#honey swamp is a gift for my friend

[spiderlegeyelashes]

TEEHEE EHEEHEE *twirling my hair*

[iamtired10]

once upon a sleepless night

pairing: pham hanni x fem! reader

genre: pure fluff.

warning: mention of mother insomnia and kissing.

SUMMARY: it’s one of those sleepless nights again. you’re restless, mind racing, but hanni, even though she’s exhausted from her long day, decides to tell you a whimsical fairytale to help lull you into dreamland.

you sighed as you leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms and glancing at the clock on your desk. 9:53 a.m...

“i’ve been at this for four hours straight.. still tired but not sleepy,” you muttered, rubbing your forehead as a persistent ache throbbed. regretting the 7 cups of coffee you’d downed today, you wondered what you could do. you always felt drowsy in class and needed the caffeine to stay awake.

rising from your chair, you decided a break was in order. grabbing your phone and a lollipop from the desk (a sweet gift from your best friend’s sister while you were hanging out), you settled on the couch. you turned on the tv and started scrolling through your phone.

absentmindedly munching on the lollipop, you browsed instagram, checking out the latest posts from newjeans.

**buzz! buzz!!**

a notification popped up, jolting you from your scrolling.

pham honey:

hey there, gorgeous..

the love of my life..

do you need me to bring you anything before i arrive?

your eyes widened in surprise. you paused your lollipop mid-chew, reading hanni’s message over and over.

“wait—what does she mean by 'she’s coming'?” you wondered aloud, trying to recall if she’d mentioned a visit today. nothing came to mind. she’d been swamped with idol commitments, and it had been a month since you last saw her. newjeans had just had their comeback, and they were buried in work—stages, photoshoots, and all the usual idol grind.

and you missed her. a lot.

her hugs, her kisses, her voice, her smile, her playful teasing, her jokes—everything.

you quickly tapped out a response, your excitement evident.

you:

wait you’re coming over? 

omg, you could’ve given me a heads up! 

i didn’t clean my room today 🙂💔 

and all i need right now is 

you ❤️ 

come back soon 

our plants miss you so much 

i mean, our ‘kids’ 

simpsona smith 

and flex armstrong

pham honey:

hehe i wanted to surprise you 🤭 

i’ve got a day off tomorrow

so manager unnie finally gave me the go-ahead to visit you.. yay! 

what did you mean by ‘you need me’ though? 😏 

care to explain? 😜 

and i MISS our ‘kids’ so much 😭 

have they grown up at all? 🥺 

i’m going to shower them with water and love when i get there 🤭

you:

well it’s not a surprise anymore😕

when i said i need you, i meant that i miss you so much, you silly bunny

you’re the only one who completes me

honestly i can't even put into words how much i miss you

could you hurry up a bit

so i can finally give you that big hug?

pretty please 🙏🏻

pham honey:

ooh~ 😏

someone seems extra needy for my affection today huh?

alright i’ll try to walk faster

but be patient, baby.

patience 😉

and...i’m super excited to see you.

i MISSED you too… like a ton?

i’ve been hugging my pillow at night, pretending it’s you ☹️

i can’t wait to shower you with kisses, like SO MANY kisses.

and cuddle you endlessly.

i LOVE YOU so much that it’s hard to even describe.

oh my god why are you so perfect?

you’re unbelievably perfect and i can’t believe you’re MY girlfriend, mine <3

you’re mine

oh god 🤭 i THINK I’M OBSESSED.

seriously baby... marry me 😍

you:

stop texting

and come home quickly

you walk so slowly with your short legs ☹️

and don’t you dare be late

pham honey:

wow. that’s kind of rude!

alright alright 🙄

you couldn’t help but smile as you set your phone down. “why is she so cute...” you murmured to yourself. with a sense of urgency, you mentally chastised yourself. “y/n, clean the room before she arrives!” you told yourself as you stood up, lollipop still clutched between your teeth.

you made your way to your room, determined to tidy up. the bed was reasonably clean but still a little messy. you didn’t want your perfect girlfriend, hanni pham, to see it less than immaculate. she deserved everything to be just as perfect as she was.

while humming contentedly and chewing your lollipop, you changed the bedsheets to fresh ones, making sure everything looked neat and inviting.

after you finished, you glanced at the clock. it was 9:31 p.m.

“when is she coming back...” you wondered aloud as you grabbed another lollipop from your desk, tossing the stick from the previous one into the trash. you stepped out of the room, a chuckle escaping you as you imagined hanni possibly tripping over her own feet. it was amusing but also a bit worrying.

hanni was always unpredictable. like, REALLY unpredictable.

you never knew what kind of delightful mischief she’d get up to next...

and it only made her cuter.

you loved her for it.

you loved her for exactly who she was.

you reached for your phone, which you’d left on the couch earlier. the tv’s soft hum played in the background, a distant noise in your current state of anticipation.

just as you were about to enter the final number of your password—

**ding-dong!!**

the doorbell rang loudly, making you jump slightly. “is that her?” you mumbled, the lollipop still dangling from your mouth.

“probably her,” you mused to yourself.

you made your way to the front door, fingers gripping the doorknob. you took a deep breath, peeking through the peephole to get a glimpse of the visitor.

there she was—standing outside the door, looking absolutely adorable in a hoodie...

wait a second—

IS THAT YOUR HOODIE!?

with a resigned sigh, you thought, “nothing new, she’s swiped my hoodie again…”

but she’s finally here...

why am i so nervous? you wondered, turning back to the door. slowly, you opened it. before you could even get a good look, she leapt into your arms, hugging you like a koala.

“oh my god, hanni, i can’t breathe,” you groaned, feeling her arms tighten around you. “come on, you’re squishing me.” even as you grumbled, you couldn’t deny how much you needed this.

“no way,” she mumbled into your neck. “i’ve waited a whole month to hold you again. baby, i missed you so much, like a person who’s lost something vital and can’t get through the day without it.” you stood there, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face, as you wrapped your arms around her. with your foot, you nudged the door shut and locked it.

“can you let go now?” you asked, making your way into the living room.

“uh-uh,” she shook her head, her nose buried in your scent. “why do you always smell so good?” she asked, pulling back just enough for her eyes to meet yours. she looked both exhausted and exhilarated. “i don’t use much perfume. it must just be my natural scent,” you shrugged, still chewing on your lollipop as you gently tried to pull her off the couch.

“no, don’t pull away!” she protested, pouting and crossing her arms, clearly disappointed. “you can’t just push me away after i’ve missed you so much!”

“you just came in from outside. go wash up first, you might have germs. i can’t risk catching anything—eww,” you teased, a smirk playing on your lips as you settled down on the couch opposite her. she huffed in response, turning her head away with a dramatic sigh. “seriously, how could you be so rude?” she grumbled.

“i’m just being careful, you know. can’t help it if that bruises your ego,” you teased, a smirk playing on your lips. “and let’s talk about the whole stealing thing, shall we?”

“stealing? me?” hanni raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you’d just accused her of some heinous crime. “when did i ever steal?”

you rolled your eyes, finally taking the lollipop stick out of your mouth and licking your lips. “don’t try that innocent act with me, pham. it’s not gonna work.”

she huffed dramatically. “fine! i might’ve borrowed one hoodie…”

“oh, just the one?” you crossed your arms, leaning back with a knowing grin.

“ugh, okay, fine! three hoodies!”

you shook your head, a mock-serious look on your face. “no more cuddles for you—”

“five! okay, five of your hoodies! happy now?”

you chuckled, clearly amused. “now i am. i think i'll call the cops now. imagine the headlines: ‘newjeans’ hanni caught red-handed stealing five hoodies from a fan, scandalizing her career.’”

“oh, shut up!” she pouted, crossing her arms. “i have every right to take your hoodies! i need something that smells like you when i miss you... and i even left one of my favorite hoodies with you, didn’t i?” she tried to sound indignant but it came out more like a whine.

without warning, she launched herself at you, nearly knocking you over. you caught her with a laugh, holding her close as she snuggled against you like a clingy koala.

“seriously, you’re gonna give me a heart attack one day,” you grumbled, though you couldn’t hide the smile on your face as you felt her warm breath against your neck.

“oh, please. you’re the one who was begging me to get here fast so you could hug me,” she retorted, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

you ran your fingers through her hair, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “okay, maybe i was being a little sweet... but i didn’t mean it that much.”

“liar!” she pinched your side playfully, making you yelp.

“ow, hanni!” you whined, trying to pull away, but she tightened her grip around you.

“hmm..” she looked up, her eyes meeting yours, weary and soft. “you look exhausted,” you mumbled, gently rubbing her back in slow, comforting circles. she sighed, cupping your face in her small hands. “i am... really tired... today’s practice was brutal. we recorded a new song today and... oh! you know, dani tried to moonwalk and tripped over her own feet!” she chuckled, her eyes lighting up for a moment. “haerin and i had a dance battle... but she beat me this time. minji was teasing me, as usual... and, oh! by the way, hyein told me to say hi. she misses you.” hanni rambled on, her voice a sweet melody to your ears. you couldn't help but chuckle softly as you brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“you’re just too cute, baby... i can’t handle it,” you sighed, feeling a surge of affection wash over you. her cuteness was something that always left you both awestruck and grateful.

sometimes, you wondered what good deed you had done in life to deserve a girlfriend as wonderful as her.

