#hard to see it here but she still wears that lime green shirt under her jacket

[lafflanes]

redrew my 3 main villain toons as the scene from the second-to-last episode of mlp:fim right after the villains were defeated bc i got the image in my head and thought it was funny

[wordoflyss]

We Belong

Chapter 2: Dungeons & Dragons

Rating: M No warnings apply Eddie Munson x Henderson!OC

Eddie circled back around the table as he watched the group catch itself from whatever the fuck it was that had just happened. Dustin was still repeating Who are you to Danielle’s back, who was ignoring him in favor of asking Jeff and Cal for their names. Good question, Dustin.

Admittedly, he’d never paid her much attention, and it’d been a year since he’d last seen her, but Eddie was pretty sure if he’d crossed her on the street yesterday, he wouldn’t have recognized her. Her hair was bottle-blonde now, only the roots the dark blonde he remembered, and instead of hitting her shoulders, now down to her back. Pretty, at least he’d remembered that right. She dressed more out there, too, which was, again, only something he recognized because he remembered never noticing any of her clothes before. She’d blended right in with the crowd. Nothing special, kind of boring. Now she wore ripped jeans and a bright, lime green, ribbed shirt that clung much tighter than anything he would definitely remember. Not that he could see much of it as she was wearing a pretty loose black cardigan on top of it, cinched with a belt at her waist, but the color alone was definitely a hell of a lot more daring than anything he’d have ever associated with her. He remembered her as pretty beige. The look she’d given him when she’d entered the room had been familiar, though. Caution, the expectation to get annoyed, maybe a little nerves— but then again, he knew what people said about him and Hellfire, and from her perspective, she was just walking into uncharted territory, so he’d been willing— hoping, if he was honest— to not take that one personally. When he’d asked her her class and level he could immediately see her get a little defensive, but there was also defiance, and after she’d hit him with her character bio, definitely a hell of a lot of smugness. She’d probably expected a grilling. Don’t give her a hard time, okay? Yeah, she’d definitely been expecting him to give her shit, and he couldn’t even blame her— he could be a real asshole if he wanted to. How was she supposed to know he didn’t want to?

He had made up his mind beforehand to be on his mostly best behavior to get them back on neutral ground so they could play in peace. But when she’d finished her little monologue, he didn’t even need to pretend. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he felt that as soon as he’d smiled at her, her palpable tension had melted away. At least she seemed way more comfortable as she now threw her bag on a chair and started pulling out a dice bag and a notebook. Some hidden gold threads in her sweater caught in the light as she moved. Then she suddenly looked up to meet his eyes, catching him full on staring at her. She seemed more amused about it then surprised, but didn’t comment on it, instead just lifting a sheet of paper towards him.

“Uh, do you wanna take a look at my character sheet beforehand?” Eddie nodded, wriggling his fingers dramatically with a grin to mask the feint embarrassment at being caught. Then again, under these circumstances, he figured he was allowed to stare a little. He was still trying to figure out what he’d gotten himself into here.

She handed him the sheet and immediately turned back to Mike, asking him where she could sit. While the others got their things ready, Eddie leaned on the table with one hand as he studied the paper. It was fresh, that much was clear, and not one of the pre-printed ones. Instead, it was very clearly hand-written, with little flourishes drawn here and there. He skimmed over the sheer amount of info, equally relieved and totally confused as her notes proved what she’d said earlier: The magic items, the story-tied, enchanted gauntlets, the brief notes on backstory and even note of sentimental items that she- and that was truly a rare sight- had even accounted for in her carry capacity. This character had seen some life that could only be achieved through hours of playtime. Shockingly, she was actually good on her word. The stat block was balanced, but not optimized, leaning more towards defense than offense, which was good, since she was the second paladin in the party. Mike already rushed in plenty, and from what Eddie could see, she’d balance that out well. That’d make his life a lot easier. From what the sheet told him, she wasn’t a min-maxer, but rather roleplay oriented, since she’d dumped some stats into charisma instead of maxing out strength. That might be a minor problem, depending on how vocally she was going to play, since his table usually didn’t go heavy into roleplay, but really, out of everything he expected, this was still a jackpot. He cleared his throat to get her attention, and handed the sheet back. “Solid stats,” he said with a smile, that she miraculously returned. “Anything you want me to take out?” That question alone proved her mettle and value as a player. This wasn’t gonna be a disaster. Eddie grinned. “Nah, I can handle it.” That made her raise an eyebrow, but he could see she was trying not to grin. “If you say so…”

With a laugh and an immense sense of relief, Eddie took a deep breath to ground himself. Then he jumped backwards up on his throne, settling there in a crouch. “Alright, settle down children! Settle down…. Let’s get started, shall we?” “He’s not only missing his left arm…,” Eddie said and rose from his throne, the tension palpably rising around the table along with him. Dani heard Mike suck in a gasp next to her and Dustin’s chair scrape across the floor as he was slowly rising, muttering No No No under his breath. Eddie drew the moment out a second longer, before he snapped his arm back and wrapped it around his head like a contortionist, covering his eye as he yelled: “…but his left eye!” The table erupted in shouts and protests as Eddie laughed and yelled into the fray: “VECNA LIVES !” Mike was shaking her and Dani had to keep from laughing as she saw the desperation across her fellow players faces, as if they hadn’t seen this coming from a mile away. Dustin was standing now, shouting obscenities across the table, making Eddie grin even wider. Obviously pleased with himself he sank back down onto his throne, leaning back and enjoying the chaos over maniacally steepled fingers. His antics were so over the top she should find them silly. She couldn’t deny he was excellent at this, and really, who would’ve thought? From the minute he started his game he was so intensely present, honing in on the players, weaving scenes and embodying villains, antagonizing them one minute, then slipping out of the role to guide them as Game Master again. She was still on the fence about him as a person, but she was reasonable enough to admit that he was fucking amazing at this. If she was honest, there hadn’t been a dull moment, not even during a seemingly endless round of combat during a road encounter that was — she heavily assumed— only there to knock them down a couple hp and spellslots to make the last fight a bit more challenging. “Are you trying to kill us?!” Mike was shouting next to her, still somehow clutching her arm. The guys were still yelling, frantically shouting plans at each other, disagreeing whether they should fight or run. She could see Eddie trying to calm them down to resume the game once, then twice, but they were too busy throwing insults his way to care. Dani took pity on him, not wanting him to lose the momentum she’d seen him work so hard for by having to put his foot down. As a player, she had a much easier way to reign all the chaos in. She stood and slammed her hands on the table in a loud bang, making them all stop and turn to her. Taking a page from Eddie’s book of dramatics and refusing to be embarrassed, she furrowed her brow and looked at them each before finally settling on Dustin. Dani could be dramatic too, but Dustin took the cake, and she knew he would bite. This was their big night. No way in hell they were going to run. “He’s here. If we don’t fight, we die anyways. I say: We die with honor, and we take him down with us!” For a second, they all were silently staring at her, almost long enough for her to actually get embarrassed, when Dustin finally pulled his weight and jumped from his chair. “To the death!” “To the death!”, they echoed immediately, smacking each other on the shoulders to hype themselves up. Dani couldn’t help but look over, to gauge Eddie’s reaction. He was watching her with the strangest look on his face, before he broke out into the same smile again, giving her a small, slow nod of appreciation. Since he didn’t make her roll for charisma, she assumed he realized her intention behind it, and she gave him the slightest nod back. “Tactical break!”, Dustin yelled and pointed at Eddie, who bowed in compliance and lowered two of three fingers. “Three minutes, mighty heroes. Only one left.” God, he was ridiculous— but she also couldn’t deny he made it work. “Huddle!” Dustin turned his back to the table, waving them all over to him.

Eddie watched Dani juggle three different character sheets that she’d snatched from Dustin, Cal and Mike. Her brow was furrowed as she frantically looked across the battlefield. Behind her, Dustin and Gareth and Jeff were yelling at each other. They’d been fighting for over an hour, Jeff and Gareth were already down, and if Eddie’s estimates were correct, only Dustin and Mike had more than fifteen hit points left, which was mainly due to Dani very deliberately playing favorites with her healing spells and tanking. He wasn’t set on killing them, despite what Mike was still repeatedly accusing him of— he’d never liked forcing the story, but if the dice and their decisions lead to a party kill, Eddie was prepared to go there. And from the looks of it, they were heading that way, fast. They were on their last tactical break of the session, and they’d done a decent amount of damage, but Vecna still had some tricks up his sleeve. They could still win, if the dice were on their side, but they’d have to be insanely lucky to pull it off. He wasn’t going to pull punches— he wanted them to earn this victory. “He can’t have more than fifteen hit points left! Don’t be pussies!” They were trying to whisper, but Eddie could still hear Dustin clearly. “Pussies? Really?” Gareth hissed, “Cause we’re not delusional?” They continued bickering, and Eddie realized they’d just get stuck in their argument, wasting their last time out. Of course they could do what they wanted, but Eddie didn’t want them to run. This was the grand finale— this ought to end in death. Theirs, or Vecna’s. Running wasn’t an option. And because he knew Dustin wouldn’t back down, the best way to stop them from running, was to tell them running was the only option. “Hey!”, he yelled to get their attention, and when they turned, he leaned forward, face serious: “ If I may interject, gentlemen… Lady Dawnguard. Whilst I respect the passion, you’d be wise to take Gareth the Great’s concern to heart.” He wriggled his fingers conspiratorially and smiled at Dustin. “There is no shame in running. Don’t try to be heroes. Not today, ‘kay?” The look on Dustin’s face almost made him laugh out loud, but he kept it to a smug grin. The little shithead raised his finger and said: “ Once sec,” before turning back to the team. Dani said something to him and nodded, before pointing at her sheet. That caused a little discussion, until he heard Mike say: “It’s your call,” to Dustin. Dustin looked at his sister, and she nodded again. “I’ve got this.” A moment of silence, and then Dustin turned around, giving Eddie his best fight stance and shouting: “Let’s kill that son of a bitch!”

 Twenty minutes later Cal was on the ground, but stabilized, and Mike and Dani badly wounded. Mike made his turn and killed the last cultist, trying to get closer, but not able to get into range, not able to do much else. Eddie was studying the board, mapping out potential moves. Dustin was the only one left with any offensive capabilities besides just hitting him. The only other threat was Dani, who would be able to cross into melee range. If she hit and did max damage, it’d be over. She was a direct threat, and he considered killing her first, but the chances off success were slim. Dustin had higher chances of dealing a killing blow with a spell. If he killed Dustin first and moved away, chances were a lot higher he’d survive another round to mop up the last two. “Your turn,” he told Dani. She was studying the board, nodding absentmindedly. “What are you waiting for? Go kill him!” Gareth yelled, but Mike shook his head. “Don’t do it, you’ve rolled like shit the whole time!” “Gee, thanks for pointing it out. Wouldn’t have noticed,” she said and rolled her eyes. Then she looked at Dustin, contemplating, and they stared at each other for a moment. “How far away am I from Dustin?” “Uh- about 75 feet,” Eddie said. Dani nodded slowly. “I’m wanna get within 60 feet of him.” Dustin’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait what- that wasn’t the plan!” “Change of plans,” she shrugged, then gave Eddie a nod of confirmation. “Before I go, I use my fifth level on my bonus action to heal myself.” “That wasn’t the plan!” “Shut up Dustin.”

Now Eddie’s eyebrows were up as well, because the move was so out of the blue, he’d never have expected it. “Sure. Go ahead and roll.” Dani was already rolling as he spoke, counting numbers. She looked to Mike with a smug smile.

“Hey, 14 points, that’s not so bad!” Mike’s whole face scrunched up. “For a fifth level spell? That sucks ass!” “Eh, I can work with that,” she shrugged, then pointed to the map. “I’ll head over here.” “If you leave, he’ll get an attack of opportunity,” Eddie pointed it out, but Dani didn’t seem bothered. “Bring it.” Eddie took the dice and rolled. Unlike her, he’d been rolling well, and took her down 7 more points. She didn’t seem to mind. Eddie wondered what she was up to. “Alright. For my action, I ready my last third level spellslot. That’s my turn.” Eddie watched her a moment, but her poker face seemed to be a lot better within the game than outside of it. “Alright… that means it is Vecna’s turn.” He heard gulps, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Jeff cross himself. Eddie stood, slowly dragging the figurine across the board. “He’s floating closer, right on your heels… As you feel the shiver of his undead presence drawing near, your life starts flashing before your eyes, Brianna….But you aren’t the one he wants right now. Vecna raises his clawed hand, dark energy erupts from his finger and arches for Galad. I need you to make a dexterity saving throw, Dustin.” “As soon as I see him reach for him, I release the spell I held and cast Warding Bond through my gauntlets,” Dani interjected, and Eddie stopped as he suddenly realized what she was doing. He’d read of the item on her sheet but totally forgotten about it, and now it came back to bite him in the ass cause she just pulled his plan right out from under him. “What’s that do?” Mike asked. “Damage he takes carries over to me instead. If it goes over my hp, he takes whatever is left.” That’s why she’d healed herself up. Dustin started to object but Dani ignored him and looked at Eddie expectantly. Even though this afternoon had made him realise that he knew next to nothing about her, and the things he thought he knew were clearly wrong, he understood perfectly what she wanted from him in that moment. Eddie cleared his throat, turned his face serious and wrapped himself in his Dungeon Master persona. “Too late, my friend. The spell is cast, the choice is made. Roll to see if you can halve the damage.” It was clear Dustin still wanted to argue, but when Eddie raised his eyebrows at him, he groaned and rubbed his face. “This is bullshit! You roll,” he pointed at Danielle,” if this kills you I don’t wanna be responsible.” “As Mike so helpfully pointed out, I’ve been rolling like shit the whole time. If I roll I’m a lot more likely to die.” “No, that means it’s statistically more likely you’ll succeed this time,” Dustin said, in that annoying know-it-all voice of his. Dani scoffed. “Yeah I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works.” Dustin opened his mouth again and she raised her hands to stop him. “Alright, god, I’ll do it.” She held her hand out and Mike dropped the D20 on her open palm. “Well,” she said, and looked in the round,” Gentlemen, it’s been an honor fighting with you.” She shook three times and released the die. It hopped over the table, once, twice, then wobbled one last time and stopped. 2. The guys erupted in groans, Dustin jumped from his seat again, but Eddie was watching Dani. She stared at the number for a second, before smiling the tiniest bit to herself. Then she looked up and met his eyes steadily and nodded. Eddie gave her the slightest bow and picked up his dice to roll damage. “You take… 41 points of damage.” Dani nodded, stood, and knocked over her mini. “That kills me instantly. 4 points carry over.” Eddie nodded and hesitated only for a moment before he announced: “As the dark magic rips through your chest and steals your last breath, you feel the light fading a last time. Brianna Dawnguard, Paladin Lathrandir, has lost in her last stand against the darkness. But her death may not yet be in vain, as she died giving her comrades the chance for the final blow…” “That’s bullshit!” Dustin yelled again. Dani looked at Dustin, clearly exasperated. “What are you waiting for? Make it count!” They stared at each other in the stubborn way only siblings could, before Dustin threw up his hands. “I cast Shatter at his ugly head at 4th level.” And because Dani had taken his attack of opportunity, he couldn’t counterspell it with a reaction. There was nothing he could do. This was it. Eddie nodded. “Roll to hit.” Dustin reached for the D20, the others all standing now, tension so thick in the room you could cut it with a knife.

Time seemed to slow down as it rolled across the table, all of the last year of work culminating in this moment. It spun and stuttered, and then came to a sudden stop. 20. Cheers erupted across the table, all of them reaching for Dustin, trying to shake or hit him in triumph. Eddie jumped up, clasping his hands in mock surprise as he gave them their win.

[pregnant-piggy]

Reminds me of home

Jesper Fahey x reader

words: 5.5k

warnings: mentions of food and animals, reader’s mother is dead, no pronouns used for the reader

A/N: this is my first time writing Jesper, so I struggled with his character and don’t think this is totally right, but I loved writing this too much not to share it with you :) please let me know what you think, thank you!

The sun was setting slowly in the sky, painting orange strikes on a gradually darkening canvas, when Jesper checked the note in his hand one final time, before stepping onto the driveway of the old farmhouse. Around the farmhouse lay a yellow-green grass lawn, with on the left side of the house a little garden with flower beds in full bloom. Behind the house stood the stables and sounds of breezing horses and bleating goats filled the air, along with the lingering scent of drying grass. 

The front of the house was covering in shadow, the red bricks and woodwork a tone darker than they would be in the sunlight. Above the front door hung a single lamp, and the flickering of the fire inside of it wasn’t enough to compete with the light of the setting sun. 

Jesper groaned as he walked over the driveway to the front door. He wondered what the odds were that he had pulled the farm out of the stack with hideouts. 

A week ago, Kaz had come with his plans for a new job. This time the victim was a rich merchant, who had a large estate in the country lands outside of Ketterdam. The merchant’s name was Klaas Rover and he was well-known in wealthy circles. 

Just recently, Rover had bought a very pricey DeKappel painting and Kaz had found out that he was moving the painting to his country-estate at the beginning of that week. The basics of the plan had been easy. As long as Rover wasn’t at the house and the painting was, it would be impossible to get it with all the security. But, according to Kaz, there would be one moment of weakness in the security. From the morning Rover would step foot into his mansion to the night he’d fall asleep there, the merchant would want to showcase his painting to everyone who’d want to see it. That night had been the night to strike. 

And so had Kaz done. He had set out with a small team; Inej and Jesper had been at his side, followed by two other Dregs, Pieter and Roos. The whole operation had gone according to plan and the painting had come off the wall and outside without a hitch. 

That was why it had come as a surprise when Kaz had pulled out three pieces of paper with the notion that they had to hide for a couple of days. Inej had gone with Kaz, Pieter and Roos were together, and Jesper was alone. 

‘Remember, you are Thomas van Dijk now,’ Kaz had said before they had parted ways. ‘You are a student and stranded alone after a trip with your fellow students. I know the people there and they will take you in.’ 

Kaz had disappeared before Jesper could say anything and he had seen no other option than to follow Kaz’s orders. 

So now he was standing in front of a farmhouse, silently cursing his friend before knocking on the door. 

A broadly built man opened the door and eyed Jesper suspiciously. This one tried to keep his easy posture and smile, but he felt himself grow slightly uncomfortable under the gaze of the man. 

‘What do you want?’ he asked brusquely. 

Jesper swallowed and his hands automatically reached for his hips, finding nothing but air there as he had hid his revolvers in his bag, figuring it wouldn’t be too great of an entrance. He scratched the back of his head and let out a nervous chuckle. 

‘I’m Thomas van Dijk,’ he started, wondering if the man would ever believe him. ‘I uhh… I was out with friends—a break from studying, you see? And this morning when I woke up they were gone and they took all transport… so I was wondering if I could perhaps stay here until they pick me up again?’ 

The man glanced at Jesper for a while. ‘D’you know farm stuff?’ he then asked. 

‘Sure,’ Jesper shrugged, figuring that it couldn’t be all too hard. 

‘Alright, then,’ the man nodded and stepped aside to let Jesper in, ‘you can stay here for a few days.’ 

Jesper sighed relieved and walked into the farmhouse, only realising inside that he had had no plan if this hadn’t worked out. 

The interior of the house reminded Jesper of his home in Novyi Zem. The walls were painted in a warm colour green and an old rug lay on the stone floor. On the wall in the little hall hung a portrait of a beautiful woman standing in a field of wildflowers. She had long hair framing her face, falling down in curls around her shoulders. The woman looked like she was in her late thirties, but she had a smile that was ageless. 

Jesper followed the man into the next room, which was the living and dining area. There was an open door that led to the kitchen, from where Jesper could smell whatever the man was cooking. Another door probably led to a staircase, Jesper figured by the shape of the little space behind it. 

The main room was an extension of the hall. The same green coloured the walls here and more paintings hung on the walls. Jesper recognised the woman in more pictures on the wall, and sometimes she was accompanied by a child. 

Jesper looked around, wondering where the rest of the household was. Kaz had spoken about more than one person, but so far Jesper had only seen one; and that one was standing right in front of him. 

‘You can sit there,’ the man said and pointed at the chairs around the table. ‘You want dinner?’ 

‘I’d really appreciate that, sir,’ Jesper said and the man nodded before he disappeared into the kitchen.

-=-=-=-=-

The sky was dark and the last rays of the sun were setting behind the horizon when you heard the bell from the kitchen, telling you that dinner was ready. 

You always spent so much time outside that your father had given up on trying to find you for dinner. Instead he had installed the bell to let you know when you had to come home, and when you cooked you used it to get your father back home. 

You got up from your spot on the ground next to Klara. She was the oldest cow you had at the little farm and she had been your mother’s favourite. However, two nights back Klara had suddenly fallen ill and so far she hadn’t improved yet. You had spent the last two days neglecting your duties at the farm to take care of her. Klara was the one thing that was closest to your mother and you refused to say goodbye to her too. 

Silently you slipped from the stables and walked back to the house. There was light burning behind the windows and you saw the silhouette of your father inside, sitting at the dinner table. In a flash you thought you saw your mother there too, but as you blinked the image fell away. 

Stepping through the backdoor in the kitchen, you kicked off your boots and shrugged off your coat. Quickly you washed your hands and face and arranged your hair, before you walked into the living area, knowing that your father liked you to not be messy at dinner. 

‘Klara’s not any better,’ you said as you walked into the room. ‘She’s just lying still and—’

You stopped talking as your eyes found the stranger at the dining table. He was sitting opposite of your father, looking at you with a smile. The boy could be not much older than you were, but by the way he was clumsily sitting in the chair, you saw that he was a lot taller than you. His dark-skinned body was clothed by a dark green suit with flashy, golden buttons, lined with a silky lime-green fabric. Below his dark eyebrows two eyes glittered merrily and his smile got a little more confident as you sat down at the table. 

‘What’s going on?’ you asked your father. 

‘This is Thomas,’ your father answered, nodding towards the strange boy. ‘His friends ditched him and he needed a place to stay for a few days. With the situation around Klara, I figured a little help at the farm wouldn’t hurt.’ 

You stared at your father for a moment and then turned to Thomas. ‘Are you from the city?’ 

The boy nodded. ‘Yes, I go to the university in Ketterdam.’ 

‘What happened?’ 

‘We had a few days off and decided to go on a trip here. But when I woke up this morning my friends had left. I have no transport home and after searching for a place to stay all day, I got here.’ 

‘Nice friends you have,’ you mumbled and something in the boy’s face turned bitter. 

‘Don’t get me started,’ Thomas said and then he smiled at you. 

-=-=-=-=-

Jesper was woken early by a heavy, pounding headache. The sky outside was pink from the sunrise and with the figures of the trees and houses it looked like a painting to Jesper—one that was far more beautiful than the one he stole from Rover. 

As he rolled over in his bed and reached for his temples, it didn’t take long for Jesper to realise that it wasn’t his head that was pounding—there was someone at the door of the room. Groaning Jesper sat up in his bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the sleeve of the shirt that he had borrowed to sleep in. 

‘Coming, coming,’ Jesper groaned when the knocking kept going. 

He opened the door and was met with your eager face, painted with a big smile. You chuckled at Jesper and shook your head. ‘Come on, Thomas! Work doesn’t wait!’ 

Just for a split second Jesper was confused as to why you called him Thomas, but then he realised that the whole show he was putting up here was nothing more than that; a show. You didn’t know who he really was and, if he was honest, Jesper did feel a little guilty about it. You were so kind to him and he hadn’t even given you his real name. 

This was not the time for morale questions, however, and Jesper shook the guilt off him. ‘Right,’ he said slowly and then glanced into his room, finding the bag he had dumped on the floor. He had not brought anything other than his guns, the clothes he had been wearing and a little money. ‘Do you perhaps have some clothes I can borrow?’ 

Half an hour later, Jesper was standing in the stables next to the house with a buttered slice of bread in his hand. He was wearing a linen blouse and trousers of rough material that you had given him. He felt naked without his guns resting on his hips, but taking them with him had been out of the question. Now he felt like the Jesper he had been before he had gone to Ketterdam—poor, weak and unskilled. 

You came back with a large sack in your arms, that you dumped into Jesper’s arms. He stumbled under the sudden weight, but managed to keep his balance. 

‘My dad’s out on the fields today, so we have to take care of the stables,’ you said. ‘If you feed the chickens, I’ll do the goats and then we’ll get together again, okay? Don’t forget the eggs!’ 

You turned around and walked off and Jesper was left baffled. Unsure, he turned and walked to the chicken coop, finding a bunch of chickens there. A fat, white one looked up when Jesper stood over the coop and cooed softly. The chicken kept staring at him as he walked around the fence and Jesper slowly began to freak a little. 

He put his hand in the bag with food and grabbed a handful of seeds that he threw as far away from him in the chicken coop as possible. All the chickens rushed to the food—including the fat, white one—and Jesper quickly stepped over the fence and lowered to his knees so he could reach into the henhouse. He was met with the angry eyes of another chicken that was still sitting inside the house. She pecked at Jesper’s hand while he tried to find the eggs that you wanted. 

When he finally pulled back, he had found six eggs. His hand was throbbing and even bleeding at some places. As fast as he could he walked away from the chicken coop back to the stables, where he dropped the sack with food on the ground and sat down next to it, examining his hand. 

After a few minutes you came back from the goats and the smile on your face changed to worry when you saw Jesper sitting defeated on the ground. 

‘Are you alright?’ you asked. 

Jesper quickly jumped up and nodded, hiding his hand behind his back. He forced a smile on his face and tried to look excited at you. ‘I’m perfectly fine.’ 

You squeezed your eyes at him but dropped the subject. ‘Okay, if you say so,’ you mumbled and then nodded your head to the back of the stables. ‘We have to check on Klara again before we go on.’ 

‘Klara?’ Jesper asked. 

You walked off to the back and Jesper followed you, ending up at a dark stable where a big cow was lying on the ground, breathing deeply. She had her eyes closed and Jesper thought she was asleep, but when you stepped into the space, the cow opened her eyes and looked up at you. 

‘This is Klara,’ you unnecessarily explained. ‘She is our oldest cow, but it’s not looking so good for her now.’ 

You lowered to your knees and rested your hand on top of Klara’s head. The cow closed her eyes at the feeling and let out a deep breath. You closed your eyes momentarily and as a troubled shadow crossed your face Jesper realised that Klara wasn’t just another animal at the farm to you. 

‘Will she be alright again?’ Jesper asked, standing awkwardly at the entrance of the stable. 

‘I really don’t know,’ you sighed and you looked up at Jesper with sad eyes. ‘She’s not worse than yesterday, but also not any better.’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ Jesper said and he tried to give you a reassuring smile. 

You got up from the ground and gave Jesper a little smile back. ‘Thank you.’ 

-=-=-=-=-

Later that afternoon Jesper was sitting with you in the shadows of the house, looking out over the fields that surrounded the farm. Somewhere far in the distance he could see the figure of your father, as a little black silhouette against the bright light of the sun. 

Jesper was exhausted. Although he considered himself in good shape, the work on the farm was completely different from what he usually did in Ketterdam. Normally he would crouch, run and hide, but today he had had to use brute force and the running had only applied when one of the goats had gone after him. 

‘And,’ you said as you handed Jesper a glass of water, ‘how do you like it here?’ 

‘I’m so tired,’ he whined dramatically and you laughed, throwing your head back. ‘But it looks beautiful here. I like it—reminds me of home.’ 

‘Where’s home?’ 

Jesper hesitated for a moment, considering where his actual home was. 

‘I grew up in Novyi Zem, on a jurda farm,’ he told you, while staring out at the fields. ‘My dad still lives there, works on the farm now that I… am going to the university in Ketterdam…’ 

Carefully Jesper looked aside after his slip-up, but you hadn’t caught it. With your legs tucked to your chest and your arms wrapped around them, you were sitting in the chair, taking in the sunlight with your eyes closed. There was a soft golden glow on your face from the sun and the point of your nose glistened. 

‘...I guess that’s my home now,’ Jesper continued. ‘Ketterdam.’ 

‘Hmm,’ you hummed softly before you opened your eyes and looked at Jesper. ‘What’s it like? To live there?’ 

‘You’ve never been to Ketterdam?’ 

‘I have, but never for a long time,’ you said, giving Jesper an innocent smile. 

‘It’s… busy, noisy, crowded. There’s people everywhere, at all times of the day. When it’s hot the canals stink and when it rains the entire city turns grey. The rich people are mean and the poor are gross. It’s never safe and there’s a lot of crime.’ Jesper stopped talking to take a breath and noticed you were watching him with a raised eyebrow. Then he smirked. ‘It’s amazing.’ 

You leaned back in your chair and huffed. ‘I think I prefer the silence of the country.’ 

‘I get that. On my first day in Ketterdam I wondered how I could ever live there. I was sick with longing for home and the farm.’ 

‘What happened?’ 

Jesper grimaced. ‘I got a taste of real life.’ 

You waited for Jesper to continue, but he said nothing. He couldn’t really, not if he wanted to obey Kaz’s orders. Again he felt bad for you, for lying to you. You were so kind to him and all he did was lie about who he was; you didn’t even know his real name. 

-=-=-=-=-

You stepped out of your room while the sun wasn’t even up yet. The house was silent and dark, but you could easily find your way to the room you were headed for. This was the house you grew up in and you knew every secret hidden in every dark corner. 

‘Time to wake up!’ you said through the door and you knocked shortly. 

Yesterday, Thomas hadn’t been of great use with your animals, but you hoped that today he would. He had told you that he had grown up on a jurda farm so you figured fieldwork wouldn’t be as hard on him as the goats. 

There was a grunt from inside the room and you had to stifle a laugh. Once again you knocked—a little harder this time—and the grunt from inside came back louder. Yet there was little movement in the room and you rolled your eyes and grumbled something about lazy rich boys from stupid universities, before you threw the door open. 

