged-- in its shadow.

Estela was calm and quiet, contemplative as the small plane descended. So much about this journey was familiar, and yet, everything had changed. This time, marching towards her destiny wasn’t a lonely trail to a foregone violent conclusion; this time, the future was all a big unknown other than the fact that it would be anything but lonely. She wove her fingers with Taylor’s, feeling nerves flowing through, and gently squeezed.

“Almost there, querida.”

With a gentle bump, the plane was on the ground, and Taylor gave a small sigh of relief. She didn’t want to be rude about Jake’s flying ability, but until that point, she’d finished every ride with him in either a crash, a near crash… or plummeting into the sea. That she was something of a nervous flyer was, she thought, pretty damn reasonable.

In no time at all, the cabin door had been swung open, and the warm Caribbean air welcomed the small group home.

“And here I was worried I’d need to replace another plane. It seems the pilot can fly one of these things after all; that’s a fiver I owe you, Grace.”

“He of little faith,” Grace laughed, though it was quite clear she was at least somewhat giddy with relief. “Jake knows what he’s doing.”

No sooner had Taylor set her feet on La Huerta soil than a familiar figure was running towards her, streaking out of the cover of the foliage at the side of the runway.

“Diego! Ohmygod!”

Diego flung his arms around his friend and held her tight. Last he’d seen her, she’d only just clawed herself back from death’s door; Taylor was going to get hugged, and she was going to get hugged hard.

Estela set out into the humid air, immediately aware of the sounds of the jungle; insects and birds, rustling of leaves. Even the smell of the soil was distinctly La Huerta. She hadn’t expected to feel like this, but… she was home.

_____________________________

An almost comically deep miaow made Estela jump. Engrossed in what she’d been writing-- and the frustrated doodles she’d been swirling on a separate piece of paper-- she hadn’t noticed Taylor’s cat, Madam, joining her on the wooden bench outside their home.

“I must be making myself crazy, hey Mierdita? I guess you’re here to make sure my senses stay sharp… or you’ve come to complain to me about Nixie.”

“Mow.”

Estela giggled and scooped the little cat, presently bright orange in colour, though that was subject to change, and hugged her to her chest. It was nice to have the company. Taylor was down on the beach, catching up with Diego for the first time in far too long. And what Estela was doing… for the most part, she needed to be left in her own space to do it. The little cat might have been a distraction, but from the number of doodles Estela had scribbled, it looked as though her productivity had already peaked for the time being.

“You’ll just have to learn to forgive Taylor. You know she likes to surround herself with lots of friends.”

Madam nimbly climbed her way up onto Estela’s shoulder, and enthusiastically rubbed against her face.

“I’m glad I can make you feel better. I guess I wasn’t getting anywhere with writing this anyway….”

With a little sigh, she tucked the unfinished letter in her hoodie. She’d written so many letters to her mother-- one for every week she’d been working here on the island-- but to find the words to say goodbye, to get some kind of closure, did not come easy. Maybe with a little more time to think….

“Hello?”

Estela looked up to see Varyyn outside the front of the house. “Haalta, Varyyn. I’m round the side.”

With a low growl, Madam ducked down into Estela’s hood and pressed herself against her neck. She eyed their visitor with great suspicion from her perch.

“It looks like your little friend is happy to have you back,” Varyyn said as he approached, “--and less pleased to see me.”

“Don’t worry; she has a lot to say, but it’s all talk. She won’t bite.”

Varyyn, rather daringly in Estela’s view-- though he did regularly hang around with a hulking smilodon, so maybe he was just good with cats-- reached and tickled Madam under her chin.

“I have been wanting to find you,” he said. “Diego had told me you were preparing a memorial for your mother.”

‘’S a long time coming,” Estela grunted. “And maybe it’ll be a long time still; I don’t want to do anything extravagant, but it’s got to be right.”

“That is fair. I hope I am not disturbing you.”

“No, no. I don’t mind,” she said, gentler. “So long as it’s in progress. Finally. I couldn’t exactly get any kind of closure until I’d dealt with Rourke, and then… I needed to go home. I dunno… maybe it was easier to feel it as anger, because the sadness was too much to bear if I let it take its place. When I let myself really feel it….” A tear rolled down her face, and she brushed it away. “I don’t know if I can say I’m at peace with it all… I don’t think I ever really can be. But I’m better. I brought over the letters Mom sent me when she was here on the island, to bury. And I then thought of writing again… to say goodbye. All I’ve gotta do now is find the words. Anyway,” she finished hurriedly, “you wanted me for something?”

Varyyn nodded sagely. It wasn’t lost on him the intimacy of what was being shared. Perhaps the violent death of his own mother had given Estela a sense of tragic kinship with him?

“Seraxa and I talked at great length. It had… troubled me that there had been no acknowledgement of your mother’s sacrifice. She must have felt very alone standing against the Hydra, but we will not see that bravery forgotten now.”

He reached into his satchel, and brought out a neatly folded set of clothes.

“To wear the traditional uniform of our warriors is the greatest of honours. We wish to pay tribute to your mother as a hero to the Vaanti, if you will accept this gift.”

Estela’s eyes grew wide, and her bottom lip wobbled. “I--- um, thank you.” That’s the best you can manage? “I… don’t know what to say. Thank you.” In Varyyn’s nod of understanding, the look in his eyes, it was plain to see he felt the depth of her gratitude.

A gentle smile came to Varyyn’s face, as though he was relieved. “It is your choice whether you would like to wear this in her honour, or simply keep it as part of your memorial.”

Her cheeks flushed, Estela hugged the folded uniform to her chest. There were just… no words to adequately say what the gesture meant. For Estela’s own protection, any trace of Olivia Montoya’s connection to Everett Rourke had been wiped from record; and with it, all evidence of the courageous last stand taken. But here she was remembered.

“I don’t think I’ve told you…,” Estela choked out after a little while. “I mean, it’s not as if I’m the best conversationalist… I don’t know what to say to people half the time.” She shook her head. “But, anyway, I always found you impressive. When your mother died… it was sudden, and brutal, and somehow you had the strength to honour her by taking up her mantle. Immediately. And you always seemed so together, however much you were crumbling on the inside. You had to be.”

“I had good friends to lean on. And I had Diego.” Varyyn chucked darkly. “It is terrible, but when you all came back through the gate, as much I was very sad for you all, and for Diego, that everything you knew and loved was gone… there was a very selfish part of me….” He stalled.

“Fair enough,” Estela said, not about to force him to finish a clearly uncomfortable sentence. “It had only been a couple of days. How’s anyone supposed to bear that much loss? While carrying the expectations and fears of your people? Diego gave you comfort when you needed it most. And… then you gave him the same.”

“Yes.”

Having that shoulder; it made all the difference. It made living through the worst of horrors bearable, and then, somehow… it made the act of living on, in hope, possible. Varyyn had Diego. She, Estela, had her Taylor. And they all had one another.

“We’re lucky we found the right people.”

___________________________

As she slogged through the soft white sand, Taylor wasn’t sure what was going to give out first, her legs or her lungs. Using her best friend’s hand as an anchor, she kept on putting one foot in front of the other.

“Hey, Taylor, you know, it might be easier to have a real conversation if we sat down for a bit.”

Diego was polite and tactful, but what he meant was clearly; ‘You are an absolute wreck; sit down before you put yourself in an early grave’.

Taking the hint, Taylor flopped down heavily, squinting against the bright sun as she tried to get herself comfortable. While she struggled to get her breath back, Diego sat himself down close by, patiently letting her recover.

“I swear the beaches in San Trobida aren’t so much of a work-out,” Taylor said apologetically. “Not as soft. I have actually gotten a lot fitter, if you can believe it.”

Diego put a hand on her shoulder. “I can actually. You did a pretty good job of covering up how much you were struggling those last few days you were here, but I really don’t think you were fooling anyone. You do look better. Last time I saw you, it was hard not to get the impression that one stiff wind could have you over.”

Taylor snorted with laughter. “Damn, and I thought I put up a good front.”

“Not remotely. You are incredible, my friend, but a talented actor you are not.”

This was wonderful. The warmth of the sun of her body, and the easiest of company. Taylor reclined back, her arms propping her up in the sand from behind.

“Well, now that I’m not having to focus on not falling over… how’ve you really been?”

Diego stared wistfully out to sea, all the while playing with a little lock of his hair that Varyyn had braided for him. “’How have I really been’ as in not the brush-off, ‘oh, I’m good’ answer?”

“Yep. And I promise I’ll keep my own bullshit in check as fair trade.”

“Okay. If that’s how we’re doing this.” Diego fiddled with his hair for a little while longer as he contemplated his answer… and where to start. “I’m good.” As Taylor rolled her eyes, he added quickly; “ I am good.”

“Yeah?”

“Going back home was the best thing I could have done; it made me realise just how much I actually belong here. I’ve found my people. And Varyyn. I don’t have to tell you how cut up I was to be away from him; you could see it. Heck, even Grandma Bhandarkar saw it-- I have never been force-fed so much in my life, and I grew up with my abuela!”

Taylor chuckled. She was eternally grateful that the extended Catalyst family had been there for Diego when she couldn’t be, through one of the most pivotal periods in his life. “Did you… did you manage to talk to your parents at all?” she ventured gently.

With a sad smile, Diego shook his head. “I called from Raj’s place. I did speak to my dad, and honestly it was better than I expected. But he said Mom’s not ready.”

“Oh, Diego….”

“No, I knew she wouldn’t be ready.” He gave a little sigh. “That big, scary conversation’s done now, though, and I feel kind of… lighter. Like… I can start to accept how things are. If Mom and Dad were ever going to accept who I am, you’d think the year and a half I’d disappeared off the face of the earth would have done the trick.”

Taylor put an arm around Diego as he sniffed. “You know it’s all them, yeah? None of this is on you.”

“Yeah… I know. I came back here and… Varyyn just looked at me like I was the most beautiful person in the world. I could not have felt more loved. So, yeah-- I’m good.”

“So,” Taylor said gently, “what happens next? Do you still want to come back to Hartfeld with us in September?”

Diego huffed out a long exhale. Now, that was a question.

“The only really honest answer I can give you is… I don’t know. Could not be more conflicted.”