“oh, shut up... i’m not that cute,” she grumbled, hiding her face in your neck, her voice muffled. “i don’t get why you and bunnies find me so adorable... you guys are too much.” she playfully hit your chest, causing you to laugh. you pulled her closer, enjoying the way she felt in your arms. “oh, my hanhan is flustered, i see. did i make you blush? yayyy!”

“l/n y/n, can you shut up... or i’ll kiss you,” she threatened, pulling back with a pout. you smirked, “oh really? but sorry, i'm busy eating my lollipop right now.” you teased, chewing the lollipop with a mischievous grin. she rolled her eyes. “is it weird that i'm jealous of that lollipop? you’re giving it more attention than me—”

“excuse me!? pham hanni, stop being so blunt!” you raised your eyebrows, feigning shock, as she crossed her arms, her expression daring. “can’t help it when you're licking that lollipop like that... it's kinda seductive.”

you felt your cheeks heat up, caught off guard by her words. “y-you're so weird...” you muttered, turning your gaze away. “don't look at me like that, you little freak.”

she chuckled at your flustered state, her fingers gently tilting your chin back toward her. “what look, darling?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. before you could respond, she reached out and popped the lollipop out of your mouth, bringing it close to her own lips. “hey, what the hell? that's mine!” you protested, but she just grinned wider.

“it must be really sweet, the way you were eating it... i want to see if it's as good as it looks...” she murmured, her voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. your eyes widened in realization. “no! don't! that's gross, i already licked it! a little kid gave me that, and you can't just—”

“who said i was going to taste it from here?” she interrupted with a chuckle, her voice sultry and suggestive.

you froze, narrowing your eyes, trying to process her words. then it hit you.

“pham hanni, don’t you dare—”

before you could finish, she leaned in, capturing your lips with hers in a kiss that felt like she had been waiting forever for this moment.

her lips moved against yours with a hunger and intensity that left you breathless, her hands tangling in your hair as she deepened the kiss, leaving your lips swollen and red, and a few love bites on your neck as souvenirs.

just your average pham hanni behavior...

“baby, you're not sleeping?” you snapped out of your thoughts as you looked up from your notebook. you stopped writing and saw hanni lifting her head up from the bed. her hair was a bit messy, her eyes half-open, wearing one of your pajamas, looking absolutely adorable.

“ah.. i just have a few things to finish, my sweet bunny. did the lamp wake you up? sorry, i'll turn it away a bit..” you smiled, adjusting the light so it wouldn't bother her. hanni sat up with a sigh, rubbing her eyes. “what do you mean by 'a few things'? it's 2 a.m... you should be in bed too...” she yawned, clearly still half-asleep.

“can't sleep...” you admitted with a small, nervous laugh, turning your chair to face her. “did you have a nightmare or something? do you want me to cuddle you again?” you asked, getting up and moving towards her side of the bed. she reached out, grabbing your shirt sleeve and pulling you closer, wrapping her arms around your waist. “no, you're the one who should be sleeping...” she mumbled, her voice still heavy with exhaustion.

“you didn’t get much rest last night, and now you’re up again... working through the night like an owl or something,” she huffed, pressing her face against your stomach. you chuckled, patting her back gently. “baby, i can’t help it... even when i’m dead tired, i just can’t seem to fall asleep, no matter what i do...” you admitted, watching as her eyes widened slightly.

“has this been happening a lot lately?” she asked, concern evident in her tone. you nodded. she sighed, “sounds like insomnia... you’ve got insomnia, babe.”

“yeah, you could say that... but don’t sweat it.” you shrugged, rubbing the back of your neck. she scoffed, “don’t sweat it? do you even know how bad insomnia is?! it makes you tired... *yawn*... gives you poor concentration, mood swings, and increased stress or anxiety... it’s sooo bad. it can lead to health problems like heart disease, high blood pressure, and even accidents due to drowsiness...”

“oh... you’re making it sound like a big deal...” you laughed nervously, your hand gently caressing her back. "it is!” hanni insisted.

“we need to fix this.. chamomile tea, meditation, melatonin…” her voice trailed off as sleepiness tugged at her again. despite her best efforts to stay awake and worried for you, she was clearly still exhausted. all she could think about was making you chamomile tea in the morning or finding a meditation video on youtube to help you relax.

“you’re still so tired...” you tilted your head, observing her. “yes, but you’re even more tired than i am... so get in.” she sighed, letting go of your waist and scooting over to make room. “huh, what?”

“get in bed, dumbass,” she said, snuggling back under the blanket and patting the space next to her.

“uh... okay, let me just turn off the lamp...” you murmured, reaching over to turn off the light before climbing into bed beside her.

you groaned as you turned to the other side... it's been an hour now, and you still can't fall asleep. beside you, hanni was fast asleep again, clearly exhausted from her long day. you could hear the soft sounds of her breathing, occasionally mumbling something in her sleep and pulling you closer, snuggling against you.

“god... why the hell can't i sleep... i'm too tired to deal with this,” you sighed, rubbing your neck and opening your eyes. “i can't just lie here doing nothing... maybe i should get up and read a book in the living room, don’t want to wake my tired baby again...” you thought, carefully trying to get up. but as you moved, you realized hanni’s arm was still draped over you, holding you tight.

you blinked. “she's asleep... i’ll just move her hand aside... she's too sleepy to notice,” you thought as you slowly began to lift her arm off your shoulder. but you failed, accidentally jostling her awake.

“y/n-ah, what are you doing...” she murmured sleepily, her voice groggy with fatigue. you closed your eyes, silently cursing yourself for waking her up again. “uh, i need to pee...” you blurted out nervously, trying to come up with an excuse.

“huh... you've been to the bathroom like four times already... do you have diabetes too or something?” she muttered, slowly opening her eyes. “oh god, why did you give my baby all these problems...” she sighed, shaking her head.

you blinked in surprise. “no! i don't have diabetes! what the hell...” you exclaimed, and she chuckled softly. “then why do you keep running to the bathroom, huh?”

“okay, fine... i lied. i just... can’t sleep,” you admitted with a sigh, dropping your head back onto the pillow. “can’t sleep?” she whispered, pulling you closer. you nodded, feeling her warm breath on your neck. she sighed gently. “is there anything i can do to help you? do you want me to make you some chamomile tea, baby?” she offered, her voice filled with concern despite her own exhaustion.

“no, you should sleep,” you insisted, shaking your head. “but i can't sleep peacefully when you're struggling to sleep, baby. you're going to be exhausted tomorrow, and that's not good... just tell me if there's something i can do. i’m not going back to sleep if you don’t...” she said, softly caressing your cheek.

“i don’t know... but your voice calms me a lot... if you don’t mind... could you tell me a story?” you asked, snuggling closer to her. she hummed softly, her fingers gently brushing through your hair. “you want me to tell you a story... like a fairytale or something?” she asked quietly. you nodded against her shoulder.

“let me think of one, baby...” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as she continued to stroke your hair. “hmmm... i remember one that my grandma used to tell me when i was little...” she said, and you looked up at her, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“close your eyes and just listen, okay? don’t think about anything else, just listen. it’ll help you fall asleep...” she murmured, placing gentle kisses on each of your eyelids, making you feel even calmer.

“okay, baby. i'll just listen,” you mumbled, closing your eyes. she chuckled softly, pulling you even closer. “that’s my baby,” she whispered, her voice soothing as she began her story.

“once upon a time,” she began, her fingers gently threading through your hair, “there was a princess.”

hanni closed her eyes, letting her imagination bring the story to life as she spoke, her voice a soft, soothing hum that blended with the quiet of the night.

“this princess lived in a beautiful kingdom, where everything seemed perfect and peaceful. but despite all the beauty around her, the princess felt a deep unhappiness inside.”

“why was she unhappy?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

“babe, you said you wouldn't talk,” hanni teased, pausing her hand in your hair for a moment before continuing. “but well, the princess was unhappy because, although she had everything she could ever wish for, she was lonely. she had a kingdom and all the luxuries one could imagine, but she had no one to truly share them with, no one who genuinely cared for her.”

“she had her parents, of course," hanni went on, her fingers resuming their gentle, calming motion through your hair. “but it wasn't the kind of connection she was yearning for.”

she paused, her voice her voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone.

"then, one day, the princess met a knight..."

"the knight came into her life like a breath of fresh air..." hanni murmured, her voice soft and dreamlike. "he was unlike any other man in the kingdom.. he wasn't interested in her wealth or her title.. he treated her with kindness and respect.. not as a princess, but as a person.."

hanni smiled at the thought of the knight, her fingers tracing lightly along your jaw.

“the princess was captivated by this new person in her life...” she continued in a whisper, her touch tender and affectionate. “she found herself drawn to him in ways she couldn't explain.. maybe it was his courage, his loyalty, or just the way he saw her for who she truly was...”

“as time went on, the princess and the knight grew closer...” hanni said, her voice now a soft murmur, almost like a lullaby. “they spent time together, sharing their thoughts and dreams.. learning more about each other with every passing day...”

her hand moved gently down to rest on your chest, feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

"as they got to know each other, the princess realized she was falling in love with the knight.." hanni whispered, her hand drifting down to rest lightly on your stomach. "he was everything she had ever dreamed of and more.. and to her surprise and delight, she discovered that he felt the same way about her.."