‘What—hey!’ Thomas cried out. ‘I said I was coming!’ 

‘Sounded a lot more like you’d just roll over again,’ you said, leaning against the doorpost with your arms crossed. 

Thomas murmured something incomprehensible and he threw the blankets off of him. ‘If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked, you know?’ he smirked as he swung his legs off the bed and stretched his arms over his head. 

‘Hmm, if only I wanted,’ you shot back, but you couldn’t keep your eyes from gazing at his chest anyway. It was dark, but your eyes had gotten used to the darkness enough to be able to see the lines and shapes of Thomas’ bare body. There was no denying his fitness, but what caught your attention more were the scars littered over his torso. From small, almost innocent lines to light-coloured circles and dents. For the simple student he claimed to be, he had an awfully damaged body. 

You averted your eyes from his chest and shook your head. How this boy’s body looked was none of your business, so there was no point of dwelling on it. Yet, as you turned around to leave the room, you found yourself fighting the urge to get closer and feel his body under your hands. 

‘You like waffles?’ you asked over your shoulder, seeing a big smile break on the half-naked boy’s face. 

-=-=-=-=-

Your father had worked on the fields yesterday, and most work had been done already. All there was left for you and Thomas to do was harvest the potatoes on the last piece of land and then sort them with the rest. It was heavy, dull work and you were glad there was someone to help you. 

Thomas and you were bent over the crops, working opposite of each other on a row of potatoes. The sun was shining on your back fiercely and you felt it burning on your neck. It was long too late to prevent the sweat from breaking out and you felt hot and sticky. 

Opposite of you, Thomas wasn’t doing much better. Little droplets of sweat were rolling down his temples and the shirt he was wearing was soaked with his sweat. Yet there seemed to be some sort of glow around him, like he was energetic still—even after the hours of labour. 

It was late in the afternoon when you pulled out the last of the potatoes. You and Thomas dropped down on the grass on the edge of the field, both sighing with relief that the hard work was over. 

‘Only sorting left,’ Thomas said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. ‘How long will that take?’ 

You squeezed your eyes against the afternoon sun as you looked at the boy next to you and shrugged. ‘About two hours, I guess.’ 

‘Two hours in this heat is an eternity,’ Thomas stated. 

‘We could do it tonight,’ you suggested. ‘After dinner, when it has cooled a bit.’ 

‘And what do we do until then?’ 

You shot Thomas a cheeky smile and got up from the ground. ‘I have an idea.’ 

You led Thomas through the sunny fields and over the meadows around the farm, ignoring the sunshine in your face. Eventually you slowed at large bushes and a few trees and you smiled at the boy before you pushed aside some branches and stepped out into an open spot with a small lake. 

Thomas burst out in laughter and turned to you with a big smile on his face. 

‘Last one in the water has to get the other drinks!’ he shouted as he threw off his shirt. 

You followed after him, stepping out of your shoes and trousers. As you ran towards the water you took off your shirt, throwing it somewhere behind you on the grass. You pushed off on the side and wrapped your arms around your legs as you jumped into the water next to Thomas with a cheer. 

The cold water engulfed your entire body and you happily welcomed it after the whole day of sun. Gasping for air when your head reached above the water again, you turned to Thomas. 

‘You were last!’ he exclaimed. 

‘Only because you were already in the water when you said it!’ you defended yourself and splashed water towards Thomas. 

‘Still counts!’ 

He pushed water back and you closed your eyes against the waves. Water dripped down your hair and face, getting stuck in your eyelashes. You blinked the drops away and swam a little closer to Thomas. 

Planning to create a huge wave, you lowered your hands in the water, when you felt something slimy slither past your foot. You squealed and leaped into Thomas’ arms, almost drowning him with the sudden weight. Terrified you scanned the water around you, looking for the thing you had felt. 

‘What’s wrong?’ Thomas asked, trying to keep you in his arms while staying above the water. 

‘I felt something!’ you squeaked, still looking around you. 

‘Don’t tell me you’re afraid of fish,’ Thomas laughed. 

‘I am not! I just freaked because I—’ you started but stopped when you quit looking and found yourself very close to Thomas. 

That same deep urge as this morning crawled inside your mind before you could stop it. Despite yourself you admired the simple beauty of the face so close to yours. This boy had something enchanting, and it was more than just his jokes and smirks. Something about him made you want to cling onto him and not let go. 

You did let go, however, and quickly swam back to the side in silence. Thomas followed you and climbed on the grass, offering you a hand so you could get out of the water yourself. 

As you got dressed—with some difficulty because you were both still wet—far in the distance you heard the sound of a bell, telling you that dinner was ready. 

‘Finally,’ Thomas said, as he pulled his shirt over his head. ‘I was beginning to worry we wouldn’t eat at all.’ 

-=-=-=-=-

Jesper was sitting alone at the back of the house with two large baskets of potatoes in front of him. Luckily it had cooled down and it was now pleasant to sit outside. 

You stepped out of the house with a tray in your arms. Two glasses of lemonade and a plate of biscuits stood on the tray that you put down on the ground between Jesper and you, before you sat down yourself. 

‘How generous of you,’ Jesper started, as he took the glass. ‘Almost like you didn’t lose the race.’ 

You shook your eyes as you took a biscuit, which you used to point at Jesper. ‘That race wasn’t fair, and you know it.’ 

‘Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.’ 

You rolled your eyes but there was a smile on your face nevertheless. Then you nodded towards the baskets. 

‘Two piles,’ you said. ‘One with small potatoes and one with normal and large.’ 

You took out a few potatoes and showed Jesper how to determine the size. He got on quickly and you were already starting on the second basket when your father called you away. 

Jesper continued on his own while admiring the sunset he always missed in Ketterdam. He loved living in the city and wouldn’t want it any other way, but in moments like these he did miss his old home. He missed the simplicity of life back then, of knowing exactly what was going to happen in your day. Living in the city, living with the Dregs, had taken that certainty from Jesper. 

The sun had almost completely set when you came back and the last rays of sunshine reflected in the tears on your face. You sat down with a sigh next to Jesper and before he could ask you what was wrong, you burst into sobs. 

Before thinking, Jesper dropped the potato in his hand and crawled to you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to his chest. He didn’t know where the action came from or why he did it, but seeing you so heartbroken hurt Jesper’s own heart. 

You buried your face in Jesper’s neck and he wrapped his arms a little tighter around you. He could feel your quivering breaths on his skin and your tears soaked his shirt but he didn’t care. 

‘It’s okay,’ he whispered and pressed a kiss on the top of your head without a second thought. ‘Let it out. It’s alright.’ 

After a while your tears stopped and your quivering breath changed for hiccoughs. You lifted your head from Jesper’s shoulder and looked at him with an apologetic look, that he discarded immediately. 

‘Don’t even dare to apologise,’ he said and you laughed softly. Jesper wiped the tears from your face and cradled your head in his hands. ‘What’s wrong?’ 

‘It’s Klara,’ you said as Jesper dropped his hands from your face to your hands. ‘My dad went looking at her and she’s doing even worse than before. I know she’s just a cow and everything, but she’s the strongest connection I have to my mother and I just…’ 

You looked up at Jesper and smiled sadly. ‘I don’t know, it probably sounds weird.’ 

Jesper shook his head and gave your hand a little squeeze. 

‘It doesn’t sound weird,’ he said, thinking of how he had clung to the littlest thing of his mother after she had passed. 

You sniffed and smiled at Jesper. ‘Thanks.’ 

‘Of course,’ he said, as he sat back next to you, taking a new potato in his hand. 

You followed his example and for a while you worked in silence, until Jesper took the last potato from the basket and threw it on the pile left of him. He turned to you and found you staring at the dark sky. 

‘What was your mother like?’ he asked finally, giving in to his curiosity. 

‘She was perfect,’ you said and you smiled faintly ahead of you. ‘She was caring, kind and smart. She kept things going around here. There is not much to do, but she always made sure I was never bored.’ 

You laughed shortly and turned to Jesper. ‘Perhaps I’m a little biased; she was my mother after all.’ 

‘Maybe,’ Jesper said and he gave you a smile. ‘But you’re allowed. Who better than kids to judge a parent?’ 

‘She was beautiful too,’ you added. ‘Did you see the paintings? My dad used to paint a lot, but since my mother passed away he hasn’t picked up a brush. It’s a shame, I think he’s really talented.’ 

Jesper nodded. He had wondered why the paintings had only been of the woman young, but she hadn’t aged anymore after that. 

Now that the sun had set, the warm air slowly turned cold. Jesper fought the urge to wrap his arms around his own body. He looked at you and noticed the goose bumps on your arms too. He got up and offered you his hand. 

‘Come on, let’s go inside,’ he said. ‘It’s freezing out here.’ 

You took Jesper’s hand and followed him to the backdoor of the house. When you walked past the path that led to the stables, you slowed and pulled lightly on Jesper’s hand. 

‘Can we…?’ you asked and before you had finished your sentence Jesper nodded. 

‘Of course.’ 

The stables were warmer than outside and though Jesper still hadn’t gotten used to the smell he much rather be there than outside. He much rather be there with you than alone in his bed. 

Klara lay in the back and you let go of Jesper’s hand to rush over to her. You dropped to your knees next to the cow and wrapped your arms around her. Big tears rolled down your cheeks and the soft sound of your crying filled the barn. 

Jesper sat down in a pile of dried hay and stared at his hands as he listened. After a while your crying stopped and only the heavy breaths of Klara could be heard. Feet shuffled and when Jesper looked up you weren’t sitting next to the sick animal anymore but next to him. 

Your cheeks were still wet from the tears, but you managed to give Jesper a little smile. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. Slowly he leaned back in the hay until his back found support and he was almost lying down. 

Without needing more words, you pulled your legs on the hay and settled against Jesper’s body. With one hand to your own chest and the other rising and falling with the motion of Jepser’s chest, you quickly fell asleep. 

Jesper glanced down at you and almost got unwell by the sense of comfort that washed over him. The longer he looked at you the more that little bubble of guilt in his stomach grew, but before he could do anything about it the hard work of the day took its toll on him and he dozed off. 

-=-=-=-=-

You woke up in a pile of hay by something that was nudging your leg. Slowly and grumbling against the bright morning light you opened your eyes to find a cow standing in front of you. 

‘Klara!’ you cried out and the happiness that filled you at seeing she had recovered during the night drowned out all the sleep left in your system. 

You jumped up and stumbled to the cow, throwing your arms around her neck. A few tears of happiness escaped your eyes and they dropped down on Klara. After last night you really didn’t think she would recover anymore, let alone be standing on her own feet. 

As you hugged Klara, you suddenly remembered that you hadn’t been alone last night. You let go of the cow and returned to the hay you had woken up in. Instead of the boy you had fallen asleep against last night now lay a little note. 

Good morning sleepyhead,

My friends finally picked me up early this morning and you looked too peaceful to be disturbed. I want to thank you and your father for letting me stay at your humble farm. It did me good to be out of the city for a while. I want to thank you as well for your company and honesty. I really hope Klara gets better—she seems quite cool.

I know you don’t like the city, but if you ever accidentally find yourself there and you miss my sparkling presence, go to The Crow Club and ask the bartender for Jesper Fahey. They’ll know who to find.

Take care, 

Thomas

- - - - - - - - 

taglist: @is-it-really-a-secret @mrs-brekker15​

MASTERLIST

[hoe-doroki]

Hi there! I don't think I've requested anything from you before ( my memory is awful though)

Anyhow I was wondering if I could get some Izuku smut with a female reader.

The scene is youre out with your girls, ( mina, hagakure, Momo) at the club having a good time. You see this green eyed stranger looking at you across the room.

His boys hype him up to ask you to dance and it ends up turning into following him back home ( I LIVE for soft dom! Deku!)

Thanks for taking the time to read and answer this!

Ugh, sorry this took so long, nonnie! You sent this in just as I was being eaten alive by a fic that’s wayyyyy longer than it needs to be. But I’m here now and you said the magic words: soft dom. Yesssss. I went college!AU for this and I hate clubs (drinking, dancing, flirting, no thanks) so I projected that on the reader a bit. Oopsie! It was hard to keep Izuku in character for this, but I did my best. Anyway, hope you like!

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, Kaminari and M*neta leering, spanking, slight exhibitionism, alcohol (not drunk sex, though), dirty talk

rating: explicit, 18+

wc: 5k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Sometimes people looked at you, Mina, Momo, and Tooru and wondered how you were friends. People who had only known each of you as you were in college could never put it together. But the answer was simple: you’d been friends since high school. You were rapidly becoming different people, but those three were still your girls through and through.

That was how you, Mina, Tooru, and Momo ended up in the club that day. Two friends who really wanted to go—Mina and Tooru—and two friends who really didn’t—you and Momo. These things happen when you become friends years before you could be allowed in any club. Your college friends never would have invited you on an excursion like this—hell, none of them would ever be seen at a club either. But when Mina and Tooru showed up at your door begging you to go out and experience your twenties, you couldn’t say no. Now you were spilling out of the car Mina had called and walking on high heeled booties to a club you’d heard of but never been to.

“Obviously you actually wanted to go, Momo, otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing a top like that.”

Tooru wasn’t hiding the fact that she was ogling Momo’s very prominently displayed chest, all but bursting out of the deep v-neck she had paired with a short skirt.

“It’s only sensible for me to wear a top like this,” Momo said, her voice firm despite awkward fidgets to put her breasts a little more away. “Places like these are so hot that a shirt with a higher neckline would be soaked with cleavage sweat in a minute.”

“Mhmm, right,” Tooru said, flouncing away in her own crop top and shorts, eager to enter the club.

You’d gone simple, just tossing on a bodycon dress that you’d ordinarily pair with a sweater and tights, but that Mina had convinced you to wear on its own tonight. You crossed your arms, the chill of the evening seeping past the thin fabric even just in the short time it took to get from the heated car to the sweaty bar.

Tooru had run to the door and was nearly bouncing, waiting for the rest of you to catch up. Mina jogged over to her, looking the coolest of all of you in her black mesh crop top with nothing but a bra underneath and shorts that had the lacy scalloped hem of her underwear peaking out the top of. You hurried after them, just eager to get out of the cold. Tooru whipped the door open and the three of you piled in all at once, flashed your IDs, and then you were in.

The sound of the bass had thrummed loudly even outside, but once inside, your senses were overloaded. The music was deafening, the smell of alcohol bitter and heady, and the heat of sweaty bodies oppressive as Mina grabbed your wrist and dragged you through the crowd.

Even with Mina clearing the way, you had to elbow your way to the bar. This was the easiest part of the night—a task, something to do aside from trying and failing to work up the nerve to dance. Over the music, you yelled, “Whiskey ginger, well is fine,” to the bartender and turned to your girlfriends.

Mina and Tooru were already swinging their hips as they waited for their drinks, shimmying against each other to the beat. You and Momo were a little stiffer, not quite having the nerve or confidence to let your bodies be taken by the music.

“Girl’s night!” Mina cheered once everyone had a drink in hand. Glasses clinked and Tooru took a healthy gulp of her drink

“Can’t dance if you’re worried about spilling your drink,” Tooru said.

“Not with that attitude!” Mina said. She thrust her beer bottle in the air and then grabbed Tooru’s hand and the two of them stumbled into the mass of writhing bodies.

“You gonna follow them?” Momo asked, chewing on the straw of her drink.

“Not yet.” You had to shuffle away from the bar to make room for other patrons, moving to lean against one of the walls. “Maybe a bit of liquid courage.”

“It probably would have been wiser to do shots.”

You looked around, noticing how many people were already sending glances Momo’s way. You could draw direct lines all around the room between men’s leering eyes and Momo’s partially exposed chest, already beginning to glisten with sweat. You pursed your lips. It was nice to have Momo around as a fellow shy dancer, but it was discouraging to always be the one next to the prettiest girl in the room. People were looking right through you.

“You’ll probably get some sent your way soon enough,” you muttered.

“What?” Momo asked, her voice loud over the music.

“Nothing!” you replied. You squeezed the lime wedge into your drink and swirled it, drinking thirstily.

You hoped for one of two things. For the night to pass by quickly or for, unlikely though it was, something exciting to happen. Bars and clubs were predictable. Just once, you wanted to be surprised.

“Woah, look at her.”

Midoriya tried and failed to follow his friend’s gaze into one of the dark corners of the bar. Mineta was a good foot shorter than Midoriya, so it was hard to tell exactly where his line of sight was taking him. Kaminari seemed to hone in right away, though, pointing eagerly at the wall near the bar.

“Good find, Mineta,” Kaminari said. “Damn she’s hot.”

Midoriya followed Kaminari’s finger and noticed two girls huddled close together, sipping their drinks and observing the crowd, occasionally leaning over to talk to each other. One was dressed in a top and skirt and the other in a tight dress. The second girl’s hips were moving to the beat just slightly, as though she might not even know herself that she was doing it. She laughed at something her friend said, smile opening wide and fearlessly.

“Wow,” Midoriya said, eyes locked on her.

“What, did Mineta finally find a girl to meet your ridiculously high standards?” Kaminari asked, clapping Midoriya on the back.

“Maybe,” Midoriya murmured, watching as she waved to some other girls in the crowd.

“About time,” Mineta said. “I’ve never seen more perfect tits in my life.”

That snapped Midoriya out of his focus and he looked down at his friend, whose eyes were unblinking, scarily locked straight ahead. “What?”

“That plunging neckline perfectly showing what it would look like if I had my hands on either side of them,” he continued, his voice distant. Luckily, Kaminari smacked him upside the head.

“If you’re saying it loud enough to be heard over the music, you’re saying it too loud,” Kaminari chastised. “Besides, if Midoriya finally found a girl he likes, you should give him first dibs.”

“What?” Mineta asked, turning towards Kaminari, outraged.

“Wait, wait, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Midoriya said, waving his hands in front of him before his friends could have it out. “The girl I was looking at isn’t wearing a plunging neckline. Look there.”

Midoriya pointed in your direction as subtly as he could, smiling as he caught another glimpse of your beautiful laugh.

“Oh, her friend,” Mineta said.

“Yeah, that tracks,” Kaminari added, looking between Midoriya and you. “Well, you should go for it, man! Try your luck!”

Midoriya looked at Kaminari, brows furrowed. “Did you guys invite me just to get me laid or something?”

“Of course not,” Mineta said. “Your innocent face makes us look less like two fuckboys and the girls will trust us more. You’re our cover.”

“Purely selfish reasons then, okay,” Midoriya muttered. “Okay, yeah, I’ll go talk to her.”

“Do it!” Kaminari said, giving you a thumbs up. He kicked the back of Midoriya’s calf and sent him tumbling into the crowd. Amidst a song of sorrys, Midoriya made his uncertain way toward you.

Three men had already tried their luck with Momo in as many songs. She’d kindly refused each advance—no level of drunkenness had ever led Momo to so much as a sloppy makeout and you weren’t sure how many times hell would have to freeze over for that to change. You joked about each of the guys and their sad pick-up attempts, but, still, it had you feeling low. None of the guys even pretended to be interested in you. They went straight for Momo, trying their darndest to keep their eyes on hers and not drift south.

“Hello, uh, miss…”

You nearly rolled your eyes as you looked up from your drink, half gone already, to find another sucker that Momo would have to reject. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you were struck by how different this one was from the others. He didn’t look like the usual meathead dude-bro who swung by. He had a round face and freckles smattered under the roundest green eyes you’d ever seen. He looked sheepish already, anticipating the rejection he’d get from talking to a girl so far out of his league.

You felt the jolt of an elbow in your ribs and looked at Momo who was giving you intense eyes, eyebrows raised. She looked at you and then at the boy with the green hair, tilting her head, and suddenly you realized that you were “miss.”

“Oh, hello,” you said, unable to hide the confusion on your face.

“I’m Izuku,” the man said, smiling softly at you. “Would you, um, care to dance?”

You smiled. It sounded like this boy was expecting a waltz instead of the hips that were grinding against each other in the middle of this dance floor.

“I’m… not sure,” you said, so unfamiliar with the procedure here that you were floundering.  “You see, I don’t really dance.”

The boy breathed out what looked to be a sigh of relief and you suddenly noticed the muscles bulging under his t-shirt. His cute, innocent face was hiding a man who was seriously stacked. “The truth is, I don’t usually dance either. I was pressured into coming here by some friends.”

You looked over at Momo. “We know the feeling.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry, I didn’t get your names,” Izuku said, suddenly looking between the two of you.

Momo looked at you for a second then said, “I’m Momo and this is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Izuku.”

“You as well,” Izuku said to Momo before turning back to you. “You know, the thing about dancing is that if you just start and let go of everything, it can actually be kind of fun.”

This boy sounded just like Mina, the same argument she made every time she dragged you and Momo to one of these things. Sometimes you managed to let your guard down enough to enjoy it, sometimes not.

“It’s also more fun with someone else.”

Izuku was looking at you hopefully, and that just made his eyes even wider, such a dark forest green in the dim light of the club. You could feel yourself being pulled to him, like a string between you growing taut when Momo put a hand on your arm. “I’ll hold your drink and just come back when you want it, okay?”

Momo was giving you an intent gaze and you knew she was offering you an out. Try dancing with the boy and, if it wasn’t turning out well, say that you needed to go back to your friend. Easy.

“Okay,” you said, taking one more sip before handing your drink off to her. Then you extended you hand toward Izuku, who took it with his broadest smile yet, and led you into the mosh pit.

There was no sign of Mina or Tooru anywhere, haven fallen invisible in the throng of people. So it was just you and Izuku and a hundred strangers, all feeling the music sync with their heartbeats and then their hips, sending them moving.

You started facing each other, your hips moving from side to side, the rhythm slowly moving up so that your shoulders were shimmying, head bobbing. Izuku grinned, bopping along excitedly. He wasn’t a smooth dancer, not cool or rhythmic, but he didn’t seem to care. He put his hands lightly on your hips, encouraging you to move a little more. Asking you to let go.

You let your hips follow his touch and laughed when he rocked you from side to side, totally out of line with anything that might be sensual or suggestive. It was silly and you realized that maybe you’d been putting too much pressure to look a certain way, to be a certain kind of person. Music was for everyone, dancing was for everyone. Izuku seemed to know that already.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, giving yourself into the joy as the two of you rocked, free of expectation or anyone else’s experience. Before you knew it, the music had changed, the next song slightly slower, and your motions smoothed out to match. Izuku slid one of his hands back into yours and raised it over your head, initiating a turn. You went along and the next thing you knew, your back was pressed against his muscular chest, hips moving in tandem.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Mhmm.”

You could feel all corners of him pressed against you and you couldn’t help but push back into him. His chest was broader than it seemed, and you could feel the crease of his pecs, of his abs. His hands were on your hips, strong arms brushing your sides. You brought one hand up to touch his bare bicep, feeling how hard it was even unflexed.

Suddenly, you could feel Izuku’s breath on your jaw, the flutter of his lips brushing against the sensitive skin. You tilted your head, exposing the long column of your neck to him. He took that as invitation enough and pressed a kiss to it. He kissed up to your jawline and just behind your ear. He gave the lightest of sucks before you pulled away and offered him your mouth.

He took it eagerly, your lips moving at the same pace as your gyrating hips. You lost yourself in the feeling, the anonymity of kissing, hidden in a crowd of people. The rhythmic dance of your hips lulling you into a kind of easy complacency as you felt Izuku’s hand on the back of your neck, keeping your lips against his. The other one crept forward on your thigh, awfully close to your center, to the hem of your too-short skirt. He never breached either line, though. Just kept his hand there, suggesting where it could go.

“Come home with me,” you whispered when you separated for breath.

“What?” Izuku asked, face flushed, voice just carrying over the music.

You twisted back around so that you were face to face so that you could press your lips right up against his ear. “Come home with me, Izuku.”

You called for a car and sent Momo a text saying that you were going home. You hoped that Momo, Mina, and Tooru wouldn’t want to come back to your shared home anytime soon—Momo was smart enough to figure that out herself.

Twenty minutes later and you were home, you were horny, and you had someone willing and able to solve that.

“You’re not drunk, are you?” Izuku asked while you unlocked the door and ushered him in, kicking off your shoes as quickly as you could.

“Half a drink,” you said quickly. “You?”

“None.”

“Perfect,” you said, and you wrapped your arms around him once again, pulling him in for a kiss.

Izuku did you one better, grabbing hold of your thighs and picking you up like you weighed nothing. Your dress rose up over your hips and your center fell right against his crotch, grinding into it.

You were ready to give directions to your room, but Izuku didn’t carry you further than the living room before slamming your back against a wall and pressing his hips into yours. You gasped at the impact, but it was nothing painful—just surprising. Izuku dug his fingers into your thighs and said, “You seemed awfully eager for this. Desperate enough to handle a little roughness, princess? Or did you think this was gonna be easy?”

The epithet of princess send your heart plunging to your core, heat spreading throughout you. His voice was low, much lower than it had been at the club and your thighs clenched around him. “I thought…maybe…”

He’d been so sweet at the club, shy almost. You tasted his tongue on yours and he hadn’t been lying—no alcohol. The only taste passing between the two of you was the tang from your whiskey ginger. But now his grip on you and the low growl in his voice was telling you another story.

“Do you wanna be rough or do you wanna be a little princess? Or maybe both?”

“Both,” you keened desperately, breathlessly.

“I shoulda known, you grinding down on my cock like that,” he said, nibbling your exposed neck. “Can’t wait for me to fuck you, can you?”

He pulled back so you slid an inch down the wall, but his grip was tight enough to keep you from falling any further. Then his hips slammed back into yours, as though you were fucking already.

“Shit,” you whispered as he bit down on your collarbone.

“If you’re good, I’ll give you what you want,” he said. “If you’re not, it’s going to be a very long night.”

That half threat was almost enough to trigger your backtalk, see exactly what he had in mind to turn this night into a long one. But, by the same coin, you wanted to see what he had planned already.

“I’m good,” you whimpered.

“You are?” Izuku asked. “Prove it.”

He pressed his chest into yours, and you felt your breasts flatten against his pecs, your ribs trapped from a deep breath by his thick forearms.

“Strip and suck my cock.”

You unwrapped your legs from his waist and he released you to the ground. Your dress was stretchy and off in an instant, thrown to the floor, panties soon to follow. Then you were on your knees undoing his dark jeans and pulling out his long, plump cock.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, stroking your hair.

Preening at the praise, you wrapped your lips around your teeth, and swallowed him as far as you could go in one go. You wanted to be a good girl, after all.

“Shit,” Izuku said, keeping a light grip on the back of your head, but letting you do what you want, setting your own pace. You wasted no time with playful licks and kisses, immediately bobbing your head up and down and stroking the rest with your hand.

The noises that Izuku made, little huffs and whines, were cute, showing glimpses of the shy boy who had approached you at the club. He took off his shirt and you could see his abs in all their glory, even better than you’d imagined. As you sucked him off, you brought a hand up to the ridges of his lower abs and rubbed lightly, enjoying the hard muscle. After a trip down to his balls, sucking one into his mouth and you kept up your firm strokes, Izuku pulled you off, breathing heavily.

“That’s good. You’ve proven that you’re a good girl, princess.”

“I did?” you asked shyly, giving his cock a long lick just to make sure.

“Yes,” Izuku shuddered. “Stand against the wall.”

“Here?” you asked.

There were windows all over your living room, giving a clear view to the street and, more importantly, from the street into your apartment. More than that, there was no telling when your housemates would get home and, even if they knew you’d brought a boy home, they’d hardly expect him to be fucking you in the living room.

“Was I unclear, princess?”

“No,” you said, and you went to stand facing the wall. Izuku came up behind you and knocked your legs further apart, and then reached in front of you, rubbing two fingers from your slit up to your clit in a couple firm strokes. You gasped, your head falling forward, but before you could get used to the rough touch, he was gone.

“Where do you keep your condoms?” he asked casually.

“In my nightstand,” you said, moving to stand straight. He pushed your hands back against the wall, warning you not to move.

“Which room is yours?”

“The far one on the left,” you said, only turning your head to look over your shoulder.

“Good,” he said. “Don’t move.”

Then he was gone, leaving you naked, legs spread in your living room. You could feel how drenched you were—Izuku had taken a whole globule of your wetness and spread it all over your pussy. Now, standing spread, you could feel the cold air from the room on you when all you wanted was heat.

Izuku took his time in coming back, slow footfalls making their way back to the living room. You saw a box of condoms drop on the couch next to you and heard the telltale sound of one of the packages being ripped open. The next thing you knew, Izuku’s hands were on your hips, just like at the club, only now his cock was free, sliding in the slick of your pussy.

You gasped, pushing harder against the wall and thrusting your ass back toward Izuku. “Please,” you whimpered.

“Oh, you don’t have to ask,” Izuku said casually. “I know exactly what your slutty pussy wants. I can feel it dripping all over my cock. And you’ve been very good, princess, but that doesn’t mean that you’re in charge. Understand?”

“Yes, Izuku.”

You were pushed forward by the sudden force of a slap against your ass, then Izuku’s chest pressing firmly back into yours, his teeth by your ear. “Yes, who?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

“That’s better.”

He went back to thrusting, one of his hands snaking around your front, through your curls to spread your lips. Your puffy clit was exposed to the air and Izuku’s fingers spreading the skin provided just the slightest bit of pressure, but not nearly enough. You whined, bending more into him, aching for more contact than the occasional brush of his cock skating across your clit. But you wanted to be a good girl too.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Izuku said, his thrusts coming to a stop as the head of his cock butterflied your opening. “You’ve been very patient. Are you ready for your reward?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathed.

You groaned in relief as he split you open, sinking into you just as he pulled his fingers in a hard, slow stroke up your clit.

“You like that, princess?” Izuku asked, making his thrusts slow and deep, his finger’s strokes on your clit languid and intentional.

“Yes,” you moaned, rocking your weight back onto your heels as you met Izuku’s every plunge.