“That’s… that’s fair.”

“I keep thinking about that vision we saw when I took my action figures from Vaanu.  I didn’t think it was possible for me to be that comfortable in my own skin, but it wasn’t like I was just seeing it-- I could feel it.”

“Yeah. It was kind of, just… radiating off you. You were just one-hundred percent genuine Diego, no holes barred… and everyone just loved you for it.”

“Look, I know that whole thing was just Vaanu trying to manipulate you into sacrificing youself--”

“Diego--”

“No, it’s okay. Because even if that’s all it was, it doesn’t matter. The more time I’m here with Varyyn… and people are respecting me as me-- you should see the queues of kids that form when I re-tell the original Star Wars trilogy….”

Taylor chuckled fondly.

“...The more I realise that, actually, that could be me. If I wanted it.”

“That really could be you. Without a shadow of a doubt. It would just mean…”

“Leaving Varyyn? Shattering both our hearts into a million pieces? Yeah, that’s the sticking point.”

Putting her head on Diego’s shoulder, Taylor offered what support she could. “What… what does he think?”

“He really loves me, so he’s unhelpfully understanding about the whole thing. It would be so much easier to know what I should do if he’d just say he’d rather I stay here!”

“So inconsiderate.”

“But, well, he said how much I light up when I talk about what I saw in that vision. And he lights up when he talks about that,” Diego said with a resigned laugh. “He says if I stay here, I shouldn’t be giving up every part of me.”

“He’s right,” Taylor said. “It’s you he fell in love with, and it’s you the hordes of Vaanti children seek out whenever they need smiles put on their faces. One way or another, I think you should always feed the real you. ‘Cause that guy’s pretty great.”

Diego glanced away, bashful, but unable to hide his smile. Again, he started playing with his hair.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough, Taylor. How about it’s your turn. Do you have a plan? I guess Vaanu didn’t bother showing you what a future on Earth could look like, hey?”

Taylor gave a soft humph. “No, they certainly did not. That’s something I’m just going to have to figure out myself.” She frowned. “They just showed me enough to put the pressure of ensuring the happiness of everyone I love on my shoulders,” she said bitterly.

Catching her tone, Diego raised an eyebrow. “That’s really getting to you.”

“Yeah,” she heaved. For a moment, she considered what she wanted to share. “Look, I haven’t exactly talked about this before…. All those visions I saw, just about all of them showed you guys rocking your dream careers. Except for, well….” She trailed off, sadly.

“Except for Estela and Aleister, right? Now you mention it, that does kinda say a lot about the impact Rourke had.”

“Exactly. It makes me so… so angry,” she said, than added with a dry laugh, “I don’t have the energy to be angry. Seeing you all die in my dreams doesn’t help either; all I can think is that he did all that. ”

“So, you’ve put it out there now. Maybe that’ll help you move past it?”

“I sure hope so. Letting that fester isn’t going to be healthy for me, and it sure as hell won’t do Estela any favours. She’s been amazing. There’s been so much she’s had to move through. I think I’ve been so focused on her that it only just recently sank in how much I’m simmering in hate for that bastard. And I don’t want to let it out and feed into her own feelings. Does… that make sense?”

“That sounds pretty natural,” Diego assured. “Being protective of your family is pretty much wired into you; kinda makes sense that it would get you all fired up-- and that you want to shield Estela from even more hurt and anger. I’m here, you know. If ever you need a best friend to off-load on; I’m your man.”

“Thanks,” Taylor said softly, and boy, did she mean it. A little smile came to her face at the sound of Furball yipping as he chased a euphoric Fenix up and down the shoreline. Bad feelings passed quickly, for there was just too much beauty in the world she had fought for and won.  “All things considered, I’m doing really well. Since I ramped up the self-care, I’m getting less nightmares-- I know they’re not proper nightmares, it’s just my brain replaying memories that aren’t even all mine. But they’ve gotten better.”

Diego shook his head, incredulous. “Honestly, I don’t know how you managed to sleep with that going on at all.”

“With great difficulty is how,” Taylor laughed. “Poor Estela is now pretty used to me waking her up, screaming and crying.” She smiled softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without her; she has this magic way of just… chasing away all the horrors. I guess it’s because I feel safe when she’s holding me.”

“N’aww!” Diego’s eye twinkled. “I really am the best wingman around. I’ll happily accept tips for match-making services given.”

Taylor snorted. “I feel like we can take some of the credit, but fine, thanks for the help. I’ve seen hundreds of different versions of me and Estela falling in love… and it’s surprising how many times it was you who gave me the push.”

“So, you really do owe me one.”

“I really do.”

Fenix ran over, panting heavily, and flopped down into Taylor’s lap. A little way behind, Furball trotted after.

“Hey, Diego?”

“You’re missing your buff wife?”

“That, and I’m absolutely starving. You wanna head back to Catalyst Village?”

Diego looked out at the darkening sky. This day had flown. No doubt, the days to come would fly too, and in no time at all he’d be faced with leaving Varyyn… again. Then his stomach growled loudly.

“Apparently, you’re not the only one. Come on-- d’you need a piggy-back?”

Indignant, Taylor plopped Fenix down in the sand and got to her feet. “I certainly do not.”

“Okay… reframing that. Would you like a piggy-back?”

Ooh, that smirk. “Oh, all right,” she relented. “In the time it would’ve taken me to walk back, I’d have already died of hunger.”

So, they made their way back up the beach; Diego giving a more-weary-than-she’d-care-to-let-on Taylor… and their two furry companions leading the charge, drawn home by the scent on the wind of food being cooked over an open fire.

___________________________

“A toast!” Aleister pronounced loudly, holding aloft a glass of Breath of the Moon. As his friends and family around the fire raised their matching cocktails, he thrust his own glass ever-higher with slightly-tipsy gusto. “To new beginnings! To reuniting with comrades! To bringing about justice!”

Estela leaned over and whispered in Taylor’s ear. “You see why I thought you should only take a little sip of this stuff?”

Taylor sniggered. “I’d make a toast to the fact that we have a whole house to ourselves again.It’s gonna be a lot easier to get our sex on when your brother and sister-in-law aren’t in the next room.”

Giving her wife an exaggerated wink, Estela huddled closer, delighting in the giggle she stirred. Somehow, everything felt easier here. It was is if just to be in this place brought her back to the best of herself, to the sense of peace within herself that had once felt like an impossibility. Now, with Taylor, in their home and surrounded by people they loved, it was an inevitability. This time would refresh her-- it would them both-- and ready them for the greater steps that lay ahead.

It seemed the feeling was catching,for everyone was relaxed and laughing as they cooked skewers over the crackling fire and sipped their cocktails. In the firelight, Varyyn’s face seemed to glow with affection for his beloved husband beside him-- who himself was bubbling over with the simple pleasure of being surrounded by friends. Estela wondered about the two of them… what the future might hold. A year could go by so quickly-- she learned that the had way when she’d been counting down to Taylor’s self-sacrifice-- but away from the one you loved, time would stretch agonisingly. She did not envy the choice Diego was faced with; that they were now with him to offer support though that… that mattered.

Opposite them, Jake was back to ribbing Aleister, something even more fun now that the target was a little sozzled. No amount of back-and-forth teasing could hide the genuine --rather unlikely-- friendship that had formed; Aleister, blessed with both wealth and contacts in high places, had made himself a pivotal force in the fight to clear Jake’s name. The more Estela had gotten to know her unexpected sibling, the more it became obvious to her that at his heart, Aleister was driven by the same protectiveness of those dear to him that powered her. It was something, she’d come to realise, that Rourke had cemented into them both-- not through any passing of genes, but by fierce resistance to the poison he’d inflicted. It had taken time… and it had been painful, but in their budding kinship, Estela had found undeniable comfort.

Taylor took Estela’s hand, and laid a weary head on her shoulder.

“Hey.”

“Hey, you,” Estela laughed softly. She could feel the smile on Taylor’s face; so open and radiant, full of tenderness for the people surrounding her, and it spoke wonders.

With her free hand, Taylor gently chinked her glass to Estela’s.

“Cheers. To being home.”

“To being home.”

[calpalirwin]

Dog Days of Summer

Summary: The family spends a day at the lake

A/N: Lake days are better than beach days and that’s that.

Word Count: 2.2k

And away, and away we go!

__

“We should go to the lake,” Vanessa said one afternoon as her and Ashton watched Mason and Bailey splash around in the pool.

“You mean the beach?” Ashton asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I mean the lake. Think it’d be fun.”

“Yeah, alright. Next Saturday we have these two?”

“Or when Finn has them. Want to invite him and Mia too. Make a day of it. Unless you planned studio time, then it can wait until we have the kids again.”

“Nah, I’ll let the guys know we’re taking a day.”

“Aw, look at you becoming a nine-to-fiver,” she teased, kissing his cheek.

“Hey!” he scoffed in mock offense. “Let’s get one thing straight: I will never be some white collar stiff.”

“I’m a white collar stiff,” she reminded him, her eyes narrowing.

“And I wasn’t finished. I can have the job I have, and still create time for my family. I might not always be great at it because I never really had a reason to stay at home a whole lot. But I’m always gonna try.”

“Alright, sap. All I said was that we should go to the lake.”

“Sounds great, baby,” he grinned.

“Papa!” Mason screeched from where he was standing on the pool’s ledge. The four year old jumped in place.

“Alright, I’m coming,” Ashton told him before hopping off the ledge he was sitting on and wading into the cool water that hit him waist deep. “Ready?” he asked, holding out his arms.

Mason took a big breath, plugging his nose before taking a wild leap towards Ashton. His body splashed into the water, but before his chin met water, Ashton already had the boy safe in his arms. “Me! Me!” Bailey cried, pointing at her big brother and making grabby hands for Ashton.

“Okay, Bai’s turn,” Ashton told them both, letting Mason go to swim back to the steps.

“Bailey,” Mason said, helping her get out of the pool and to the ledge to jump. “Bailey,” he said again before demonstrating how to hold her breath.

“C’mon, sweet girl,” Ashton coaxed, arms ready to catch her. “I gotcha.”