"time passed, and their love only grew stronger.." hanni continued, her soft, melodic voice drawing you deeper into a state of calm and peace.

"they were blissfully happy, cherishing every moment they could spend together.." she murmured, her fingers gently tracing along your skin, soothing you further.

"but the princess' parents... they didn't approve of their love.. they had other plans for her.. they wanted her to marry someone of higher rank.. someone who could bring more power and wealth to the kingdom.."

"they forbade their relationship.." hanni said, her voice tinged with a note of sorrow. "they wanted the princess to marry a suitor who would benefit the kingdom politically, not a humble knight.."

"the knight and the princess were heartbroken.." hanni whispered, her hand stilling for a moment on your hip. "they tried to reason with her parents, but it was in vain.. her parents were determined to marry her off to someone else.."

"but the knight knew he couldn't just give up.." hanni continued, her voice firmer now, filled with quiet determination. "he didn't care about status or wealth.. he loved the princess, and he was resolved to find a way to be with her.."

“so he went to the king and boldly asked for the princess's hand in marriage.. the king was furious and refused, but seeing the knight's determination, he set a challenge.. if the knight could complete three impossible tasks, then he could marry the princess,” hanni explained.

as hanni continued the story, her voice calm and soothing, you began to feel drowsy.. her storytelling was comforting, her gentle caresses on your hair making your eyelids feel heavy.

"the knight, with the unicorn's horn in his possession, presented himself before the king, having completed all three tasks.." hanni murmured, her hand now tracing soft patterns on your arm. "seeing that the knight had succeeded, the king had no choice but to honor his promise and allow the knight to marry the princess.."

"and then they live happily ever after...." you mumbled sleepily, a small smile tugging at your lips.

hanni chuckled at your sleepy comment, her hand continuing to gently run through your hair.

"yes... it's a classic fairy tale.. the knight overcomes all obstacles, wins the princess's heart, and they live happily ever after.." she whispered, her voice carrying a hint of playful amusement.

“thank you... han... for the story and for everything... i love you... so much...” you sighed, feeling yourself drifting off, the world fading away.

“anytime, my love... good night.. sweet dreams, and remember to dream of me, okay?"

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this, and i hope it brought you some joy too. thanks so much for reading, and have a wonderful day or night! :)) (i need a hanni fr...)

[godteri-takk]

The same wondered beautiful friend that gifted me the Draculaura doll ACTUALLY gave me Honey Swamp as well!!! Generation 1 Freak du Chic, tho her shoes r gone and knees limp. SHE'S ONE OF MY FAVE GEN1 DOLLS!!!!!!! I never thought I'd ever have her and here my friend comes like an angel, giftig me this ... masterpiece of a monster dollie <<<3 love her<<3

[underoospeterparker]

hello, can i participate in your celebration? congrats on 300 followers!

🍩 i’m 5’2, 5’3 on a good day. on the skinny lean side, i like wearing tops that show off my neck and shoulders as well as fluffy things :) i have dark brown hair and eyes, pale olive skin, and i really like spicy and savoury food. i can’t succeed at any ball games, but i enjoy dance and working with animals. i’m quite introverted until i get adopted by an extrovert, and i really like physical touch and acts of service love languages. i love flowers especially pink roses and blue hydrangeas, and recently i’m into doing cool stuff like volunteering at an adoption centre and rock climbing with my friends. i tend to finish up my work way before the deadline, and i can’t do math. i’m recently swamped with work at school and trying my best to expand my circle even though i’m really shy at gatherings. oh and i really like the colour gold and pink even though i’m a silver girly.

thank you!

welcome to my 300 celebration! you are anon 1

i ship you with remus lupin!

a. your love languages- remus loves it when you give him gifts; it's definitely your love language for him. and you like physical touch, as well as words of affirmation:

you knocked on your boyfriend's door and was rewarded with a soft, "come in." "hi, rem," you smiled, closing the door behind you and jumping into his arms, gift bag set down on his bed. he was inside the covers, reading a book. the full moon was last night, he was still exhausted. remus returned your happy smile, murmuring, "i missed you. how was your day, baby?" you pulled away from him slightly, just enough for you to reach towards the bag you'd left on his blanket. "it was good," you responded, fumbling with the bag as a blush formed on your face. "i got you this. since you couldn't come to hogsmeade." remus's face brightened as you handed him the bag. he looked inside, surprised to find his favourite chocolates with a pretty pink bow tied to them. "aw, sweetheart," he pulled you in for a kiss. "thank you. i love you so much." you curled up to his side as he wrapped an arm around you, happy to be in his embrace. "you're welcome."

b. waking up with remus:

"good morning," he sighed, pulling you closer to his chest, if that was even remotely possible. today had been the first day in ages that the two of you had finally gotten a break and could spend the night together. while he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, he said, "how's my pretty girl doing today?" burying your head into his sweater to hide your blush, you mumbled something unintelligible. "what was that, sweetheart?" he asked, amused about how he could still make you shy after dating for so long. "use your words." "'m good," you said, slightly louder. "how'd you sleep?" with a huge smile on his face, remus responded, "better than i have in weeks."

c. remus helping you study:

"just don't get it, rem," you whined, starting to doodle on your page. "the calculations are so confusing." he pushed his chair closer to you and leaned over your work. "hey," he said, realising something. "you got that one correct!" "really?" your face brightened as you checked his notebook. "the answer's 47.5?" your boyfriend's face went blank. "47.5?" he murmured. "i thought you got 6.5," he murmured, flipping through his pages. "oops," he realised his mistake. "i read it wrong. sorry, sweetheart." you stared at him, glaring angrily before the two of you burst out laughing, clutching at each other to keep from falling off your chairs. "i'm really bad at this, aren't i?" you said, serious again. remus winced, reaching for your hand. "it's okay, honey," he said. "you're good at everything else."

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

The Honey Island Swamp Monster

Late at night in the depths of the Honey Island Swamp, a piercing and unforgettable cry heralds the movement of the creature. Known to rip out the throats of wild boar and tear elevated hunting camps from their pilings, the Honey Island Swamp Monster serves as a powerful image of what lurks in the marshes, waiting for unsuspecting prey. Legends of a giant beast terrorizing the region stretch back to Native American lore, but modern sightings began in 1963, when two FAA air traffic control men and local outdoors men set up camp in the interior of the marsh’s seventy thousand acres.

Harlan Ford and friend Billy D. Mills, Sr. noticed the potential campsite while flying over a remote area of the swamp outside Slidell, Louisiana. “It was prime hunting territory, and in an isolated area that few people had traveled,” said Dana Holyfield, Ford’s granddaughter and swamp monster advocate. “After he retired, he spent a lot of time at the camp documenting wildlife and eventually the creature we call the Honey Island Swamp Monster.”

Ford appeared on a 1970s television series called In Search Of… and described an unkempt behemoth, over seven feet tall, with scraggly black hair covering its body from head to toe and piercing amber eyes looking out from a surprisingly human-like face. “I thought it might be a bear, and then it turned around,” said Ford. Along with his physical descriptions, Ford produced a plaster cast of an impression of the creature’s foot—a four-toed, web-footed cross between that of a primate and a large alligator.

Because Ford’s account aired nationally, the local legend reached a new audience. “It was monster-mania around here,” said Holyfield. Other area residents came forward to challenge Ford, claiming he and his friends created the swamp monster to secure their hunting territory. Maybe they were bored or wanted to boost the local economy. “Someone had a shoe with a [swamp monster] track glued on the bottom and said they [Ford and his friends] walked around the swamp making the footprints,” said Holyfield.

Ford never stopped searching for the monster but retreated from the public eye following the criticism. His wife Yvonne found a video he recorded in the attic after his death in 1980, grainy 8 mm footage of what looks like a large man covered in hair, walking behind rows of trees in the foreground. The family also found a letter Ford wrote describing his encounters, clearly meant for publication but boxed up along with plaster casts and the video footage. If Ford invented the swamp monster for notoriety or hunting rights, why did he hide the majority of his evidence?

“I don’t care whether or not people believe in the Honey Island Swamp Monster,” said Neil Benson, owner of Pearl River Eco Tours. “There are a lot of things in life that we believe in that we haven’t seen—like God. I don’t know what it was; I just know I saw something that day.”

Benson doesn’t claim he saw “what people call the Honey Island Swamp Monster,” but he described something similar. “I was 16 years old paddling away from my duck blind in a pirogue. I saw something tall moving, unlike any creature I have seen move on two legs through water, unimpeded. It wasn’t a bear. It wasn’t like any man I’ve seen,” he said.

Benson tells the story on his swamp tours when people ask and also keeps a plaster cast of Harlan’s swamp-monster footprint impression, given to him by Dana. The casts have made their way around St. Tammany Parish, gifts from Holyfield to enthusiasts and fellow believers. Another is on display at the Abita Mystery House in Abita Springs, Louisiana.

Museum owner John Preble likens the swamp monster to the ivory-billed woodpecker, a species that hasn’t been formally observed or documented for years and is considered by experts to be extinct. “People tell me they’ve seen the swamp monster and that they’ve seen the ivory-billed woodpecker. The swamp is huge, and there are places where things can hide,” said Preble. “And Dana’s the real deal. When you meet her and hear her story, you believe it.”