“You feel so good,” Izuku said, his voice becoming softer and more breathy as he got lost in the feel of you. His right hand began spinning circles on your clit, the left wrapped around your middle, fingertips rubbing almost tenderly along your side.

You could only pant, leaning your head back on his shoulder as Izuku’s thrusts sped up, your climax rising within you. “Fuck,” you murmured as his left hand fell to your hip, changing the angle so that he was now pounding your g-spot with every go. He continued like that for a minute, each hit bringing you higher and higher until he suddenly stopped.

“What?” you asked, and the next thing you knew, you were being pushed to the arm of your couch, a hand to the small of your back pressing your spine parallel to the floor, and—before you knew what was happening—he was back in you, going full speed.

You gasped, your head falling down, nipples rubbing against the fabric of the couch as your tits were sent swinging. That sensation caught you, sending fresh sparks through you.

“Are you close, Princess?” Izuku breathed, his quick thrusts breaking his voice.

“Yes, sir.”

“Touch yourself, then.”

You followed his instruction immediately, snaking your hand down to your clit and rubbing it with your practiced touch. The feeling of your cold fingers against your scorching clit, Izuku’s hot cock railing in and out of you, and the occasional spark of your nipples rubbing against the couch had you on the edge of your peak in no time.

“You gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum on my cock?”

“Yes,” you whispered, the heat in your stomach burning, almost unbearable as you reached your cusp.

“I’m close too, Y/N,” Izuku whispered. “God, you’re so perfect.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto your shoulder just as you shattered around him, keening as you rubbed yourself through your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he said, and you felt his thrusts become jagged, barely leaving you every time before plunging balls deep back into you. He shuddered and, before long, he finished too, taking slow, easy thrusts in and out of you before falling fully on your back, wrapping his arms around your middle.

He stayed there for just a moment before pulling out, taking off his condom and knotting it. You’d collapsed onto the arm of your sofa, face falling down the side as you tried to get your breath back under you, the feeling back into your legs.

“Was that too much?” Izuku asked, his voice soft and gentle again as he came in front of you, gently putting his fingers under your chin to bring your face back to him.

“No, that was amazing,” you said.

Izuku smiled and brought your lips to his for a quick kiss. “I’m glad. Where do you keep your water glasses?”

“Cabinet above the sink.”

“Great.”

Izuku gave you another kiss, this time on the cheek, and then he was gone. You stayed still for a few more moments, your breath back in both hands, the heat seeping from your face slowly but steadily. You pressed yourself up, curling your spine like a cat to fight against the deep sway you’d had against the couch and the wall and gave a little shimmy to work out the kinks. You took a quick trip to the bathroom, then you went around and scooped up all the pieces of clothing that had been thrown hither and yon and carted them back to your room. You’d just flipped on the light switch and dropped them in a pile on the floor when Izuku came back with a glass of water and a wash cloth.

“You got up,” he said.

“I just didn’t want my roommates to get home to find me fucked out against the couch,” you said with a smile, taking the glass he handed to you. “We have house rules.”

“That’s fair,” Izuku said as you took a glug of water. “Lie back on the bed.”

His voice was far less demanding than before, but you went along anyway. You set the water glass on the nightstand and then lay down, allowing Izuku to spread your legs. Some of the old heat returned to your face and you looked away from him as he took the washcloth to your center.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he said.

“It’s just different,” you squeaked. “After we’re done…In the full light and you’re just down there looking at me.”

“It’s only for a moment longer,” Izuku said as he cleaned you. True to his word, he took the washcloth away after a moment, pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and said, “You’re beautiful.”

The washcloth was added to the stack of clothes on the floor, and then Izuku was back in front of you, running his fingers lightly along the outside of your thigh.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said softly.

You sat up, putting a hand on his arm. “Stay.”

“Can I?”

His eyes were wide and innocent, like he hadn’t just fucked you raw in plain sight of the neighbors. Like he hadn’t spanked you and called you princess.

“Of course,” you said.

“I’m glad.” He smiled. “Cuddling is kind of my favorite part.”

“Is it, now?”

“I’ll prove it,” Izuku said, flipping off the light and climbing into bed behind you as you settled in. Then he had you wrapped tight in his arms, pulled flush against his chest. He let out a deep, satisfied sigh into your neck and said, “It’s just the best.”

“It kind of is,” you said, snuggling back against him.

There were a few more murmurs shared between you two but, slowly, the words fell loose, eyes falling closed. Your breathing evened out, and then there was nothing but Izuku’s arms and breath around yours.

“There’s a box of condoms on the couch!” you heard Mina screech a couple hours later, jolting you out of your deep sleep. You felt Izuku’s arms tighten protectively around you as he too let out a sharp intake of breath. “Our girl fucked!”

“Ooh, what a surprise!” Tooru cheered.

“Out here?” you heard Momo groan, her voice much more tired than Mina’s or Tooru’s.

“Dammit,” you whispered, and Izuku giggled behind you.

“That was my fault, I’m sorry.”

“Shh, just go back to sleep,” you said. “If we wake up early, we can sneak you out before any of them are up.”

“So long as I get to see you again,” Izuku murmured, nuzzling back into your shoulder.

Your chest warmed and you pulled Izuku’s arms closer against you, gripping them tightly before your hold fell lax in sleep. Tooru was right—you’d gotten the surprise you’d wanted.

“Definitely.”

[melofanish]

Hold Us In Those Arms

@strandbuckley Day 4: “Look How Far You’ve Come” + Future

Summary: If Carlos could use one singular word to describe the day, it would be some mix of 'horrendous', 'terrible' and 'assfuckery'. Apparently, the entirety of Austin decided to lose their brain cells on the same day, doing a range of dumb shit. And he was done. He was tired, and exhausted, and hungry. The promise of home was the only thing that kept him going as the last few hours of the shift rolled by. He can't believe that once upon seven years ago, he'd told TK that "if it isn't meant to be it isn't meant to be."They've all come so far.

Tags: Carlos Reyes, TK Strand, Original Female Character, Established Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Married Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Soft Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Carlos Reyes Needs a Hug, Good Significant Other TK Strand, Mentions of Past Emotional Child Abuse, Future Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort

Warnings:  There is a minor mention of past emotional child abuse of an original charter, so tread lightly if that's not something you're okay with.

Beta: The magnificient and mejestic @lire-casander

Read on AO3.

---

If Carlos could use one singular word to describe the day, it would be some mix of 'horrendous', 'terrible' and 'assfuckery'. Apparently, the entirety of Austin decided to lose their brain cells on the same day, doing a range of dumb shit. And he was done. He was tired, and exhausted, and hungry. The promise of home was the only thing that kept him going as the last few hours of the shift rolled by.

He parks in the driveway, unwilling to open the garage and snake his car inside. It's turned into somewhat of storage for a number of items they need to get rid of. It still takes both of their cars, but it requires manoeuvring the car around and a level of concentration that he just doesn't possess at the moment. So he parks in the driveway instead, stretching back to grab his bag, and then he's jogging up the porch.

He stops just outside the door, hand on the handle, and takes a breath. His family is extremely sensitive to his moods. He may not have a mirror at hand, but he can imagine how he looks; wrinkles on his forehead, a glare in his eyes, and thin lips. He sighs slowly, willing some of the tension to leave with the exhale. He repeats it again and then decides to pull on his big boy pants and he opens the door.

He's greeted by the smell of something sour cooking, and picks up lime and chicken spices in the air almost immediately. He drops his bag, toes off his shoes, and then takes a moment to stretch. He wants to get inside, feel the love and safety and security, but he doesn't want to bring any troubles from the outside world in.

He passes across the living room, dodging through Legos and car toys, making a mental note to tidy up the haphazard toy boxes in the corner. The TV is on, playing "Moana" on mute. He turns it off, the sound of a cabinet opening, a pan being lifted, and the cabinet closing pulling him further in.

As he steps under the door frame, Carlos can't help but take a moment to appreciate the way his life has turned out. TK is wearing his favourite apron, a piece of light yellow fabric with small, animated elephants stamped all over. He has his back to Carlos, focusing on whisking something in a bowl, and then he stops and slides over to the stove, lifting the lid of a pot to add green peppers and then closing it again, before returning to the bowl.

Ella is sitting behind TK at the bar on a high stool, her back to Carlos as well, and what looks like the contents of her school bag thrown across the table. Carlos can see that she has a pencil in one hand, and she's using the other one to count on her fingers.

He approaches her, standing right behind her, and peeks over her head. Her textbook is open to a page with two colourful red circles and four blue circles joined by an '×' sign, followed by a '=' sign, and then an empty cloud. He identifies the multiplication equation, the current lesson they're doing at school. He can see that she has already drawn in six circles, and the seventh has been drawn and erased. Multiple times if the wear on the paper tells him anything.

He bends and presses a kiss to the unruly brown curls on the top of her head. She stops looking at her fingers and diverts her focus up, at him. Her grey eyes are blown wide, and they're lined by an unshed layer of tears. Carlos is about to ask her what's wrong when the quiet serenity of the house is broken by the loud, high-pitched "DAAADAAA" as she stands up on the stool and turns to hook her arms around Carlos' neck.

Carlos picks her up, holding her little, lithe body against his, trying to squeeze her into himself. He can feel the swell of her smiling cheek in the crook of his neck, and as he turns his head to press another kiss to her head, he feels her reciprocate and press tiny, small pecks to the underside of his jaw. He feels two arms wrap around his torso then, hugging them both, and a strong muscular chest attaching itself to his back. TK lifts up on his toes and rests his chin on Carlos' empty shoulder.

They stand there for a few minutes, their daughter wrapped in his arms, and his husband enveloping them both, holding all three of them together.

TK is the first to pull away, squealing as he runs to the oven when he hears the jumble of the lid lifting by the boiling steam underneath. Ella lets go of Carlos' neck, and he drops her back into her seat before he excuses himself to go upstairs to change. As much as he wants to stay wrapped up with them, both he and TK have made it a point to change as soon as they get home. Getting into comfortable clothes, they've found, helps them let go of the burden of their jobs. It takes them away from professional mode and puts them into home mode, into parents mode.

Into family mode.

He can see TK giving him a look from the corner of his eye. But under Ella's watchful gaze, and behind the disguise of changing, TK doesn't say anything. He knows TK won't be expecting him back for a few more minutes, as he does his usual decompression coping mechanism of sitting on the sofa and trying to drown his own misery in the happiness around him.

He jogs up the stairs two at a time, and crosses the hallway to their bedroom in long, purposeful strides. He opens their closet and pulls out the first pair of sweatpants and t-shirt he spots, laying them both on the bed as he begins to remove his clothes. He hurries through the process, getting his pants and socks off in one move, and then unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt and removing it through his head. He gets into his home attire just as fast, and then he's out the door. He stops at the last moment, turning back to grab his clothing off the floor and throwing them in the general direction of the hamper, and then he's out.

He's right about halfway down the stairs when he hears a faint echo of a whimper. He pauses, trying to focus on the source of the noise, when he hears the clearer, unmistakably Ella's sniffles.

"What's wrong, baby?" He hears TK asks, the concern and the worry apparent in his voice alone.

"I don't- I don't know how to do it, Papa, I can't d-do it, it's so hard!" comes Ella's crying response. Carlos doesn't need to have them in his visual field to know that TK is wearing a sympathetic, heart-broken look and that Ella's looking up at her dad, seeking comfort and solace.

He isn't sure what it is, but something compels Carlos to sit on the stairs and listen, rather than walk in and act. Just as his butt touches the rising, he hears the scratch of a chair on the flooring, and then TK's "come up here," and he knows Ella has been picked up.

Carlos hugs his knees, knowing that down the hall, Ella is held in TK's arms. He's been in those arms many-a-times, and he's very aware of the safety and security and love that they radiate. He knows Ella is in the most comfortable place she could possibly be.

The few next moments are spent in silence on both ends. Carlos is solely focused on the soft taps on TK's feet as he undoubtedly sways from one side to the side, and Ella's slowly diminishing gasps until both sounds stop.

"You're doing so well, honey. Why are you saying that you can't do it?" TK breaks the silence, voice full of love and concern.

"It's hard, I don't know how-" Ella’s voice wavers for a moment before she takes a breath and continues, "I don't know if I can."

TK lets out a sad whine, and Carlos' heart does the same. He can hear the insecurities seeping into Ella again, her seven-year-old mind still not over the three years she spent with a family that called her 'stupid' and 'idiot' for not being able to do things that she shouldn't have been able to do in the first place.

"Yes, you can, love. Just because it's hard doesn't mean you can't do it!" TK tries to reason with her. Carlos can tell Ella doesn't believe him by the violent whimpers she lets out before TK follows up, "No, no, listen, remember last year? When you said you couldn't do addition?"

There's no reply for a moment, and then Ella is humming a small "yeah?"

"Yeah, remember? You can do it now! You learned! You do addition so fast now! You've come so far!"

There's another beat of silence that leaves Carlos straining to listen for the smallest of noises, anything so he can know what's going on in their kitchen.

"Oh," Ella grumbles eventually. "So, I just need to work like I did with adding?"

"Yes!" TK exclaims, and Carlos can't help but smile at the excited tone coming from his husband. His smile widens even further when Ella huffs a quiet "okay" in response.

He hears a thump that he thinks is Ella being put down onto the stool, and then the rustle of pages being turned. The soft padding of feet drag away from him, and then there's the sizzle of oil as something is dropped on it. He knows that they're back to normal.

Carlos takes another moment, just sitting there on the stairs, hugging his own legs. There's something about being there with them - but not - that gives him a weird sense of peace. It's witnessing them alive, hearing the sounds of their voices and movements, knowing that their personal tiny bubble is untouched, undisturbed, untroubled by whatever dangers are in the outside world. It's knowing that his family is safe and sound within the walls of their home.

He takes a deep breath and gets up. Whatever peace he feels hearing them, he knows it'll be multiplied when he's around them. He continues his descent down the stairs, walking the length of the hall, but when he gets to the living room he pauses. His plan was to just plop on the sofa for a few minutes, get his psyche and emotions under control. Instead, he finds himself drawn to the kitchen.

He heads to Ella first, dropping a kiss on her head again. He's pulling away when realises that she has eight circles drawn now, and is on to the next problem, and he finds himself bending for another kiss. She looks up at him with the second one and smiles, her bunny teeth piercing through his very soul.

He moves on from her, entering the 'U' of the kitchen and hugging TK around the waist, laying his chin on his shoulder. TK turns his head and plants a kiss on his cheek, eyes quickly darting away to rack over Carlos before he fixes his gaze on the pot again. Carlos hears the unspoken question all the same. He isn't usually back with them so soon. But hearing Ella cry and TK comforting her must have healed some part of his own sad soul. And now he's onto the next part; he wants to be in their arms as well.

Carlos smiles, hoping it carries as much peace as his heart is starting to feel, and he plants a kiss at the edge of TK's jaw. He trails a few up, and then whispers in his ear, "Wow! I can't believe you used to burn toast! You've come so far!"

TK freezes under his arms, head fully twisting this time as he turns to glare at Carlos in recognition of the very same phrase TK just used.

There was a time, when they first adopted Ella, when TK would feel attacked at being listened to while he deals with her. But they've talked about it. TK understands now that Carlos' need to stay close to the moment - but not in it - has nothing to do with his ability to parent. It just calms Carlos down, and his view on it has since shifted. He now sees it as proof of his skills. If Carlos didn't think he was doing something right, he wouldn't just sit there and watch and listen from afar.

Carlos doesn't react to the glare and pursed lips. He just laughs, steals a kiss off the puckered mouth, and then moves to sit by Ella.

As he plops down next to her, she turns to him and asks about the next equation she's solving.

He can't believe that once upon seven years ago, he'd told TK that "if it isn't meant to be it isn't meant to be."

They've all come so far.

[project-rosewood-476]

The Long Way Home

Yet another side fic for ERHIT.

I'm so sorry all I know how to do is angst.

SUMMARY: Tabby and her mom drive home the long way around after a day out. Tabby tries to have a heart-to-heart with her mom but it doesn't go as planned. Leaving Tabby more alone than she could ever imagine

The way home seemed much longer to Tabby than what she remembered—passing through trees that all looked the same with few houses in between. They were driving through the town of Applewood Creek. After this, they would be entering the town of Maplehood Creek and then...home.

Tabby scoffed at that notion. Home? Home is where your real family is. The people who loved and cared and taught and accepted you for you. The people she lives with don't do that, and they're just going back to where they live. The closest thing she had to a home and family was with her friends. But now, she doesn't even have that anymore.

She rested her head on the cool glass window with her knees pulled up to her chest, facing away from her mother, who was driving the car. The miserable child had a dull look in her once wide eyes filled with hope. The only things that brought her brief solace were the rustling of the bags of groceries in the back and the low rumble of the engine that lulled her to the long-awaited sleep.

The older woman at the wheel kept casting pitying glances at her child mixed with concern that only a mother has. She looked to be in her early 30s and looked like a much older version of Tabby. Only she was slightly on the big side and had worse bags under her eyes than Tabby does from working long hours. She wore a lime green tee shirt and ripped faded light blue jeans from years of wear and tear. She had her red-brown hair that was littered with gray strands from stress. Same wide eyes that Tabby does, only hers was green.

Her mother often liked to bring Tabby along for grocery shopping since her "loving boyfriend" repeatedly refused to let Tabby out of the house. So to attempt to make up for the lack of...everything, she tries to take her out for errands, and they go out to eat and talk. It was their weird form of bonding during her mom's limited days off and away from the house, where Tabby was slightly more relaxed. She knew that Tabby hated going home, so they took the most extended way possible back. It was the least she could do.

But that's not enough.

Tabby could feel her mother's periodic gazes on her. She knew something was wrong with Tabby. Tabby grew irritated of her mother's pity constantly on her.

"If you have something to say to me, say it," said Tabby bluntly through closed eyes.

Her mother sighed. She knew she would have this confrontation sooner or later.

"It's just that...Are you okay? I haven't seen you happy in a while. You used to smile so much and had that lightning in your eyes. I'm just worried for you," she stated slowly and awkwardly.

Tabby snorted," You haven't seen me at all in a while."

She turned to face her mother.

"And for your information, no, I'm not okay. I haven't been okay in a long, long time. Why are you asking now?"

She sighed at Tabby's bitter attitude towards her.

"Look, I know I'm not there much. I just thought that for right now, while I'm here, I could help you with what I can."

"Well, for starters, you can find someone else who is more willing to play the part of the parent who doesn't make the 12-year-old do all of the work. What? Do you think he does any of the work? No, I do the cooking, cleaning, and taking care of Adam,"

Her mother went quiet for a minute. She knew who she was referring to.

"I know that your father can be a...difficult person to live with, but he does love you. You know. He... doesn't know how to show it. He's never had a daughter before, so he doesn't know what to do. He has high expectations of you, and that's why he's so hard on you. He sees himself as a failure, and he doesn't want you to end up like him," she explained while beating around the bush.

"Love me?! LOVE ME?! HE DID THIS TO ME! HE DID ALL OF THIS TO ME!" Tabby yelled as she showed as much of the multicolored bruises and scars that she could.

" I promise you it's not just from fights at school. Now I don't know much about love, but I know you don't beat your loved ones nor don't do anything to protect them."

"It will be over with soon. Things will get better. Tomorrow is a new day-," she started.

Those phrases made Tabby snap.

"WHEN WILL IT END?! HUH?! WHAT?! YOU THINK THAT THE MOMENT I TURN 18, YOU THINK I'LL BE ABLE TO UP AND LEAVE?! DO YOU THINK THAT HE WOULD LET ME GO THAT EASILY?! IF HE'LL HAVE HIS WAY, HE'LL KEEP ME LOCKED UP IN THE APARTMENT UNTIL HE DIES! TOMORROW IS NOT A NEW DAY; IT'S THE SAME BULLSHIT DAY IN AND DAY OUT! THINGS AREN'T GETTING BETTER; IT'S GETTING WORSE! YALL ARGUE ALL THE TIME, ADAM IS STARTING TO ACT OUT NOW, AND I HAVE NO FRIENDS LEFT! I'M AT MY WITS END HERE! I CAN'T KEEP ACTING LIKE YOUR HUSBAND, HIS WIFE, ADAM'S MOTHER, STUDENT, SOLDIER, SISTER, DAUGHTER, LIVED IN CINDERELLA, LEADER, AND FRIEND! I NEED HELP!"

She was breathing heavily at her outburst, with her eyes flaming with hatred but slowly softened when she saw her mother cower and flinch a little at her yelling. Tabby realized that she was almost afraid of her and what she's capable of. Tabby knew exactly what given the events that happened towards the end of August. But the thought of her mother being afraid of her and loving her less? It was enough to make Tabby cry. She doesn't want to be seen as a monster.

Her mother sat up straight a little bit and sighed, annoyed and tiredly.

"I'm trying here. I'm trying to be a good mother. I'm sorry I'm not there often. I have to be the one to provide and put food on the table! Most of our arguments involve you; I'm trying to fight for your freedom! But I also have to do what's best for your brother, too!" she explained exasperatedly.

"Then try harder!" Tabby snapped back

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME TABBY?!," she yelled.

"EITHER MAKE HIM TAKE RESPONSIBILITY AND DO HIS FUCKING JOB AS A PARENT OR DROP-KICK HIS ASS TO THE CURB. OR HAVE SOME BACKBONE AND STAND UP FOR YOURSELF AND YOUR KIDS!" yelled Tabby in disbelief that her mom would ask a stupid question like that.

"YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHY WE CAN'T DO THAT!"

They both looked at each other for a moment before sighing in defeat and saying the answer at the same time.

"Adam"

Even though the abuse wasn't good for Adam to be around, it was still stability, even if it was a nasty form of stability. Tabby would rather have Adam around what he's used to instead of getting rid of his dad, which isn't fair to him and having her mom bring in another man who could be just as worse as her stepdad. She was willing to do anything to keep Adam on a good path and provide some stability for him. So he doesn't end up like her. They both don't have the luxury to be selfish.

"You're so selfish; you know that? And you should at least hold some gratitude towards your dad. He saved you and us, and he made us better. We have a better lifestyle now," she scolded her.

Tabby fucking lost it.

"I'M SELFISH?! I'M SELFISH?! I HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF THE HOUSE, ADAM, HIM, AND YOU! I ALSO MANAGE AND TAKE CARE OF THE WELL-BEING OF MY FRIENDS WHILE I HAD THEM! I KEPT THEM ALIVE! AND I ALSO HELP OUT THE OTHER KIDS AT ROSEWOOD WHEN I CAN AFFORD IT! I AM NEGLECTING MYSELF SAVE FOR MY GRADES TO MEET MY RESPONSIBILITIES THAT YOU BOTH REFUSE TO TAKE! BUT SURE, CALL ME SELFISH BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO GET BEAT FOR EVERY LITTLE THING I DO, AND I WANT MORE FREEDOM INSTEAD OF BEING TREATED AS A SLAVE IN THE APARTMENT AND WANTING WHAT'S BEST FOR ADAM! YOU'RE THE SELFISH ONE! YOU NEVER DO ANYTHING TO STAND UP FOR YOUR KIDS. I HAVE TO DO THAT FOR ADAM AND MYSELF! THERE IS SO MUCH MORE THAT GOES ON AT HOME, BUT YOU EITHER IGNORE IT OR YOU'RE NEVER HERE BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO BUSY HIDING AT WORK FOR AS LONG AS YOU CAN LIKE THE BITCH ASS COWARD THAT YOU ARE-," Tabby felt as a sharp crack against her cheek. She looked at her mom with disbelief that she hit her.

The woman was crying as they pulled into the driveway and parked.

"Tabby, I'm- I'm sorry...I-I just wanted you to stop…."

Tabby began to unbuckle and opened the car door hurriedly.

"No. Great talk, mom. I can always count on you for anything now, can I?" Tabby said sarcastically as she slammed the car door and opened the other one, and slamming it before carrying the groceries up the stairs. The older woman just cried at the steering wheel.

Tabby entered the apartment. Her stepdad got out of his chair to see what was up. He just stopped in his tracks to analyze Tabby. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she had a red blotch on her cheek. He could feel the anger radiating off of her; He just raised an eyebrow at her expecting an explanation. Tabby paid him no mind and began to busy herself with putting away the food. She didn't owe him an answer. Not yet anyway.

Tabby's mother came through the door a few minutes later. She looked distraught, and her eyes were red and puffy as well. She hugged her boyfriend for comfort, and he led her into their room to talk about what happened. That's just great. Tabby sighed. Already she knew that this was going to be a long night with more fights and beatings while she struggles to explain why she acted out the way she did. And then they would both demand an apology from her which she'll have no choice but to give if she wants to go to bed at a reasonable time. Nothing ever changes. Her mother yet again chose him and Adam over her, and she was left to fend for herself.

That left Tabby more alone than ever before.

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 61 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet opened up, Alaska chickened out, and Courtney finally had her date with Bianca.

This Chapter: Trixie widens his search for Aiden’s replacement, and Courtney gets a taste of the good life.

***

Courtney doodled absentmindedly on her notepad during Miss Fame’s Monday conference call. She was getting an update from the company that ran her European stores, and discussing the upcoming marketing plan with Alyssa. Courtney knew that she was only there in case Miss Fame wanted to add anyone to the line; since Ivy and Laganja were both on the call, she didn’t really need to be paying attention. She probably should’ve been anyway, but this was a case where a little negligence would be forgiven.

Which was good, because she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering, daydreaming about how wonderful the weekend had been with Bianca. Adore had come over on Sunday for dinner, after which Courtney almost went home, but Bianca pulled her in for an embrace and insisted that she stay another night. When she’d worried about not having any appropriate work clothes, Bianca promised to find her something from her own closet, even excited at the notion of styling her for the office.

At first, Courtney was a bit concerned about whether the thigh-high black boots were too hookerish, but Bianca was adamant that they were fashion - and she should know, right? At least her luxurious knit dress was in Fame’s approved color palette, so she was pretty sure she wouldn’t get scolded like the time she dared to wear a lime green top.

She looked down at her notebook, realizing that it was absolutely covered in hearts, and quickly flipped the page, embarrassed.

She clicked on her mouse, waking up the computer to check her emails. If she was gonna space out, she may as well make at least a halfhearted attempt at productivity. She saw that there were a few unread DMs and clicked on the window.

ROXY: Package here for you

ROXY: A big-ass box from Neiman Marcus

ROXY: From the Marie Claire messenger again

ROXY: You gonna tell me who you’re dating over there now?

COURTNEY: LOL, sorry. It’s brand new, I don’t think we’re ready to go public

ROXY: Bitch it’s just me, I can keep a secret

COURTNEY: Since when?????

ROXY: Since always!!

COURTNEY: On Friday, you told me that Jaida is getting IVF and Alyssa’s son is in rehab again

ROXY: Yeah and yet you tell me NOTHING

COURTNEY: LOL. Okay well when we’re telling people, I’ll tell you first. Deal?

ROXY: WHATEVER

*

ROXY: Another major delivery came for Fame’s asst from MC today

SHANNEL: OMG. BDR just came into Nina’s office in the weirdest mood. She was all smiley and she approved this dumb spread that Nina’s been pitching for 3 months.

ROXY: 21 year old pussy is good for the soul

SHANNEL: APPARENTLY

*

The second she could get up, Courtney raced to reception to grab the package, wondering what it could be. They’d put together a bunch of outfits with the stylist this weekend, most of which were still at Bianca’s--except for her ensemble for the party tomorrow, which was hanging in a garment bag on the coat rack, partially covered by Courtney’s jacket so as not to be too conspicuous.

When Roxy said “a big-ass box,” she wasn’t lying. Courtney’s eyes widened as she spotted the box, quickly taking it back to her own office, peeking inside while Fame was occupied with Raja. She pulled out the note first.

Stay warm. XX, B PS Don’t worry, the fur is faux

Extra curious now, Courtney reached into the box, lifting the tissue paper to see what was inside and finally just pulling it out--a beautiful, full-length, raspberry-colored winter coat with a fur-trimmed hood. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head as the utter extravagance of it all.

COURTNEY: OMG Bianca!

BIANCA: Do you like it?

COURTNEY: It’s beautiful! But it’s way too much. You’re spoiling me.

BIANCA: Get used to it ;)

Courtney smiled to herself, hiding the box under the table and standing to try on the coat, positively glowing with happiness. She glanced at herself in the mirror that Fame kept by the door for “last looks,” and saw that it fit her perfectly, even across her narrow shoulders, almost as if it was tailored to her body. Which...now that she thought about it, the stylist on Saturday had taken her measurements, so maybe it was.

Just then, the door to Fame’s office opened and Raja stepped out. Courtney whirled around, a guilty expression on her face.

“Oh are...are you done? I was, um...just going to get Miss Fame another coffee.”

“Yeah, we’re done for now, you should probably stick around. Nice coat,” Raja said, brushing past her on her way out. “I’ll be back at 2 to finish. Make sure she’s fed.”

“Okay, thank-” Courtney began, finishing with “-you,” just as Raja breezed from the room.

Courtney slowly removed her new coat, hanging it carefully on the rack before heading into Miss Fame’s office to ask what she wanted for lunch.

***

Bob closed the door to Trixie’s office behind him, making a beeline towards the coffee machine. It was mid afternoon, and while there still was a bit of a home stretch to go before the holiday break, the tough decisions ahead were out of his hands.

“All I’m saying Chachki,” Jovan smiled, the man leaning against the wall. He was wearing orange trumpet pants and a blue fuzzy sweater. “Is that I can totally bedazzle your crutches.”

“What an amazing offer,” Violet drawled, her tone completely dry.

“Hey guys!” Bob grinned, sliding in next to Maxwell, his boyfriend handing the cup he had just poured. “What are we talking about?”

“The Christmas Party,” Maxwell smiled, looking up at Bob who gave him a quick peck. He was wearing a pink shirt, the cotton stretched across his chest, the khakis he wore all year looking delicious on his pert little ass.