The one year old screamed in delight as she flew through the air towards Ashton, who like he had done with Mason, caught her before her head went under water.

~~~

“Daddy! Mimi!” both Mason and Bailey exclaimed as they ran up to Finn and Mia.

“Hey! Good week?” Finn asked, crouching to meet the onslaught of hugs.

“Yeah, good week,” Vanessa answered, giving both Finn and Mia a hug hello. “Hey, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I wanna take the kids to the lake.”

“Okay… so take them to the lake.”

“With you and Mia, you dolt. As a family.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so how’s Saturday?”

“Uh…” Finn looked over at Mia, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah, Saturday works,” Mia answered with a smile. “Sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Oooo! I’ll make t-shirts!” Finn teased with a laugh, earning him a shove from both women. “Oh, it was a joke, relax.”

“Yeah, but Finn, you have to remember. You’re not funny,” Vanessa told him, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

~~~

“Oh, my God…” Vanessa groaned as she caught sight of Finn, in a white t-shirt trimmed dark blue with “Daddy” written across the shoulders in a bold, black print. “I’m gonna drown him…”

“No, you’re not,” Ashton laughed. “Look, the kids and Mia are wearing them too.”

Vanessa groaned louder, noticing the matching shirts, each trimmed with a different color. “Drowning. Finn. Such a pity. Strong swimmer, and he died so young. None of us saw it coming. A tragedy, really.”

“What’s a tragedy?” Finn asked as Ashton and Vanessa came within earshot.

“Your death,” she grinned at him. “I thought you said the shirts were a joke.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t funny.”

“You’re not.”

“Oh, c’mon! I made you and Ashton shirts, too. We can be one big matching family!”

“I hate you…”

“No, you don’t. And you secretly love the shirts.”

“Momma!” Mason told her, pointing proudly at his shirt.

“Yeah, sweet boy! Did Daddy make you guys shirts?”

“Momma!” he nodded, handing her and Ashton theirs.

Vanessa sighed and quickly changed her shirt. “Fucker…” she growled at Finn, giving him a shove. “Using the kids against me like that.”

Finn just laughed, “Aw, c’mon Ness. It’s not that bad. I even got it made in your favorite color. Be a good sport, Momma.”

“I’m wearing it, and you’re still alive. Take the victories where you can, Finn.”

“Fuck, it’s so soft!” Ashton marveled, slipping into the fabric. “What company did you do this through? Need to tell the guys about this. Holy shit.”

“Finally! Some fuckin’ gratitude! Thank you, Ash. That’s the spirit I was looking for,” Finn said with a playful glance thrown Vanessa’s way.

~~~

“C’mon, Ness,” Finn teased. “The point of the paddleboard is to stand up on the thing.”

“No, the point is to paddle,” she corrected from where she sat cross-legged on the board, the oar resting across her lap. “And I paddled.”

Finn snorted. “C’mon, it’s easy.”

“For you, maybe, Mr. I Surf.”

“I don’t surf in still water.”

“Yeah, so this is probably easier for you.”

“I have a kid with me,” he gestured at Mason sitting further up on his own board like that made all the difference. “C’mon, Ness. Worst case is you fall in. So what? It’s just water.”

“It’s not just water. It’s you teasing me relentlessly after I faceplant.”

“Aw, I was gonna tease you relentlessly anyway.”

She splashed him with her oar.

“Oi!”

“I’ll do it if you do it,” Ashton offered.

“You know how to surf too!”

“No. Having gone surfing before, and knowing how are two totally different things.”

“You have Bailey on your board. If you go in, she’s going in with you.”

“Pass her over,” Finn said, maneuvering his board closer to Ashton’s.

“Got ‘em both?” Ashton checked as he plucked up Bailey and handed her over.

“Yeah, I got it. No excuses, Ness.”

She narrowed her eyes at the men. “Fine. But if I fall, no laughing about it. And you owe me a flip.”

“You won’t fall,” Ashton told Vanessa while Finn agreed to her demands and Mia grabbed her phone to film the whole thing.

“Just nice and easy,” Finn coached while Vanessa shifted to sit up on her knees. “Helps if you set your dominant foot first. There ya go. Steady… Now your back foot. No, further back. Right there. Alright when you’re ready, push yourself up.”

Vanessa felt her legs wobble as she hovered half-crouched over the board, her hand clutching the hand hold for dear life. With a deep breath, she let go and pushed herself upright, her arms shooting out to her sides. “Hey! You did it!” Ashton whooped. “See? I said you wouldn’t fall.”

“Oh, I hate this! This sucks so much!” She shakily moved to sit back down on the board. “That sucked.”

“Why did it suck?” Finn asked.

“Because my balance is god awful.”

“But you did it anyway, even though you’re not good at it. Good job, Ness. Proud of ya. Did you see Momma, guys?”

“Yeah, yeah, do it anyway. Great teaching lesson for the kids. Leading by example. You’re still an ass for encouraging their mother to eat shit.”

“How is our believing in your ability to stand upright encouraging you to eat shit?”

“No, Ashton believed in me. What you did was peer pressure.”

“And that’s why he’s my fiance, and you’re my ex,” Finn mocked in a high-pitched tone. “Yeah, yeah. Ash, you’re up.”

Ashton took less time to get his footing before standing up, his arms held out to help him balance. “Aw, this ain’t so ba- whoa!” The man wobbled wildly before steadying himself. “Shit…”

“See? It’s a lot harder than it looks!”

“Yeah, and this calm water shit actually doesn’t help at all. Actually makes falling off feel a whole lot more embarrassing.”

Vanessa cupped her hands around her mouth, hollering at Finn, “Do a flip!”

“Alright, alright. Ness, take Bailey. Ash, you get Mase. Front flip or back flip?”

“Whichever one is easier,” Vanessa said, pointing over at Finn. “Watch Daddy, guys.”

Finn took a deep breath before flipping himself into the water, landing with a big splash that made the kids erupt in giggles. When Finn’s head popped back to the surface with a “Ta-da!” Vanessa scoffed, “You call that a flip?”

Finn splashed water up at her. “Yeah, like you could do better.”

“Five bucks says I can.”

“Ten says you’re wrong,” he retorted as he pulled himself back up on his board.

“Easiest money I’ll ever make. Here.” She passed him Bailey. “Now,” she continued, standing up with a lot more ease and stability than her first attempt. “Mia, make sure you get this on film. Finn, you watching? This is how you do a flip.” With a grace even Finn didn’t know she possessed, Vanessa launched herself into a seamless backflip, hitting the water feet first.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Finn sputtered, when Vanessa came up for air with a shit-eating grin. He pointed frantically at Ashton. “Did you know she could do that?!”

Ashton’s wide-eyed and slacked jaw was enough of an answer. “N-no. I- Baby, that was awesome!”

“HOW?! When the FUCK did you learn to do that?!” Finn continued to stammer.

“I never told ya I was a cheerleader?” she asked with a grin.

“Cheerleading?!” both men screeched in disbelief. “No,” Finn shook his head. “I know you. You weren’t a cheerleader. No way. You’re lying.”

“You know college and adult me, Finn. Contrary to popular belief, I had a life before I met ya.”

“You were a cheerleader?” Ashton asked, finally closing his mouth.

“Mhm, and I can prove it,” she nodded. “What’s up, sweet boy?” she asked Mason who was stimming like crazy from where he was still sitting on Ashton’s board.

“Momma!” he shrieked, pointing at the water and flapping his arms. I jump too?

“C’mon.” She waved her hand for him to jump in the water.

“Papa,” Mason stilled, looking over at Ashton, and pointing at the water again.

“You wanna jump to me?”

Mason nodded.

“Okay. But you gotta get on Daddy’s board.”

“C’mere, Mase,” Finn beckoned. “I’ll help you stand.”

While Ashton got into the water, Finn helped Mason stand up, hands hovering close in case Mason started to lose his balance. “Alright, bud, whenever you’re ready.”

Mason flung himself towards Ashton, who despite treading water, managed to snag Mason before the little boy’s head went under.

“Me! Me!” Bailey chanted, her little fists banging on the board.

“Alright, Bailey-boo,” Finn said, helping her stand up. “Jump to Papa. Ready? One, two, three!”

“Bailey!” Mason cheered as his sister joined him in the water. “Daddy! Mimi! Momma!” He waved his hands crazily. Get in with us!

“‘Ump! ‘Ump!” Bailey encouraged, patting the surface of the water gently.

Mason mimicked Bailey’s movements, nodding his head in excitement. Safe, see? Only water. Jump!

“Three,” Finn started counting down as him, Mia, and Vanessa climbed slowly to their feet.

“Two…” Mia said shakily, having been hiding happily behind the camera up until now.

“Three!” Vanessa decided and all three adults joined Ashton and the kids in the water.

~~~

“Oh, they’re gonna sleep good tonight,” Mia mentioned in a low whisper, jerking her chin towards Mason and Bailey who were curled up together on the blanket in the shade.

“That, or just a really good nap that keeps them up all night,” Vanessa chuckled.

Finn flashed a smile, “I don't see how this is a problem.”

“Oh, I’m not above coming around your place if they can’t sleep tonight,” Vanessa told him, before turning her attention to Mia. “Can you send me all the pictures and videos you took?”

“Already did.”

“Lifesaver!” Vanessa clutched affectionately at her chest before shooting a glare at Finn, “Don’t fuck this up.”

“Hey!” Finn glowered back in full offense. “I’m a great boyfriend, thank you!”

“You were alright I guess. I mean, I still talk to you and stuff.”

“You say the sweetest things,” he deadpanned with a look over at Ashton. “A real keeper, this one.”

“Can’t wait to marry her,” Ashton said sincerely.

“Yeah, how is all of that going by the way?” Mia asked, leaning forward in her chair.

“Way smoother than I imagined. I mean, we’re not doing much. Just a small ceremony and party with friends and whatnot.”

“Your dad walking you down the aisle?” Finn asked.

Vanessa scoffed at the very idea. “God no. I haven’t talked to them since Mason’s third birthday. Toxic is toxic right? Even if they are blood.”

Finn smiled proudly, glad that Vanessa was finally sticking to her guns and not giving in to her family’s shit anymore. “So, who’s giving you away? The kids?”

Her face flushed as she looked anywhere that wasn’t Finn, locking eyes with Ashton who nodded encouragingly. “Was hoping you would actually. Given everything and whatnot.”