Holyfield has spent most of her life searching for the same creature as her grandfather. She has written books and produced documentaries detailing encounters across the Honey Island Swamp. “I do this work because I believe my grandfather’s story. It matters whether or not it’s real because, if it weren’t real, a lot of people living around here would be crazy and have seen things that aren’t there,” she said.

[dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd]

The Honey Island Swamp Monster

Late at night in the depths of the Honey Island Swamp, a piercing and unforgettable cry heralds the movement of the creature. Known to rip out the throats of wild boar and tear elevated hunting camps from their pilings, the Honey Island Swamp Monster serves as a powerful image of what lurks in the marshes, waiting for unsuspecting prey. Legends of a giant beast terrorizing the region stretch back to Native American lore, but modern sightings began in 1963, when two FAA air traffic control men and local outdoors men set up camp in the interior of the marsh’s seventy thousand acres.

Harlan Ford and friend Billy D. Mills, Sr. noticed the potential campsite while flying over a remote area of the swamp outside Slidell, Louisiana. “It was prime hunting territory, and in an isolated area that few people had traveled,” said Dana Holyfield, Ford’s granddaughter and swamp monster advocate. “After he retired, he spent a lot of time at the camp documenting wildlife and eventually the creature we call the Honey Island Swamp Monster.”

Ford appeared on a 1970s television series called In Search Of… and described an unkempt behemoth, over seven feet tall, with scraggly black hair covering its body from head to toe and piercing amber eyes looking out from a surprisingly human-like face. “I thought it might be a bear, and then it turned around,” said Ford. Along with his physical descriptions, Ford produced a plaster cast of an impression of the creature’s foot—a four-toed, web-footed cross between that of a primate and a large alligator.

Because Ford’s account aired nationally, the local legend reached a new audience. “It was monster-mania around here,” said Holyfield. Other area residents came forward to challenge Ford, claiming he and his friends created the swamp monster to secure their hunting territory. Maybe they were bored or wanted to boost the local economy. “Someone had a shoe with a [swamp monster] track glued on the bottom and said they [Ford and his friends] walked around the swamp making the footprints,” said Holyfield.

Ford never stopped searching for the monster but retreated from the public eye following the criticism. His wife Yvonne found a video he recorded in the attic after his death in 1980, grainy 8 mm footage of what looks like a large man covered in hair, walking behind rows of trees in the foreground. The family also found a letter Ford wrote describing his encounters, clearly meant for publication but boxed up along with plaster casts and the video footage. If Ford invented the swamp monster for notoriety or hunting rights, why did he hide the majority of his evidence?

“I don’t care whether or not people believe in the Honey Island Swamp Monster,” said Neil Benson, owner of Pearl River Eco Tours. “There are a lot of things in life that we believe in that we haven’t seen—like God. I don’t know what it was; I just know I saw something that day.”

Benson doesn’t claim he saw “what people call the Honey Island Swamp Monster,” but he described something similar. “I was 16 years old paddling away from my duck blind in a pirogue. I saw something tall moving, unlike any creature I have seen move on two legs through water, unimpeded. It wasn’t a bear. It wasn’t like any man I’ve seen,” he said.

Benson tells the story on his swamp tours when people ask and also keeps a plaster cast of Harlan’s swamp-monster footprint impression, given to him by Dana. The casts have made their way around St. Tammany Parish, gifts from Holyfield to enthusiasts and fellow believers. Another is on display at the Abita Mystery House in Abita Springs, Louisiana.

Museum owner John Preble likens the swamp monster to the ivory-billed woodpecker, a species that hasn’t been formally observed or documented for years and is considered by experts to be extinct. “People tell me they’ve seen the swamp monster and that they’ve seen the ivory-billed woodpecker. The swamp is huge, and there are places where things can hide,” said Preble. “And Dana’s the real deal. When you meet her and hear her story, you believe it.”

Holyfield has spent most of her life searching for the same creature as her grandfather. She has written books and produced documentaries detailing encounters across the Honey Island Swamp. “I do this work because I believe my grandfather’s story. It matters whether or not it’s real because, if it weren’t real, a lot of people living around here would be crazy and have seen things that aren’t there,” she said.

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

Aww y'all got this :)

UAOGH

"Why should I have to go to school if Miss Teagues doesn't" STOP 😭😭 he was wild for that 💀 xD but nah genuinely :'((

Not gonna explain it's a job xD?

OOP GREGORY O.O

UHH OHHH

Is she just gonna go along with it o.o

Okay phew no xD

Sucks for convincing Alex lol but yk xd

Aww Gregory 😭😭😭💔 honeyyy <33

Aww hey guys :'((

Yeah I mean she did try to tell you <3 wasn't trying to keep it a secret from you or anything :'))

Aww honeys 😭

Lol yeah back to him xD

I mean yeah though bro it's a big deal :((

AWW lol his price is right dreams :'D yeah you gotta have school for them!!

Lol Gregory being more realistic about it xD aww aaah my babeys <33

Yeah teachers come and go :'// it sucks it really does but it happens 😭❤️❤️ <3.

You gotta go on anyway :'))

AWW AYYY we got him :'D

Yeah I mean just keep checking up on him I guess?

:'OO Ohh aww Gregory's Garden Goofballs!! Yeah they seem like they could do it that's super slay :'DD

Aww yeah :')) <33

Yeah genuinely congratulations Janine <33 you deserve it :') 🥰🥰

AWWW HONEYYY 😭😭😭😭💔❤️

Stop it hurt but that silence was perfect :(( augoh 😭❤️❤️ so good, I love this show <3

They know when to give you a moment to just breathe :)

Aww Jacob lol xD :D

Yeah that does sound insightful lol <3

Aww yeah 🥰🥰

LOL $20 and gift cards xD

Aww yeah guys :')) yeah that's sweet <3

Okay ouch guys xD

LOL delete them o.o aww I'm sorry Jacob xdd

Okay that's settling for a bit low Jacob lol slfjdhs but I'm sure you don't mind xdd xD <3

My lovelies :'D

Also Melissa holding him around the shoulder :')) stop I love them so much <33

AYY AWW he's in there :'DD

That's good :') 🥰🥰

Aww yeah he's there :')) telling her :'p that's good <33

Honeyyy

HONEYYSSS 😭😭😭💔❤️❤️

:O JANINE ARE YOU GONNA DO SOMETHING

SAY YOU'RE STAYING

OR BRING UP Y'ALL'S FEELINGS

OR BRING UP ANYTHING

Nope okay 😭💔 xdd makes sense though lol :')

Aww my honeys <33 </333 :(( ❤️❤️

Aww hey girl :')

Oh hey person :)

Oop gosh slfhskd o.o

Is she gonna decline just for the paperwork xD

Ahh yeah swamped

Everyone seemed to be really swamped today :/

I mean I know they're teachers and school district workers lol but it's just interesting xD :) :/ 🤔

Oop o.o gosh girl xdd

Yeahh you weren't good at making friends there right :(( aww I'm sorry honey

Listen Janine here's something I'll say: you have to make decisions based on what you want as well. Not just about making money or making a difference, and I definitely get that. I'm literally making that exact choice slowly right now lol xd. I just hope you're happy with whatever you pick, okay honey :'))? <333

Anyway AAHHHHH my girl 😭😭❤️❤️

[pierceintyre-hunnihawk-butnsfw]

Thanks For The Dance

It was a nice spring night here at the 4077th in Korea. Hawkeye and I had a wonderful date and a night filled with absolute bliss. We sang, we drank, we danced, we fucked, and we were in love. I knew that after my divorce we would be able to do so much more together, but I never imagined it to be as exciting as this. I wake up with this wonderful man in my cot with me, and I’m happy. Truly happy. Hawkeye woke something up in me that I never had before. It wasn’t lust, or the want to look like the perfect family, and the absolutely exhausting doting husband image that I had to keep up with. It drove me up the wall even thinking about going home and having to act like I was in love with someone that I just wanted to be friends with, rather than with someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

“Trapper?”

“Yes, Hawkeye?”

I could feel Hawkeye gently running his fingers along my forehand, but I didn’t mind. I simply just stared into those beautiful blue eyes with such delight, and the biggest smile on my face.

“Are you happy with me?”

“Hawkeye, honey, I’m in heaven with you, baby. I’ve never kissed an angel before but I’m certain that you’re as close as I’m ever going to get.”

“You mean that?”

The pain in Hawkeye’s vice woke something up in me that I never wanted. I don’t think I’ve been loving him the way that he wanted me to. I could see it in his eyes. I quickly sat up and held his gaze and his hands.

“Hawkeye, baby. What’s wrong?”

“I-I just feel like you don't truly love me. Don’t get me wrong, the dancing, the drinking, and the sex is nice, but I just don’t feel��important.”

“Oh, baby. I’ll tell you what, you write everything that I can do to make sure that you’re as important to me as I say you are, and not just a cheap thrill, and I’ll damn well do it.”

“You mean that?”

“Every bit of it.”

I handed Hawkeye a notebook and a pen. He immediately sarted writing some stuff down, and then handed it back to me. I noticed that the first word he wrote down was the word “aftercare” but I know it’s different for everyone, so I just had to ask what his version looks like.

“Hawkeye?”

“Yes?”

“I noticed that you put down aftercare, can you tell me more about how you’d like it done?”

“I’d like to be held and be told that you still love me. A check-in the day after would be nice too.”