“Right!” Bob took a sip. The Galactica Christmas Party was one of the biggest fashion events in December, Miss Fame always going all out. Bob had heard rumors around town that there’d be gigantic ice sculptures, but Roxy had told him she had seen order confirmations for a forest of Christmas trees.

Some called him and Roxy the office gossip sluts, and if the name fit, Bob wasn’t going to complain.

“I haven’t decided what I’m wearing yet.” Violet was sitting on a chair, her curled hair fastened with a golden clip, her skirt just above her knees. “This is the first time I’m not going as Fame’s assistant and I don’t have to match her or blend into the background.”

That made sense, Bob really noticing how Violet’s wardrobe had shifted from the uptight prissy bitch who had first entered their floor, more color and sharp cuts showing up in Violet’s clothes as she got to express herself more and more.

“But since there’s a good chance she’ll actually look at me since I’m going with Sutan, I have to stay on theme without being flashy or cheap or one of the million other things she refuses to accept.”

“The bedazzling offer still stands,” Jovan smiled, taking the last bite of his afternoon muffin, and Violet rolled her eyes.

“How did you two meet anyway?” Maxwell took a sip of his coffee. “You and Sutan I mean.”

Bob perked up immediately, his stomach doing a happy flip.

“Oh?” Violet looked surprised, like she genuinely hadn’t expected them to be interested. “You want to hear about that?”

“Yes!” Bob grinned. “Yes yes yes yes.”

He and Maxwell had been discussing how to get Violet to spill the dirt the entire week, and now, the chance was finally here.

“Well.” Violet paused, tapping her fingers on the table, like she was trying to decide if she should share, and Bob was about to burst with curiosity.

“Spill it!”

“He bought me a drink at the Vogue Fashion Fund, and asked me on a date a few days later.”

Bob waited for a beat, but Violet was simply smiling.

“What?! That’s it?!”

Of all the things Bob had imagined, this was by far the most disappointing answer.

“Pretty much.” Violet shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee with a glint in her eyes.

***

IVY: okay so you know i hate gossip

ROXY: Oh yeah me too gurl

IVY: lol

IVY: No really

ROXY: Yeah yeah whatcha got?

IVY: The dress Courtney’s wearing today?

ROXY: Oh yeah, she’s really upping her game

IVY: Well...it’s familiar…

ROXY: Oh yeah?

IVY: I asked Laganja to run some photos. Here’s BDR at last year’s Monsoon Foundation Charity Luncheon

[Picture: Bianca wearing the dress]

ROXY: BITCH!!!!!!!!111

***

“So yeah, these are the ones I like...what do you think?” Trixie asked, chewing nervously on the inside of his cheek. “I really need to find someone that Fame will love, she was so annoyed at the last batch.”

As Pearl picked up one of the portfolios to glance through it, she couldn’t help but notice how rough her friend looked, like he hadn’t slept in a week. He probably hadn’t, she realized, the tension in the apartment so thick you could cut it with a knife. She’d been trying to give them both space, but maybe that wasn’t a good idea.

“So, um…” She looked through the first portfolio and then picked up the next one, pausing on pages she found interesting. “Is everything okay? How are you?”

“Uhh…” Trixie scratched his head, then finally said, “It’s been a hard week.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

“It’s okay,” Trixie sighed. “We’ve got our- She’s got an appointment with a doctor tomorrow. So I guess, after that, we’ll know for sure.”

“Right.”

He didn’t seem to want to talk about it any more, so Pearl dropped the subject for the moment. She pointed to one of the photos, a stunning blue piece with dramatic shoulders, exactly the type of shapes to which Fame was generally drawn.

“This is amazing.”

“Yeah, right? She seems super talented, although I worry that she’s only been out of school for less than a year. A little green, a little…” Trixie sighed again, “Over-confident sounds mean, but…over-confident.”

“Have you spoken to all of them yet?”

“Yeah, Rita checked all their references and I had Skype interviews with all the top candidates this morning. We’re trying to move quickly, I really need to get the ball rolling before we shut down for the holidays. And with the added bonus of getting them a visa...it could be a mess. Anyway, these are the very best, but I don’t want to put them in front of Fame unless they’re actually gonna impress her.”

“Uh huh. One question though…”

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for another sociopath, or are we moving in a new direction?” Pearl asked, a teasing smirk on her face.

“You’re hilarious,” Trixie deadpanned.

“I know.” Pearl tapped on the folder, saying, “I think this one is special. There’s a lot of range, and new ideas, but very classic and chic at the same time.”

***

“Ho...ly shit…” Bianca said, the door to her town car open, watching Courtney twirl in her new coat, then open it to give her a peek at the sexy sequined mini-dress underneath. Bianca pulled her into the car, giggling, a hand immediately sliding up her bare thigh.

She was mildly surprised when her fingers came into contact with soft cotton instead of the sexy lace she’d been wearing.

“Wow, these feel...breathable.”

Courtney laughed. “Yeah, well, I’m out of fancy underwear until my next trip to the laundromat. Sorry about it.”

“Nah, I like them. Reminds me of college.” She flashed a grin at Courtney, who was now straddling her on the leather seat, arms around her neck.

“Yeah?” Courtney tilted her head, teasingly evading a kiss as Bianca chased her lips.

“Mmm…” Bianca’s fingers slipped into the panties, squeezing her ass.

“I like this, too…” Bianca’s own coat was unbuttoned since the driver had the heat on full blast, and Courtney ran her thumb along the neckline of her blazer. “You look so sexy…”

Bianca said nothing, just gave her a wicked smirk, lips finally coming into contact with her neck, lingering there, hot breath against her pulse point making her whimper.

“We should probably wait until after the-” Courtney inhaled sharply, clutching Bianca’s shoulders. “-after the party.”

“Alright, alright…” Bianca acquiesced, pressing a soft kiss to her lips and removing her hands. “I can be good if you can.”

“Debatable,” Courtney responded, her eyes flashing with a naughty glint as she sat down beside Bianca, snuggling up against her.

“It’ll be a fun little experiment.”

***

Violet was standing in Sutan’s closet in her pajamas, flipping through her clothes, her lip between her teeth.

None of it looked right, and Violet had given up on even trying on the dress she had originally gotten to go as Fame’s assistant, the skirt's mermaid cut making it impossible to move in with her crutches.

If her foot hadn’t been broken, she would have trawled her preferred vintage shops weeks ago, or would even have made a dress herself, but the party was in two days, and because of Bianca’s birthday, she couldn’t even empty her savings account to get a dress that could live up to the expectations of a Galactica party.

She was completely, and utterly, fucked.

“Fuck,” Violet sighed, dumping down in the arm chair Sutan had been sweet enough to move to his closet so she could sit.

“Violet? Are you okay?”

Violet cursed to herself, Sutan naturally catching her at a moment where it absolutely did not suit her.

“I’m okay!”

But of course, it wasn’t in Sutan’s nature to leave her alone, her boyfriends head poking through the door seconds later, a concerned expression on his dumb face.

“What’s gotten into you?” Sutan was fresh from the shower, his black and grey hair in an unstyled cloud around his head.

“You’re going to laugh.” Violet crossed her arms, the annoyance still under her skin, rolling around her body.

“Try me.” Sutan stepped inside, a towel wrapped around his hips, his hand holding it in place.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

Sutan snorted, and Violet pointed at him.

“See!” She exclaimed. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“Okay, okay, I admit that wasn’t my greatest moment,” Sutan chuckled, giving her a quick apology kiss, Violet sinking back into the chair as he walked over to his dresser. “but the good news is that your problem is easily fixable.”

“I can’t just go out and buy a new dress.” Violet tried not to roll her eyes, tried not to make this a fight, but it was like Sutan had decided to press every single button she had. “I can’t afford it.”

Sure, she had gotten a pay bump after moving to design, but she had already used her December budget on Christmas gifts for everyone, actually spending the day with people so much more expensive than what she usually did, which was a movie on her ancient laptop and wine by herself.

“Who says you have to pay for it?” Sutan pulled a pair of pajama pants out, throwing his towel to the side, now naked which would have been weird if Violet hadn’t been used to years of dressing rooms. “I’m planning on getting a new suit anyway,” Sutan balanced on one leg, pulling the pants on, “and the shoppers at Barney’s are great at what they do.”

“Are you serious?”

“What makes you think I’m not?”  Violet watched as Sutan pulled a t-shirt on too, running a hand through the hair Violet knew he’d struggle to style in the morning, but that he was also done dealing with it for the night.

“I don’t want your money.” Violet sighed, sitting up in the chair, Sutan finally ready for bed.

She liked staying with Sutan, she really did, the man kinder and more generous than Violet could ever have imagined, but she was also longing to go back to her own place, to have her own space and to spend time completely alone.

She knew her apartment wasn’t much, that it didn’t have air condition or an elevator, that she didn’t have a memory foam mattress or a dishwasher or a housekeeper that came to clean, but it was hers.

Violet knew a psychiatrist would probably consider her need for independence a flaw, something she should work on, but she didn’t want to rely on anyone ever, not even Sutan.

“I can figure it out.”

“Oh that, I don’t doubt,” Sutan smiled, holding a hand out to help Violet out of the chair. “But there is a difference,” Sutan pulled, his hand finding her hip as soon as she was upright. “Between being prideful and being stubborn, lovely eyes.”

Violet shot him a look, and Sutan laughed, giving her nose a quick kiss.

“I’m offering to buy you dresses, not a penthouse.”

Violet opened her mouth to protest, but for once, Sutan was faster.

“You’re going to several parties for my sake. Let me spend money on you.” Sutan rubbed his thumb up and down, gently caressing Violet’s hip. “Please?”

“I’ll consider it.”

***

Being at this elite music industry party with Bianca was thrilling, and Courtney was on cloud nine. She was beside herself with excitement when she got to meet Charlie Hides, unable to stop herself from gushing about her work on Tove Lo’s album.

“Well thank you, darling,” Charlie said.

“Courtney’s a singer too,” Bianca added, and Charlie’s face perked up a bit.

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, aspiring,” Courtney couldn’t help admitting, immediately kicking herself for her inability to fake it.

“She’s incredibly talented,” Bianca said, a hand touching Courtney’s elbow, grounding her.

“You should send me your demo,” Charlie said, picking up two glasses of champagne from a passing tray and handing them over.

“Really? Thank you so much!” Courtney exclaimed, momentarily forgetting that she didn’t have a demo.

“Sure thing,” Charlie said with a grin, before excusing herself to greet another guest. Before she left, she gave Bianca a hug, muttering, “Very cute, B.”

After she walked away, Bianca turned to Courtney with a smirk. “She’s subtle, huh?”

“I think I’m gonna pass out,” Courtney said, and Bianca squeezed her hand.

“You’ll be fine. You’re doing great,” she assured her. “I see another producer I know, let’s say hello. Olivia!”

She waved across the party to a beautiful Black woman with the most fabulous hair Courtney had ever seen in her life. The woman looked up, sending Bianca a beaming smile as she crossed the room to greet her.

“Bianca!”

“Hey Liv, I haven’t seen you in forever!” Bianca said, giving her a hug.

“I know! I’ve been in L.A. for most of the year. Just decided to come back to New York in time for this delightful gray sleet we’ve been having,” Olivia said, that dazzling smile softening her words.

Bianca laughed, turning to Courtney.

“Court, Olivia Lux is an awesome producer. Liv, this my friend Courtney. She’s a singer.”

“Hi!” Courtney prepared for a handshake or some air kisses, only to be swept up into a warm hug. “So nice to meet you!”

“Charlie wants to hear a demo, but she hasn’t gotten the chance to record anything yet,” Bianca said. “Any chance you’re free? Or are you still booked up solid until the end of days?”

“No, I’ve got some time in January. What kind of music do you do, sweetie?” Olivia asked, turning to Courtney with that lovely smile.

“Um… Well, I guess it’s kind of like… Pop, but kind of folk?” Courtney said, trying to think on her feet.  “Like Joni Mitchell meets Kylie Minogue?”

“Sounds absolutely glorious!” Olivia said, and Courtney felt her confidence grow. “I know what it’s like when you’re starting out. That shit is terrifying.”

“I’m gonna go grab us some drinks…You two have fun,” Bianca said, leaving Courtney Olivia to talk shop.

After a couple of minutes, Courtney found herself feeling like she was with an old friend. She was just so warm and open, telling Courtney about her own career as first a recording artist, then a producer and composer, making her feel completely at ease--and shockingly interested in Courtney’s own musical taste. When Bianca returned with three cocktails, Olivia put an arm around Courtney and told her, “I’m in love with your friend.”

“Oh yeah?” Bianca said, amused. She handed them both drinks, adding, “Glad you guys are getting along.”

“Getting along? We’re gonna elope,” Olivia said, and Courtney giggled, smiling brightly, happy to have found someone so kind and down to earth.

“Mazel Tov,” said Bianca, giving Courtney a wink.

“Seriously though,” Olivia said, turning to flash Courtney that megawatt smile again. “Why don’t you hit me up and we’ll arrange for you to come into the studio?”

“That would be amazing!” said Courtney. She was so happy, she had to fight an urge to kiss the bottom of Olivia’s glittery heels.

“Perfect!” Olivia said, leaving them both with another round of hugs.

“That went well,” Bianca said, smirking at Courtney over the top of her glass.

“Yeah!”

“Come on, I want you to meet my friend Derrick. She’s a choreographer…”

Later, after about the 20th intro, Courtney began to catch on to a troubling pattern.

“Hey guys! This is my friend Courtney…”

“Meet my friend Courtney…”

“Courtney’s a friend of my sister.”

Friend, friend, friend...

At no point, to anyone, did Bianca say (or even imply) that there was something going on between them-- and Courtney wasn’t sure what to make of it. It wasn’t like she expected for Bianca to call her “my girlfriend.”

They hadn’t had that conversation, and something told Courtney that after tonight, it was a long way off.

She tried to put it right out of her head, though, and focus on the positive. She was at a great party, meeting a ton of music industry professionals, and yeah, maybe Bianca called her “friend” about 800 times, but friends were good, right? Especially considering how much Bianca loved her friends.

She continued to enjoy herself, greeting people, trying her best to learn their names, and just being grateful that Bianca had even brought her through the door. So what if she didn’t want people to know about their relationship? Or if this was just a casual fling for her? She was still doing more for Courtney and being more supportive than anyone she’d ever known.

It was close to 2 am when Bianca put a hand on her lower back and leaned in close--the most intimate gesture since they’d walked in the door.

“You ready to take off?” Bianca whispered.

“Sure,” Courtney said, slightly relieved since she could feel her own energy fading, and knew that making it to work by 7:45 the next day would be a struggle.

They said goodbye to Charlie and grabbed their coats, making their way downstairs to the waiting towncar. It wasn’t until they were on their way that Courtney really let everything hit her, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I…” Courtney swallowed.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“You sure about that? What’s wrong?”

Courtney shook her head vigorously as traitorous tears slipped down her cheek. “Nothing’s wrong, everything’s perfect.” She wiped her face, disgusted with herself.

“Then why are you crying, angel?”

“Because…” Courtney squeezed her eyes shut,  positive that she was about to ruin everything. “Because you’re just…making all my dreams come true.”

“Okay. Yeah, I can see how that would be upsetting.”

“No, it’s just…I'm scared, that it’s all gonna disappear,” Courtney said, now unable to hold back the river of tears. “You’re gonna get bored, or meet someone else, and I…I’m falling for you so hard and I know it’s too fast and I-”

“Hey, look at me.”

Courtney turned to her, eyes liquid, sniffling.

“I have been having…the best time with you,” she said, taking one of Courtney’s hands in both of hers. “And I know that it’s still new, but I said that I’d help you with your career and I will. No matter what happens with us. I promise. And I don’t break promises. Okay?”

Courtney nodded slightly, then asked, “Why don’t you want people to know about us? Are you ashamed? Are you just...already looking for a way out?”

“What?”

“You just kept introducing me as your ‘friend’ all night, and I just thought that it meant you don’t care about us, or that-”

“No! I dunno, I guess we haven’t really talked about labels, and I wanted to make sure everyone took you seriously,” Bianca said. “Took your talent seriously.”

“Oh.” Courtney sniffled, feeling a little stupid for letting her insecurites get the better of her.

“Also…you know, a lot of the people there were…mutual friends of…”

“Of?”

Bianca sighed slightly, a sheepish smile on her face, then said, “I guess it’s time to come clean to Fame and Raja, huh?”

“Really?” Courtney looked at her with surprise.

“Well, yeah. I don’t want us to feel like we’re sneaking around. That shit gets old real fast.” Bianca kissed the back of her hand. “I’ve been selfish, I was trying to do this without getting them annoyed at me, but…It’s not worth it if it makes you feel like I don’t care. Because I do.”

Courtney bit her lip, feeling like she might burst into tears again, but this time from joy. She took a deep breath, trying to get her racing heart to calm down.

“When do you want to tell them?”

“Well…the Galactica party’s on Thursday. Wanna be my date?” Bianca asked, a sly smile deepening her dimples.

Of course, they’d both been planning to go to the party, but Courtney had resigned herself to the idea that they’d be there separately. She’d even asked Tati to come as her plus one, not believing for a second that going with Bianca was a possibility. After all, it was so soon.

“That’s in two days!” Courtney exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Yeah… Does that work for you?”

For a second, Courtney felt almost dizzy, imagining walking into the party on Bianca’s arm. There was no way in hell that it wouldn’t cause a stir...but the idea of everyone seeing them together, while a bit frightening, was also terribly exciting.

“Okay. Yeah, that sounds...perfect,” she said, eyes shining happily.

“Okay then,” Bianca said softly, pressing a kiss to Courtney’s cheek.

[thegoodgayshit]

Luz’s mother really doesn’t want to send Luz to camp. She knows once she leaves, there is no going back. But Luz has a knack for getting into trouble, and one day she stumbles into the same type of people her mother would have preferred she avoided. After helping Luz dissolve her high school bully into dust, Eda and Lilith know right away that this kid is just like them - a child of the gods. So Luz hops on a Pegasus and heads to Camp Half-blood, where she embarks on a dangerous quest that makes her both friends and enemies... and she might even save Olympus along the way.

Chapter Eighteen: We Crash Hexside High’s Junior Prom

Amity left the café in a more than sour mood. She practically stomped the whole way back to the hideout. Luz watched her warily, not really knowing what to say. She had thought Aphrodite had been really nice, all things considered. She had no idea why Amity was so upset.

Eventually, she tried to talk to her. “Your mom was pretty cool, Amity.”

Amity spun around, her anger now directed onto Luz, and she flinched. Her eyes were murderous.

“Uh…” Luz held up her hands, terrified. “Or not?”

Something changed in Amity’s face, and she deflated. “Sorry, Luz. I’m not angry at you. I just… I didn’t realize how much my siblings were like my mom. That whole conversation was a little overwhelming.”

“It’s alright, Amity,” Luz said with a smile. “You haven’t seen your mom in like seven years. It makes sense that you didn’t know what to expect.”

Amity scoffed. “That’s an understatement.”

Luz nudged her with her shoulder, unable to keep the grin off her face. “But hey, on the bright side, this could be a pretty fun side quest.”

Amity looked at Luz with something that read somewhere between disbelieving and amused. “A side quest?”

Luz nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Like Azura and Hecate. They go on side quests all the time. It’s what makes an adventure an adventure!” She leaned lower to the ground, waggling her eyebrows playfully.

“Luz and Amity, joined by their fearless demigod friends tackle another impossible mission: The Heist of the High School Prom! Will they succeed, and continue on their great quest to save Olympus? Or will they be unable to recover the artifact and be forced to continue their quest empty-handed?”

Amity rolled her eyes, but she was unable to keep the smile off her face. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But am I wrong?” Luz teased, and Amity laughed. Luz felt her stomach swell as she watched Amity chuckle to herself. But then she was reminded right away of how similar Aphrodite’s laugh had been to Amity’s.

Luz swallowed nervously. She had a feeling she had missed something really obvious during the chat with Aphrodite, and she was starting to think she knew what, but every time she started to consider them she was painfully reminded about what happened last time. Clearing her throat nervously, she felt relief wash over her when she realized they were back at the workshop.

“Guys!” Gus greeted them gleefully as they entered. He was holding up a suit bag, his face split into a wide grin. “My mom sent us formal wear!”

“Not your mom,” Luz said, unable to mask her own excitement. “Aphrodite. We’re going on a heist!”

“What?” Willow asked, frowning. She had opened the fridge and had been working on fixing up some dinner for the four demigods, (it looked pretty good: she wondered if being the goddess of the harvest boosted the quality of her cooking, those sweet potatoes looked fantastic) and waved for them to sit down at the table. Luz popped the top of a lime soda, sitting down next to Amity and Willow while Gus practically threw the suit bag on the worktable to sit down.

Luz launched into the story about meeting Aphrodite while they ate, skipping over a few details, like how she wasn’t able to focus, or the weird things Aphrodite said about Amity and Luz. She wouldn’t even know how to start that conversation normally, and since she was still trying to piece it together herself, she just cut to the mission.

“Awesome!” Gus said when she finished, “Peleus’ shield is supposed to be magical as well. So if that’s what we’re going after, then Luz’s sword is probably the other magical item that Aphrodite said goes with it.”

Luz blinked. She hadn’t thought of that. Her hand reached over to hover over Aletheia. While she loved her sword, she had never been good at using a shield at camp. Maybe it would be different when they found the sword.

“We’re going to need a plan, and Aphrodite gave us a good cover story,” Amity said, her face pinched in annoyance at the mention of her mother. “But that’s not going to be enough to get to the shield.”

Gus hummed. “I’ll work something out when we get there. Until then, everybody should just pretend this is a normal prom.”

“Gus is right,” Willow added, reaching into the wardrobe to pull out a dress bag. It had a sticky note that was labeled with her name. “Blend in, mingle, act like the other kids. It’s our best shot at keeping our real mission discreet.”

“Alright!” Luz cheered, pumping her fist in the air. “We’re going to prom!”

The four of them broke off on their own to get ready. Willow and Amity called first dibs on the bathroom, which suited Luz and Gus just fine. Luz walked toward the wardrobe and picked up the garnment bag that was labeled “LUZ” and tentatively brought her hand to the zipper.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Aphrodite to pick out something good for Luz, after all, she was the goddess of beauty. And she had seen what Luz always wanted to wear to a dance. Luz had just always struggled to pick something to wear that she liked. Her style was pretty hard to shop for.

When she peeked inside the garment bag, she practically squealed in delight. It was perfect. She couldn’t wait for her turn to use the bathroom to change. Like, well, magic, a changing curtain appeared immediately around her, with a full-length mirror and end table to her right.

Gods bless Athena.

Luz didn’t think she had ever changed so fast in her life. Once she buttoned up her clothes, Luz used the conveniently placed workshop mirror to get ready, her back to Gus, who got ready on the other side of the room. She used her brush and some gel to slick her hair back and she rummaged around the drawers until she found an unopened mascara and blush. She didn’t love makeup, but she figured this was just the right amount for her to wear to a prom.

Taking a deep breath, she looked in the mirror. Once she caught sight of her reflection, she couldn’t look away, a huge smile spreading across her face.

At first glance, she had thought her suit was black, but now that she looked at it she realized it was actually a midnight blue, that had been altered to fit her like a glove. Her dress shirt was silvery-white, and she had a dark maroon suit vest button up and paired with a matching bowtie. Aphrodite had even given her an additional matching set of black leather oxfords (with a bit of a heel to add about an inch of height) and a belt. She did a spin, her heart hammering in excitement. She looked so regal and mature… she easily could have passed for sixteen or seventeen.

It was so, so, perfect. Aphrodite was right: she hadn’t needed the tutu after all. She could get used to this.

She looked over to the garment bag to make sure she didn’t miss anything when she saw something at the bottom and frowned. She reached in and pulled out two little boxes, and gently opened them. She gasped, her eyes widening.

A matching corsage and boutonniere, in the same dark maroon as her vest and bowtie. The flower She opened the boutonniere and carefully pinned it to her jacket. Aphrodite must have made a mistake, there was no reason she needed both. She stuck it into the pocket of her suit pants, deciding she would worry about it later.

Once she had decided she was done, the makeshift changing room melted away around her, disappearing. She turned around to see Gus dressed and ready as well. He was wearing a perfectly fitted deep green suit with a silver dress shirt, and he had tucked his camp necklace under his shirt collar and was fiddling with a bow tie around his neck. His tongue was sticking out of his mouth in focus, but when he saw Luz he stopped in his tracks and whistled.

“Woah, look at you.”

“Look at you!” Luz replied, but her face was pinking in delight. She fiddled with the cuffs of her jacket, and Gus chuckled.

“Aphrodite must have known our sizes because these are practically tailored to us.”

Luz couldn’t help but agree. She wondered if Aphrodite could size a person’s… well, size… just by looking at them.

“Guys! You can use the bathroom now… oh, never mind,” Willow popped her head out of the bathroom, and her face split into an ecstatic grin when she saw them, and she made her way towards them. “You two look fantastic!”

Aphrodite had given Willow an off the shoulder green mid-length dress that puffed out at the hips, the waistband wrapped in a color that was an elegant gold. She had never seen Willow wear makeup, but she was wearing dark green eye makeup and pink lipstick that Luz thought suited her well. She had kept her camp necklace on, and had been given a pair of small gold hoops that matched the gold band. She was also wearing gold flats, with a supportive band at the bottom. Perfect footwear for a heist.

Luz’s grin returned, “Thanks! I love your dress. Green really is your color.”

Willow blushed, waving her hand embarrassingly. “Aw, shucks.”

“She’s right, Willow,” Gus said with a grin. “Look, we’re even matching.” He snapped his fingers like he had just figured out a puzzle, and reached into his garment bag. “Here, I have a corsage that matches our outfits. We must be each other’s prom dates as a cover story.”

Willow awed and took the corsage from him. It was a green and white flower that matched both their outfits perfectly. Willow put hers around her wrist, and Gus pinned his right where Luz had pinned hers. When they finished, they beamed, giving each other a thumbs up.

“Looking good!” Gus cheered, and Willow laughed.

Luz, however, had been frowning and watching the whole interaction, one hand reaching up to touch her own boutonniere, the other touching the corsage in her pocket.

“Wait, I don’t understand… why did I get both-”

“Luz? Gus? Are you guys not going to use the bathroom?” Amity’s voice called from the door, and when Luz looked up her heart just about leaped out of her chest.

She had changed into a deep maroon off the shoulder dress that came to just around her knees. It had lace sleeves that came to just above her elbows, and Luz saw her amethyst pendant hanging around her neck, sitting right between her collarbones. She had leather heeled shoes to go with her outfit, giving her at least two inches of height. Her mint hair was pulled up in its usual style, with a couple of loose pieces framing her face.  She had even done her makeup, like Luz and Willow, but it was a lot more neutral. Though she did have eyeliner wings so sharp it could cut glass and dark lipstick that was a perfect match for her dress.

For a couple of moments Luz couldn’t do anything but stare, and she was painfully aware of the awkward tension growing around the as Willow and Gus exchanged a confused look. Amity was blinking at Luz as well, her cheeks pinking as she took in Luz, and she realized she was probably making a scene and should definitely look away. Or at least answer her question.

But when she tried, all that came out was “Uh… your dress… wow.”

Amity’s cheeks reddened, somehow making her look even prettier than she already did, and Luz swallowed hard.

Willow started laughing hysterically.

“What?” Gus said, turning to her in annoyance. “What’s the problem? Did I miss a joke?”

Luz pinched the inside of her arm hard. Tearing her eyes away from Amity, she forced herself to look at Willow and Gus instead. “Right, so I think we’re all good here. Everyone looks… prom-ey. Should we start making our way to the university?”

Willow, who was still chuckling to herself, nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Gus and I were checking the map earlier, it should be a thirty-minute bus ride.”

Amity scoffed, “my mom would come down from Olympus and murder us if we voluntarily took the bus in these clothes. She gave us money earlier for a cab there.”  

“We should bring our stuff,” Gus said seriously, finally managing to tie his bowtie (even if it was a little crooked). “We don’t know if we’ll be able to come back here after we take the shield.”

“That’s true,” Amity added. “The local authorities will probably be looking for us.”

Something moved next to them, and when Luz looked over, she saw their backpacks, fully restocked and sitting ready to go. One had even been added for Amity, a maroon one that when she saw, she winced.

“I guess I know for sure now my backpack got destroyed by Achilles,” she said with a grumble, slinging it over her shoulder. “I’m going to kill that guy.”  

“What about our weapons?” Willow asked, holding her kopis in her hand. With her dress, she didn’t really have anywhere to put it.

“My spear is here,” Gus said, opening his jacket to reveal the retracted spear strapped to his side.

“I have my ring…” Luz said unhelpfully, her hand hovering over it.

“Mine’s under my skirt,” Amity said causally, and Luz’s mouth dropped.

“It is?” She asked, shocked.

The demigod blushed, and she crossed her arms. “Yeah, it is. Your sword is shorter than mine Willow, it’s not totally comfortable, but it’ll fit.”

Once that issue was sorted out, they were ready to go. They left Athena’s workshop, and Luz pulled out her phone and called a cab. Willow and Gus walked down the street to patrol the area for monsters and make sure they weren’t going to be followed.

While she got the chance, Luz checked her phone for texts from her Mami, finding one from the day before.

How is your field trip, mija?

Luz typed back a response.

It’s great, Mami. I’m going to a dance tonight with my camp friends.

“Who are you texting?”

Luz jumped, turning to Amity who was watching her with interest.

“My Mami,” Luz admitted, feeling terrible for using her phone. She stuck it in her pocket and felt it brush against something. The corsage.

“You don’t need to feel guilty,” Amity said slowly, running her hand up her arm nervously. “I’m glad she wants to make sure you're ok. It’s sweet how much you care about her.”

Luz felt that thumping in her heart again while she listened to Amity talk. She found herself starting again, and Amity’s cheeks pinked at the intensity of it. Luz mentally hit herself. She had to stop freaking her out like that.