Finn swallowed thickly. “Be honored to.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, ‘course. I’m really happy for you, you know that?”

“I’m really happy for you, too. We did pretty alright for ourselves, huh?”

“We sure did.”

__

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[izzy-b-hands]

Eventuality Eventually

My first bit of Smile fic! Roger has bought a new van for himself/for the band! And it is...something. But of course, this is less about the van and more about the three goof balls that plan to ride around in it. Set in a loose-ish AU? If only because I’m doing real general research rn, so I might fumble things about the timeline as I go, if I write more after this one (which I would like to do!) Some Brian/Roger here as well, which I didn’t actually intend, but then I got going and suddenly here it is lol. 

A quick note too that Freddie is mentioned in this, but only in that this part of the timeline he was friends with them, and at this point was still using his old last name of Bulsara; just noting it so seeing that name isn’t a surprise!

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“But does it run?” 

Roger looked horribly offended, his arms falling from their stretched out motion of presentation. “Of course it fucking runs! Wouldn’t have bought it, if it didn’t.” 

“I know,” Tim said. “It’s just that you like projects-” 

Roger shot him a dangerous look.

“And that’s a good thing! It shows preservation, and a willingness to put in hard work,” Tim continued. “We don’t want to be stranded again, is the thing.” 

“Was embarrassing, having your mum come pick us up,” Brian added. “She was so upset...” 

“It was awfully late,” Tim noted. “Can’t blame her; we did wake her up.” 

Roger frowned. “So you hate this van, is what you’re saying?” 

“We didn’t say that,” Brian said, but he didn’t unfold his arms or take a step closer towards the simultaneously rusting and rust-colored vehicle. 

“Safety comes to mind,” Tim said, trying to be diplomatic. “But I’m sure it’s better on the inside, isn’t it?” 

Roger smiled at that, and yanked open the side door of the van. It let out a shrill shriek of metal on metal, but Tim motioned for Brian to not say a word about it. 

“See?” Roger crouched inside and dropped into the passenger seat, pointing for them to take the two rows of seats behind the passenger and driver section. “Much better on the inside. You could sleep comfortably in this, if you wanted!” 

“There is a spring that nearly went up my ass,” Brian hissed to Tim, leaning awkwardly forward on his seat. 

“Nice material,” Tim said, running a hand over the worn and cracked leather. “Vintage!” 

Roger’s eyes were starry with happiness. “Exactly! That’s what I thought when I saw it. And good condition, considering the price.” 

“How much did you pay for this?” Brian asked. 

“It was a steal,” Roger replied with a grin as he leaned back in his seat, tossing his feet up on the dashboard, watching them with the cracked rearview mirror. 

“That’s not a number,” Brian said. “How much, in an amount with numbers, did you pay for this?” 

Roger looked wounded again, and internally, Tim sighed. They could go from being the best of friends to stabbing at each other in a heartbeat, these two. It made him think of fencers: neither stabbed to kill, but occasionally they landed a hit that bruised and then looked to him as some sort of ref, as if he should have somehow ripped the saber from the other’s hand before the blow could land. 

“I don’t know if it matters much, if Roger isn’t asking for us to give him any towards it,” Tim said. “Are you, Rog?” 

Roger shook his head. “Just toss me money for upkeep and fuel every now and again, or buy me dinner.” 

“Like your girlfriends then,” Brian snorted, and Tim reached an arm back to slap at his leg. 

“Yeah, but you don’t get what they get out of it,” Roger said as he stuck his tongue out at the mirror, his reflection sending it to Brian in the backseat. 

“A warm sweaty number of nights in the back of a rusty van?” Brian mused sarcastically. “Isn’t that basically what we have every time we drive back from a show?” 

“Those are notably less...” Roger paused. “Well. They’re fun, but not the type of fun-” 

“I think we get the picture,” Tim interrupted quickly.

“Oh, but I could paint a better one,” Roger grinned mischievously. “C’mon Tim. Let me use my brush and make that one blush.” 

But Brian was already blushing, and looking more frustrated by the minute. 

If he didn’t do something, the sabers would be tossed away, and they’d be fighting with fists, at least metaphorically. 

“Why don’t we finish the tour of the van, and then go for lunch?” Tim offered. “My treat?” 

It was a blessing that, as low on money as they could be on occasion, they were often food-motivated creatures. Tim included himself in that, and the promise of food, even if he had to buy it for himself, was what kept him going now. 

“Not much more to see,” Roger sighed, clearly still nursing some hurt. “There’s enough space back there for our gear, behind the coat rack they’ve apparently included on the second row of seats-” 

“Hey!” Brian shouted. “You ought to talk, you...” 

He fumbled, blushing somehow redder still, and Tim felt for him. It was obvious to him that both Brian and Roger were stumbling around feelings for each other, but neither of them made it easy. Truthfully, he was hoping they’d just finally confess to each other about it, or fuck, or both. 

He did have a bet riding with Freddie Bulsara on the fucking though, and a fiver to win if he was right and they did it within the next six months. 

Brian was still stuck as Tim tumbled out from his thoughts, and he gave him a gentle poke to the knee. 

“Are you going to say something rude to him, or not?” Tim asked. “Just wondering if we can go get lunch now, or if we ought to wait you out.” 

Brian gave him a look, then sighed. “No. I’ll make up for it later. Let’s go.” 

“That’s so sweet of you,” Roger laughed as he moved to the driver’s seat, keys jingling as he forced them out of his tight trouser pocket. “You’ll really give it to me later, huh? Make me cry?” 

Tim nearly blushed himself. Surely, Roger could hear himself, and knew how he sounded...

But then, he almost definitely did know, and that had to be supplying the shit-eating smile Roger was wearing as he glanced at them in the rearview mirror again. 

“I don’t ever want to make you cry,” Brian said, but Tim could not for the life of him tell if he was being sarcastic or genuine or if this was Brian trying to flirt. 

“Yet you did drop that amp on my foot,” Roger said as he started the van, that made an odd belching sound as it woke up. “And then I did cry and swear for two minutes.” 

“That was an accident,” Brian said. “Your foot was fine.” 

“You never did say sorry.” 

“I did so!” Brian protested, and tapped Tim on the shoulder. “You heard me; I did!” 

“You did, but you did say it while blaming him for your dropping your end of it,” Tim said. 

“He did make me drop it!” 

“I did not!” Roger shouted back, eyes half on the road and half glaring at Brian in the rearview mirror. 

Before Tim could beg Roger to keep his gaze more on the road, Roger hit the brakes hard enough to toss him out of his seat as he pulled them to a barely big enough street parking space. 

“Get out of my van!” 

“This is a band vehicle; I don’t have to go anywhere!” Brian’s usually soft voice was harsh now, and he was yelling more in Tim’s ear than anything else as Tim scrabbled off the floor and back onto his seat. 

“I’ll make you get out!” 

“Good, make me!” 

“I will!” 

“I’d like to see you fucking-” 

“Will the two of you kiss, or fuck, or whatever you need to do to make this stop?!” Tim shouted, and they fell silent.

He had planned to say that in his head, and it dawned on him after another beat of silence that he had said it aloud instead. 

They were both blushing, bright red, eyes wide. 

Roger swallowed hard. “That obvious, is it?” 

“You’re both so bad at hiding it,” Tim said weakly. “I mean that kindly, as much as I can.” 

Brian nodded. “Well?” 

“Well what?” Roger asked softly.

“Are you going to make me get out of the van?” 

Roger gave Tim a nervous glance, then slipped out of the driver’s seat and moved past him to Brian. 

He stayed long enough to see the kiss, then slipped out of the van quietly as Brian pulled Roger down with him onto the seat. It was a blessing that the back of the van didn’t have windows except for one at the far back door. 

He pulled the keys from the ignition and pocketed them before he left, his destination the nearest shop that had food that would qualify as lunch and be fairly cheap. 

With one detour, to the nearest phone box. 

“Bulsara? Yeah, just wanted to give you an update. A kiss, and they might be fucking in the back of our new van. If you’d like to come down and have lunch with us, you could give me that fiver right away...” 

[fandom-collective-writers]

Lost and Found

Fandom: Several Shades of Sadism

Pairing: Minami x MC

Prompt: I wish I could relate but only a dumb-ass like you could do this.

Warning: Floof

Word Count: 1287

Requested by: Anonymous @ikemen-discord-writers

Written by: @kiarigirl-blog 

Summary: You get to experience your very first carnival in New York and things go slightly off track when Minami loses something special.

A/N: I loved writing this little piece of fluff.  Minami is just so fun to play with.  He’s loving and I hope I did him justice.  The ride named is a real ride in the United States in many carnivals and some fairs.  

You could see for miles from the top of the Royal Shining hotel.  At night, the whole city lit up and became its own special wonderland.  The lights from a nearby carnival called to you like a visual siren’s song.  Oh how you wanted to go.  From the day Minami convinced you to come to New York, you had longed to experience the city and all of it’s wonderful sights.  You sat staring out the window at the neon lights in the distance, waiting for Minami to arrive home.

The front door opened and the scent of hamburgers alerted you to the arrival of your boss and boyfriend, Minami Kira.  You rose from the settee, walked to the living room and welcomed him home.  "Good evening, Minami."  You give your sweetest smile as you kissed his cheek with manipulative innocence.

Minami's green eyes lit up as he twisted an arm around your waist.  His other hand continued clutching the bag containing an untold number of his favorite hamburgers.  "Hello Y/N."  He returned the kiss, planting you on the counter in the kitchen. Your legs wrapping around his hips possessively.  “I got dinner so you don’t have to cook tonight.”

Your lips twisted in merriment at his declaration.  “Actually, I was wondering--,” you began, eyelashes batting at him.  “Can we go to the carnival?  I really want to get out with you and doing something fun.”  

Please say yes.  Please say yes.

He ruffled your hair as he placed the bag of burgers on the counter.  “My toy wants to go have some fun, does she?”  He grabbed a burger, unwrapped the crinkly paper and pressed it to  your lips.  “Ok but only if you’re a good girl and eat dinner with me first.”