“You got it. Would a stuffed animal help too?”

“It would.”

“I know you get cold after, and an actual cleanup is done, but I will definitely do exactly what you need. I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, Trapper.”

Shortly after kissing each other quick, we were called into the O.R. We got dressed, got into our scrubs, and got to work. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but there was a scrap metal in these young men. We made sure to get rid of all of it as carefully and as quickly as possible. It was very strategic, but we got it done.

“I’ve never seen so much metal in a kid before.”

“Me neither. Must’ve been a huge explosion.”

“Not surprising, unfortunately. There is a war going on. I just wish we were back home in the states.”

“Me too. You know, I could try to bring a little piece of home here.”

“How so?”

“What’s your favorite animal?”

“A tiger. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just humor me, Hawkeye. Why a tiger?”

“When I was a kid, one summer my mom took me to this zoo in New York, and they had this gift shop. Well, she told me to take any animal that I want. Well, me being a kid, I chose this medium sized tiger, about fourteen inches, and I loved it until it couldn’t be loved anymore. I mean, she did everything to try and fix him. I loved that tiger.”

“What was his name?”

“Arlo. He was a Bengal tiger.”

“That’s a really cute name.”

“Thank you! He went with me everywhere. Even to school! I miss him.”

“Where did you get Arlo?”

“I wanna say The Bronx Zoo. Why?”

“Just curious. I gotta go make a phone call. I’ll meet you back at The Swamp baby. I promise.”

Hawkeye kissed my cheek, and I started running to Radar’s quarters. I practically burst through Radar’s quarters, and I could tell that he wasn’t expecting me.

“Hang on Sparky, I’ll have to call you back. What the matter, sir?”

“Can you get me in touch with the Bronx Zoo?”

“Of course, sir. Can I ask why?”

“It’s a surprise for Hawkeye.”

“A surprise for Hawkeye?”

“Yes. You can’t tell him that I’m getting him a stuffed tiger. No matter what, okay?”

“A stuffed tiger? Why a stuffed tiger?”

“It’s a long story, but it’s very important to him.”

“I understand, sir. That’s like my brother’s bear and I.”

“Your brother’s bear?”

“He gave me his bear shortly before he was sent off to war and, well, died in combat.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Radar.”

“It’s okay, sir. I know he’s in a better place and I still have something to remember him by.”

“I understand. That’s a really nice way to look at it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Radar called The Bronx Zoo. I asked if they had any Bengal tigers in stock, and they thankfully did. I asked if they could send one to our camp, after I paid for it, of course, and they could. I have never written a check so fast before. I even told them to mail it first class. I gave Radar the check, he slipped it into an envelope, and had it put into the stack of letters to be mailed.

“Is that all you wanted, sir?”

“That’s all. Thank you, Radar!”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

“See you around!”

“Likewise, sir!”

I ran back to The Swamp and found Hawkeye reading some magazine.

“Whatcha doin’ Hawkeye?”

“Trying to see if I’d make a good housewife. Say, do I do a good job pleasing you?”

“In more ways than one.”

“Hmmm, you do the same for me. Do I greet you with complaints and problems?”

“Not unless you’re looking for a solution and need an outside source of help. I can see the next question. Do you always greet him with a smile? Always! Unless something’s wrong, but I do love taking care of you when something is wrong.”

“You’re such a wonderful lover.”

I felt myself blushing at the word “lover.” I’ve never felt so…happy to be called that before.

“You okay, Trapper?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah I’m okay.”

“You know, I was really admiring that grin of yours. The way your face blushed a beautiful bright red, and how focused you were on me.”

“Baby…”

“Yes?”

“Come closer.”

Okay. Why?”

“I’ve never noticed how blue your eyes are in the sunlight.”

“Trap, you’ve seen them everyday.”

“I know, but never this close.”

“What are you trying to say, Trap?”

“I love how you look. I love how your eyes glow whenever I kiss you. I love how you always care about people, even when you don’t need to. Hawkeye, there are so many things that I love about you that I would love to tell you, but I’ll end it here with this, I love you. Not the doctor version of you, not the prankster version of you, and not even the sexual version of you, those are all variations of you. I love the man who can do everything, but also just be himself. I love you, even if you claim that you have faults. Those are just things that I love more.”

“Why?”

“They’re a part of you. They’re what makes you, well, you.”

“I love you, Trapper.”

“I love you too, Hawkeye.”

Hawkeye gently pulled me in closer for a kiss, I couldn’t help myself but to run my hands all over his body while muttering about how perfect he was. I needed more of him, but it had to wait.

“I have something to tell you, Hawkeye.”

“Is it bad?”

“Oh, no. I just want you to know that I got you a present that you had before.”

“Before? Can I get a hint?”

“Yes, before. Think mom and dad.”

“Mom and dad? That’s…have I told you about it before?”

“I can’t say.”

“Well, I look forward to getting it.”

“Me too.”

We both got up and decided to get to dinner. I knew his present was going to take a few days to get here, so I figured it was best to hold off sex until then. Especially since I want it to be absolutely perfect, and no less. It’s what Hawkeye truly deserves. Hell, after everything he’s done, he deserves the world.

A few days went by, and mail was called in. I’ve never been so anxious for a gift to come in before. I just hope it’s here.

“Mail for Margaret, your father wrote you a letter.”

“Mail for Frank, a letter from your wife.”

“Mail for Henry, congrats, Sir!”

“Package for Klinger. It’s from Chicago.”

“Mail for the Father. It’s from your sister.”

“Mail for Hawkeye. It’s from your dad.”

I waited patiently but anxiously for my name to be called. I was starting to get even more nervous.

“And finally, mail for Trapper. It’s in my office.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and met Radar in his office.

“So, how are we doing this, Sir?”

“I’m gift wrapping it in the wrapping paper I saved from Christmas.”

“The red and green flannel print?”

“Yep!”

“Smart choice, Sir.”

“Thank you.”

Radar helped me wrap up the box and I carried it back to The Swamp. I saw Hawkeye writing a letter back to his dad. Frank was also writing a letter back to his wife, so I had to wait until Frank left. Until then, I asked Hawkeye what he was writing about.

“Oh, my dad was just asking about how I’m doing and if I’ve fallen in love with anyone.”

“What’re you going to tell him?”

“I’m bringing home a Marine, he’ll be the son you’ve never had.”

“You’re a disgrace to the Army.”

“Thank you, Frank.”

“Do me a favor Frank.”

“Yeah?”

“Write to your wife about how you love to be lower than everyone else.”

Frank finally ran out after saying that Hawkeye and I are a disappointment to the US Army.

“Hawkeye?”

“Yeah?”

“The box is for you.”

“Really?”

“I know you talked about it before, but I figured I’d give it to you myself.”

Hawkeye carefully took the box outta my hands and slowly unwrapped the box, opened the box, and unwrapped the green tissue paper.

“Arlo?!”

“I got you a replica of Arlo. I know he isn’t the same one that you had when you were a kid, but I hope-”

Hawkeye pulled me into a tight hug and didn’t let go for the longest time.

“Trapper?”

“Yes?”

“I love you. This must’ve cost a pretty penny!”

“Only twenty bucks, no big deal. At least, not when it comes to you.”

“Trapper…”

“Baby…”

Hawkeye slowly pulled me into a deep kiss and I didn’t want him to pull away, so I pulled him onto my lap. I ran my fingers through his hair, then I trailed my hands down to his hips, slowly trailing this up his body. I felt Hawkeye shiver, and that gave me a way to kiss his neck. Hawkeye let out a breathless moan, and I decided to carefully undress him.

“Is this okay, baby.”

“Don’t stop.”

“Easy, baby.”

Hawkeye groaned at my response then proceeded to wrap his legs around mine.

“Hawkeye?”

“Yes?”

“Why don't we finish this up a different way?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, Sir.”

I smiled down at the man that was now underneath me. He was so kissable, and oh so adorable. I started to slowly leave a trail of kisses down his body all the way down to the waistband of his pants.

“Sir?”

“Yes, baby?”

“We haven’t had sex in three days.”

“I know, baby.”

“Why don’t we do it?”

“Only if you want to, baby.”

“I want to, Sir.”

“I want to as well, baby. Let me get everything set up, okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

I grabbed my checklist of things that would help both Hawkeye and I, and I had everything setup except for the check-in that I’ll do tomorrow morning.

“Sir?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I’m ready when you are.”

I turned around to see Hawkeye in a set of blue lingerie.

“I thought the box from Chicago was for Klinger.”

“I had Klinger order me a set from his boutique, and he said to pick out any color that I wanted, and go buy it. You like it?”

How could I say “no?” He was so beautiful in it. Especially his eyes. They stood out more.

“Baby…?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“You’re beautiful. So fucking pretty…”

“Am I turning you on, Sir?”

“In more ways than one, my love.”

“Let me help you, then.”

“Please…”

I felt like I was begging Hawkeye to just fuck me on the spot, but he seemed so happy to undress me. He got very excited when it came to my boxers.

“Sir?”

“Yes, baby?”

“You don’t know just how happy you make me.”

“I don’t think you know how happy you make me, baby.”