“Luz, there’s something I wanted to ask you…” Amity said, her blush deepening. “I… I know this isn’t a real Prom… but since we’re using it as a cover story and we want it to be realistic… would you want to maybe… I don’t know…”

She had no idea what compelled her to interrupt Amity, but she reached into her pocket and pulled out the corsage, extending it to Amity slowly.

“I found this in my garment bag. Would you want it?”

Amity blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“It’s a corsage, and it matches your dress,” Luz said stupidly. What was she doing? Why did she need to interrupt Amity like that to say something so dumb?

Amity reached out slowly and took it. “Oh, thanks.”

She opened it and put it around her wrist, and Luz realized with a jolt that Amity was disappointed. Why was she disappointed? Had Luz done something wrong?

There was that jolt in her stomach again. It was getting stronger and stronger every time it happened around Amity. She didn’t want to disappoint her. She racked her brain, trying to think of why she would have hurt Amity’s feelings just now.

Then, she remembered what Aphrodite had said to Luz, and the fluttering got so strong she was amazed she didn’t pass out.

“You'rere affected by my charms. This is good news for you, daughter.”

“I’m sorry, my lady. I don’t understand.”

“You will, daughter of Hermes.”

Oh. Oh. Oh.

Luz understood, and the weight of it almost flattened her. GODS, how was she so dense? Amity hadn’t been uncomfortable around her. Well, maybe she had, but it wasn’t because Luz was scaring her off. It was the exact opposite. And she… well. She hadn’t gotten off on the best foot with Amity when they’d met, but they’d come such a long way and Luz was so confused. Her tongue tied in knots, and she was starting to sweat. But she couldn’t mess this up. She wasn’t going to give herself the opportunity to. So, she hesitantly smiled at Amity who wasn’t looking at her.

“It… it matches my suit too,” she added awkwardly sticking her hands in her pockets nervously. Amity looked up quickly in surprise, her gold eyes widening. That was a better response than disappointment. Luz figured she should just go from there.

“Maybe we could be each other’s like… dates? To help with the cover story and everything.”

Amity blinked for a couple more seconds in shock, and Luz felt herself begin to panic.

“I mean… we don’t have to if you would rather just stick to the original story-”

“No!” Amity said quickly, and Luz jumped at the volume of it.

“Sorry,” she added, lowering her voice. Despite the awkwardness of the whole conversation, she was beaming. “I mean, yes. That sounds perfect.”

Luz laughed nervously, but she was also smiling. “Alright, great. You’re my date then.”

“Yeah,” Amity said, her cheeks pinking. “I’m your date.”

Luz wasn’t quite sure what she was going to say next, but it didn’t seem to matter because the cab was suddenly pulling up, and Willow and Gus were back at their sides.

“Ready to go?” Gus asked them, and Luz nodded, letting gesturing for him to get in the cab. Willow turned to look at Amity and Luz suspiciously.

“Why do you two look like that? Did you get into a fight or something?”

“No!” Luz said quickly, and Amity also shook her head. “No, of course not.”

Willow hummed, unconvinced, but shrugged, getting into the cab next. “Okay.”

After she got in, Luz gestured for Amity to go next. “After you.”

Amity pinked, but slid in after her, and Luz got in last, shutting the door with a bang. The cab driver looked at them in his mirror.

“Where are you kids headed dressed so nice?”

“The University of Denver,” Luz said, “for our Prom.”

The cabbie raised his brows. “What, you can’t afford a Limo?”

The four of them looked at each other, and Luz wasn’t really sure what she was going to say next.

“We had one,” Amity replied, feigning a look of hurt. “We paid our deposit but the driver never showed. We won’t let that stop us from enjoying our prom though.”

“That’s terrible customer service,” the driver said with a gasp, tisking. “What kind of company scams kids? Tell you what, I’ll take you there for free.”

“You don’t need to do that, sir,” Amity said quickly, “we appreciate it, but it’s a long drive.”

The driver shook his head. “No, I insist. You’re only teenagers once. Here, I have an aux cord for customers. Play whatever you’d like.”

So Luz plugged in her phone (he’d already offered, and why not?) and the driver blasted her guilty pleasures playlist all the way there. When they were about ten minutes away, Luz heard her phone buzz, and it was a reply from her Mami.

A dance? How fun! I’m so happy you’re making friends, mija. Do you have a date for this dance???

Luz usually would have gotten upset at this question, especially since her Mami knew what had happened at the last dance she went to. But instead, she smiled. Because she did have a date, even if it wasn’t exactly a real one.

“Guys, could we take a picture to send to my Mami?” Luz asked, and everyone around her nodded, and Gus even whooped in excitement at the idea of a group picture. Making sure she didn’t get too much of the cab in the background (her Mami would ask way too many questions) Luz and her friends huddled around and smiled. Luz snapped a couple, before humming and shaking her head.

“Cute, but it’s not really us. Let’s do a group hug!”

Willow and Gus laughed and reached around to hug everybody’s shoulders. Luz extended her left arm around Amity, pulling her close. Amity’s cheeks pinked furiously, but she was laughing too when Luz grinned and took the picture. When she looked at it, she couldn’t help but let herself enjoy the moment. It was perfect.

She showed her friends the picture, and then she sent it to her Mami, along with a follow-up text.

I do :) This is Amity, and my two friends Willow and Gus.

When the cab pulled up, and the driver let them out, Amity discreetly slipped the cash Aphrodite had given them into the passenger seat. The driver wished them goodnight, and then they were there, outside the hall at the university that was hosting the event. It seemed to be one of the main buildings, and it was decorated outside with flowing magenta and silver balloons. Above the door was a huge banner with the words “Hexside Highschool Junior Prom”. All around them, teenagers just a little older than them were making their way inside, but nobody seemed to pass them any kind of look.

Perfect, they were blending right in.

Gus lead them to around the side of the building, away from the prying eyes of the prom guests.

“Right,” Gus said, and the four of them got into a huddle. “I used the workbench earlier to plan our heist and I have a plan. Right now, we’re two buildings over from the classics department where they keep the shield. We should stay here for a little bit, keep up the face, and then as pairs leave inconspicuously out the back exit and head across the yard to the building. We break inside, take the shield, and regroup at the prom entrance.”

He took off his backpack, pulling out a black cloth from inside.

“There are masks to hide our identity. The place has cameras everywhere except the back exit. The second you leave, put them on. We don’t want to get followed by mortal police.”

They each took their masks out, and Luz and Gus stuffed them into their pockets. Amity and Willow frowned, holding onto them.

“I can take that,” Luz said, extending her hand out to Amity. “I’ll give it to you later.”

“But we haven’t decided how we’re splitting up yet!” Gus said, and Luz frowned.

“What do you mean? It’s obvious to split ourselves up by our prom dates. It’ll look less suspicious. You and Willow go together, and I’ll go with Amity.”

Next to her, Amity flushed and handed Luz her mask, and Willow’s eyes lit up in excitement. Gus just shrugged.

“Alright, that works. Let’s ditch the rest of our stuff here in this bush until we come back for it later.”

Once they’d concealed their backpacks, the four of them walked up the steps and tried not to draw any attention to themselves. When they walked inside, Luz’s heart sank. It lead to the main room, clearly where the party was, but there was a security guard outside checking tickets. Luz’s heart sank.

“What are we going to do?” Luz hissed to Willow and Gus, who shrugged their shoulders helplessly. Next to her, Amity sighed, and Luz turned to look at her. Her eyes were narrowed in determination.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

The three of them shared a confused glance, but they didn’t have much time to question it before the couple in front of them walked in, and they were next.

“Tickets?” The security guard, a buff dude with blond hair, asked.

Amity’s shoulders slouched, and she ducked her head. “I’m so sorry sir, but we left them in the limo and don’t have them anymore! I swear we bought them though. Can you please just let us in?”

Luz bit the inside of her lip. There was no way that was going to work! Security guards had to deal with kids like them all the time, there was no chance-

The guard’s shoulders slouched to Amity’s level, and his eyes grew watery. “Oh, how terrible is that! On the night of your junior prom and everything… that’s no problem, miss. You and your friends head right inside.”

“Thank you so much, sir. You really are too kind.” Amity said quickly, grabbing Luz by the arm and dragging her inside with Willow and Gus trailing them. “Have a fantastic night.”

Luz struggled to pick up her jaw. “How did you just do that?”

“I didn’t know you could use charmspeak,” Willow added, looking quite surprised herself.

Amity sighed rubbing the back of her neck. “I can’t. It’s not charmspeak.”

“It’s Aphrodite’s Passion!” Gus said gleefully from behind them. Once they had walked inside the dark room lit up by flashing lights, they headed to a corner where they could talk privately.

“Aphrodite’s what?” Luz exclaimed, shocked.

“It’s a skill some of my mom’s kids have. It’s not as overpowering as charmspeak.” Amity explained quietly.

“Aphrodite’s Passion is when a person is inclined to listen and sympathize with the user. It doesn’t force anybody to do anything they wouldn’t otherwise do, but it does incentivize the target into acting out of empathy,” Gus added.

“How is that different from charmspeak?” Willow asked, confused.

“Charmspeak is foolproof and often results in loss of memory or confusion. It comes from the more manipulative side of Aphrodite, and is superficial at heart” Gus added, and then grimaced, turning back to Amity with an awkward smile. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Amity said with a shrug. “I can’t use it all the time anyway, I have to be in a certain mental state to get it right… I just had a feeling it would work today and well, I guess I got lucky.”

“What mental state do you have to be in,” Luz asked curiously, and Amity cleared her throat.

“I… It’s hard to explain…”

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Willow said quickly, regaining everybody’s focus. “What matters is the mission.”

The four of them nodded.

“Right,” Luz said seriously. “Let’s split up and enjoy the party.”

“I’m going to the free food,” Gus said excitedly, and Amity laughed.

“I wouldn’t mind some free stuff. I’ll go with you.” She turned to Luz with a smile. “Do you want me to get you a drink?”

Luz grinned. “Yeah, sure!”

The two demigods walked away, leaving Luz and Willow to themselves. Willow turned to Luz with a wide grin.

“So you finally asked Amity out then? Good for you, Luz!”

Luz’s stomach clenched hard. “What do you mean asked her out?”

Willow’s brow furrowed, and she frowned. “Well, she’s your prom date isn’t she?”

Luz felt her cheeks heating up. “I… I mean yeah…”

“And you gave her the corsage that matched the boutonniere?”

“Yes…”

“And I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. You like her, right?”

What a question. She wasn’t sure she wanted to answer that just yet. Not when something else big had pushed itself to the surface.

“Willow, what is Aphrodite supposed to look like?”

Willow blinked in surprise. A small smile started to pull on her lips. “Well, there are lots of rumors about what gods and goddesses look like by those who’ve seen them. They’re supposed to encompass the things they are known for and reveal secrets to demigods about things they may not have previously understood. So Aphrodite, who stands for beauty, passion, and love… well, you would see those qualities in yourself reflected in her.

Luz swallowed hard. Aphrodite’s smile… her laugh… gods, she’d even smelled like Amity.

Luz knew she thought Amity was beautiful, she’d accidentally told her enough times. But did Luz… love her? Luz certainly felt a lot of things about Amity. With everything between them going on, and the way this prophecy had intertwined them, was there something more to them than Luz had even realized yet?

As much as she refused to acknowledge it, the prophecy did call for something tragic. Could this be what Aphrodite had been talking about? The passionate story fueled by love in Luz’s heart? Was this love more than just her new love for camp, and for her friends? Luz's face was getting so hot, she was sure she was sweating right through her new dress shirt.

Who was Luz kidding? She had never been this important, or this special. She had certainly never warranted any kind of attention from somebody as incredible as Amity. In fact, people like Amity had been the reason she was hurt in the past. Was this worth trying? Worth pushing just to see what happened? Every fiber in Luz wanted to run, to protect herself.

But this… this wasn’t about Maya. This was about Amity. And they had already been through so much together, she had to at least try. She had to at least take the leap of faith.

Willow smiled, nudging Luz with her shoulder. “Luz, if you ever want to talk, I’m always ready to listen.”

Luz turned to Willow gratefully. “I know, Willow. And I’m probably going to take you up on that soon.”

“I figured,” Willow said her eyes training onto something behind Luz. “But how about for right now, you just focus on making the magic happen?”

Luz turned her head and saw Amity coming back towards her, with two cups in her hand and a big smile on her face. Luz’s breath caught in her throat. Gods, Amity was just so pretty when she smiled. She felt that surge of panic come back, and the realization that this was happening hit her like a truck.

For whatever reason, in the middle of her panic, she remembered Eda, right before she accepted the prophecy.

“ You do have a choice. You’re allowed to look out for yourself if you need to. If this seems too much, you can take a moment to breathe.”

“Here you go,” Amity said, handing the cup to Luz. “They had lime soda. I saw you drinking it at the workshop so I figured it was a safe bet.”

Luz felt her heart jolt with affection, and the combination of that and Eda’s words in her head filled her with the same rush she had felt back when she’d accepted the prophecy.

Luz knew what she needed to do, and she was going to make sure she made the right choice. The sound of upbeat music filled the room, and with that so did her courage.

She reached over and took Amity’s cup from her, and handed them both to Willow. She turned back to a surprised Amity and extended her hand, smiling as confidently as she could.

“Amity, would you like to dance with me?”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Ok but what if Chris is with Jake at like,, a store or in public or something and they run into Joanne and Chris just,,,, doesn’t recognize her. At all. And then it kinda clicks —(that she’s a terrible person)— that something is wrong

CW: PTSD/flashback response, trauma recovery, negative stimming including head banging

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions

Icing-coated animal crackers. That iced coffee that comes in the big bottle with the red label - not the green one, it has to be the red one. It’s a good color of red and the iced coffee inside is sweet, just a little. They’re buy-one-get-one in the store and Jake throws six of them in the cart, why the fuck not. Those little cups of macaroni-and-cheese with the neon-colored orange sauce that comes out of a packet. Whole boxes of ramen packets, beef and something called ‘chili lime shrimp’. 

Milk, apple juice, coffee creamer (cinnamon sugar and egg nog, Jake never misses a chance for eggnog creamer when it shows up in November). Three whole frozen turkeys, they’re down to rock-bottom prices leading up to Thanksgiving and he can keep them frozen to use whenever they need a week’s worth of meat at once. Stuff for taco night, for pizza night, beer, bell peppers and cilantro, some anchovies for some kind of pasta thing Antoni insists on doing, sliced black olives... the list goes on and on and on.

Jake never minds. Grocery shopping is kind of... meditative, really. Chris bops alongside him, darting ahead to grab something he spotted and toss it in the cart, lingering back behind Jake to look at the label on a bottle of sparkling water, eyes carefully unfocused so he won’t try to read it, just enjoying the little painted image of grapes. 

The grocery store’s way out of the way for them, but Jake borrowed Nat’s truck today so he could take Chris to see a museum exhibit on the Spanish flu and its effect on lower-class and first-generation immigrant populations, a little bit of credit for one of his public health classes. Chris loved the museum the way that little kids love museums, all wide-eyed wonder and getting lost in exhibits until Jake had to all but drag him to the next one. 

They’d stayed in the museum for four hours - seen things, had lunch, gone back to see more - and Jake really, really needs to get the groceries before he comes home. Hence, kind of a hoity-toity grocery store outside their usual neighborhoods. The kind of place where they might actually raise an eyebrow at him if they knew why he bought three frozen turkeys, that it will save them next month when money’s at its tightest. 

Jake knows how to buy for poverty, and he doesn’t actually have to do that anymore, but the habit’s still there.

Chris has been such a constant blur of motion that Jake nearly runs into him with the almost-totally-full cart before he realizes that Chris is standing perfectly still staring over at the wine area.

It’s one of those stores, too - the wine is all shelved in custom-made stained wood to make it look like a small fancy wine store all its own, with a table where a man in a green apron is giving out samples of wine from a valley in Italy Jake doesn’t care about. There’s a woman sipping one of the samples and it’s her that Chris is staring at.

She has short dark brown hair cut into a stylish bob and she’s wearing a sweater that probably cost as much as one of Jake’s student loan payments, nice dark slacks. Looks like she’s come straight from work or something. There’s nothing special about her whatsoever, from Jake’s perspective.

“Chris?”

Chris jumps, spinning around, blinking at Jake. There’s a look around his eyes, like a panicking animal feeling a trap close around it, that makes Jake tense up immediately too. “Um, what?”

“... you okay, man? You look... spooked. Do you know her?”

Chris blinks and looks back at the woman. She chooses a bottle out of a little fake basket several are nestled into with cheese and fruit like it’s a fucking picnic at the fucking grocery store. As if she can feel the eyes on her, she looks up - and meets Chris’s gaze.

There’s a pause, where Jake could absolutely swear the woman knows who Chris is - and then she looks away with a blank expression like she hasn’t seen anything. It’s weirdly fake, though. Put on, like a trick. She turns and walks quickly in the other direction, shoulders slightly hunched. Jake stares after her as she sets the wine bottle down on a shelf and hurries right out the door.

“What the... fuck?”

“I think...” Chris winces, puts a hand up to his head, grinds his teeth against the headache Jake can see, the thunderclap of pain he gets as his reward for trying to locate a memory. “I th-think she, she, she... she she... worked... there...”

Jake’s knuckles go white on the shopping cart handle as he watches the dark-haired bob disappear out into the parking lot. The woman is nearly running. “The, um. The...”

“F-Facility.” Chris’s face is pale, unsettled. He hunches into himself and Jake feels the tension around him as Chris starts to fiddle with a bracelet he wears on his left wrist all the time now, pulling the nylon rope it’s made of, twisting the little metal bits in it, rubbing it in circles around his wrist. At the same time, he starts to rock, back and forth, just a little on his feet. “I think she-she worked there, I was... I was... tired...”

Jake looks slowly down at the cart full of food, closes his eyes. Shit. They’ve been in this store forever getting everything they’ll need for weeks. They’re not going to find such big turkeys at such a good price at the dinky stores closer to home. It’s all going to be such a mess and a waste and...

Chris’s face is pinched and pale, his eyes squinting through the pain that must be rocketing around inside his head. Jake takes a deep breath, lets it out. “She, she, she-she-she... I know-... I was really-... really tired, something... tired and, and, and... and... and and there were handlers and I kept asking-...”

Jake grabs the first person in a green apron with a nametag he sees and apologizes for the food waste, gives them back the cart, and takes Chris by an arm around his shoulders to help lead him out the door. Chris’s eyes are nearly screwed shut completely at the agony, fighting through it. He can’t see to walk and Jake has to hold him tightly, aware that they look more like some creepy dick and his teenage boyfriend than what they actually are. 

Makes him wonder what the lady who apparently works at WRU thought when she saw Chris with Jake.

By the time Jake gets him to the truck Chris is shaking all over, and Jake just stands with his back against the hot metal frame and pulls Chris to him, holding him while Chris rocks hard in his arms, twists fingers into his shirt, taps against him, makes strange low moaning sounds that seem nearly inhuman and also incredibly full of very human grief.

Jake gets him into the truck and waits, holding him, while he clings and cries and shakes and rocks and hits himself and rages against memories he isn’t allowed to have any longer.

Memories he cannot give words to. Thoughts he isn’t allowed to have. He can’t verbalize any of them, only sob. Jake doesn’t try to force him, just puts a hand behind his head to direct it into the crook of his neck, let Chris bury himself in darkness to protect against the way, in moments like this, he fears the light.

By the time Jake gets him calmed down, he can’t remember why he recognized the woman anymore. Can’t even describe her to Jake, only two hours after he’d seen her. He can’t remember anything about the grocery trip past the bread aisle, it’s been pushed under the surface where all the painful things go.

At some point, while they’re on the highway, Chris admits he can’t remember the grocery store at all now.

Jake gets Chris home and settled and goes out to get the groceries all over again from one of the local spots, and he can’t stop wondering if that woman shops at the fancy store regularly.

He can’t stop wondering if, having seen Chris there exactly once and with that look on her face when she did, she’ll avoid it from here on out just to ensure she never sees Chris again.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Covet of the Wolf  [2]

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader (Lastname: Markolf)

Warnings: language, references of blood and injury.

A/N: I do love using Peter as a shenanigan plot driver, he’s so dramatic I couldn’t resist. Some characters from the previous series will begin to take backseat because i’m juggling waaaay to may characters. lmfaooo.

Leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed this chapter! It helps ☺

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“Peter,” Derek all but growled. You could picture his snarl without having to look at his face.

The dark silhouette stepped out of the shadow, “Hello, lovers.”

It was indeed Peter. Older, silver streaks growing in places that weren’t there the last time you saw him. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and wide—unsettlingly so. He cocked his head to the side, that shit-eating grin of his lining the skin around his lips. He seemed smaller somehow. Thinner.

You swallowed. The anger you felt towards Derek and your little—or perhaps big—argument was shelved to the back of your mind.

Derek marched down towards Peter so they stood on the same even ground. This wasn’t at all how you’d pictured their reunion. A hug may have been too much of a fantastical notion, but a handshake at the least seemed appropriate. They did neither, simply staring each other in the eye as if speaking through the flinches and blinks.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asked.

“What?” Peter held up his hands to show he bore no ill will. Then he reached into his back pocket and waved a card with delicate calligraphy letters on it. “I was invited.”

Derek snatched the card, “This is my invitation card. Did you break into my loft?”

“Can’t break in if you know where the key is,” Peter walked around Derek and headed for the homestead. “Best go greet the stunning brides to be. Y/N.” He tilted his head at you.

“Peter,” you half-smiled. It was a relief to see he was alright. The current situation, however, not ideal. You didn't know how to react, so you let the Hale's do all the reacting.

Derek grabbed Peter’s elbow, “What are you really doing here, Peter.”

Peter shrugged then winked, “It’s like I said. I’m just here for a wedding.”

 The tub was warm, reminding you of warm summers swimming in the lake as a kid. Your skin had started to prune, but you also knew that once you got out the tub, that meant facing Derek. Facing the tension.

An unexpected knock at the door made you gasp. Derek’s voice had that mix of concern and soft-spoken weariness: “You alright in there?” He wanted to make up. “I got towels.”

You glanced at the stack of towels on the shelf by the soap and smiled, “Come in.”

He opened the door slowly and walked with a low hanging head. He sat on the edge of the tub, not making eye contact.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he ran his hand through his hand, the curling ends were still a foreign sight to see. They did shape around his face beautifully though. “I guess being here, with all the… I just forgot what it was like.”

“What what was like?”

“Being around family…feeling like a part of one.”

You took his hand and kissed between the dips on his knuckles, “Just so we’re clear, I’m not saying no. I just don’t think we should be thinking about marriage when we still don’t know the full effect of the mark.”

You kissed the bandage hiding his mark. He recoiled subtly, pretending to shift to a more comfortable sitting position on the floor.

“You can’t tell me it doesn’t bother you—”

Derek grumbled, head leaning back onto the tubs walls, “Of course it bothers me. It itches a little.” He smiled warmly.

You rolled your eyes, “That’s not what I meant. If the mark didn’t bother you, why do you get all prickly around Peter? And don’t tell me it’s always been that way…You avoided talking about him the last couple of months and now that he’s here you practically looked like you were ready to tear his throat out. Why?”

Derek shrugged, “It’s Peter.”

“Derek,” you sighed.

“Okay, I just…He never shows up out of the blue for no reason.”

“Maybe he missed you.”

Derek huffed, “I’m sure he did.”

You snaked your wet arms around his neck and whispered low, “I know if I didn’t get to see your handsome face for a long time, I’d be really, really lonely.”

Derek craned his neck so his lips were close enough to feel the heat of his cheeks and lips. You indulged in his open invitation and kissed him, deeply. Derek found your hand and laced your fingers in his.

 Maggie and Caleb were arguing about something in her room, you had been busy checking boxes, making sure everyone was dressed and all the flowers were in the right places. Derek and Peter hadn’t been seen all morning. You imagined they were out in the hills arguing or something.

Jonah needed not one but two shirt changes because he kept getting them stained.  The first stain was jam and the second was a coffee stain. Jonah didn’t drink coffee, but he did like peddling it out as a bribe for something. Esme had taken over Markus’s room for the day and Markus had returned from the airport with Stiles.

“Stiles,” you hugged him warmly, a frown pulling on your face. “I thought you were bringing Lydia?”

Stiles winked and pulled out a tablet, “I am, she’s just going to be a couple thousand miles away.”

You shook your head, “And they say romance is dead.”

“I’ll just go set this up in the barn quickly,” he smiled like a goof from ear to ear.

Maggie looked gorgeous in her dress, you had to run up to her room to drag Caleb by the collar away because they kept fighting over the pettiest squabbles. Derek and Peter reappeared just in time for the start of the ceremony. Neither looked too pleased. Derek made every effort to seem okay. You could tell he wasn’t. Even Stiles was behaving suspiciously around him, whispering with a frown of his own when they were together. Derek’s habit of secret-keeping was getting under your skin.

If you had had time to think, you would have found everything a little strange, but there was barely enough time left to get dressed before the ceremony started.

You couldn’t reach the zipper at the back of your bridesmaid dress. It was green, not a lime green that was too bright or a forest green that was too velvety and dark; the dress was almost deep emerald, not silky in material and tight. Maggie was never one for body-hugging dresses, she enjoyed wide felt skirts, and her preferences showed obviously in her choice of bridesmaid dress.

Out of nowhere, Derek’s warm hands met yours and he whispered something as he helped zip you up: “Green is definitely your colour.”

You blushed, the reflection in the mirror was breath-taking. Derek in a dark suit with no tie and an unbuttoned collar. You in the dress that complemented his human eyes. His large hands on your waist. The flush of your cheeks matching the shade of lipstick.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” you turned around and tugged his suit jacket. “We should take a picture. Commemorate the moment. Something tells me it will be a long time before I see you in a suit again.”

“Hmmm,” he leaned in and kissed you. “You’re hard to forget. Especially today.”

The first bell tolled.

You pulled Derek with you as you left the room, “Come, we should get to our places.”

 The ceremony was small, simple in a delicate and intentional way that could be described as classy. As Deaton officiated, everyone was thrown off when Esme had been the first to shed a tear during the vow exchange. The red ribbon that bound Maggie and Esme’s right hands was the only vibrantly rich colour that stood out. Caleb explained it was a homage to hand-fasting.

Stiles sat next to an empty chair occupied by his tablet, Lydia, who dressed for the occasion despite being miles away, watched through a laggy video chat connection.

The reception was quieter. A few people exchanged jokes and Caleb got hilariously drunk on white wine. You were a little tipsy yourself, snuggled next to Derek who smelled of a rather expensive cologne you weren’t used to.

Peter looked bored, so you ventured over to pick his brain a little.

“Peter,” you announced yourself as you sat down on the empty chair beside him.

“Don’t you look radiant today,” he sipped whiskey.

“Where’d you get that?”

“You’re family has quite the collection of alcohol in that alcohol cabinet of yours.”

You leaned close to whisper, “We aren’t supposed to steal from Dad’s cabinet.”

“Well,” Peter sipped his whiskey slower, savouring the taste. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

You noticed he wasn’t wearing a bandage to hide his mark.

“You want to see it?” Peter raised a brow.

“What?”

“The mark.”

You looked over at Derek, he was in the middle of having a one-sided conversation with Jonah. You felt guilty but you didn’t know why.

“Yes,” you nodded.

Peter rolled up his sleeve. The mark was still—no longer moving under the skin. A raw colour, pinkish-red like a rash. The symbol was familiar to you. You’d seen it somewhere, or at least an iteration of it.

The crows from Deaton’s photograph, you realised. A double spiral.

You were drawn to the symbol, wanting to touch it, hoping it would hold all the answers if you just reached out…

Without warning, everyone’s heads pulled up, nostrils growing larger and then smaller. A werewolf tick. It was only the non-supernaturals that didn’t react; you, Stiles, Deaton, Maggie and Caleb. Them and Peter.

“Right on cue,” Peter took his final drink of whiskey.

Derek stood from his chair, an accusatory stare burning imaginary holes in Peter’s skull.

Peter reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a stake. He tossed it at Derek, “You’re gonna need that.”

“What did you do?” Derek’s eyes glowed blue, the stake shaking in his fist. The commotion drawing everyone’s attention. Your stomach churned and you felt nauseous.

“I may have run into some trouble,” Peter shrugged. “You weren’t answering my calls. I needed a little help.”

“So you led them here?” Derek moved quick, suddenly Peter’s shirt was bunched up in Derek’s fists. You sat back down. Vertigo getting the better of you.

“Can someone explain what’s happening?” Stiles asked the room.

Derek hissed, letting go of Peter’s shirt to grab his arm.

“It’s the order…” you whispered in realisation.

Stiles threw his hands up in the air, his next words coming out loud and exasperated: “I thought they weren’t a problem anymore.”

Peter frowned as if innocent, “See, I thought so too. But apparently, something crawled out of a very old box when we killed the old man walking around in my little nephew’s brain. And Astrid tells me it’s a sign of the end of days. Blah, blah, blah. So naturally, some wanted revenge. I—I may have overestimated my…ability to handle things and…well now I’m here.”

Maggie stood up from her chair, anger turning her skin a terrifying shade of red, “So you used my wedding as bait?”

Esme grabbed Maggie’s hand as if to hold her back.

“Safety in numbers,” Peter winked.

The barn doors flew off their hinges. Everything happened so fast. Snarls, slashing claws, a few curse words exchanged like it was Secret Santa. At one point, one of the last remnants of the order got close enough to Caleb to slash at his belly while he shielded Maggie. Out of the blue, two other people arrived, both men and both friendlies from what you could tell. One had a greying beard and short sandy brown hair. He was holding a shotgun because it would seem the Hale's didn't have any friends who baked or had a more domestic hobby than werewolf hunting. The other younger of the two was handsome, with sad eyes that drooped like a puppy's. They were a werewolf yellow, a colour you’d only ever seen on Jonah. His were more intense. Brighter. At one point, you thought you heard Stiles mutter the name, “Isaac.”