You pretended to pout for a moment then opened your mouth biting into the juicy beef patty.  By the time you finished your second burger, Minami had finished fiver burgers.  Either he had been starving or he had a hollow pit where his stomach was, either way you cautioned him to not eat too much.

A hour later

Your fingers wrapped about Minami’s as you walk down the main street of the carnival.  The sights and smells enticed you to try everything but Minami was not yet ready to let your hand go.  “Hey Y/N, we’re waiting for Alan, don’t forget.”  How could you forget, your boyfriend always invited Alan to join you on outings.  It sometimes felt like you were dating them both.  A couple minutes pass when Minami spots Alan by the strong man game.  “There here is.”  He waved to his best friend.

Alan smiled with humor as he posed with the over-sized mallet in his hands.  “Hello Minami, Y/N.  “I figured we could start the evening trying to win Y/N a toy to remind her of the fabulous night she had.”  Minami quickly agreed as he released your hand.  

“Hey Alan.  How do you know I’m gonna have a fabulous night?”

He chuckled handing the game carny the money for the game.  “Because you’re with us,” he indicated Minami and himself, “so it’s bound to  be the best night for you.”  He gestured for everyone to step back then lifted the hammer over his head.  The hammer slammed down on the padded arm sending the puck towards the bell.

DING!

The man operating the game smiled and handed Alan a stuffed monkey for making the bell ring.  Not to be outdone, Minami paid for a turn.  “Step back Y/N, wouldn’t want you to get hurt when this puck knocks the bell clean off the top.”  He lifted the hammer overhead and smashed it back down.  The puck flew up the back making the bell ding as well. Once more the carny handed over a small stuffed toy.  This time it was a turtle.

Something caught your eye, a teddy bear with a t-shirt.  On the shirt it read ‘I love New York’, which seemed fitting for a tourist.  You had to get it, had to win that bear.  “Minami, can I try?  I want to win this teddy bear.”  He paid the man and you lifted the hammer.  It was a lot lighter than you imagined it to be.  Both Alan and Minami seemed to struggle with it.  You lifted it as high as you could then let the mallet fall.  You pinched your eyes shut and gritted your teeth not sure you could bare witnessing your defeat if the bell didn’t ring.

DING!

Your eyes widened hearing the bell announce your victory.  “Yay!  I did it.”  The barker handed you the bear.  With a discreet whisper you asked if you could borrow a marker.  You scribbled out New York and wrote Hamburgers on the bear’s shirt.  “Here Minami, a teddy bear to cuddle when I am working.”

He laughed and grabbed your hand.  “It’s a poor substitute but because it’s from you I will cherish it.”  

The three of you made your way through the carnival sampling the foods at various vendors and trying your hands at different games. You rode a couple of rides with Minami and a couple with Alan, each man taking turns to watch the stuffed animal family you  had collected.  “The rides will shut down in five minutes,” An announcement chimed.  “One more ride, please?”

Minami laughed and nodded.  He really couldn’t tell you no, no matter how hard he tried.  “Ok, which one?”  You pointed to a ride they called the Tilt-A-Whirl.  The seats were large enough for all three of you to enjoy together.

You sat between both men because you had figured out the trick to how to make your seat spin faster.  Once buckled in, the ride moved.  “Look, when we go into a spin, I will lean the way we all need to lean, it’ll make it turn quicker.”  You spoke with an authoritative voice.  As the car got to the top of the ride you slid your body to the right, pressing into Alan.  Minami followed and whoosh around and around you spun all the way down to the bottom of the ride.  The car went up again this time the momentum needed to go left.  You pressed into Minami’s side letting Alan’s weight press to your side.

When the ride came to a stop, the three of you were all dizzy and laughing.  You stumbled down the road for several minutes.  “I had so much fun with Mr. Monkey and Miss Turtle.  How about you and Lady Burger Bear, Minami?”  

Minami looked at Alan who was looking at him.  They both spoke, “It looks like we lost the bear.”  Each man apologizing when they noticed the sad look on your face. You gave a shake of the head, half playful and half confused how two grown men could lose one bear while you kept track of two stuffed animals.

“I wish I could relate but only a dumb-ass like you could do this.”  You laughed and clung onto Minami’s arm.  It was a silly stuffed toy and was replaceable.  “Let’s just head home.  I am sure she will find a good home.”  You turned to Alan who had headed to the opposite corner.  “Goodnight Alan.”

You and Minami snuggled on the couch a short time later when a light knocking captured your attention. Minami stood up and made his way to the door.  You were off the clock and so he didn’t expect you to answer it.  He opened the door but no one was there, instead on the floor sat the lost teddy bear with the ‘I Love Hamburgers’ t-shirt and a note.  “I found your bear, can’t have the lady sad.”

[absoloutenonsense]

When you see this, post a snippet of your WIP.

Hades Harry and Persephone Louis are coming back to me. Welcome to my Underworld fic!

***

Harry peers over his book and tries not to make it obvious that he isn’t a student. 

Louis has just walked into the cafe and up to the counter, looking as gorgeous as ever. Fringe swept across his forehead, blue and black polo and some more relaxed jeans than Harry has seen in the past. He smiles at the girl behind the counter, and Harry lets the book slip a little through his fingers; he catches it just before it can topple over on the table. 

Harry adjusts his snapback and sinks a little lower in his seat. 

“Hi,” he hears from his right. He looks up at a pretty girl with auburn hair in low pigtails. She smiles at him and takes a sip of her iced coffee through the straw. “Could I sit here? All the other tables are taken and I was hoping to revise.”

Harry nods and smiles a little back at her, trying not to make it obvious when his eyes dart to Louis again. He’s handing over a fiver to pay for his drink, and drops his change in the tip jar. 

“Haven’t seen you here before,” the girl says, making no move to get books or a pen or even her phone out. 

He just nods and watches Louis laugh at something the barista tells him. His heart bursts and aches in the same moment. He’s desperate to make Louis laugh like that. 

“What’re you studying?”

“Insurance,” he says automatically. 

The girl furrows her brows. “I don’t think we have that as a course.”

Harry finally really looks at her. “What?”

“I said I don’t think that’s a course here. Did you mean business?”

And Harry doesn’t know. “Uh, I’m not really sure. I just got here.”

“Oh! You’re a transfer?”

“Yes,” he says, because that seems the right thing to say. 

“Where were you before?”

And it was the wrong thing to say. “Oh, you know. Here and there.”

“You don’t know where you were before this?”

“Uh…”

“Harold,” someone interrupts. And for a moment --a split second-- Harry is over the moon to have Louis’ eye on him. They’re just as blue as he remembers. But then he sees the hard edge to them, despite his forced smile. Harry can’t help but flicker his gaze down to his lips. 

“Louis,” Harry says. Well, says is generous, considering what comes out is barely more than a breath. 

The girl is looking back and forth between them. “Sorry, did I take your seat Louis?”

“No, love, wasn’t expecting to see Harold here today.”

“Is this your boyfriend?” she asks. 

Yes! Harry thinks. 

“No,” Louis says. “Harold here is free as a bird, aren’t you Harold?” But before Harry can speak up, Louis continues. “Wouldn’t mind him much, though, for you Kim. Seems like there’s a bit of chemistry here. I’ll leave you to it.” And he’s walking away. 

Harry just gapes after him before remembering he has two working legs. 

“Excuse me,” he says to the girl --Kim-- before turning around. 

“You forgot your book!” she calls after him. 

“Keep it!” he says over his shoulder, and then he’s nearly running to catch up to Louis. 

Louis isn’t running, but he might as well be at the speed he’s going. Harry can practically see steam coming out of his ears. When he catches up, Harry jogs for a moment before he can adequately pace himself to speed walk next to Louis. 

“Leave me alone, Harry.” 

“Louis--”

“Wow, ignoring what I ask for. What a shocker.”

“Louis please listen--”

“Wow, ignoring my blatant sarcasm in favor of pissing me off more. Who’d have thought.”

“You weren’t supposed to see me, I just wanted to check in,” Harry blurts out. And when Louis doesn’t immediately cut in again, he adds, “I’ve been worried about you.”

Louis stops so abruptly that Harry actually has gone too far and needs to turn around to face him. “Worried? Have you been worried? Well great. You’ve seen me. No need to be worried any longer.” And he’s off again, walking somehow even faster. How do mortals walk so fast?

Harry rushes to keep up, lagging behind Louis. He would prefer not to admit that it’s a struggle. “I get that I fucked up, I do. And I want to make it right.”

“It’s Spring, Harry, I don’t have to talk to you for another five months at least,” and he stops and turns again. Harry just about crashes into him. Louis has to put his hands up to Harry’s chest in order to keep them both from falling over. “How long have you been spying on me?”

Harry flushes. He can feel the warmth of Louis’ hands through his white band t-shirt, wants to pull him onto the grass and pin him so he has no choice but to be still and look at Harry. There are other reasons to pin Louis to the ground, but now isn’t the time to think about those. Part of Harry’s mind can’t help it. 

Louis pushes against his chest and asks, “How. Long.”

Harry mourns the loss of Louis’ fingertips on his body. But only briefly because Louis has fire in his eyes. “This is only the third time.”

“The third time.” Louis says it loud. Loud enough that a few people look their way as they walk past. He grabs him by the end of his shirt and pulls him in the direction of the nearest building. 

He turns around to spit out, “When.” It’s not a question, it’s a demand that Harry has no choice but to obey. 

“New Years Eve, when you were down the pub with your mates.”

“Where were you.” 

“Outside the pub, I just walked by the window.”

They get to a door. The smell of chlorine hits Harry in full force as it swings open and Louis pulls him inside. They’re in a little hallway with two doors on either side of them. Louis drops his hold on the edge of Harry’s t-shirt, but his fist-print remains through the wrinkled threads. 

“And,” Louis spits out. 

“And then in March. You were grocery shopping.”

Louis’ face screws up a bit as he presumably tries to pin-point the day. 

“Where were you.”

“Across the street, in the bakery.”

Louis shuts his eyes tightly and rubs his hands along his face a few times. “That’s not even--” he lets out a frustrated noise. “Why-- I don’t--” another noise. “What’s the point of that?”

Harry doesn’t hide his confusion. “I wanted to see you.”

“For two fucking seconds?”