I slowly removed the light blue lingerie off of Hawkeye’s body while kissing every inch of his skin. I slowly started to remove his panties, and that’s when Hawkeye let out a soft moan. I started stroking his cock, keeping a slow rhythm. Hawkeye slowly got onto his knees, took my length in his hand, and slowly did the same, until I saw his smile. I soon heard Hawkeye let out a small laugh, and then start sucking me off. It felt so good that I closed my eyes and allowed Hawkeye to take full control. He ran his tongue over the tip, and then slowly deep throated my length. I gently laid my hand onto the back of his head, and let him do all the work.

“Baby…fuck you feel so good.”

“This’ll feel even better.”

Before I could even move, Hawkeye grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand, and lubed up my cock. It was a weird feeling at first, but I soon got used to it.

“You look so handsome like that, Sir. You’ll look even better on your back.

All I could do was smirk. I had a plan, but he was not to know. Hawkeye slowly tok my length inside of him, and started to slowly move. I felt him pin my hands to the bed, and kept going. After an hour, I started to feel close.

“I know you love this, Sir. See how hard I’ve made you?”

“You know I do, baby. You needed me so fucking bad.”

“Three days feels like a lifetime, Sir.”

“I know baby, but it’s over now.

I felt so close to cumming, but I was about to let Hawkeye have that type of satisfaction. So, I did what any normal person would do, and flipped him over, and whispered in his ear.

“Who the fuck said that you were allowed to finish me?”

I saw Hawkeye’s eyes go wide, but slowly relax. I kept my pace, but started kissing his neck more while fucking him. Hearing his moans in my ear, and feeling his nails scratch at my back really did something to me.

“You look so fucking pretty like this, baby. Fuck, I love it when you get like this.”

“Don’t stop fucking me, Sir please…”

“I’m not done yet, baby.”

I heard Hawkeye let out a delighted sigh, and close his eyes. I started to kiss his chest, and caress his hair.

“You’re my little fucktoy. You're all mine, baby.”

“I-I’m all yours, Sir.”

“Bend over, baby. I’m gonna fuck you from behind.”

“Y-Yes, Sir. Fuck, I love it when you dominate me like this.”

“I know, baby. You’re so beautiful, baby.”

“Fuck, I wish I had met you sooner. We fit together perfectly.”

“I’m close, baby.”

“Don’t stop fucking me, Sir. Please…”

Twenty minutes went by, and we started going at it like animals. I could tell that I couldn’t hold it in much longer, and I knew Hawkeye wasn’t either.

“I-I’m close, baby.”

“M-me too, Sir. Fuck, I can’t…”

“Easy, baby. Just a little longer.”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

“Fuck…”

“I-I’m gonna…”

“Come for me, baby. You know you fucking need it.”

“I-I need it, Sir…”

“Shhh, cum for me, darling. You’ll feel so much better.”

I heard Hawkeye start to give in, and it was so cute. Shortly after, I could tell that we were both so close, but I wanted us to cum at the same time, and I knew all too well that Hawkeye wanted the same. I looked down to see Hawkeye gripping the sheets with white knuckles and his blue eyes swelling up with tears, not out of pleasure, but I certainly knew to bring it up afterwards.

“Cum in me, Sir. Please, Sir.”

“Easy, baby.”

Hawkeye’s voice started to become more eager and I knew he was so close, but was waiting on me. I felt a little sadistic for making him hold off as long as I did. My motions certainly showed that, as my movements started to slow down some more, but I still had some energy left in me. I pulled Hawkeye closer to me and kept going.

“Only a little longer, baby. I promise.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“F-fuck, Hawkeye…!”

“T-Trapper!”

With that, we both came at the same time, and collapsed into one another. I held Hawkeye close to me, and kissed his hands, then his face, and finally his lips.

“Do you know how grateful I am to fuck you? To hold you in my arms, and have you so close to me?”

“You love me that much?”

“I do, baby. It’s not just during or after sex either. I love you no matter what.”

“Even on my bad days?”

“Even on your bad days, baby.”

“Trapper?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can we shower?”

“Absolutely. Let me put the sheets and whatnot into the laundry room, and then I’ll be back to help you, okay?”

“Okay.”

I stripped the bed entirely, put my robe on, went off to the laundry room, dropped everything off, and then helped Hawkeye to the showers after replacing everything on the bed with fresh sheets and blankets. I decided the best choice would be to carry him. So, I helped him into his robe, then into the shower, and finally, helped him shower. We went back to The Swamp, and I grabbed his tiger.

“Is this better, baby?”

“A lot.”

“Baby?”

“Yes?”

“I noticed that you had tears in your eyes as we were…y’know. Are you okay?”

“You saw?”

“I did.”

“I’m okay, and I did have a lot of fun.”

“But?”

“Those were happy tears, Trapper. I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

“I would’ve called out my safe word if they weren’t.”

“Truman is definitely something that would get me to stop.”

“Exactly.”

“Come here, baby.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t ever want to be the reason that you’re in pain, my darling. I want to be the reason that you’re so happy and feeling good. I love you, Hawkeye.”

“I love you too, Trapper.”

Hawekeye and I ended the conversation with a long kiss. I also saw him playing with his tiger.

“What’re you going to name him?”

“I was thinking Trapper, after the most important person in my life.”

“Hmmm, why not John?”

“Too basic.”

“Trapper it is, then.”

I saw Hawkeye smile, and then nuzzle himself into my chest.

“Can I see Trapper for a moment?”

“Sure.”

I grabbed a bottle of my cologne and lightly sprayed Trapper in it.

“There, now it smells like the most important person in your life.”

“I love you, Trapper.”

“I love you too, baby.”

We started to get quiet again, so I ran my fingers through Hawkeye’s hair, hummed a song, and slowly watched Hawkeye fall asleep. I was happy that I was able to make Hawkeye happy and to keep him in my life. I wouldn’t admit to anyone, but I knew that I needed him and I knew that he needed me too. I guess that this is what being in love actually felt like. I could get used to this.

[runningwithhellhounds]

Theo, across recent timescapes. Theo x life: a series of impressions.

Theo is an invasive agent in Hayden's sensory collection. She's trying to not pay him any mind.

She also tried to erase his self-importance by pretending he didn't exist when she knew he watched with his bridge-burn eyes as she and Liam kissed. Found success in his uncharacteristic silence in a moment that was ruinable.

They are standing in dappled shadows on the forest ground, waiting for Liam, who ran ahead to make a call out of Theo's earshot. Theo is sitting by a tree with his knees up and loosely spread, with his hands in between them. His hands, chained: it's simplest hazard control. Effective, though. Hayden feels spiteful as she's walking left to right, throwing a palm-sized rock from hand to hand. Theo looks bored, irked.

''Where are you going to, little Red Riding Hood?'' Theo addresses her, smooth to self-entertain, making her stop mid-throw, causing the rock to hit her palm and fall on the ground. She picks it up and mimes throwing it at him. Success unfound, in how he doesn't flinch. Success unfound, in how he's making this into a story about a little girl and a sneaky wolf.

She considers him. If answering at all would cater to his amusement, or lesser his situational unpleasantries, which she's trying to avoid. But Theo is in the midway of doing nothing and determined to draw attention to himself, the way he has been.

''We're out of flowers, I'm afraid. Would you like some redwood wood, instead?'' Theo offers in a made-pleasant public service voice. Hayden notices that he's siding with the forest, here, scuttling into its floors where he has found purchase through extended stay.

''You know all the tree species?'' Hayden asks. Takes a bite and wills it into a treat for herself, rather than bait. Theo probably meant the tall and non-wiggly tree he's sitting against; Hayden wonders if he ever studied forestry, or if this is werewolfery knowledge.

''I know better things, too. If you come closer, I'll whisper them to you.'' He grins. Lifts his chained wrists as he adds, ''No pressure, though.''

Hayden considers him. Again and again. This is, she guesses, learnt prudency; a refined taste for justice, maybe. Guesses resurrection does that to you.

''Warning, beware of dog,'' she says.

Theo looks at her, eyes hooding and mouth neutralising. He shrugs, looks sideways. Attention, lost. Trade, declined. Secretful threat traded for blankness, if anything. Hayden, it seems, does not entertain in Theo-ways.

—

Theo Raeken, it turns out, has a finitude to his spread of catastrophe. Sheriff Stilinski watches cross-armed as running-mouth-boy exposes the culprits of murder; aggravates them like it's his best expertise until they say things they tried not to say and so saves his own slate from police-worthy additions.

Stilinski watches as Theo, for some inexplicable reason, lingers in the police department. Theo is sitting on one of the reception benches, eating a bag of mixed nuts from the vending machine. One would think it's ill-advised, that as soon as Parrish released him, Theo asked Parrish to buy him some goods from the vending machine, said he was detained unfairly. Deprived of food for this short but uneasy time. Didn't have his belongings on him. But it mustn't be nonsensical; it must be some behavioural tactic of making himself appear unconcerned. As having clear consciousness, innocence, all of those.

Stilinski resumes watching through the screen as Theo's chewing slows down when an officer with a police dog walks to the machine. He watches Theo's frowned, suffering, doubtful expression, staring into the dog's eyes like he can't take the dog seriously. The officer stops fishing change out of his wallet with a metal scoop in his cupped hand to shoot Theo a questioning look.

''Everything alright, son?'' the officer jingles the change in his hand, looking Theo over.

Theo's gaze doesn't even change when he looks up. Doesn't turn into a stranglehold of a gaze, either. ''Does your dog bite?''