You didn’t care, there was no time to care about anything other than Caleb. You rushed over to Caleb’s side to tend to his wound. It was then, as you held his stomach and had trouble breathing that you realised just how beautiful he looked in his blue velvet suit.

 The ringing in Derek’s ears was superficial. The sharp stabbing pain it brought to his ears meant nothing next to the chaos unfolding in the room.

The white cloth on the joined dining tables was soaked on one end, a deep red, almost black under the candle light in the barn.

Derek’s heart beat rapidly. He hadn’t felt like this in a long, long time. Was it hopelessness? Fear? Dread? All of them at once?

Instinctively, his hand sought after yours. He could feel you, smell the faint scent of your perfume, behind him. But you didn’t take his hand.

Derek glanced behind him and saw you there, applying pressure to Caleb’s gut wound. Shock in your eyes. A look he swore to himself you’d never wear again. Not while he was by your side. But there it was, wide eyes and quivering lips failing to stay shut behind a clenched jaw. And this, all this destruction. The blood. The weeping brides—one out of anger, the other out of desperation. The blood soaked table cloth. And a severed head held in Peter’s hand. All this happened because of him.

Derek looked down at the mark that could pass for a rash on his arm. His claws extended and he tried to cut it out. But it simply healed back to normal.

This was all because of him. Him and that damned mark.

Standing beside him, unseen by all except Peter, was Alyster.

Dead Alyster living in Derek’s mind. Incorporeal, but all the same there, knocking about in his grey matter.

“Today was meant to be a happy day,” Alyster spoke with a faint shiver of regret. His voice contained to Derek’s consciousness. To the supernatural mark. Alyster’s face held a sadness permanently plastered to his drooping, lined eyes. “It would have been. If you had listened.”

Blood meandered from Derek’s nose to his chin. That smell. He knew that smell. It was pungent, earthy. The smell of decay. And it was coming from the severed head in Peter’s hand.

Suddenly the head began to mummify, skin turning leathery, cheeks sunken to the teeth.

Someone screamed, maybe it was Jonah maybe it wasn’t. A retch or two, some disgusted sounds. But Derek couldn’t focus on anything. His senses were running rampant.

Peter dropped the head. It didn’t land with a squelching sound. It didn’t land at all. Before it reached the ground, it turned to dust. Millions upon millions of finite skin particles reduced to a puff of dusty brown.

“You’re an asshole, Peter,” Derek was panting, his words wheezy.

“You should have answered my calls,” Peter’s face was glistening with sweat. “Jerk.”

Peter’s nose bled too. He didn’t seem to fight the pain. But Derek did. He held out, for as long as he could. Then, like lead balloons, both Peter and he fell. The mark burning like hellfire.

A connection severing from the collective. One of many considering the other dust piles on the floor.

Members of the Order of Sagittarius had just been killed.

And it was by their hand. Again.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH02

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: There’s still none. Oh, it’s probably gonna be burning slow, is all.

WC: 2940

SERIES MASTERLIST

As Dean looked out through the broken windshield of the Humvee, he saw Milligan stagger back. Milligan struggled to hold himself up, he had to brace himself on the barrells to his left, before he lost balance and Dean watched as Milligan’s body made contact with the ground. 

“Milligan!” Dean shouted out, his vocal chords already hurting, strained from the screaming he did before. 

Dean placed his hand on his squad leader’s shoulder who’s sitting in the front, the man’s hands were working on the radio unit that was dead silent. “You’ve got to let me go get him.”

“You’re insane, Winchester,” The squad leader muttered under his breath, “For all I know, we could be the only ones still alive!”

“Let me go get him!”

Dean didn’t really know why he wanted to go out there while it rained fucking bullets, and the Taliban already penetrated the camp. He wasn’t even close to Milligan, in fact, he was not close to any one of them, but he knew that Milligan was still alive and they’ll fucking lose him if his squad leader won’t let Dean go out and get him.

There’s a sound in the distance, some kind of siren.

No, not sirens. 

A phone.

His phone.

Dean opens up his eyes that are embarrassingly wet. He reaches out for the phone, picking it up without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello,”

“Well, hello there princess, so glad you’re alive!” 

“Cas,” Dean huffs out, rubbing his palm over his face, brushing at the tear that rolls down and sits upright. He steals a glance at the clock, it’s 8.32AM. 

“Awe, and you even remember my name!”

Dean can swear he only slept for two hours tops. He remembers leaving the Roadhouse in a hurry because Cas had called as there was some trouble with the cargo. Dean had left before he could even find out her name, and before he could finish that damn whiskey. 

He remembers going back to the bar later. Ellen was already in the process of closing up and the girl had left. Ellen asked if Dean wanted to stay and have a drink but he politely declined before he came back and raided the bar in his apartment. 

And it’s weird that all he thought about while he was drinking was not really the war. It was not really the pressure of fitting back into a world without said fucking war. Not really the responsibility and burden to carry on with the family business after the death of his father. No, his thoughts revolved around her and he didn’t even know why. 

There are things happening that he can’t explain and he can’t even say that he likes that. If anything, Dean hates not being able to be in control. He hates to feel helpless. It’s like that day at Combat Outpost Keating . The day he lost a part of himself.

“Are you still with me, boss?” 

Dean moves to the edge of the bed and tries to get up, “Yeah,”

“Well, just wanted to remind you of the meeting at 9AM.”

“I know, Cas. I’m the one who called for the meeting.” 

“Just wanna make sure. Do I have to come pick you up?”

Dean knows that Cas wanting to pick him up is Cas’ way to make sure that Dean will show up. There had been countless times that he missed meetings because of his drinking habit and he really doesn’t understand why they are still loyal to him. Why they’re all still putting up with his sorry ass.

“I can manage. Thanks.”

With that, Dean hangs up and tosses the phone onto the bed before he walks into the shower.

    Y/N doesn’t know if Dean would come in tonight since he left in a hurry last night, so when a tall handsome man walks through the door, dressed too nice for the place, she can’t lie that she feels like a weight has been lifted from her heart. It’s some kind of a weird sense of joy that she’s feeling, even though she should not be feeling that, probably.

Their eyes meet and if she’s not wrong, she can see the corner of his lips curving up, producing a small smile. He looks good when he smiles. 

Dean sits down, and tonight Y/N doesn’t ask him what he wants. She slides the tumbler over before he even settles. 

Now, there’s a grin on his face and this time, she’s sure that it isn’t just a Fata Morgana. She smiles back before she gets on with her tasks.

It’s two hours later and people start to go home or are on their way back to whatever responsibilities they were escaping from. 

That’s how it works with the Roadhouse, she figured. People here are night owls. Mostly operating in the shadows of the dark because they all got something to hide. 

Y/N has a hard time concentrating on her tasks because Dean’s always watching her. As if he wants to read her mind, as if he wants to see if she knows who he really is. 

Of course she knows who he is. Her main target. Nothing else, right? 

Right.

She’s slicing up some lemon and lime when he starts to talk. It took him long enough , she thinks. He’s been mostly sitting here, staring at his phone or at her while he sips on his glass, which she refilled thrice already.

“So, you’re new?” His voice is whiskey rough, low and smooth and it’s music to her ears. She can understand him clearly, even with the bass that’s coming out from the jukebox that’s drumming in her ears.

She looks at him but is still cutting away blindly, “Yeah, saw the ad in the newspaper.” 

“Why this bar? Doesn’t look like it’s your scene?” Dean holds his fourth drink between his thumb and middle finger, his index finger points at her and he tilts his head back to drink. She can see him squint at the burn. 

“You don’t know me, how should you know what’s my scene?” She turns around, searching for the box of lemons she knows she placed in the pantry earlier today, and even though she knows that she’d already cut more than she’ll ever be needing, she doesn’t want to stop because she doesn’t want for Dean to stop talking to her. Especially now when he finally does talk. 

Y/N finds the little box and turns back to cut the lemon at the workstation that’s right in front of Dean. Her face burns up and she hopes that it doesn’t make her look like an idiot.

Dean shrugs, “You look,” He pauses and she sees him thinking carefully about his next words, “Too innocent, for this place. Too good, actually. I doubt that someone who’s not exactly born into the life where their parents own a dingy dive bar, there’s no way any girl would want to work here. Look around, it’s not exactly a nice place, is it?” 

Of course he’s right and she hates how right he is, the way he knows that he’s right. There’s no way that she would have wanted to work here, if it wasn’t for him. The Roadhouse is a place with greasy bikers and truckers, but mostly, criminals. She wonders if he knows that he too, looks like he doesn’t fit in. He’s wearing a black fucking suit, a stark contrast against his white shirt. The tie is still tight around his neck (not like she’s staring at his Adam's apple the whole evening to have noticed it).

Y/N thinks that he’s attractive, she can’t lie about that. The crinkles around his eyes crease deep when he smiles (not that he’s doing a lot of that), the scruff on his face doesn’t really look groomed but it doesn’t make the man less good looking. 

And it’s different. Different seeing the target in real life instead of pictures and surveillance camera footage. God, those pictures and videos don't do him justice at all.

He’s raising an eyebrow, as if he’s waiting for an answer and she almost forgot what he asked or what they talked about before. She’s too lost in the green of his eyes.

“Ellen needed help, and I needed a job,” She shrugs before she places the cut off half of lemon into a bowl, “She said her daughter had left to work in the city.” She looks at him to see if there’s a reaction. 

It was true. Ellen did tell her, but she already knew what happened. Jo Harvelle is now working for Dean Winchester and Jo’s apparently pretty damn good at what she does. 

“Ow, Fuck!” She hisses out and frowns, abandons the knife in her hand to hold her middle finger. That’s a fucking amateur move, she thinks, cutting yourself while slicing lemon. Great fucking job, Y/N!

Before she can even decide what she does first — if she should rinse her finger or if she should just put her dish towel around it — Dean’s beside her. He has a hand on her wrist and pulls her towards the sink. Turning on the water tap he holds her finger under it, his other hand examines the wound under the stream of water.

“You’re lucky that the knife didn’t go too deep,” He says and tilts his head to look down at her.

She knows a lot about Dean Winchester. What he does, where he likes to go, even his favorite food, but she didn’t expect him to be this tall.

Her face flares up. 

“I’m alright, thanks. I can take it from here,” Y/N feels the sting of the wound that travels up her arm to her heart. She fucking hates looking at a gashing wound to be honest, and she’d rather someone does it for her, but it can’t be him. He makes her all kind of uncomfortable. 

“I got this,” He says calmly, “You have a first aid kit?”

She points to the pantry below the sink and Dean retrieves it one handed, while the other one still holds her hurt finger beneath the running water. 

“Done this more often than I should have,” Dean’s voice is steady and comfortably calm, “Sammy.. Um.. my brother. He was a wild kid, always coming home with scraped knees and what not,” She can hear something else in his voice, something fond . 

Y/N knows about Sam, knows that he’s Dean’s right hand. Wonder if he’s as ruthless as Dean is said to be. 

He turns the tab, shutting the water off and takes her hand out from under. Dean reaches out to pull at a sheet off the kitchen roll next to the sink and dabs at her wound with it. It’s still bleeding a little and she cringes at the sight. She can work on other people’s wounds without even blinking but her own? Nope.

Dean abandons the paper towel and takes something out from the first aid kit, “This will sting a little,” He smirks, looking at her as if to see if everything’s alright with her before he turns his gaze back to the wound and sprays something on it, and it fucking really stings. 

“Ow!” She breathes out, flinching and it’s the normal reaction to pull the hand away which Dean still has a tight grip around. 

“Shhhh, almost there,” He hushes her, his voice is low and fucking soothing. 

Afterwards, Dean lets go of her hand and searches for a band aid, tearing the wrapping paper off when he finds one and wraps it around her finger, “There you go,” He smiles, all bravado and fucking proud, and she can’t help but smile with him.

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbles, helping him clean up and throwing the towel into the trash before she proceeds to clear her work station at the counter. 

“You’re welcome,” He says but he doesn’t move, just stands there and watches her while she tries to ignore the green eyes of him that are trained on her. She tries fucking hard to ignore the breadth of his shoulder, that’s blocking her way, “Do I at least get to know your name?” 

Her heart races and she’s thinking about giving him a false name, but realizes that she didn’t use one to apply for this job. There are no traces of her in any database when she took on this job, so she should be alright. 

“Y/N.” She says shyly. 

“Dean.” He grins wide and genuine, showing his perfect white teeth. The crease around his eyes deepening and her heart is doing things it definitely shouldn’t.

Dean makes his way back to his seat. The grin’s still on his face, as if he’s proud of something, but she doesn’t know what. 

Y/N places the cutting board into the sink before she opens up beer for the guy who signaled it over to her and brought it over. Dean’s eyes are following her every move.

“Can I get you anything else?” She asks when she’s back in front of him. 

He lifts his glass between his thumb and middle finger, tapping at it with his index finger, “Another one?” It’s a question, she knows, and she doesn’t really get why he asks. Does he expect her to tell him to stop drinking? Should she? She doesn’t know, all she knows is that Dean Winchester could die of alcohol poisoning and she wouldn’t care. Would she? Yeah, no, she definitely wouldn’t.

She refills his glass quickly and proceeds to clean the things in the sink and Dean’s still fucking watching her. 

“So, what’s your story, Dean?” She asks when she turns back to face him. 

Taking her wash cloth, she wipes at the bar top. Her heart is pounding and she wonders if she gave anything away by asking things too soon. 

“Why do you wanna know my story?” 

“I don’t know, that’s what I’m here for, no? Men always tend to spill their stories and troubles to the barmaid. They know that their secrets are safe.” 

“Are they?” Dean raises his right eyebrow, the creases on his forehead showing but it’s a playful act, she knows, sees it in his eyes as they sparkle.

Y/N dries her hand on the apron around her waist before she braces her hands on the counter and leans forward. He watches her with amusement in his eyes. 

He leans closer too, and she notices something. 

Holy shit, freckles!

Dean fucking Winchester has freckles, which, to her disappointment, doesn’t make him any less attractive. 

She leans even closer and her nose picks up the faint smell of his cologne that smells dark and somehow sweet at the same time, “Cross my heart,” She whispers, her nose grazing his temple. 

And when she parts from him, she notices him smiling at her. 

     Dean’s heart is pounding when she leans close. He hopes she doesn’t hear it. She’s so close he can breathe in her smell, and he really likes the faint perfume she’s wearing. 

Then he laughs, sharp, loud, and she smiles back. What a fucking pretty little thing. He really wonders how she ended up here. Wonders if he should give her another job in one the bars he owns in the city, but then thinks that he wouldn’t want anyone to stare at her the way he did tonight. His greediness wouldn’t allow that. He wants to have a place where he can unwind and this place has just gotten a whole lot better.

“Well, maybe another time, sweetheart,” Dean downs the rest of his drink in one go. He flips his wrist, knowing that technically he had to be on his way a half hour ago already, but thinks it was worth it to have stayed longer. 

“You’re not going to drive do you?” She asks when he stands up and fishes out a bundle of cash from his dress pants. 

Dean ignores her question because yeah, of course he’s going to drive. He doesn’t tell her that he’s got half the police force on his payroll though. 

He places $100 on the counter, sliding it over to her while he watches her face tightening and the crease between her eyebrows deepens. Thinks that it’s damn cute, wants to ease it away, preferably with a kiss. 

“Oh no, Ellen said not to take money from you,” She waves him off before she places her forefinger on the bill and slides it back. 

“It’s for you.” 

It’s true. Dean doubts that Ellen is paying her nearly enough to survive. And it’s all out of greed and kind of a self service really, because he wouldn’t want her to change jobs just because she doesn’t earn enough to get by.

“That’s too much. I barely did anything,” Her face starts to pick up color.

She blushes so fucking sweet. He has to give her that.

“Alright,” Dean says, putting the bill back into his pants and leaving his hands in his pockets. He knows when to stop and he has the feeling that she’d be mad if he presses further, “Guess, I’ll try again next time.” 

She laughs. A nice sound and she even wrinkles her nose.

It’s a laugh that is somehow contagious. Something Dean wants to hear more of. 

“Good luck with that,” She says with an easiness in her smile. 

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.” He winks and waves before he turns around and walks out with a strange feeling in his gut. 

CH.03

[bird-in-a-cage]

Hey, guess what, its a sequel that absolutely no one asked for but I’m forcing upon you anyway because I got really into this idea and one google search led to another and I needed to get this out of my brain!

Part one is here. Probably best to give it a read first so you know what the hell is going on. But, for everyone who has already done that here’s part two of California Dreamin’. Enjoy some spectrophilia!

Lucid

The adults only section of Family Video was always a hive of sleaze. Most of the time though, thankfully, it was empty. Steve could always tell when someone would first walk through the door if that was their intended destination or not. They would stop, check out other titles, pick up a case of two from the shelves and roll it over in their hands, very visibly debating with themselves, all the while slowly but surely making their way to the back corner where it was all hidden behind a thick beaded curtain to give the illusion of privacy. The reality was it was never private. There was a camera in the top corner, blinking red and bright. A deterrent.

That didn’t stop some people though.

Robin was on Twizzler duty again, now doing it everyday to piss Keith off, seeing how far she could push until he snapped but in her own way. A drop of water slowly breaking through a mountain. It was kind of fun really, to watch her loudly eat the red candy but not give any eye contact to him as he walked around the store every now and then, giving all her attention to a copy of The Turning of the Screw. It did mean Steve was on return box duty again though while they had their little silent war. Robin mouthed thank you as he went off to start, then went back to being as unbothered as ever.

Steve took the two cases that were left after he’d done the rest of the store and dipped through the thick beads. Thankfully today the room just smelt like hot plastic rather than suspect body odour. One side of the small room was horror movies deemed too graphic and violent to be put on public display. Video Nasties. Steve had rented a couple a few times, they weren’t all that scary or good, but then he was probably just biased to that situation, having dealt with real life monsters that wanted to eat him and kill everybody and take over the world. On the other side were pornos. 

Why anyone would publicly rent a porno tape he would never understand. Maybe some people just didn’t have an imagination. Watching one was just fine, no problems with that at all, and it was common practice for a dirty magazine or two to be passed around the locker room as a joke, but actually walking into a store with the intention of just renting a tape to jack off too? No, Steve couldn’t understand that. Probably because the shame of having to do it would burn him alive, but that was another matter. He slotted a case into a mid level shelf, a Terminator parody so wittily titled Penetrator, all these tapes had such awful names, when a case lower down started making its way out from the shelf. Steve rubbed over the pendant under his shirt, it was ice cold.

Of course he’d visit now.

With a grin he couldn’t hide even for a second, Steve nudged it back into place with his foot. Another title further up poked out. Mad Max: Beyond Thunderbone. Steve shoved it back home too.

“Cut it out,” he muttered low only so no one could hear him if anyone was close by. He was still grinning though, so much his cheeks started to burn a little. Another case slowly wiggled free and stuck out at eye level. For Your Ass Only. Steve bit his lip so he wouldn’t giggle and give the specter that followed him the satisfaction, pushing it back in place with two fingers. A final case at shoulder height was brought out into the light of day. Risky Jizzness.

“You wanna tell me why this looks like you pretty boy?” The voice floated around Steve’s head, deep and sultry. Billy was in one of those moods. Steve pushed it back into place and kept his almost whisper tone.

“Because my boyfriend is a ghost and I’ve gone completely insane so staring in a porno was the next logical step, obviously.” Steve felt a warmth envelop his chest, leaving his arms free to rearrange tapes and put the final one from the box back in its place. It was instantly comforting and a little tight. Easy to imagine Billy just stood behind him, holding him for real in the middle of his work day, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder and being a distraction from the monotony of stacking video tapes in alphabetical order.

“You should have mentioned that was your end goal, I’d have been more than happy to hold the camera.”

“Uh huh, sure, cause that’s all you would be holding.” He could feel Billy’s dirty grin burn his cheek, heat pressing and creeping up along his jaw like slow kisses.

“You know it baby.”

Steve still wasn’t sure on a lot of things about this, whatever this was. Whether anyone could hear what Billy was saying was a big point. He tended not to come out if there were other people around so it wasn’t as if Steve could test it. Even if he could he would look totally crazy, which he still wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t anymore. His mental state was one of those things he didn’t think about too hard. Like the Cold War, or being sucked back into dark, monster filled tunnels. Their presence was always there but it didn’t affect his day to day life so much. If anything, Billy following him around some days made Steve happier. More at peace. Of course it raised a lot of questions like why and how, and why and how again because there would definitely need to be several rounds of why and how before anything even started to make sense. 

Then there was the where. Billy didn’t think he was in hell, was pretty sure he wasn’t in heaven, and wasn’t entirely sold that he was in the middle place either. They spoke about it sometimes when Steve slept and was whisked away to either the quarry or the beach, wherever Billy wanted to be that night. Steve kind of liked the beach more, it was always bright but not hot, calm and tranquil. It felt almost like a little vacation away from Hawkins. They would always lie next to each other on brightly coloured beach towels. Steve had never seen Billy in the lime green board shorts he liked to wear on beach nights, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. Even if Steve was stuck wearing what he wore to sleep and looked ridiculous by comparison. There was never anyone else there to judge.

That was just another thing they hadn’t quite worked out yet. Turns out no one gives you an instruction manual when you die and become a spirit just floating around, stick in limbo. You kind of just have to figure things out yourself. Billy had worked out how to change his clothes and the landscape of where he pulled Steve too. He hadn’t yet worked out how he did that though.

“I just, think, and here we are.”

He’d worked out how to pick things up and put them down, push and pull and throw. Steve would sometimes leave objects on the kitchen counter for Billy to touch and move, getting such a thrill just seeing an empty Pepsi can be flipped onto its side and rolled away with a hollow clatter into the trash can on the other side of the room. Steve had suggested that maybe Billy was stuck until he found his purpose, but neither of them could think what that would be. Max was fine every time she came into the store to just hang around, get a break from the noise of the arcade next door, and let Robin suggest scary movies she should watch even though she wasn’t old enough to rent them yet. There was never a mark on her, which is what Billy was worried about but would never say out loud. He always pretended to be such an asshole and that he didn’t care, when he was blatantly obvious he did.

“Maybe you have to save a baby or something? You know, push a stroller out of the way of oncoming traffic?” Steve suggested while they were on the beach. Billy pushed himself up off his towel printed with lavender stripes onto his hands to look down. The sun was shimmering off his forever perfect body.

“This isn’t the 30s. And I’m pretty sure that only happened in silent movies,” he smiled like Steve was an idiot. An adorable idiot. His adorable idiot. Steve reached up to cup Billy’s jaw. That golden skin still felt numb under his fingers. They would need to work on that.

“Pretty sure that us being here right now means anything is possible.”

They’d both worked out that the pendant turning icy cold instead of just its regular cold meant Billy was close by instead of just in the general vicinity, still invisible sadly but his presence was there. Small steps. They were slowly piecing it together. It wasn’t as if either of them had any time limit on it all. But really, a manual would have been helpful. Even a small information pamphlet written in Chinese was better than the nothing they had.

---

Billy was still in that mood that night. Even as Steve’s clock ticked around to three am and he still couldn’t sleep. He lay on his stomach, staring at the hands move slow around the face. He wanted to sleep so badly, he could feel the gentle pull around his chest come see me, I miss you but no matter how hard he tried it just wasn’t happening. Maybe it was too warm out, the air too soupy to properly relax into sleep and drift away. The sheets were long kicked to his ankles. He could feel Billy getting restless. The pendant felt like it was frozen, trapped between his chest and the sheets. Steve tried one more time, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping to just be hypnotised by the soft monotonous tick tick tick. But five minutes later he was as awake as ever. He kept his eyes shut though. Wishful.  

The warmth left his chest and became more direct, felt like a hand stroking his back over his t-shirt, drifting up, rubbing the back of his neck and through his hair. Steve couldn’t help the small purr that gathered in his throat. He was a sucker for having his hair played with. By anyone. With permission obviously.

“I’m sorry Bill,” he mumbled into his pillow, head still turned towards the clock. “I’m trying...”

Steve didn’t get a response. He wasn’t really expecting one, sometimes Billy didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. It was just another thing they hadn’t worked out yet. In truth he wasn’t sure if his words were more for his spector boyfriend’s sake or his own. The hand pressed firmer. Steve easily imagined those tan fingers rubbing the little spot behind his ear. It definitely felt real enough to fool his brain that the other side of his bed wasn’t completely cold and empty. A gentle pull on his shoulder had Steve laying flat on his back, eyes still closed towards the ceiling.

“You’re making this harder you know…”

He felt heat on his cheek, across his jaw, over his lips. Kisses he couldn’t reciprocate no matter how much he wanted to. One hand became two, felt over his chest like they had done so many times before. Steve knew their pattern. What those blue eyes once liked to see. He chuckled and peeled his shirt off, tossing it to the floor.

“There. Happy now?”

Steve didn’t get a verbal response. Instead the touches became hotter, drifting over his skin with purpose, invisible fingers raking through his coarse chest hair, pressing and circling slow around his nipples. The heat left his face and worked its way down, across his now exposed collarbones one by one, his skin prickling as they crossed his body in two perfect lines. With his eyes closed it was so easy to imagine Billy was there. He kind of was. Steve moaned softly for him. One hand continued its way down, pressing over the waistband of Steve’s briefs. He chuckled again, putting his hand where he felt the pressure, slipping his fingers under the material, plucking them off his hip and circling towards his middle.

“You want these off too?” 

Steve giggled a little, feeling nibbles on his earlobe, the phantom hand rubbing slow and firm over his lower stomach, through his happy trail. The air felt thicker still as his body got excited from all the direct but indirect attention. Steve definitely felt like he was being watched. He kind of liked being watched like this. He kicked his briefs off into the bundle of sheets at the foot of the bed, already half hard. He pictured Billy’s smirk, his tongue poking out from between his teeth in approval and arousal. It made Steve grin in return to the empty room as he flopped his arms up above his head to touch the underside of the headboard, reminding him that this was real, he hadn’t drifted off to sleep quite yet.

That seemed to get Billy’s blessing. The kisses placed to the side of Steve’s neck were searing. It felt so real, felt like sucking and that wicked tongue lapping over his skin to make bright red marks everyone would see, high under Steve’s jaw. They caused his dick to kick. He groaned feeling a hand suddenly around it. Thick and strong, pumping up and down with little abandon. The friction was delicious. Impossibly so. He was soon completely hard, pointing up towards his stomach, the first few drops of pre hitting his skin. Everything felt so real. The kisses moved back to his lips, desperate and pressing and wanting. Steve opened his mouth and felt a tongue slide along his own, dragging out sounds from his throat that sounded alien even to him, as he kept getting stroked and played with like a toy. Hips bucking up into a memory of Billy’s hand, tight and firm, thumb pressing along an underside vein.

Then there was nothing. Steve panted in the dark, left teetering on the edge of almost there but not enough. But then there was pressure on his shoulders, hands hanging on, thumbs rubbing in circles where his collar bones ended. Steve gripped the headboard tighter before his cock was pressing into an ever familiar tightness he could never forget. Even with his eyes shut they still rolled into the back of his head, a groan escaping his lips before the tongue was back, capturing and swallowing his sounds of pleasure. His cock sunk further and further until there was nothing more to push into.

“Jesus…” Steve managed to get out somehow, voice ripped and cracking deep. “You gonna bounce for me baby?”

He could picture that grin, a deep flush high on those freckle covered cheeks, eyes dark with desire and want before the movement happened. Steve felt his brain just about stop. It had certainly stopped trying to make sense of what was happening to him. Billy bouncing on his lap was one of his most favourite things. The way his chest glistened with sweat, the way his stomach pulled tight, pushing his abs further on display, the way his hair would stick to his forehead, the way his athletic thighs would clamp around Steve’s hips. Even though he was taking Billy was still definitely the one in control.

Steve moved his hands from under the headboard, felt fingers lock between his own almost immediately as the drag on his cock got faster, more desperate, less rhythmic and far less precise. He started muttering things to space that’s it baby, just like that, keep going I’m so close, his head started swimming as the heat low in his gut started to pull tight and impending. Steve wanted to keep going though, keep feeling all of this for as long as possible. The hands heavy on his own. The scorching kisses over his cheek and neck and lips. The impossible warmth and tightness around his cock, dragging and pushing quicker and harder. To just keep picturing Billy’s strong hips working and rolling, his thick cock aching and desperate to be touched but keeping Steve pinned so it couldn’t be, pre pooling into his belly button.

Steve came over his stomach with a cry.

The kisses over his jaw were warm instead of hot as he panted hard, chest heaving and heart rapid, skin shiny with exertion. One hand holding his own was the only feeling that remained as his cock fell lip over his hip. An unmistakable smell of smoke suddenly filled the air after what would most definitely have been two clicks of a zippo with a homemade etching of a skull on the side. Steve couldn’t help but laugh tired and worn out.

“God you’re an asshole.”

Warm arms clamped on around Steve’s chest again, the gentle pull. Come see me, I miss you, I love you. Steve was just about tired enough this time to fall.

[pendragonfics]

Bird Brain

Paring: Clint Barton/Reader

Tags: female reader, doctor reader, domestic avengers, avengers tower, age difference -- older man/younger woman, domestic fluff, humor, deaf Clint Barton, Clint Barton needs a hug, fluff

Summary: She's a doctor and patches up the Hawkeye almost every day. He's an Avenger, and somehow, hasn't realised that she's been into him for ages.

Word Count: 2386

Current Date: 2020-02-15

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but whoever said that never had to deal with Clint Barton every forty-eight hours. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the man - what wasn’t there to like? No, it was the fact that the man was constantly getting hurt. Shooting himself in the foot (literally). Falling over, losing his hearing aid, being stabbed by bad guys, needing an emergency tetanus shot when he got cut by a rusted nail and was very due for his shots.