Harry thinks maybe he gets what Louis is trying to stay. “I was worried if I stayed longer you’d see me.”

“Then why be so far away?”

“I got the feeling that you’d be able to sense me.”

“I did,” Louis says. 

“What?”

“Today. I sensed you. As soon as I walked into The Hideaway I could feel you looking at me. I got so pissed off, I thought you were looking at me through your seeing thing.”

“All Seer,” Harry corrects softly. And then tries to catch Louis’ eyes, which have been mostly hidden behind his hands. When he does --and Harry realized it’s the first time they’ve locked eyes this entire interaction-- he tells him earnestly, “I wouldn’t break your trust like that, Louis, not again.”

And just like that Louis is pressed so tightly to Harry’s body, mouth hot and wet against his. And fuck. His hands go instinctually to Louis’ waist, one resting just above his ass, but his mouth is still and his eyes wide open in shock. 

Louis pulls back to lock onto his eyes again, scowl and grit out, “Kiss me back you absolute fucking arsehole.” And he’s back on him in a flash, moving his hands up Harry’s neck in order to grab fistfuls of his hair. His hat falls off his head, and just as it hits the ground, Harry kisses back with a fury, deftly lifts Louis by the back of the thighs and flips them so he’s got Louis pinned against the wall. 

It smells overwhelmingly of pool water chemicals, but Harry couldn’t care less because mixed in is the smell of Louis, which he’s been deprived of for nearly four months. He groans at that and pushed Louis back harder into the wall. Louis lets out this little gasp against Harry’s mouth, which seems to make them both hungrier for more. 

Louis is still grabbing the roots of Harry’s hair with his left hand while his right untangles itself in order to press against Harry’s arse, pulling him even closer. 

And… maybe this isn’t the best idea. Or at the very least the best place. “Louis,” Harry murmurs against his lips. But he can’t bring himself to loosen his grip or even open his eyes. 

Louis answers by biting Harry’s bottom lip ferociously. He whimpers at it and involuntarily grinds against Louis’ hips, where he finds they’re both starting to get hard. 

Harry tries again with, “Maybe this isn’t--” 

But before he can get a full sentence out, the door to his left opens. Harry doesn’t much care about that, but it seems to pull Louis out of...whatever this is... enough to scramble out of Harry’s hold, pushing him away with hands to his chest. His eyes look wild and his lips look swollen from their makeout. And Harry has the feeling that he should be feeling embarrassed but all he can feel is satisfaction at the way Louis looks. 

“Alright, Lou,” someone says, a bit of humor in his voice. The nickname is the only reason Harry looks up. Walking towards them is a man, dressed in jeans and a green t-shirt, hair wet, presumably from the pool. He’s smirking at them. 

“Alright, Luke,” Louis answers, straightening his shirt and running a hand over his hair to get it back in order. Harry doesn’t move. Well, aside from puffing his chest out a little, which causes Louis to grimace. 

“We still on for the footie game, mate?” Luke says. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“See you,” he says, and then gives a wry nod to Harry. 

Louis must still be a little out of it, because Luke is through the door and it’s almost completely shut before he says, “See you.”

Harry tries to not sound completely jealous when he says, “Who’s that?”

“Luke from Econ. He organizes pickup games from time to time.”

Harry wants to push. Wants to ask how well they know each other. Is dying to know what that smirk directed at Harry meant. Feels his blood run hot at the idea of them hooking up. 

But before Harry can ask any more questions, Louis is pulling open the door and stepping outside. 

“Wait,” Harry opens the door and shouts after him. “We need to talk.”

Louis is just shaking his head but doesn’t rush off like he seemed hell-bent on doing before. 

“Lou, what just happened. Do you-- do you maybe want--”

“I just got caught up,” Louis interrupts. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I haven’t gotten laid in a while and you’re just --fuck-- you know I’m attracted to you. And I just got a little worked up. But I’m fine. Now. I’m okay now, it’s passed.”

There are so many things Harry wants to address, but he goes with the one that will tear him apart inside if he doesn’t know. 

“Have you slept with anyone since you’ve come back?”

“That is absolutely none of your business, Harry.”

Harry wants to scream that it is. That the last couple of weeks Louis was in the Underworld it was like they were really headed somewhere, that the last fews days it almost felt like-- like they were--

But then a rush of guilt washes over Harry. Because no matter what it felt like, and no matter how long it felt like that for, Harry was the one to ruin it. 

So instead of fighting that and instead of pushing Louis up against the tree trunk they’re passing as they walk, Harry says, “Okay.” He starts to slow his pace a bit, ready for Louis to continue on without him. 

When Louis notices Harry has fallen back, he slows his pace and turns around a bit. His face is now a mix between the dazed look from their makeout and the intense hardness from their fighting. He looks tired. With a sunken feeling in his chest, Harry realizes he caused that, too. 

Louis stops and waits for Harry to make it the last few steps to him. They are an arms-length distance apart from each other and Harry has never felt a distance so great. 

Louis sighs and waits for Harry to make eye contact before saying, “I need more time.”

Harry just nods. 

Louis nods back at him before turning on his heels and walking away. 

The only thing that saves him from going home and baiting Cerberus to eat him is that Louis looks over his shoulder just before he disappears from sight. He does this little half wave with just his fingers. It’s not what Harry wanted, but it’s something. 

[ebhenah]

I’m With The Band #Fictober18 (Original Fiction)

 Day 19

I’m With the Band 

Original fiction, Original characters (a continuation of my Fictober Day 7 story: Uncharted, Day 8 story : Anchor, Day 13 story: Soulmates, Day 16 Story: Sunkissed and Day 19 story: Wound Up. This one featuring Spook in her original timeline, before the mission that stranded her alone in the past)

Rated: Teen for language, violence, mentions of drug and alcohol use, and LGBT2SQIA+ themes

Prompt: "Oh please, like this is the worst I have done."

It was the last chance to see her ‘baby’ brother perform before the big mission, so the whole, massive family turned out to see the show. The venue was… not big, and having so many people crowd in to cheer him on pushed it dangerously close to capacity. As much as she loved all the various cousins and parents and aunts and uncles and might-as-well-be-family friends, having sooo many of them kicking around was seriously going to cramp her style when it came to the OTHER plans she had for the night- namely get shit-faced and work her way through as many orgasms with as many partners as not-quite-humanly possible.

Still, while the night was young, she could make the most of the crowd and party with her loved ones. She wasn’t quite THAT sex-crazed… yet. Ever since her parents had insisted that she start weaning herself off the grief suppressors that might interfere with her ability to access and channel the magical abilities that were vital to the ‘big mission’ she’d been coping by self-medicating with hits of adrenaline and endorphins- excitement and sex. Not the most sustainable long term plan, but she didn’t intend it to be long term. It just had to keep her functional until the mission was done.

So, everytime her little brother gave her that nod that meant he was about to play one of her favorites, she grabbed the hand of some new loved one and dragged them out onto the floor. She’d always loved to dance- she’d even taken classes when she was really young. Not that what she was doing now looked anything like tap or ballet. She bounced to the driving beat, a huge smile on her face as she screamed the lyrics out and wove to the music. This time she was dancing with her twin’s lover, a gorgeous charmer with a great smile, better rhythm, and what her favorite aunt called ‘latin hips’. One of her favorite dance partners, actually. They spun her out and back, pulling her tight to their thigh and grinding to the beat with her. It didn’t mean anything, they’d just known each other for years and years- since long before they’d started bedding her brother- and had always had this playfully flirty relationship.

She laughed as she was thrown back, dipped so deeply that her long hair brushed the floor, then snapped up into a tight spin. “He’s staring at your ass,” she yell-whispered into their ear.

“Oh, I am aware,” they answered, an evil little grin spreading over their midnight skin, “wait til we hit the black lights- betcha a fiver he’ll drag me out of here before the end of the song…”

“You got the ink?” she gasped, surprised.

“Ohhhh yeah,” they answered, pulling away enough to give them both a bit more space to maneuver, “I am very, very pleased… and he has no idea…”

“Oh, this will be good,” she laughed. Her twin had a thing for body mods- piercings, tattoos, other markings, cyber implants… he tried to pretend he didn’t but it was more than a little obvious. The inky-black skin of her current dance partner didn’t take well to piercings, and they had a religious objection to cyber. A few months ago, they’d FINALLY found an artist that worked exclusively in photoreactive pigments and they’d been planning this surprise for her twin ever since.

“Heads up,” they said suddenly, “you’ve got an admirer. Blond, Interrycan, blue… dress? Over by your sister.”

“Interrycan?” she echoed, “HOT.” She grabbed their hand and let them snap her out on a spin that gave her a full view of the room- including the tall, lean alien that was 100% checking her out. The ‘dress’ was a traditional Interrycan garment that was essentially a scarf that draped around the back and crossed in the front where the ends were attached to the golden rings that every Interrycan had placed around their clavicles once they reached the age of majority. “SERIOUSLY hot!”

“Go on,” they laughed, “I’m going to drag your brother up here anyway. Just don’t let Mr. PR see you duck into the backroom.”

“Mr. PR is totally shit-faced, in case you haven’t noticed,” she laughed, nodding in the direction of the table that held both of her fathers and her former father-in-law, who had no idea that the younger generation called him ‘Mr. PR’ behind his back- a nickname that originated from her late wife. ”I’m golden!” They both laughed as they spun away from each other, her heading in the direction of the alien that was still making eyes at her, and her dance partner making their way to her twin.

“Hey,” she said to the blond, making her little sister roll her eyes and make herself scarce, “want a drink?”

“I’d love one,” she answered, the syllables a little strange because of the forked tongue that Interrycans possessed. “But I should warn you… I’m on amaora…”

“Amaora? Oooh FUN!” she answered. Amaora was a party drug that amplified physical sensation, reduced inhibitions, and increased physical stamina… it was also excreted through the skin of users in reduced potency- resulting in a contact high for susceptible races… which she definitely was. “What are you drinking?”

Three drinks, two songs, and one swimming head later- she was stumbling into a back room with that deliciously forked tongue tickling her tonsils. Interrycans had skin that tasted like ginger- warm and spicy and delicious- and coupled with the amaora that ginger skin was laced with, she was having more fun necking than she’d had since… junior high, maybe? She giggled happily, loving the tingley, floaty feeling she was getting from the booze, and the drug and the imminent sex.