The officer considers Theo, the sagged, unruffled spectre of him.

''No need to worry,'' he assures. Starts inserting the coins. He then turns to Theo in an afterthought. ''Is someone picking you up? You need anything?''

''Oh,'' Theo breathes, ''for real? Would you? Just something to eat? I've been stuck here waiting.''

Stilinski watches as Theo picks up a protein bar from the machine drawer. Flavoured water, a second later. Probably, apathy comes easily to him. He must not think in any understandable way; rather, he must think unfeelingly. Kid's got— not a care in the world.

—

Liam is holding a bouquet and inspecting its flowery contents. Frowning at the petals he's scraping at, glowering at the buds he's poking.

In the aftermath of the ceremony ran on the anniversary of Liam's school in the decorated sports hall, his mother is standing by the chairs in unison with another boy watching her son.

She knows him from a photo Liam showed her, a boy new in the school, softly named: Theo. It was evident that Liam took the photo discreetly, which she commented on and which Liam denied. She notes the distance at which Theo keeping and approaches him.

''Don't worry, he's not keeping secrets from his friends,'' she says. ''He doesn't have a girlfriend, at least not that I know of. I was the one who gave him the flowers.''

''Oh?'' Theo says. ''I see.''

He puts his hands in his pockets. He's probably shy. This happens sometimes, with high-school boys, they can become clumsy with themselves. She feels motherly talking to them in moments like this; motherly and pleasant in her efforts to engage adolescents when they are dithering.

''I think he's reconciling masculinity with flowers,'' she comments.

He smiles. Smirks, more like it. They must be close.

''Good colour choice,'' he comments on the orange of the flowers.

She nudges his arm. ''Go talk to him when they're done taking photos.''

Theo shakes his head, shrugs once. ''Nah. I will be leaving soon, anyway,'' he says, and she drops her hand from his arm. He's probably a little shy.

—

Mediterranean sunrise comes with a surprise: a man awakening on the ground a few steps from the barely-formed footpath. A man, or maybe younger, his Mediterranean awakening accompanied by the smell of fig trees, and all. Kind red soil.

He's naked. He's slowly wiping a hand across his lips. You know, suddenly, that this is a complication. The circumstance makes his body looks like an involuntarily stripped body. Perspective changes: red soil is now needled soil. Acrid tones sour the sunrise.

''Hey,'' you call, stepping closer in your sandals and a coral-printed towel around your neck, feeling unsuitable for the demands of the situation. ''Hey. Are you okay? Should I call the police?''

He's pushing himself up. Not looking at you. Not mindful of the resin at his back. This is indicative, you think, of something, because you're mindful of the way road dust is making your hair dry and webby, while his attention is this narrow, or overall absent.

He looks up, then, at you. ''What?''

A surprise gifted by a foreign agency; not Italian, then. You switch to English and try to make it not clumsy.

''I'll call the police for you,'' you assure him. Scramble to find your phone in your tote bag.

''D'n't call th'police,'' he says. He isn't trying to cover where his body is exposed.

''I don't want to assume anything,'' you say, feeling odd and performative. ''But— Look. I can just call the emergency number and they can direct you to a centre for sexual assault.''

Body, bodily manuscripted into the soft soil. He looks like he's processing slowly. Gets distracted inspecting his hands. Is that blood, you wonder, realise, really, it all just getting worse and fraughter. In between his fingers.

''Don't call th'police,'' he says. ''Was jus' drunk.''

''Is that blood? On your fingers.''

''I jus'. D'n't call. Did s'me things I shouldn't have.'' He reads your face, then says, ''Not like that. T'myself.''

Heat is lowering to the grounds of the morning and your sandals are light on your feet, escape-hairs pleasant, pine trees your favourite. And the hostility-seen boy is trying to act alright.

''It's okay,'' you say, wondering if it is; something complicated about the okayness of not-okay. You squat down, to balance the eye heights. ''I can call the hotline for—''

''No, n't—. Just stupid, no police. Please.''

''Do you want some water,'' you say, taking it out of your bag, and he takes it. Uncaps and smells it, blinking with his nose above the bottle opening, before he shakes his head a little, and starts drinking. Your phone is still in your hand, but you're unsure. You give him your second non-swimly shorts and wait until he overcomes his hesitance and gingerly takes them.

''You don't have to tell me,'' you insist. ''But I'm sure that there's someone who—''

''Thanks. It's okay, you can go now.'' He starts moving to get the shorts on, then swiftly straightens his back, inhaling deeply and looking up. Must be avoiding some hidden ache.

You hesitate, phone in your hand, legs starting to feel stiff from the position.

''I could drive you someplace. My car is ten min—''

''Thanks, but I'm okay now. You can't help,'' he interrupts. There are cases like this one, right, people using caustic means for secret-maintaining ends.

''Are you sure?'' you press. ''I could go away while you're talking to—''

''You're not helping,'' he says, monotone now, now operative and controlled to be alkaline. He's looking at your eyes fixedly, and you stop hesitating. ''You should go.''

Ground gives. You shake your head and start walking away, leaving him with your shorts and thinking then good fucking luck, honey.

You turn back one more time. He's looking at you leaving with unfocused glossy eyes, and you wonder, surely not for the last time, how deeply and stickily swamp-lodged he must be.

—

A hot guy is walking in the chest-high sea and doing little dives. Grazing the water surface with his fingertips in between and wiping salt from his eyes, before diving again and re-salting his eyes, like some deliberately mindless-seeming cyclical mechanism. Salt for maintenance, salt a nuisance.

Now he bends his knees and only submerges up to his chin, and you imagine he's sensing freshness at his nape.

''You just have to relax,'' you say loudly from where you come to stand in the water to your ankles, ''and you can probably hold your breath for longer than that.''

He stands up and turns until he spots you. You walk closer until the water is at your waist and he's looking at you like someone unexpectedly interrupted. Unexpectedly perceived, unfortunately. A popular kid being addressed by an unpopular one.

''You wanna teach me how to swim?'' he asks and smirks a little, and you shrug.

''If you feel like you can't stay underwater for more than five seconds, it's probably because you're panicking. You can hold your breath comfortably for at least fifteen seconds, I dare say.''

He looks at the glistening in the water, looking weary.

''Can I,'' he says, more of a response made to be unrevealing than a question.

''One thing I'll say,'' you say, untying your hair to avoid breaking it when it will be wet and to be casual, maybe; mitigate the upfrontness and possible insinuation, ''is that your body looks mad functional. Don't take this in any funky way.''

''I won't,'' he says.

—

Theo is in no space. Some telephone line space.

Should I be taking this personally, Liam texts him. He knows that Theo has been straightforwardly ignoring his messages. He hopes, actually; hopes Theo hasn't run into any of his long-known non-friends who see his face as a face, fanged, and not eyes, often confused, tongue, often tied, responses, often belated. Hopes that Theo isn't not answering because of some surviving anachronism from his past, but rather because of something new. That would be more manageable.

He also hopes that Theo isn't not answering because he is succumbing to his self-damaging instincts, even though that would mean simmering resentment towards Liam; even though that would likely be the best possible option in the precarious array of options in Theo's life.

Liam texts, did you know that if space was infinitely big and infinitely old, it would be white? I don't really get why, do you?

—

You have a boy couched in your living room. His name is Theo. Picked him up on a staff-only fire escape. It would be a leisurely sight, now, a tracksuit-hoodie-boy sitting right next to a drying rack, which he said he didn't mind. If it wasn't for your rapid heart. Heart: heated, speaking in unit-free measures. Heat: a smooth, unfibrous thing.

''May I,'' he murmurs, and you lean in.

It's a classic student situation: a breathless undertaking to the backtune of wine in tea mugs. He selected a Sierra Nevada mug with a setting sun. Came with the flat.

''Add me on Facebook,'' you say. The two of you haven't even done much, but you feel so hooked, by the fire-escape boy who moves in a way so self-assured and touches indoor objects warily. ''Or Instagram. Wherever you want.''

''I don't use social media,'' he says. He uses his hold on your hand and your finger to push his hair out of his eye. You like the way it parts and hits his temples.

''Phone number?'' You suggest, more joking than not. Exchanging phone numbers feel more joke-like than not.

''No phone number,'' he says. Must see your expression, shrugs and says, ''Guess I'm too old for technology.'' He smirks at the dry look you shoot at him, knowing your age of twenty-three to his twenty-two. He's saying too old and you don't buy it. He carries no weariness in his jaguar body. He takes his lower lip in his mouth. ''What if,'' he then says, ''I'm a vampire.'' He touches the tip of his tongue to his upper teeth.

''My favourite paranormal activity,'' you say.

''Too bad,'' he says, grinning. You look at his ajar lips and think: too bad.

''Your canines are sharp, though,'' you say. ''At least.''

He grins wide. Pointedly and slowly leans towards your neck with an open mouth, until teeth make contact. You feel your smile dropping when his phone beeps. He hesitates for a beat and then leans his forehead on your chin, just breathing there, and you know you are both thinking about him saying no phone number.

''But none for me,'' you say. Because of all the places your bodies have been touching, a beat of silence means: five heartbeats of him staring at his phone, engulfed in the jacket he discarded on the floor by the couch, and you staring at him. And then he leans over, easily shifting your weight, until he can kick the jacket, some, not really achieving anything.