It didn’t hurt that he was quite a looker, under all the bandages. Nice smile, kind eyes, and when he was actually taking care of himself and eating right, he had a rockin’ bod. If anyone caught you favouring him to the other Avengers who came by your station in the Tower, you’d say it was purely professional (when in actual fact, if he’d ever ask, you’d say yes to drinks in an instant).

The hardest part, though, was that every one of the team knew that you liked Clinton F. Barton, except him.

Bucky and Sam had a bet going on between the team of how long it was going to take Clint; so far, the stakes were high, and almost everyone was in on it. It had gone on for years, and only once had Clint almost walked in on a group of them talking about it, but he brushed it off. It seemed that you had chosen one of the densest Avenger as your heartthrob. Early on, Tony Stark had given you shit for being so young (to which Thor smacked him on the underside of his head for). Then, when he got over the age-gap, it was all, if you’re into older men why are you all heart-eyed over the Hawkeye when I’m literally here? Gradually over time, he let it go and moved on to other fish to fry.

After losing his hearing aid again on a mission, Clint is seated before you, looking at his hands. You can’t imagine the pressure he would be under as a man without powers in the Avengers and living with a disability, but he’s never spoken about it. You look up from where you’re running diagnostics, hoping that Tony’s bottomless credit card can purchase some tech for Clint that won’t fall out (his words) next time.

Once you have his attention, you sign, ‘You can tell me if you lost them on purpose.’

There’s a pause, and his face cracks that custom-made Clint Barton grin. He’s running on full-strength coffee or adrenaline these days, and it kills you to see him beating himself up all the time. He’s only human.

‘Blame gravity, not me.’ He frowns, and adds, ‘You believe me?’

‘Sure, and JFK is alive.’ You reply, laughing. He scrunches his nose up at that, trying to not show a smile, but you can see in his eyes, those tired eyes that lived off coffee and adrenaline, that there was some part of him that thought your quip was humorous.

Right then, Agent Romanoff walked in. If anyone had ever the self-esteem feel good about themselves in a room with her in it, they were lying. Her red hair was in a yoga bun, and she wore that black catsuit tied half-down around her waist. The only thing un-sexy about her was the fact there was a growing red stain beneath the button-down shirt. Clint seemed to get the message and signed his goodbyes to both of you as Natasha took his place on your examination table.

“Did I just ruin a moment?” she asked, unbuttoning her shirt unprompted.

There was a bullet in her lower abdomen, luckily the other side of her heart, and judging from the wound, was still inside. You move your hands toward the wound, and quickly assess before you pull on fresh gloves. She watches you, and lies down, administering herself the pain relief that you hand to her. Hopefully, her wound won’t need surgery.

“You say that like you’re sorry for coming in,” you reply, cleaning around the area.

Luckily, she doesn’t laugh, because that would hurt her wound. “But was it?” she pokes.

“Give me a break, I’m in love, not hopeless.” You retort, trying to stay professional. “…I mean, who even shot you, anyway? Didn’t your last mission end yesterday?”

“That’s classified. I’m a bad bitch like that,” she smirks, and unintentionally, you touch a tender area and she winces at the pain. Unfortunately for the Black Widow, she will need surgery. Before you move to page another medic, she places a hand on yours, and you look at her for a moment silently until she speaks. “…I know you’re not hopeless, ________, but it’s been three years, and if he can’t see you,” she gestures toward you like you’re the Mona Lisa or someone worth her time, “he doesn’t deserve you.”

---

Game Night Fridays were a thing, apparently. Something that you hadn’t been a part of until Doctor Banner roped you into being his partner for a table tennis tournament. The only rule was that you had to wear a stripy shirt, use no abilities to win the match, and have fun! (according to a retired Captain America, who you, after all, this time can’t believe survived coming out of the ice). Doctor Banner’s usual partner, the android Vision, was taking a long weekend with Wanda, his new fiancée to Miami.

That’s why you were stood in front of the table tennis table beside the sometimes-Hulk, sometimes-professor, all-times awkward walking Dad Joke Doctor Banner, wearing a striped shirt. On the other side of the table, Thor cracks his knuckles, and Clint flips the paddle in his hand and catches it like a cocky sportsman.

“Remember, to play fair!” Steve calls out, refereeing. He’s exempt of the mandatory ugly striped shirt, and holds a whistle in his teeth, about to blow. He’s very sports coach chic, looking very much an all-American hero.

“Or not,” Sam sasses, before the whistle blows, “and make it a match to remember!” He whoops.

Though the pair of them were Captain America, they had a different taste of how to serve their patriotic justice. The whistle is shrill, piercing, and Clint serves the orange ball.

Bruce hits it back, and Thor returns, and Bruce hits once more. You dive after it when Clint serves it back, and onward it goes. After a while, you take note of everyone’s style. Clint goes for tricky shots, and Thor uses the power behind the paddle to make fast ones. Bruce is reserved and stays on his side of the table, and with everything going on, you’re having to pick up the slack. You have a feeling that if Vision was here, he’d be a formidable player. Your reflexes are nothing on actual Avengers.

When Bruce misses the shot from Thor, you can see your teammate get tense, a tinge of green growing from beneath his collar.

“DoctorBanner, I think you should take a time out,” you tell him, but he shakes it off.

The next hit is quickly lost, and then it’s your turn to hit it. Clint’s making a funny face, and it throws you off momentarily, and you hit air instead of the ball. Thor roars with thunderous laughter. Doctor Banner looks more and more lime-green than his usual olive-tone. When Thor serves, it’s too fast, and it hits Bruce in the cheek, leaving a mark on his face.

The room gets quiet.

You place a hand on his shoulder, looking at the man. “Let’s get some air.”

You lead him away from the main room, out to the balcony adjacent to the main floor of the Avengers Tower communal area. Behind you, the Avengers resume their casual conversation, and the volume of the room goes from sterile to friendly. But just as you walk Bruce to the night air, Tony takes your place. He’s also not in a stripy shirt, and he wordlessly trades places with you, going in your stead to comfort the green doctor.

It’s easy enough to excuse yourself after that. Unlike the Avengers, you don’t get any time off, and the weekends are spent shadowing Doctor Cho at her clinic, and that starts early tomorrow morning. You say a quick goodbye to Sam and Bucky, who half-acknowledge you over their game of checkers (Bucky is playing red, and losing badly), and descend via the stairs. But halfway down, you hear someone behind and turning, you see Clint Barton.

His new hearing aid glows dimly in the hallway, and so goes his goofy smile. But there’s a different look in his eyes than usual, and you don’t know if right now you’re about to feel everything that you’ve been waiting for from him, or not.

He sticks his hand out to you, to shake. “Good game,” he says.

You smile. “Yeah, uh, it was a good game.”

“…it’s a shame you don’t come every Friday, ‘cause that was fun.” He adds, walking past you, continuing down the stairs. You take the cue and follow him the same way you were headed, down to the street. Most people take the elevator, in the once-Stark tower, but the stairs are oddly relaxing. “Maybe we can rush Viz and Wanda into a shotgun wedding, and we can play again some time.”

“I don’t really -,” you sigh, looking down. Clint frowns, and you don’t repeat yourself. You forget sometimes when he’s verbal and wearing the aid that he can’t hear everything. “Yeah. Maybe.”

---

For some reason, Clint Barton does not get hurt for three weeks. For three weeks, he keeps his hearing aids in one piece. He doesn’t get shot, stabbed or become unstable on a rooftop. He’s nowhere to be seen near your end of the woods. You spend your time catching up on paperwork, working on the medical profiles of the Avengers…and missing him.

It’s hard, because every time you give up on him, he comes back. And yet…there’s no sign of him.

Until there is. The Quinjet acts as a medivac, and arrives loudly, landing on the roof. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents escort a stretcher out, and you’re hastily called to action alongside the other medical professionals that have been called in. It’s barely five o’clock in the afternoon, one hour until you’re allowed to go home to binge-watch America’s Funniest Home Videos, but when you see who’s nigh comatose in the stretcher, your heart almost stops.

“How the hell -,” you cry out, starting to worry.

“Language!” says everyone, except Steve Rogers.

“-There was an ambush, Doctor ________. He was shot at by a sniper, but he managed to remove himself from 75 per cent of the ranged weapons range. He has three wounds of varying degrees of severity and is currently on a high dosage of pain medication to get him here.” Vision reports, helping the agents move the bed toward the elevator, to your set up.

“Thank you,” you tell him, and look at Clint. He looks so peaceful and would appear to be sleeping well if not for the two shots by his collar bone. “Okay, I need everyone scrubbed up, I need a dose of morphine prepped for when this wears off, call a surgeon in and - Doctor Cho, ready your cradle.” You speak hastily and remember afterwards that you’re not the head doctor on staff. “…sorry. Just, um, get him better.”

“________...” Clint says, woozily.

You look down to see him. His eyes are partly open, and slowly, his mouth opens to bare his teeth in a loose grin. His hands are soft, and reach for you blindly, but can’t seem to coordinate himself. He’s high off his face on the medicine, and you take his hand in yours, holding it tight.

“Yeah, I’m here.” You reach for his face, pushing his dirty blonde hair back. “It’s me.”

“You’re like, the best.” He says.

From across the room, you hear a nurse snicker quietly.

“You’re so…good at your job,” he slurs. “…and I’m like, Hawkbutt.”

“Hawkeye,” you correct.

“That’s the same thiiing,” he drawls. “…I’m a butt. I am. A. Butt. Heh. Butt.” He prattles.

“You’re not a butt, Clint. You’re a hero.” You tell him.

Doctor Cho comes behind you and places a hand on your shoulder. “I think it’s best if you sit out on this. You’re too close to the patient to take care of him.” She pauses. “It’s for the best.”

“I heard that! My hearing - aid - I heard that” Clint adds. “You’re right, Doctor Cho, she shouldn’t. Because,” he takes a deep breath in, as the other medical professionals swarm around him, readying the assessment before taking care of him, “Be-because I want to marry that lady. She’s the best.”

The room gets uncomfortably quiet, with just the EKG in the background.

His hand slackens off yours, moving over to his chest. That smile of his widens, albeit unfocused. He yawns, and looking your way, says with his hands just as he’s administered another round of drugs, his motions sloppy, but forgivable,

‘I love you,’ he signs.

You feel tears prick in your eyes. “Clint,” you reply, reaching for his arm. His pulse is weakening, the medically induced coma coming on, and he looks to you with his fading consciousness. You sign, just for him to see, ‘I love you too.’

---

It’s another six months until Clint Barton is cleared to go back to fieldwork, but that day comes and goes, and he’s still hanging around the Avengers Tower, this time in your surgery not for health reasons. The archery Avenger follows you around like a lost puppy in love, and to be perfectly honest, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Tony Stark went back to his teasing and kept the security tape of that day, archived in F.R.I.D.A.Y. under ‘Birdbrain & the Doc’ - a file he won’t change the name of. But it’s okay.

Even though he’s older, and you’re younger, he’s a combatant, and you’re a medic, he’s a coffee drinker and you prefer tea, you swear up and down that you’re as fond as ever for the dense archery master Clint, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.  

[hyperactivelittlebee]

Keeping a Secret 1/??? (HC Kiddo AU)

First half takes place in season 4, while the end bit taking place in the beginning of season 6. Yes, this is connected to “The oddity at area 77″ TW for: Blood descriptions, slight implied child abuse, Taurtis being the asshole for once.

Putrid, horrible, agonizing, miserable.

These were the words Ren could use to describe the Nether. He disliked everything about the place; the stink of sulfur and brimstone that would stick to him for days, the dim lighting of glowstone and the fire that was scattered along the ground forcing him to constantly use his sharper eyesight, the screams of the damned coming from the mouths of horrid flying creatures as they spat balls of fire at him making him consistently on high alert, everything about the place made him despise going there.

Sure, the others didn't mind it as much as he did; but they didn't have the heightened senses he had to deal with.

There was only a few reasons he felt it worth being there; Quartz, Glowstone, and Blaze rods.

That last one was why he was in the Nether right now. He needed Blaze rods for Blaze powder to get his potion stands working. At first, He had asked Iskall- well, more like begged- for some, but the Swede didn't give in, simply giving him directions to a Nether fortress and telling him to get them himself as politely as possible.

Which promptly meant he chased Ren out of his base with a Cod.

Jabbing his sword through the skull of yet another Wither skeleton, he watched in annoyance as it crumpled to the ground in ashes. The amount of sweat he was covered in gave him the feeling of being in this fortress for hours- maybe even days! While in reality, it had most likely only been 2 or 3 hours but it was still quite a long time without finding Blazes.

He'd really have to work to scrub out the smell this time.

Ren ran his fingers through his hair, undoing it and grumbling softly under his breath as he re-tied it. By now, the smell of brimstone was annoying the hell out of him- clogging his senses and making his eyes water. His eyes roved over the endless expanse of the nether, hoping to spot at least one blaze so he could just leave already.

The sound of an echoing shout made the Lycan's ears perk up, his head snapping towards the sound so fast it almost gave him whiplash.

From across the Lava, he could see a half-bred blaze demon chasing far behind another demon. The grip around the handle of his diamond sword tightened, his adrenaline rushing. As Ren focused on the half-breeds face, something in the eyes of the demon made his stomach drop- his instincts telling him something was just wrong and he needed to hurry.

Sprinting across the Fortress bridge's, Ren didn't slow down as his previous exhaustion was long gone, replaced by increasing paranoia and adrenaline.

Jumping from the fortress, the Lycan landed on the netherrack with a thud before continuing his sprint; quickly catching up to the Blazes. He skidded to a stop as they reached a cliff, jumping behind a cluster of Quartz as a voice spoke up. The half-breed held a golden sword in one hand, his hair a chestnut brown and wearing golden armor. He was bulky and looked to be about Iskall's size- making Ren a bit nervous. He looked to be in his early 20's, having a slight beard that only added onto his similarities to Iskall. His eyes were an unnatural gold, seeming to be blank and soulless.

"This doesn't need to be hard pal; just give up the girl and we'll be on our separate merry ways!"

"Like hell!"

"I will not ask you again!"

Peeking out, he spotted just what the blaze was chasing. A demon stood with his back to the cliffs, tensed in a defensive position. His hair was the color of honey, his skin was pale as the moon, his scerla's were black as the void and his iris' were red as blood, wearing nothing but a ripped tunic and cloak the color of freshly grown grass and black tights. He seemed to be young, around the age's of 18 or 19- but his skin was littered in scars and bruises.

Then, as his gaze shifted, Ren's focus was on something else.

His eyes narrowed in on the small child next to him, their hands clamped around each other tightly as the teen held her slightly behind himself- eyes locked with the Blaze hybrids.

"Salem's dying wish was to take her child away from- from HIM- why the hell can't you just respect that Mini?!"

"I do respect that, I really do! But you know how it is around here."

"Why are you acting like this?!"

A thud inches away from him made Ren jump, seeing another demon land beside him. Following him were two more male demons- both of them holding golden swords, but not wearing golden armor. The first seemed to be an Incubus, his hair a golden blonde with strikingly beautiful blue eyes, a black bandana tied around his head. He was smaller than the hybrid in stature, his slight curves showing through his clothes. His shirt was lime green and he wore slightly ripped blue jeans, a long whip-like tail waving behind him.

The other seemed slightly older than the others and easily could match Doc in his size, but seemed to have a gentle atmosphere. At first glance, He was just a regular demon, but the uncharacteristic black demon wings folded behind him gave away his rank easily. It wasn't often demons were born with wings- but when they did, Ren heard it could be insanely dangerous. The demon had auburn hair that was gelled back and the mustache on his upper lip was well-groomed, his eyes a soft red and his skin a tanned color. His horns were curled back like a ram, and his tail was just as whip-like as the Incubus'. He was dressed more formally in a rusty red pin-stripe vest, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and black dress pants. He held the golden sword with less tensity, seeming to not have as much malice as Mini.

"M-Martyn- You're-" The teen spoke up, looking surprised and hurt as he locked eyes with the Incubus. Martyn seemed to flinch, taking a step back, "Look- I have to. You know what happened last time I went against order's..."

The larger demon stepped forward, his look almost pleading, "He's willing to forgive you, bud...You just need to come back with us- Please....I...We don't wanna hurt you." His voice was soft, sounding genuine and calming.

He reminded Ren of Mumbo.

"Zee- You should understand better than anybody that I- I need to fulfill Salem's wishes. Please!"

"I-i..."

The Child let out a yelp as her foot slipped a bit, causing Ren to react instantly, taking out his sword and charging the Incubus.

The blond spun around and blocked the strike with his own sword, eyes wide as he looked at Ren. He pushed back against the Lycan, taking Ren by surprise with a kick to his stomach, making him stumble back. The larger demon caught him, holding his sword to his neck, "Move and I kill you-" Ren gulped, surprised at how fast he was taken down as well as his lack of self control.

What was he thinking?

Mini huffed, completely ignoring the situation as he cut off the larger demon, "I really don't understand how the King keeps forgiving you. You've always been nothing but an ungrateful brat..." His voice was flat, void of emotion. Zee's head snapped toward him in shock, eyes wide, "Mini, what the fuck are you saying? What has gotten into you?!"

A grin spread across his face as he dashed forward before the teen could react, grabbing the child by the arm and tossing her behind him carelessly, "I'm just a bit smarter now, that's all ya big softie! And I'm smart enough to want to get rid of the problem!!"

Marytn reacted fast, catching the crying child and pulling it to his chest comfortingly before it could hit the ground- looking at the brunette in a panic, "Mini what are you doing?!"

"MINI NO-!" The larger demon let go of Ren and ran toward the pair in a panic. Ren watched in horror as the hybrid pulled the teen towards him; the golden sword plunging into his stomach as his eyes flew wide. Blood seeped past his lips and tears flowed freely from his eyes as he frantically gripped Mini's arm.

"M-mini...?"

The look in his eyes was so full of betrayal and heartbreak as he looked up at the older demon, the scene being something that would not stop playing through Ren's head for years to come.

Mini withdrew the blade as his eye's turned a soft green, flushing with emotion again as he seemed to pale, "G-gri?" A look of horror and realization spread across his features as he dropped the blood-soaked sword. The teen wavered, holding his bleeding stomach and stepping back shakily, "I-i...how...cou....ld....you..." His breath hitched as he slipped, falling back off the cliff. Mini shot out, grabbing him by his tunic front and pulling him back with enough force to knock himself back. Zee fell to his knee's beside them as Mini sat up, cradling the young boy in his arms tenderly.

"No..nononono-"

He began to shake, eyes welling with tears, "God- FUCK- what have I done-" Mini looked up at Zee with wide, teary eyes as he ripped up his vest and used it to cover the wounds, "Zee- Please- believe me, I didn't mean to hurt him- I don't know what the hell happened-!"

"H-hey- I know I know..." He leaned forward, kissing the hybrid on the forehead reassuringly, "He's- he's going to be fine- we need to think fast, they'll be here any moment-"

Martyn looked at the child and the 3 demons, seeming to struggle with an internal decision. The conflict swam in his eyes, seemingly brewing as old memories seemed to resurface.

His head snapped to Ren as if he had decided, "You. You're from the human world right?" Ren swallowed dryly, hands shaking, "I...y-yes." Martyn chewed his lip, gulping before walking over with the crying child in his arms, "Take her and Run. Make sure she never comes back to the nether- I'll take the blame for losing her-"

"W-what?!"

The incubus handed the Child over, kissing her forehead before stepping back his hand gripping a golden locket, "Hide- they're coming..."

Martyn ran over to the others and Ren tensed at the sound of beating wings approaching.

Thinking instinctively, Ren held the small child to his chest and made a break for it, his mind running at 100 mph as he searched for a hiding spot. Skidding to a stop when he reached the base of the nether fortress, he spotted a crack in the netherrack wall. It was just big enough to hide the child if he dug a bit in, but not big enough for both of them.

Looking down at the child in his arms, he felt her tiny hands gripping his shirt as she sobbed, breaths shaky and uneven. He could just drop the child and save himself- after all, he could be assisting in a kidnapping without even realizing it. He owed nothing to those demons anyway, he had no attachment to this child, and besides- he wouldn't make a good parent. He had no idea how to raise a normal child, never mind a demon child.

Then there was the issue with realm rules. Trafficking any species out of the nether other than pigmen, ghast's, blazes, or magma slimes was strictly forbidden- taking a normal demon from the nether would for sure get him banned from the server, but taking a demon child? That would probably be a one-way ticket to being eradicated.

But as usual, Ren was thinking with his heart rather than with his head. He didn't take a second to think about his own life on the line as his mind drifted back to the demons from before. His heart ruled out all logic in the situation as he put down the child and took out his pickaxe, digging a bit more into the hole before picking the child up and putting her inside the crevice. She scooted back into the hole in confusion, her entire body engulfed by shadow's as only watery golden cat-eyes stared back at him.

"W-where...Gri-gri?"

"Hey..."

Leaning forward, he reached in and cupped her face, heart-squeezing as he felt her soft cheek covered in warm, wet tear streaks. His voice softened almost instinctively, sounding barely recognizable to his own, "Gri-gri is uh...He's gonna be okay. I need you to stay here and sit quietly, don't make a sound and don't come out until you hear me yell uh..." His mind drawing a blank, Ren blurted out the first thing he thought, "Firefly. I want you to do your ABC's 15 times. If I'm not back by then, I want you to climb the weird staircase right there-" He turned and gestured to the cobblestone staircase attached to the nether fortress, waiting for a nod before continuing, "From the top, go straight past 2 hallways. Take a left, then a right. You should find another staircase just like the one you climbed up. Climb down it and you should see a weird square tunnel through a wall of the rock below us. Go down it, you should find a weird rectangular thing with a pretty purple curtain like thing. Go into it and don't step out until you see warm brown floor and grey brick-like walls. From there, do this." He took out his communicator, clicking on Iskalls contact before handing it to her, "Click that slash icon, and then when another man answer's, tell him to come because Ren Dog might be in trouble and sent you. Then stay till he arrives, okay?"

A soft nod came in response as she took to the communicator, "Promise me you'll do this?" She nodded again and Ren bit his lip, reaching and taking out a flint knife, handing her the small object, "If any bad guy's come after you or grab you, you use this to hurt them back, okay?" Reaching out, she took the knife by it's handle and held it close, nodding once more.

Ren heard a yell, making him tense as he snapped his head towards the noise, "Alright- I'll try to be back as soon as possible."

Unsheathing his sword, Ren ran back toward's the spot with the demons, quickly ducking behind the same quartz cluster as he spotted a few new demons. He peeked out from behind the cluster, watching yet another scene unfold.

"Lost her- What do you mean you lost her?!"

One of the new demons spoke up, seeming to be the ring leader. He was roughly a few inches shorter than Mumbo but made up for it with muscle mass. He had tanned skin and neatly combed raven black hair, a red and blue headset sitting around his neck while he wore a blue t-shirt and ripped blue jeans. His horns were long and sharp, his tail whipping irritably behind him and large red demon wings folded behind him. He looked furious, his glowing blue eyes narrowed at the Incubus from earlier.

"S-she ran off after Mini stabbed G, Sir. I was too distracted by the scene to account for her escaping. I-"

"So what your telling me...is that your incompetence...not only let my property be damaged-" He gestured to the teen on the ground from earlier, his head now in Mini's lap as Zee had begun wrapping the wound. They both seemed to flinch and tense at the man's words, Mini's eyes narrowing on the man before quickly looking away, "But also let my daughter run away alone. Where she can easily be killed?!"

Faltering, the incubus stepped back, "W-well- Yes but-"

"Are you a fucking imbecile?!!" The raven-haired demon reached forward grabbed the blonde by his hair, throwing him to the ground, before suddenly freezing in place, "No...You think I'M the imbecile, don't you?" His pupils dilated and he brought his foot down on Martyn's stomach, the man crying out in pain, "You let her go, didn't you Martyn?!" He dug his heel in, Ren's stomach twisting as he heard the cries of pain erupting from the smaller male.

A young woman stepped forward, her short silver hair tied back, wearing a grey jacket and pants over a white tank top, her horns significantly smaller than any of the others.

"Taurtis, that's enough- you're being irrational again-"

"SHUT IT NETTY!!!"

She flinched back, looking hurt at the man's sudden bark. The man- Taurtis- turned his attention back to Martyn with fire in his eyes. He snarled, growling as he stepped back and let the Incubus stumble to his feet, "Just like Tim...Just like that goody-two-shoes boyfriend of yours, you're starting to get soft....I have no use for anyone "soft" unless they're my property." He walked over the wounded teen, smirking as he grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, "You all wonder why I haven't gotten rid of little G over here? He's soft. Soft doesn't fight back. Soft runs away, and once you wrangle it up again and beat around the bush a bit they are nice and obedient for you again.Thats exactly why I love him." He let go of the teen carelessly, Mini just barely managing to catch him before he hit the ground, letting out a pained sob.

Mini and Zee looked at Taurtis like they were ready to bite his head off, both of them hovering protectively over the teen.

Taurtis glared back before moving on, walking back towards Martyn, "This…This is the bad kind of soft.” Lifting the sword, Ren watched in horror a Taurtis brought blade down across the Incubus’ neck. “I have no use for soft!!” With a gurgled screaming and coughing, Martyn collapsed while holding in neck, bleeding out onto the netherrack. Ren slapped his hand over his mouth to keep himself from crying out. Without hesitation, he scrambled back and took off towards the nether fortress. As he approached it, he called out- “FIREFLY!!” Approaching the hole, he looked inside and was relieved to find the little demon still there, golden cat eyes staring back at him in the darkness hopefully. “Cmon, we gotta go-” He reached in and carefully removed the toddler from the crevice, holding her against him.

Sheathing his sword, Ren used both arms to support her against him before taking off towards the staircase. Up the staircase, across the bridges- Ren’s lungs burned as he inhaled the scalding air and ash, the muscles of his legs burning as he ran on pure adrenaline. All that mattered to him was getting the child to safety, forgetting the entire reason he had been in the nether in the first place. As the purple hue of the portal came into view, Ren only ran faster, his instincts taking over as a whimper sounded from the small body in his arms.

As he jumped through the portal and landed in his base, Ren knew this wasn’t over. He put the child down and took out his pickaxe, using what remained of the adrenaline in his system to breaking the obsidian portal.

As the portal broke, Ren sighed in relief and flopped back, panting. The adrenaline finally flushing out of his system, he started to become more aware of his surrondings.

“M-mister…?” Oh. Right. Sitting up, Ren looked to see the little demon beside him, her appearance making him grimace. In the brighter lighting he could see the bruises and cuts that covered her body much better. Her hair was a black as a ravens feathers and looked unkempt, her sclera engulfed in that same black and eyes a bright gold, Soft maroon markings made patterns on the warm brownish tan skin of her face, and two small black horns protruded from her head. His heart sank as he realized the situation, eyes widening and freezing. If anyone found out, he was sure he’d be banned immediately and the child would be sent back to that- that hell. …...Alright. He could do this... Slowly, he reached back and picked up the toddler, setting her in his lap as he crossed his legs, “Heya kiddo...Do...Whats yours name? I’m Ren.” Giving his warmest smile as he could feel the small body in front of him slowly relax. He reached out and brushed her bangs from her face, seeing her leaning into his touch as he gently cupped her face again, “I...I don’….I don’ like my name…” He hummed softly and picked her up, cradling the demon in his arms, “Then how about we pick a new one, hm? How’s that sound kiddo?” “New name…?” “Mhm! How about....Amanda!” He walked up into his base and to his bed, gently setting her down on his bed and he began to look for something to clean her cuts. “Nuh-uh!” “No? Aww darn...Emily?” “Bleh!!” He chuckled and turned to her, putting down the rubbing alcohol and kneeling in front of her, beginning to clean the cuts, “Well, aren’t you a picky nicky!!” A smile broke across her face and she giggled, “Silly puppy!” He felt a tug at his ears and chuckled, letting her play with them, “Ay! I’ll have you know I am the fearsome diggity dog, thank you very much ya butt!” Her giggles grew into full laughter as they kept talking, a warm feeling spreading into Ren’s chest as he gently bandaged the young girls wounds. As he finished, he looked up at her and tilted his head, “How about...Pele.” She lit up instantly, a wide smile spreading across her face telling him everything. “Pele it is then! Now,” He picked her up once more and sat on the bed instead, placing her in his lap, “You need some sleep. When you wake up, We’ll get you bathed and some new clothes, okay?” “Okay…” He hummed softly, inhaling deeply, “You…Your gonna be staying with me from now on, alright? But i’m gonna take real good care of you! I won’t let any bad guys hurt you anymore…” “Promise…?” She held out her pinkie to him and looked up at him with pleading eyes, making his heart melt, “Yea…” He intertwined his pinkie with hers and shook it, “I promise. Now- let’s get you to bed kiddo!” Internally, as he tucked Pele into bed, he made a promise to himself. He wouldn’t let anyone stand between him and Pele. Not that Taurtis fellow, not Xisuma, Not Iskall, no one. ----------------------- As Ren ran towards the future district, all he could think about was his little girl. Sure- she was little older now, but to him she was still his little girl deep down. By now, Xisuma had figured out how to code the Nether without demons, making it safer for the hermits. It took a long while for Ren to get used to being a father- and raising a demon wasn’t the easiest- but he figured he’d done a good enough job. Pele was responsible enough, was a quick learner, and by now she could barely remember her real father- a fact Ren was grateful of. He had told not a soul about her, not only because he fearful of the repercussions, but ideally worried about being separated from her. Shaking his head, he focused on the problem at hand. Xisuma had announced an emergency arrival at spawn, something that was alarming to everyone. The admin had never called such a thing to the server’s attention, so it made everyone curious and worried.