Kata- that was her name… Kata. She was pretty sure it was Kata, anyway. Kata was making quick work of her clothes and seemed to be having just as much fun based on the little gasps and mumbled words she was hearing.

She was lifted up by her tall partner and wrapped her legs around her waist as she was slammed back against the wall, the impact triggering a rush of sensation and making her shiver and sigh. “Strong,” Kata purred, nipping at her throat.

“Mmmhmmm,” she moaned, her head craning back, “you, too…” Her hands burrowed under the filmy fabric of the scarf, thumbs stroking over the little ridges in the skin that covered Kata’s ribs, making her moan. Man was she EVER glad she paid attention in Xenobiology class!

One minute she was having the time of her life, and the next she was trying to keep her focus as three BIG guys strong armed their way into the room and ripped Kata out of her arms. She dropped to the floor like a stone, dazed and disoriented. Kata, on the other hand was much quicker to recover. One long leg lifted and kicked the first guy square in the chest, sending him into the sink- oh! They’d ended up in a private bathroom. Cool. That meant…. She ducked under the hands that grabbed for her and rolled. She was impaired and unarmed and she didn’t recognize the race of the intruders, so she was uninformed too.

Not good. She’d gotten herself out of immediate reach and bought herself a few seconds. Hopefully long enough to fix the whole ‘unarmed’ issue. Her preferred weapon for hand to hand was Iriskan Batons, but she didn’t bring weapons to her brother’s shows… so… she hopped up, rocking on her feet slightly from the sudden shift, and grabbed the two narrow pipes that rose out of the back of the commode and yanked hard. It took another two solid jolts, but both pipes came free- sending up a spray of cold water and leaving her armed. On the upside- the icy cold water cleared her foggy mind a bit and rinsed any remaining traces of amaora off her skin.

Hugging the wall, she crouched and got a feel for the weight of the pipes. Kata was keeping two of the guys occupied and handling herself quite well. But the third guy was not the slightest bit slowed by the water. He strode toward her and he was MASSIVE easily twice her size with a long reach. Years of training kicked in and as he got close she rolled out of the way, swinging the pipes together to crack into his kneecap and the back of his knee at once. The joint buckled, throwing him off balance and she continued her spin into a high kick, the steel-reinforced toe of her boot catching him in the back, right over his lower rib. She heard a crack that might have been a bone, or could have been… nope, Kata had busted a sink and was wielding the broken ceramic like a blade. Hot. Focus!

Big guy was recovering and turning to face her, so she moved again, this time using the seat of the toilet to launch her into the air, bringing the pipes down in quick succession on his skull and leaving him dazed enough that she was able to land a couple of punches, still clinging to those pipes. He went down, but before she could catch her breath massive arms snapped around her torso, squeezing her so tightly she couldn’t pull a full breath in and her hands almost immediately started to tingle and go numb.

She shrieked (as much as her restricted breathing would allow) and thrashed, because when quiet and deadly wasn’t working, make a racket. Scream your head off. Attract as much attention as possible. Especially when you were a small female and the person you were fighting was a big male. Outdated gender roles still created an unconscious bias in onlookers that worked in her favor.

“He’s the last one!” she heard someone holler- Kata. She must’ve dealt with one of them herself. She was jerked forward, something must have impacted with the back of the guy holding her. The jolt made her slip down in his grip slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was letting her get a touch more air and when she kicked out, her feet scraped against the wall.

“Do that again!” she yelled back and she could tell the remaining asshat was starting to realize that hanging on to her like this was leaving him completely vulnerable to anything Kata threw at him. This time when he jolted forward, she was ready, legs curled up, feet together. He jerked forward and she kicked out, her boots denting the older wood of the wall and throwing his balance completely off. Reflexively, he released her to catch himself before he fell.

She landed on her back with a splash, winding herself, but managing to avoid cracking her head on the floor. Her arms were still numb and tingling, hands weak, so she wasn’t in the best shape. Thankfully, she wasn’t alone. Kata was a surprisingly good fighter… for a random bar hook-up. She rolled away from the stumbling man, still trying to drag some air into her lungs. She was getting dizzy from lack of air… and probably from the amaora and booze, too- but breathing was kind of important. Her head swam and it was getting hard to focus. Uh-oh… she might actually pass- suddenly her magic flared to life, sending her into a spasm like she’d gotten hit with electricity.

Her lungs expanded, sending a rush of oxygen through her, and the magic skittered over her skin, sparking into the air like little embers from a fire. Suddenly, she felt STRONG. Invincible even. Some part of her brain was trying to remind her that intoxication+magic was a BAD combo, but she didn’t really care.

“You shit,” she growled at the last guy, who had Kata by the throat. The words felt strange in her mouth and she suspected that the magic had done more than just energize her. She licked her lips, surprised by the feel of fangs where her canines had been. “I was having fucking fun!” With a sound that was very close to a roar, she charged, feet slipping slightly on the wet floor. She brought one of the pipes in her hands down HARD into the center of his forearm and there was a flash of light as the magic burst around the impact, increasing the strength of the blow. This time the crack she heard was definitely bone, and Kata fell from his grasp, a shaking wheeze telling her that the blond was pulling in some air.

The big guy howled, and she yelled right back at him, one of her boots stomping hard on the back of his knee. Another loud snap and bright burst of magic and he went down. Even on his knees, he was almost as tall as her, but the back of the skull was a weak spot for almost all bipedal races and she didn’t waste any time swinging her pipe down on his. This time the burst was so bright it blinded her temporarily.

Blinking rapidly she turned to where she thought Kata was, “you okay?”

“Yeah…” Kata’s voice was hoarse, noticeably pain-laced. “I think so.”

“I can… probably… help… with… the pain,” she panted, totally overwhelmed by power and intoxicants and adrenaline. “C’mere… Kiss me… it’ll help… magic kisses…”

She still couldn’t really see much, but she felt the soft, warm hand on her hip, felt the little burst of the contact high, and then there were soft, velvety lips on hers and a little forked tongue tickling the roof of her mouth and her body surged, reminding her strongly of what had been interrupted. She felt her magic swirl around the both of them, and heard the pipes splash and clatter to the floor as she moaned and pulled the tall blonde flush against her, deepening the kiss.

“What the actual hell!?! PIXIE!” her father’s voice cut through the haze and Kata jerked away from her.

Her sight seemed to be returning to normal, except for a few spots floating around the edges of her vision. She let her eyes scan the bathroom. Oh. Wow. The sink was destroyed. Water still sprayed from the busted pipes and was several inches deep on the floor. Her shirt, bra, and jacket all floated near the drain that was completely ineffective against this volume of water. Three large guys were strewn on the floor, two of them bleeding… that one by the door might actually be dead- she had no idea what Kata had done to him. One end of the light was torn free of the ceiling, wires hanging in a tangle.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror- oh. Her hair looked like hell, sodden and matted and clinging to her skin weirdly.. Power was still crackling through her, making her skin and eyes glow, her pupils had slitted and- oh hey- those fangs were still there. Kata didn’t look much better- that thin floaty scarf completely transparent from water, streaked with blood and torn in several spots.

It could be worse though. She was unharmed as far as she could tell. Kata seemed to be mostly okay. AND her father had used his pet name for her instead of the litany of ALL of her given names- which meant he was worried, not angry. Which was good, because, she’d been the one that was ATTACKED, after all.

Still, he probably wasn’t thrilled at finding his daughter glowing, and be-fanged, half naked, drunk, high, and making out with a random alien in a trashed bathroom surrounded by- um... possibly corpses?

“Baby? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle as he ventured into the room and looked around.

“I.. think so?” she answered.

“Holy shit, Pixie- this place is destroyed… we need to get you out of here… if word of this gets out….”

"Oh please, like this is the worst I have done,” she giggled, still totally buzzing from too many things to count, “this wouldn’t even make my top ten.”

[spiteweaver]

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Dragonhome 4th Eon, 5th Cycle

Rosegold journeyed alone to Dragonhome, upon her own insistence. With Fiver gone away to the Volcanic Vents, and with Roark being--well, Roark--there were no other high-ranking Earth dragons within Clan Feldspar, and this journey, she claimed, was one that should not be made by out-of-Flighters. Try as Dreamweaver may to convince her, she refused to bring an escort.

Now, as she looked out upon the great, lonely expanse of her homeland, she almost wished she had listened to Dreamweaver. Dragonhome was teaming with life, but most of it was subterranean, so that the surface appeared bleak and dead, all sun-baked dust plains and cracked hills of mud.

It looked just how she remembered it, but, somehow, it felt more desolate.

Her path took her south of the Pillar, around the edge of Greatwyrm’s Breach and dangerously close to both the Tangled Wood and the Scarred Wasteland. The Rambra she rode snorted and champed whenever they drew too near to Dragonhome’s borders, and his anxiety only grew the further south they traveled. Eventually, he refused to proceed at all.

Rosegold dismounted and took the beast by its reins, leading him forward with gentle reassurances and an overfull bag of oats she’d retrieved from her luggage. Even then, he moved at a snail’s pace. Rosegold knew why, and wished she could leave the poor, terrified creature here, where he felt safe--but bandits would surely come for him, and a life among thieves would not suit a pampered ride animal well.

“She won’t hurt you,” Rosegold murmured, stroking the Rambra’s snout. “She’s only cruel to our own kind.”

For a moment, it seemed as if the Rambra believed her. The quaking in his spindly legs lessened. He held his head up high and sniffed the wind.

Then the sound of thunder was all around them, and his courage was lost. He reared, shrieked, and tried to bolt, but he was trapped in a storm of dust and glinting armor. Rosegold tugged gently on his reins again, pulling his head into her arms, where he could hide his face and feel some sense of safety.

When the dust settled, Rosegold found the tip of a spear at her neck. Her expression did not change; it was hard, cold, but distinctly passive. The spear’s owner sat astride an enormous armored reptile, and as Rosegold’s eyes scanned the company, she noted that each of the dozen or so scouts looked fitted for war.

“Name,” the spear’s owner, who she assumed must be the company leader, demanded, “and purpose.”

“Rosegold,” she replied, “and my purpose is the business of your matriarch only.”