As he arrived at the spawn, he was surprised to find False, Stress, and Iskall standing around a nether portal as Xisuma was pacing back and forth in front of it, his helmet strapped to his side as he looked shaken. Ren approached a familiar blond, putting a hand on her shoulder, “Falsie, what’s going on?” “Mumbo went into the nether for the emergency arrival, but he hasn’t-” Almost if on cue, there was a vooping noise and Mumbo emerged, holding a bundle in one arm and someone else thrown over his opposite shoulder. “Close the portal!! NOW!” Without hesitation, Xisuma took out his pick and broke the side of the portal. The person over Mumbo’s shoulder was sobbing and kicking, reaching towards the portal pleadingly, “NO! ZEE’S STILL BACK THERE! LET GO!!” Rushing over, Xisuma took the bundle from Mumbos arms and cradled it. Ren watched as Mumbo slowly lowered the smaller person, kneeling beside them with an apologetic look as they finally stopped struggling. Ren spotted the demons tail whipping behind the person and his breath hitched, walking closer. His heart stopped as the young demon looked at him, honey blond bangs hanging in front of his face and vibrant red sweater standing out. Slowly, the demon calmed down and he looked around, “M-my baby...where is he- please-” Xisuma walked out and kneeled by him, handing over the bundle. The young man took it with a whimper of relief, hugging it close as it began to cry and snuggle up to him. Xisuma inhaled deeply before taking out a communicator, “I’m sorry but...I’m gonna need your name…” Taking a deep breath, the demon looked at the admin through blood red teary eyes, “I-i’m Grian…”

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Decryption_Error: “Decided”

Summary: Y/N can’t sleep knowing how she hurt Elliot. She tries to make amends, but will Elliot forgive her? 

Story Summary,  “The Server Room, Part I”,  “The Server Room, Part II”  “The Long Weekend, Part I”,  “The Long Weekend, Part II”,  “The Aftermath”,  “Undecided”

Word Count: 3800

Tags: @sherlollydramoine  @rami-malek-trash  @teamwolf2411  @limabein @txmel  @hopplessdreamer  @ouatlovr  @backoftheroomandnotbelonging@alottanothing  @moon-stars-soul  @free-rami  @ramimedley

If you want added, let me know.

Warning: Smut, 18+ only, please

A/N: I just couldn’t sit on the follow up! I wanted to space updates out a bit more, but here it is : ) Forgive me when it feels like it takes forever before I update again, but rest assured, there’s still much more to come. 

I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up.

The mantra wouldn’t stop. From the time I got off my train, to when I walked in my front door, as I dropped my bag, as I got ready for bed, my mind kept circling, fixated on what I’d just done. And every I fucked up was interspersed with that look on Elliot’s face.

I didn’t deserve to have peace, didn’t deserve to have the mantra cease. How could I have done that to him? All I wanted was for him to make the first move, and he did, and I ran. I ran, not Elliot.

After everything I said to him about friendship and trust, after the kiss, and the talks, and the touching, and the vulnerability Idrew out of him—I was nothing more than a. . .

Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar.

Alright. A new mantra, an even worse chant. Ever since the incident in the server room, I wanted to prove to Elliot people were better than he thought, at least that I was better, that I was good. And he was ready—he put himself out there, I mean, the timing absolutely sucked, but he did it. He took a risk and I panicked and shot him down, point blank.

Maybe that’s where I start? I tell him I panicked. I freaked the fuck out. He, of all people, should understand that.

It was 2 am and somehow I knew Elliot was still awake. It’s like I could feel it, like our energies were connected like the grids of electricity that ran under our city.

I could just die for being so stupid, I thought as I flung my blanket off, hot and agitated, and thumped down the hallway to the living room. Opening the balcony door, I was hit with a waft of stale, humid air that was a stark contrast to the cool air running through the vents in my apartment. It was like purgatory was welcoming me into its grasp, ready to hold me, sweaty and writhing in my guilt until I atoned for my sin.

“Fuck!” I yelled as I thumped my hands on the railing.

“How could I have been so stupid?” I asked the night in a harsh whisper as I listened to the city answer, groaning beneath me.

I pushed my hands off the balcony and marched inside before I lost my nerve, damn near jogging down the hallway. Flicking on the light of the closet, I rummaged for something to wear, settling on a simple, knee-length, black maxi dress. I changed into a pair of lime green panties and wrestled into a nice black bra in the event things went exactly how I really wanted them to go.

I slipped into my sandals and opted to throw my wallet and my keys along with a few overnight essentials into a mini-backpack. I also rummaged through my junk drawer for my pepper spray on a keychain and slipped the little metal ring over my middle finger to inconspicuously hold onto it.

I growled as I remembered I needed to grab my metro card out of my wallet and flung my backpack off, digging out the card.

The subway ride to Elliot’s was pretty quiet, and I probably looked agitated and strung out, which meant eyes worked to avoid me. I had thrown my hair up in a messy bun because it was so hot and I had been tossing and turning like a madwoman.

It had also occurred to me as I made my way to the subway that Elliot may have invited Sarah home, or he may have went home with her. Jealousy burned in my gut, and I hesitated when the train reached his stop.

Fuck it! I thought. Hesitation was the reason for this current disaster.

I rushed out of the train doors and quickly made my way to Elliot’s building, gripping my pepper spray a little tighter.

It was fairly quiet in the entryway, but I could hear the thump of a speaker from somewhere beside me as I climbed the stairs to his apartment.

I took a deep breath and banged on the door, the sound reverberating through the stairwell.

Please be home. Home. Alone. Alone. Please be alone.

In less than ten seconds, I heard the sliding of the lock-chain and the turning of the knob as Elliot slowly opened the door, his bright eyes reflecting the dim overhead light in the hall.

He said nothing—just stared at me through the thin crack in the door and I wanted to just melt into the despicable blob of a being that I was.

“Can I come in?” I barked out more as a command than a question.

Elliot seemed to realize he was still only peering out into the hallway, not quite processing my appearance on his doorstep and he stepped back quickly, opening the door the rest of the way to let me in.

As soon I was inside, he shut the door, but didn’t turn to face me. Instead, he stayed in his place with his hand on the doorknob.

He spoke to the empty space in front of him, his voice filled with sadness, not anger.

“What are you doing here?”

He was dressed in dark jeans and a dark t-shirt, his hair looking a little more haphazardly than usual and I wondered if I had woken him until I glanced at his computer monitor, the dull light of his desktop casting a shadow over his bed. The only other light on in the apartment was the light that was fixed over his sink.

Elliot was still standing sideways, his hand still on the doorknob, his eyes unwilling to meet mine.

I shook my pepper spray off my finger and laid it on his kitchen table, then I shrugged out of my backpack, too.

Elliot’s eyes flicked to note my movements, but his head remained looking straight, staring into empty space.

My body was almost sick with anticipation. My heart was pounding and my stomach was in knots, desperate to just run to Elliot—to hug him, kiss him, and beg him to be with me. I was always careful in our physical interactions, but I just couldn’t figure out any other way to begin.

I quickly closed the space between us, pulling his hand off the doorknob and turning his hips so I could push him flush against the door. I still left space between our bodies, not wanting to force something he didn’t want, too.

I kept my fingers at his hips, but I dipped my head to force him to meet my gaze. That same hurt, that same vulnerability from earlier was still there and I wanted to punch myself in the face for causing it.

“Yes, Elliot. Yes, I will go home with you,” I breathed, my face inching closer to his, waiting to see if he’d close the gap.

“I panicked—it was stupid and I’m so sorry. Please, Elliot. Forgive me.”

He let out a breath I hadn’t realized he had been holding and he pressed his lips to mine. That was all it took for everything I had been feeling, everything we had been feeling, to just have the fucking lid blown off.

I pressed into him so hard his head thumped against the door, but at the full body contact, Elliot groaned and I licked into his mouth, tasting him, not caring about the lingering taste of cigarettes of which he’d clearly been chain smoking. There was something so uniquely Elliot wrapped up in his smell and in his taste that it overpowered everything else, leaving me incoherent, a bundle of raw nerves and want.

My kiss was bruising, controlling, and I used my tongue to memorize his mouth and my teeth to nip at that damn lower lip he was always biting, sucking it into my mouth and making Elliot elicit the most delicious sounds I had ever heard in between our heavy breaths.

Elliot’s fingers had been digging into the flesh of my lower back, but he shifted his hands to push me away, his eyes wide and searching as he asked, “Are you sure you want this?”

“I want you,” I said, my eyes locked on his. “Do you want me?”

I’ll go to my grave remembering the exact way Elliot’s eyes changed as he took in what I said. The vulnerability melted away and was replaced with a look of unabashed affection as Elliot’s mouth formed a little grin, his head nodding yes, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement.

What followed next was a blur of movement, a frenzy of desperate kisses and scattered clothes. Our hands and mouths never left each other’s bodies as Elliot pushed me toward his bed, reaching down to gather the fabric of my dress in his hands to toss it god knew where. His shirt had already been yanked off and my sandals stumbled out of.

By the time we hit the mattress, nothing was left except my lime green panties and his black boxerbriefs. And as soon as we hit the mattress, I spread my legs, inviting him to crawl between them and to continue our heavy kissing.

His hard cock was rocking against my core and my legs were wrapped around him in a vice. I never wanted him to move from between them again, but as Elliot moved down my body, I was forced to relinquish my grip, my thighs twitching under the grasp of his fingers as he spread them further apart.

He reached to pull my underwear off and I lifted my hips to help, spreading my legs as he sat on his haunches and looked at me. I should’ve felt shy considering this was our first time together, but there was nothing but that adoration on his face.

I was so wet, so willing, and Elliot seemed unable to believe that we were finally here, that we were finally about to become much more than friends.

I toed at his underwear and he took the hint and shucked them off, crawling back between my legs before I gasped and scooted away from him. Elliot looked incredibly alarmed, but I choked out, “Protection?” before he could start apologizing.

“Oh, fuck,” Elliot said, frowning, clearly unprepared.

“Go grab my backpack,” I said pleased he didn’t have a lot of female companions. And then my grin fell as I watched his ass flex as he hurried over to the table, the muscles in his back shifting as he reached for the bag.

Or that just meant he had a lot of female companions. No, no, I told my mind. Don’t do that now.

Elliot handed me my backpack and I dug out the condom box, pulling one out and then setting the box on the side of the bed we weren’t using. I had shifted up onto my knees and I met Elliot who was in the same stance. We resumed our heated kissing and I let my hands roam over his ass, his back, his thighs, anything I could reach.

Elliot’s hands were following a similar trajectory on my body, but he moved to grasp my breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands and running his thumbs over my hard nipples.

I pushed on his shoulders, nudging him to lay on his back. He readily complied, and I opened the condom, rolling it onto his cock which hadn’t lost any of its hardness during his foray to the kitchen.

I pinched the tip of the condom and reached between my own legs to gather the excess wetness. I made sure Elliot saw my glistening fingers as I rubbed them over the top of his covered cock. I positioned my hips over his cock and all I needed to do was slide down and he’d be inside of me.

Elliot was watching where our bodies were about to join, and I reached up to cup his face, using my thumb to push his chin up.

When his eyes were settled on mine, I slowly slid down onto his cock, both of us fighting not to close our eyes in pleasure, both of us groaning in unison at the sensation.

From that moment on, we were locked onto each other, fucking each other with our bodies and our eyes, the sensation overwhelming both of us as I rode him.

Soon, Elliot grabbed onto my hips and pulled me with him as he moved into a sitting position. I adjusted my knees and continued my now slower pace.

And then I realized, this was about consuming each other—it wasn’t about fucking.

Both Elliot and I began to break out into a sweat and it was evident his apartment didn’t have air conditioning. My hair was still in some sort of wild bun on top of my head which left Elliot with unimpaired access to my neck.

He was quiet as a lover, but attentive, kissing and sucking on places to draw out moans as I clung to him, my arms wrapped around his shoulders, my breasts squeezed between us, sweat trickling down my chest and from his temples.

He was running his hands over my back, his fingers digging in as he clung to me in the same way I clung to him, both of us chasing our pleasure. I moved to reach between our bodies and to circle my clit, but Elliot, clearly perceptive, replaced my hand with his own, first bringing my fingers to his mouth to press kisses to the pads of my fingertips, licking my wetness from the middle and first finger.

I shuddered, a moan reverberating through my body at how sexy it looked when he took my fingers in his mouth. I left them there, lingering as I traced his lips and his strong fingers found my clit.

He rubbed lightly, hesitantly and I whispered, “Harder. Faster.”

Elliot followed my direction and I was soon grinding my hips into his as he shakily thrust up to meet mine. My orgasm was so close, my chest flushed, the sweat now breaking out across my brow as I started to shake, to moan from the buildup of pressure that was so close to releasing.

My eyes started to close and my head tilted back, but Elliot used his free hand to grasp my face in a mirror of my earlier gesture. He wanted to watch me come; he wanted to know he was the reason why.

“Fuck!” I yelled. “Oh, god, Elliot!”

Once I locked my eyes onto his, I came quickly, Elliot’s eyes darting between mine as if he were memorizing the moment.

I clenched around him, both of our thrusts erratic and out of rhythm, but it didn’t matter because Elliot’s hips bucked up into mine, his hands grasping at my hips to still them while he spilled into me.

His eyes were locked on my face as he came, his features twisted into the most perfect picture of release.

We stayed, locked together, our breathing still ghosting over each other’s hot skin until we needed to stretch and untangle ourselves.

I reached down to hold onto the condom as I moved off of Elliot, flopping over onto my back to finish catching my breath. I felt the bed bounce up as Elliot walked to the bathroom, the light flicking on as he threw away the condom and turned on the sink.

Elliot came back with a wet washcloth and I thanked him. I cleaned up a bit and then crawled out of bed to go use the bathroom, not bothering to put a stitch of clothing on.

When I came back out, I was surprised to see Elliot had put his pants on and was smoking a cigarette on the couch, the window open to try to take out some of the smoke. I actually jumped a little because I hadn’t expected him to be there.

And now I felt really awkward in my nakedness, his eyes avoiding me as I stood half in and out of the doorway.

“Do you . . . want me to go?” I asked, puzzled.

Elliot blew a stream of smoke toward the window.

“El?” I questioned when he continued to smoke, his eyes not meeting mine.  

By now, I was walking toward the couch, but when he didn’t answer, I stopped and put a hand on my hip. If this was going to be awkward for me, I wasn’t going to make it any easier on him by getting dressed. “I still like it when you call me that,” he said, relaxing into the couch, his head leaning onto the back of the sofa.

I huffed, a little noise of a laugh and finished walking over to him. I stopped for just a second before I crawled onto his lap, my knees settling on either side of his jeans.   “Well,” I said, reaching out to pluck the cigarette from his fingers, then stubbing it out in the ashtray. “It’s more articulate than the ungodly noise I make in my mind when I see you doing something cute, you know, like walking, breathing, typing, blinking—" Elliot laughed and pulled me close, his face smushed between my breasts as he hugged me.

“Why did you put pants on?” I asked, my hands scratching his scalp, mussing his hair even more.

He looked up at me, his head lulling back on the couch again, as he explained, “I didn’t want to literally be caught with my pants down if you waltzed out of the bathroom and said, ‘Goodnight. See you at work on Monday.’ I figured I’d rather not be dually exposed for . . . that.”

I laughed at the tiny octave Elliot’s voice went up as he presumably imitated me.

“Is that what I sound like?” I asked through giggles.

“Maybe,” Elliot said, smiling.

“So, it was better that I was the one who thought I was being kicked out.”

“Better for me, yes. And, well, you did reject me once already tonight.”

I swallowed, hard.

“Elliot—”

“I don’t wanna talk about it now. It worked out alright, didn’t it?”

“It did,” I said slowly, frowning a little.

“Stay here?” Elliot asked, whispering into my shoulder so he didn’t have to look into my eyes as he asked.

“Of course,” I said, pressing a sweet kiss into his hair.

Elliot nodded as I shuffled off his lap and pulled him toward the bed. Elliot clicked off the monitors on his computer, leaving only the recessed light above his sink in the kitchen on. I crawled in and settled under the sheet, and I heard Elliot kick off his jeans. I stretched out on my side in my sleeping position, exhausted, but one more thing weighed on my mind.

Elliot didn’t wrap his body around me; instead, he shuffled in close so that he was right next to me, his skin ghosting along mine.

“El?”

“Yeah?”

“I need to ask, well, to—to tell you something. Possibly tell. No, definitely tell.” “You’re cute when you’re shy,” he mumbled sleepily. “We need to tell HR.”

I thought Elliot had fallen asleep bc he was quiet for so long. When his very awake response sounded in the dark, I jumped.   “Don’t you want to keep this a secret?” “Do you want me to be a secret?” I asked rolling over to look at him in the dim light. “Because if all you want is a friend to fuck kinda thing then I made a big mistake.” Elliot was still facing the ceiling as he said softly, “You want me to be—to be your boyfriend?” “Yes.” Elliot turned his head and his eyes moved over my face and again, I wondered what the hell was going on inside his head, and then his hand was on my cheek and my jaw, cupping my face and pulling me in for a desperate kiss. Immediately, I was lost in it. I didn’t know it was possible to feel so wanted just by a kiss. And just as immediately, Elliot was pushing me back and pushing my legs apart, his hard cock bumping my inner thigh. I pushed him back, holding onto his face and whispering, “Hey, hey. Slow down for a second.” “Talk to me,” I said, my thumbs caressing his cheekbones. Elliot pulled his bottom lip in and I could see him nibbling at it as he searched my face again. “I—I don’t know how else to tell you how much I want to be with you. I’m afraid if I say it, if I say I want it, then it won’t happen.” I laughed softly, “Sooo you just want to fuck your feelings into me?”

Elliot laughed as he hung his head.

“I told you I’m not good with people.”

“I don’t want to be a ‘people’ to you, remember?”

“I do,” Elliot said as he brushed a kiss against my lips. Before the kiss could turn into anything else, I gripped Elliot’s chin and looked at him, making sure his big grey eyes were focused on me.

“I don’t live my life in the shadows. I strive to live with integrity. Sometimes . . . the vulnerability that comes with that can be too much. I want you in my life, Elliot. And I want us to be good together, and we can’t be if we’re a secret or if we keep secrets.”

Again, Elliot was quiet for a long time, his eyes reading mine, wondering if it was possible for someone to be this truthful with him, this open. There were so many times like this, so many times when I could read his thoughts. Until . . . well, that doesn’t matter right now.  

“I will always be truthful with you, El. I want to earn your trust because I know you think trust is an illusion. I want to prove you wrong.”

Elliot’s eyes flickered over my face and he said, his voice tinging with emotion, “You have.”

I took a deep breath before Elliot’s lips crashed onto mine. Again, we made love with a feverish desperation to consume one another, this time with him on top of me, thrusting into me at a steady pace until we were both trembling, our fingers digging into each other’s flesh as we clung to one another and rode out our highs.

As we settled into sleep, the greying light of dawn began to creep into the night, and Elliot curled his body around mine, holding onto me tightly as if he could hardly believe I was real.

He whispered, “I don’t know how to be a good boyfriend.”

I quietly laughed and lifted his hand to my lips, placing a kiss on the soft skin of his palm.

“You’re off to a damn good start.”

I could feel him smile into the skin of my shoulder before he placed a kiss there, sighing contentedly as he rolled back and settled onto his own pillow.

[joyfulsongbird]

A Small Orphydice Fic I wrote

Evenings when neither of them are working are usually quiet, a relaxed state both of them enjoy wholeheartedly. Sometimes, they take a walk in the forest. But in these chilly fall nights that usually leave a layer of frost on the grass, they cover themselves in a quilt, start a fire, and sit together. Letting the shared warmth of their two bodies fill the house, until one of them starts yawning and they move to their bed. But for now, Eurydice is content to lean against her lovers shoulder, watching his fingers lively dance against his guitar, a few quiet notes plucking out here and there, ringing in her ears. A long pause where the scribbe of a pencil replaces the music, and then he's back to methodically plucking out some new melody.

"What's this new song about?" she murmurs into his shirt, eyes closed but she knows his hands still. "What was your- what's the word- muse, for this one?"

"You, of course." he answers it like it's obvious. Like she should've known already. "How peaceful you look. How your bangs fall over your eyes a little bit. Pink lips that I kind of want to kiss... and now you're smiling, and that makes it even better. And your long eyelashes. The-"

"Okay," she interrupts, though smiling just as he said. "I get it, you love me."

He hums out a deep note, letting it rattle through his chest and vibrate into her body. Warming her through and through. She hums it back.

A few more minutes pass by, until, "are you tired, love? It is getting late."

"No," she assures him. "I love this. I like listening to you play and write, and I'm so warm, don't make me move."

She nearly hears the smile in his voice, she can physically see it in her mind. "Alright. Let me know when you'd like to go to sleep."

"I will."

She doesn't.

***

Orpheus glances over at his wife almost half an hour later, to find her eyes closed and mouth drooping. Her breathing easy and steady, eyelashes fluttering with each movement of her eyes behind her eyelids. She's dreaming. Of what, he isn't sure, she probably won't remember in the morning, but he's happy to know that she is in a deep enough slumber that dreams will come to her. He prays they do not turn to nightmares as they often do these days. He just wants all good things for her. Is it too much to ask to want everything for one person? Well, yes, but it isn't selfish either. He wants to give her sunshine and lime green grass and pale red leaves and light snowfall glistening and carnations and sonnets written in the dead of night. He wants to sing her songs that she will sing for years to come. He just wants to give her everything after he failed to give her the necessities.

He gently sets his guitar on the floor along with his notebook, winding an arm under her knees and another under her shoulders, he lifts her into his arms. So light for someone so strong. So little. Dainty, almost. Her head lolls against his chest, she makes a small noise, deep in her throat, and he stops. The last thing he wants now is to wake her. They're both so tired these days, especially her, who works constantly. At least a lot of Orpheus' night work is something he loves, playing music and singing. She tends the garden all day, works the bar, takes twice as many shifts as he gathers extra tips for playing music. She takes such a burden. She needs this slumber.

Setting her gently down on their worn, hard, mostly uncomfortable mattress, he pulls the quilt up over her shoulders, just below her chin. Climbing into bed beside her, he pulls the blanket over his body as well. Sharing their body heat gives the space a warm feel. He presses a gentle kiss to the back of her head before shifting and getting comfortable to go to sleep himself. He watches her breath, a tempo he can count in his head every time her chest rises and falls.

1...in...2...out...3...in...4...out

The rhythm of her aliveness lulls him to sleep.

***

Eurydice wakes up in a position and place she did not fall asleep in. But she isn't complaining, she's warm, and it smells like honeysuckle and Orpheus' mouthwash. Her eyes remain closed, moving would just ruin the moment and sleep is hard to gather these days so she keeps the darkness behind her eyelids. Hoping to fall back into a slumber, but no, her body has decided that it's quite time to wake up. She still doesn't move afraid of disturbing Orpheus. He needs this sleep, she can see these days that the bags under his eyes get darker and darker. That the luster in his eyes gets just a little dimmer. She hates watching it happen.

However, he's the first to move. She can tell he's waking from the way he shifts and the change in his breathing.

"Hmm..." even his sleepy sounds are almost musical.

She hums the note right back at him, sort of a game they play sometimes. He plucks a string on his guitar and she sings it back from wherever she is, washing dishes, in the garden, or he'll sing one out from the sink and she'll repeat it back from the bed.

He's more awake now, the note this time is clearer and warmer in tone.

She repeats it back, an octave up.

It goes on like this, back and forth, until they are awake and waiting to see the sun. Before she can pull herself out of bed, though, she feels the brush of his nose on the back of her neck and she smiles, rolling to her side planning to brush a small kiss on the tip of his nose but completely missing and landing it on his eyelid, which makes him smile, so she kisses the other one too. A kiss to both his cheeks, one to his nose, and finally a peck on the lips before rolling away and out of the tangle of blankets and sheets.

"'rydice," he groans, still lying limp, buried in the blankets. "It's too early to be so wakeful. Come back to bed."

She laughs as she pulls clothes out of her drawers, planning for a day at the bar with Orpheus and dressing accordingly. Her black slip dress, black pants underneath, brown vest, and long overcoat. On days that she plans to spend gardening, she switches out her dress for an old white shirt of Orpheus' tied up and an old pair of jeans stained from years of use.

By the time Orpheus is getting up, she's slipping on her vest and going to the mirror to brush out her hair.

He comes to stand behind her, leaning down to rest his chin her head.

"Stop being so damn tall." she jokes, nudging his jaw with her fist. He peppers kisses on the top of her head, the side of her head, her neck. He's so sappy and affectionate in the morning. She doesn't mind one bit.

"Get dressed." she finally reminds him. "Or we'll be late."

"Fine, fine." she watches him backwards through the mirror, admires the way he moves as he slips on old hand-me-down pants from Mr. Hermes, a button shirt, and his suspenders. As he starts to tie his red bandana, she turns back to the mirror to mess with her hair again.

"Ugh," she remarks. "My bangs want to fly away from my face."

He barks out a laugh, "gods, I love you."

It was moments like these that she cherished: where she went over to him while he played and distracted him by wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her cheeks to his back; standing in the mirror together, half naked, and laughing at the way they described their own features; Orpheus tapping a rhythm out on her leg as they lay together; a kiss shared between shifts at the bar; dirt smeared on her nose that he tried to wipe off but only managed to make it worse. These moments were more common than she thought, the more she made a list of these moments. And it made her happy, knowing that every day had at least one of these things that brought some brightness to a cold, winter's day.

She sat at the table, waiting for her water to boil to make tea. She used to drink solely coffee, but after living with Orpheus (a faithful tea drinker) she decided to try and get rid of coffee addiction.

She twists her wedding band around on her finger, admiring the way the metal glinted in the faint, early morning sunlight wafting in from the window directly behind her. She liked the way it looked on her, liked the way it felt, the natural way the silver coloring looked against her olive skin tone. How her and Orpheus could hold hands while they were dancing and know that the other was wearing their ring. And see the glint of metal; and smile, because they belong to each other. That these rings signify a life together, one where she won't leave, one where he won't abandon her. Not that she's afraid that he will, but deep down inside of her, the part of her that fled every town and home she had, is afraid that the people around her will leave. The rest of her knows Orpheus loves her, for he tells her every day, and she is content here. She loves it here. She loves Orpheus. She loves Persephone. She loves Hermes. She loves the smell of the bar, old wood and whisky. She loves their home, with its thatched roof and periwinkle blue walls. She loves the garden by their home. She loves all of it. Even the train, she has learned to love. She's learned not to dread the sound of the whistle coming in, not to hate the smell of coal smoke. She loves the way the train itself glints in the sun. She loves how the smoke comes out in perfect puffs. She loves how the train brings Persephone home to them; brings spring back to winter.

"Hey," Orpheus interrupts her zone out by gently tapping the table in front of her, effectively snapping her out of day dream. "Stay with me, okay? Mornings are boring without you present."

She smiles, nods, "got lost in thought. That's all."

He purses his lips before pressing a kiss to her head, and going to fill two mugs with hot water. She knows he worries about her, but so does she for him. But he always seems to worry when she lets her mind wander to darker places, when she stares blankly unnervingly like a worker from Hadestown. She hates to think that when she looks like that, Orpheus can only see her as what she once was.

"Thanks, love." he always smiles when she calls him that, though she often does, and for that specific reason.

And he always replies; "my pleasure, love."

Which usually makes her crack up, or smile, or blush. One of the three. This time, it leaves a faint pink glow on her cheeks which she attempts to chalk up to the steam drifting up to her face from her hot drink.

They drink their tea in a comfortable silence, with the occasional clink of a spoon on a mug and a mug being placed on the table. They don't mind the silence, especially so early in the morning when neither of them are quite ready to face the day.

She places her mug in the sink, leaning against it to watch Orpheus drink the last dregs of his tea before wandering over to the sink as well. She blocks the sink with her body, stretching her arms out to keep him from placing his cup next to hers.

"Move!" he laughs, swerving around to place his mug in the old steel sink. In the moment of closeness, she leaves forward, colliding her lips to his for a sweet moment of closeness in the morning. She leans back against the counter, pulling him closer in that moment, deepening the kiss to something more passionate, but still just as sweet.

"We have to get to work." he reminds her quietly with a smile that she can feel against her own lips.

"I know." she murmurs back, tilting her head to the side and hooking her fingers onto his bandana, gently tugging on it. "We have a few spare minutes though."

Can't every moment of the day be like this? Like warmth and the taste of green tea mixed with her lipgloss and his mouthwash. The young couple learned to live for moments like these, mornings like these mornings, kisses as sweet as these kisses.

Can't it always be like this?

A knock at their door says that it cannot.

She pulls away, disgruntled, "who the hell-?"

"I'll get it." Orpheus sighs, stepping away from her and untangling his hands from her waist.

"Orpheus, wait! Come back!" she calls as he starts towards the door. He turns back to her, as she reaches up to wipe away her lip gloss off of his mouth and chin and cupids bow. He laughs as she does so, before she sends him to the door. She strides across the room, to the mirror to fix her now mangled hair and smudged makeup. Her bangs were indeed flying away from her forehead, and her lipgloss was spread far from her lips. She wiped it away, hearing a faint familiar female voice in the doorway, frowning. And then an exclamation of joy from Orpheus and she looks over in curiosity.

Before she, too, nearly cries in the relief and joy of spring arriving again.

Persephone's dress is just as bright green as she remembers and emanates warmth as Eurydice throws her arms around the women, burying her face in the giant sleeves until she can feel her shoulder beneath the fabric.

"You're back." she sighs. "It's spring."

Persephone pulls back, holding her out by her shoulders to examine Eurydice thoroughly. Her eyes roam her face, over her body, like a mother checking on their child.

she taps the young girl's nose. "I'm back, hon."

"how was your winter?" she continues, turning to add Orpheus to the conversation again. "Not too difficult, I hope?"

"Better. Much better than it has been." he says, looking to Eurydice as if for approval. She nods, smiling.

"Good, good." Persephone says, her grin spreading even wider than before.

Spring has come, finally.