A chuckle rippled through the assembly. “What’s a pretty lady like you want with the queen?” one of the scouts asked. “She doesn’t typically meet with dams dressed in gossamer and lace.”

“My purpose is the business of your matriarch only,” Rosegold repeated.

“You ride in here on a Rambra half-dead from fright,” another rider said, “garbed in fineries and smelling of oils, and you’ve got the gall to hold your tongue when told to speak?”

“We’ll be picking our teeth with your bones by nightfall.”

“Let me have the dress, lads. My wife would kill for a dress that flashy.”

“Only if I get the Rambra. They’ve got some of the finest meat in Dragonhome.”

“Who gets her meat?”

A great crack silenced the company’s ill-mannered banter. The ground beneath them split. Their mounts scrambled to find a foothold in the upheaval, but most failed. Shouts rang out across the plains as rider after rider was tossed up into the air only to come down hard on the rain-parched soil.

Rosegold and her Rambra remained where they were.

“I have not come to quarrel with you,” she said, “but if you threaten me again, I shall quarrel with you nonetheless.”

“Cor!” one of the riders cried. “She’s as bad as the queen!”

“Back in formation, all of you!” their leader commanded as he struggled out from under his overturned mount. “Not a word of this to General Argent either! He’ll have us strung up if he hears we got our asses beat by a dam in a sparkly dress!”

“Should I beat them again?” Rosegold asked.

“No.” The leader spat a bit of blood into the dirt. “That won’t be necessary. If you want to have audience with the queen, so be it. It’s your funeral. Round up, boys. Let’s get our esteemed guest back to the warren.”

“No need.”

In all of the commotion, no one had heard the sound of approaching hooves. Suddenly, a great, black boar stood among them, towering over even the immense size of their reptilian mounts. It wore no armor; its thick hide, bristling fur, and massive body were enough to protect it from most would-be attackers. Drool dribbled from its lips, snot from its snout, and when it shook, the ground around it splintered.

Atop it sat the warren’s queen, her face impassive, her shoulders straight. Rosegold met her gaze, and recognition sparked within it. “What,” she asked, “are you doing here?”

“Hello,” Rosegold replied, “dear sister.”

[atombooks]

Read chapter one of Straight Outta Crongton

Three Meals a Day

‘Mum! Why d’you let him take my dinner money?’

She was sitting on her bed, tying her dressing gown belt around her waist – it needed washing but I had used the last of the bio capsules to clean my PE kit the previous evening. Sleep clogged up the corners of her eyes. Her mascara now looked as if she’d applied it with a mop. Stupid woman couldn’t even wash her freaking make- up off before she went to bed.

‘Mum!’ I repeated.

She stretched and yawned before she finally answered me. ‘There are a couple of crusty rolls in the kitchen and I think there’s a scrape of peanut butter in the cupboard.’

Her voice sounded rough, as if she had been eating bristled doormats.

‘Let him eat the rolls,’ I spat.

She covered her ears. ‘Mum. I need some money for school!’ ‘Stop shouting, Mo. Can’t hear myself bleeding think; I’ve got a ringing headache. Get off to school. Aren’t you late?’

I took my mobile out of my back pocket. Eight- twenty. Cell bells! Holman’s gonna bruise my ears again.

‘I’m going back to bed,’ Mum said. She scooped the gunk from her eye with a fingernail and wiped it on her dressing gown before flopping back on to the mattress. ‘Take the rolls, Mo, and get off my case, will ya? We didn’t get in till after three.’

Half of the quilt was on the floor. There was a dent in the mattress where he’d slept. The ashtray was full. The room stank of beer. The bin was full of cans. I swore I’d never drink alcohol. Mum pulled the bedding over her head, turned her back to me and curled up like an unborn baby.

Frustration crackled inside me. ‘You’re freaking useless.’ ‘So ya always say. Can I get some sleep now?’ I stood there, arms folded, staring at her, but she didn’t move a muscle. I heard a noise from the kitchen. He was still here. I left Mum’s room, slamming the door behind me, and turned into the hallway.

He was sitting down at the kitchen table, sipping a mug of tea. He threw me an oh- shit- Mo- hasn’t- gone- to- school- yet look. I hoped he burned his lips. Name- brand trainers niced up his feet. (Where’d he got them? He was supposed to be skint.) He wore a too- tight Real Madrid football shirt, number seven on the back. The shape of his man boobs underneath almost made me spew. Jack Sparrow was inked on his fat right bicep. A pirate ship was tattooed on the other. His goatee beard scratched his neck. How could Mum smack tongues with him?

I looked at him dead on. ‘That five pounds Mum gave you – that’s my dinner money.’

‘Those rolls in the kitchen are for you,’ he said. His reasonable tone pissed me off big time. 

‘I don’t want any freaking stale rolls for lunch; just give me the fiver and I’ll be off your radar. You and Mum can go back to your drinking party.’

‘You’ve got a dirty mouth for a fifteen year old,’ he said. He stared at me as if he wanted me to smile at his miserable wit but I would never give that prick- head the satisfaction.

‘If you don’t give me that fiver it’ll get dirtier,’ I challenged.

‘And you say you want to do media in college? With a mouth like that? They’re not gonna let you read the Six O’Clock News.’

‘Photography and media. And I’m not playing with you, Lloyd. Give me the freaking fiver!’

‘I have to sign on today and go for a job interview in Ashburton  – warehouse work. You should be wishing me luck.’

‘Then use your welfare wheels – your feet. You could do with the exercise.’

He gave me a hard look but I didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t my dad.

‘You shouldn’t have killed all your money on beer,’ I added. ‘How much did that cost ya? Or cost Mum?’

Lloyd stood up. His chair scraped out behind him. His glare intensified. He took two strides towards me but I didn’t flake. I returned his stare like a shark.

‘It was my birthday on Sunday—’

‘So?’ I cut him off. ‘It’s Tuesday now. I see them name- brands; you’ve been spoilt rotten. It was my birthday two months ago and I didn’t even get the “n” of nothing!’

‘I haven’t seen your mum since Friday. Do we have to ask your permission to celebrate?’

‘I don’t give a freaking spare rib how you celebrate,’ I ripped. ‘Just gimme the fiver!’

‘I’ll be getting my money from the social on Friday,’ Lloyd said. ‘I’ll give you back the fiver then. I’ll even treat you to a pizza or take you out to the Cheesecake Lounge.’

Sit in the Cheesecake Lounge with him – is he nuts? He must’ve drunk more than I thought last night. God! If I ever got as liquor- happy as them, I hoped someone would put me out of my misery.

‘You choose,’ he offered. ‘My treat.’

Again, his calmness sucked the patience out of me. I stepped up to him and made a grab for his back pocket. He caught my wrist and pushed me away. Lloyd was fat but strong. He picked up his tracksuit top from the back of the chair and pulled it on. Before making his way to the front door he seized me with another stare. ‘Mo, you need to calm down. Chill out. What’s this all about? Eh? You and Sam having problems?’

‘How many times do I have to tell you? Sam isn’t my boyfriend.’

Could’ve fooled me. Have a good day at school.’ I could smell his pound- shop deodorant as he passed by me. 

How could Mum sleep with that jailbird? He acted all calm and nice now, but he treated us like shit and got away with it. He was just using Mum but she was in denial. Didn’t she ever learn from her past mistakes? When any man gave her attention she went all I’ll- do- whatever- you- want- My- Tonkness. Stupid woman. God! It made me cringe when she called him ‘My Tonkness’. It had to stop. We flexed so much better when he wasn’t around. If she wouldn’t stand up for us, I would.

I ran up behind Lloyd and booted the back of his left leg as hard as I could. He hopped as he turned around. First shock then anger filled his eyes. I tried to punch him in the ribs but my fist only found flab. I aimed to boot his balls. ‘Gimme back my freaking fiver, you prick!’ 

He grabbed my arms tight and I felt his fingers crushing into me. He pulled me towards him. I got a blast of stale beer from his mouth. I kicked out again. I didn’t quite get his coco-nuts but caught him somewhere near the groin. He closed his eyes and grimaced on contact. Good!

His nails were scoring my skin and his eyes narrowed into hateful slits. He released his grip and shoved me away. I lost my footing and crashed down on my butt.

‘Enough, Mo!’

His fat cheeks were twitching. He made a crunched fist. He was simmering. Dread flooded through my arteries. He wouldn’t dare.

‘Don’t push me, Mo! I don’t wanna hurt you. Why can’t you accept that me and your mum are tight now? Deal with it.’

‘Is that what you do to Mum when you don’t get what you want? Is it? When she can’t give you the money you want?

Like pushing girls over, do you? Did you do time for that too? Why don’t you take your bad- breed, fist- happy self back to prison where your lumpy ass belongs?’

Lloyd paused. I knew my last comment burned him. Good! ‘Go to school, Mo.’ He opened the door. ‘Try to calm down.’ ‘Don’t come back!’ I screamed after him. He slammed the door. I opened it and shouted down the stairs. ‘Leave me and Mum alone!’

Lloyd didn’t reply. I went back inside.

I stomped back into Mum’s bedroom. ‘Did you see that, Mum? Your boyfriend was about to hit me. Your jail- bird, saggy- ass, can’t- get- a-j ob boyfriend. And it ain’t the first time.’ 

Nothing. ‘Mum?’ She was fast asleep. I shook her awake. ‘I said, he was about to smack me again, Mum!’

She rolled on to her back but she didn’t open her eyes. ‘He’s promised not to lay a finger on you ever again. I made him say that to ya in front of ya face. And didn’t he apologise? He’s been trying to make it up to ya ever since, Mo, but you won’t let him. Now go on with ya! I don’t wanna get any more letters.’

With that she curled back into a ball. I glared at her shape. I hated living here. Hated it! I went back to my room to get my stuff. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror – my hair was like a bad 1980s pop video, but whatever. I grabbed my school rucksack and headed out.

I’d gotta find somewhere else to live. Maybe Elaine would have me.

Straight Outta Crongton, the next novel in Alex Wheatle’s award-winning Crongton series is published 6th April 2017. Find out how you can win a visit from Alex Wheatle to your school in our ‘Win a Wheatle’ competition here.