''Another vampire,'' he says, then, on the side of unapologetic. Luckily, you are known to be unresentful. Good at not taking things personally. ''From another brood.'' He places his hands back on your hips.

''Hm,'' you say.  It's fine. The monomania of the green-eye boy is temporary. He's hot, but your desire never lasts, anyway.

—

There's a guy on your bus ride, on the opposite side of the passage, one seat forward. Your age. You noticed the generic niceness of his face.

He's drawing a sinusoidal curve on the fogged window. Moves his hand further right, where the window is still fogged. Starts drawing vertical lines, carefully, some methodology to it, the lines parallel to each other. He pauses after he draws four. Huffs, twists his smile into one that is hiding and downturned. He crosses the four lines with one that is horizontal, then adds another vertical line to the side.

You feel yourself smile. He drops his hand, shakes his head a little. Looks through the window at the frost-covered barren brown fields, away from his prisoner day-count. It's funny. He's funny. You look away.

—

It's a short, crude thing. Like this:

A fictitious boy stumbles out of a bare-walled building. Languid, unrestful body. Unleisurely, water-logged body. A tired backstreet play-doh thing. Young.

''Hey,'' you call. ''You. You good?''

The night is warm, humid. A post-rain road construction night. A night for cicadas, if you drive further out.

He inhales in the way of catching breath. Squints at his watch, eyes go glassy. Looks at the moon overhead, then squints at you. And you— you feel awake now.

You look him over, the sugarburn boy with a backwards baseball cap. The trouble of a tooth cavity, which means: okay, if you have some money. Some reckless uncare, too. He's watching you. You inhale slowly, but it turns out all tell-tale anyway. He must see the appeal you feel, in how he licks his lips and tilts his head.

''Interested?'' he asks.

You hesitate. Feel for your jacket pocket with your wallet in it. Lift it without taking it out, clear enough.

He nods. Clears his throat.

''Can you play nice?'' he asks. Teasing, but also not.

You can.

He nods. Looks at his watch. You follow him.

—

You pick up your pretend-sugar fake-care service by a closed ice-cream stand, its inviting light sign shining red on his face. It's raining lightly when you pull up and he doesn't have his hood up like he knows the wet hair strands sticking to his forehead make him look good. In the car, he has no song requests when you ask.

''How can I service you?'' he asks.

—

''What should I call you,'' you ask.

''No need to call me,'' he says.

''What if I want to,'' you admit. Not subtle and elusive. If I may be so bold as to in the back of your mouth.

He pauses, thinks. His gaze is saccading empty spot to empty spot and you know the only type of name you'll get is a fake. You'll take it, as a consolation purchase.

''Theo,'' he says.

—

Alec answers the knock with a toothbrush in his hand.

''Theo. Jesus,'' he breathes.

''Hello,'' Theo responds, overly carefully-crafted for the simplicity of a greeting, but Theo has never carried himself as though he was simple. ''I brought you those,'' he hands Alec paper sheets folded in half. ''I got my hands on some werewolves. Could you give those to Scott?''

It's more automatic than not, when Alec takes and unfolds them. They are black-and-white prints of photographs of ID's.

''You did?'' Alec says, still dumbfounded, still in the act of being interrupted. Habit-mindedness sliced in half. ''How?''

Theo shrugs. His face furrows for a beat, then he fiddles with the door handle, pushing it down twice.

Alec looks at the goods in his hands: a toothbrush, werewolfy profiles. ''Do you want me to tell him that they're from you?''

Theo looks conflicted. That's fair; it's a conflicting state of circumstances, or what is it that Liam told Alec. Maybe Theo turned to Alec because of the implied similarity: both well-accustomed to doing what it takes. Maybe Theo is finding some comfort in that; like Alec would recognise that Theo is a runaway object, or a throwaway one, only having made himself a weapon because he had been made into one first. Like Alec would recognise that Theo is trying to pay his dues. Or maybe Alec is misjudging and Theo isn't seeking comfort at all, which is what Malia thinks. Guess Alec is a little soft for softer scenarios.

''Jesus,'' Alec says again. ''You were gone so long. You didn't say anything. Have you—'' He hesitates, frowns a little. ''Does—Ah, well, you know. Does Liam know?'' He was going for tentative with this one before he swerved. Tending to the habits of skittish wolves.

Theo is looking past Alec's shoulder, distanced and glassy. Alec thinks of dolls, their eyes amiss in that they are unseeing and custom-built. It's a thought too cruel, unless it's sympathetic.

Theo shakes his head, slowly, and exhales, touches his temples with his index fingers, then drops them lower and presses them over his jaw muscles.

''TMJ pain?'' Alec asks.

Theo drops his hands. ''What?''

''Oh. The jaw joint,'' Alec points to his own.

Theo shrugs. ''It's just tender. This muscle,'' he taps.

''Have you been stressed? TMJ problems are common for young people. Can happen because of stress. Stress can cause teeth grinding.'' A clumsy explanation, but Alec can't re-order its parts now, just hopes Theo takes it. Hopes Theo makes his skin onion peel and shows something less dry underneath. And Theo:

Theo looks at him expressionlessly, for a beat, and then exaggeratedly sad-faces. Pouts, closes his eyes, nods slowly. ''I've been stressed,'' he says.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32225941

[canary3d-obsessed]

Shen Wei Serving Lewks, Part 7

(Masterpost)

Look 30

Swamp coat...no wait, hang on.

Upon close inspection, this is not Swamp Coat, but a different loose trench coat in Swamp color. What the fuck, Shen Wei! Borrow one of your boyfriend’s coats again, pretty please?

Both times this tunic/coat outfit has appeared on Shen Wei, Zhao Yunlan was wearing this gorgeous tailored denim number, with perfectly fitted shoulders and a nipped in waist. Sigh.

Anyway, Swamp Coat 2.0 is nicer than 1.0, and Shen Wei is wearing it with a with an immaculate super-casual loose white tunic with a band collar, so he looks beautiful even though this ensemble is decidedly meh. 

As Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan get closer, Shen Wei’s wardrobe becomes looser and more casual, which is probably good for his psyche so...okay. 

In addition to layers of loose fabric, this look features a checkered nosebleed hanky and the angriest face he has ever turned on Zhao Yunlan. 

Along with definitely not kissing

(More behind the cut!)

And definitely not having a massive grope session like the last time Shen Wei got between Zhao Yunlan’s knees on this lab table.

Once the anger passes, however, this is a very good look for making out in a taxi with a boy who has excellent taste in coats. 

Bonus Look 2: ZY’s Turn to Be Angry

This look belongs to Zhao Yunlan, who is wearing a single soft layer with a wide exposed neck so he can have an intense argument and hand touching with Shen Wei. This is Zhao Yunlan’s at home look, without the extra layer (vest or jacket, in a tough fabric) he always wears except when he’s alone with Shen Wei.

Shen Wei is like, no it’s fine honey, slicing my arm open is just a thing I do so I can eventually die spectacularly.  Also I drained my life force for you, don’t make a big deal of it you know I hate when you make a big deal of things. 

For once Zhao Yunlan gets to be the overprotective, upset partner in the relationship and also maybe the big spoon for a change. In keeping with his personality, he expresses himself explosively... 

...while Shen Wei quietly leaks out emotions like the black smoke leaking from his wrist.

This is Zhao Yunlan without his armor, his swagger, his smile; this might be the only time he is as vulnerable with Shen Wei as Shen Wei (always) is with him. 

Look 31

Shen Wei wears his blue double-breasted wedding crasher suit to begin his long, long relationship with this pillar.

This look features chains, more chains, and long conversations with ridiculous smoke effects. 

Bonus Look 3 - ZY Rescue Trench

Now THAT is a trench coat. Do you hear me, Shen Wei's Swamp Coats?

Hilariously, we are meant to believe this superbly fitted coat with its itty bitty waist and this perfectly sized gun belt are what Zhao Yunlan took off of this schlubby guard. Zhao Yunlan DOES have magic powers! 

This is a good outfit for convincing your lover to give up his relationship with a malevolent pillar and come home with you. 

Did I hastily photoshop Smoke Dude out of that rescue picture? I did.

Is this just a gratuitous picture of freshly-unchained Shen Wei looking upset and Zhao Yunlan comforting him? It is. Shout out to all the H/C fans!

Look 32

This look is a grey suit with a white grid pattern, and striped red and blue accent fabric on the pocket and under the collar.  This was briefly featured way back in the trauma cake arc. Here Shen Wei is also wearing a fresh cravat in grey tones. 

Shen Wei had been wearing a narrower range of outfits lately because he doesn't have enough drawers at Zhao Yunlan's place, so he must have made a brief stop at his apartment to get some more things. 

At home with Zhao Yunlan, Shen Wei wears this look with a bare face and neck, chilling in his white shirt with the collar stiffeners. I'm going to call them that forever; you can't stop me.  Note how the shirt has darts (the vertical seams from his shoulder blades to his waist) so that it fits perfectly across the back.

This is a good look for lovingly preparing fresh fruit for your candy-addicted beloved and then watching him while he sleeps. 

Shen Wei’s ass is now chainless, alas, but these trousers are doing yeoman’s werk work.  

While Zhao Yunlan sleeps, Shen Wei takes the opportunity to check up on his special pendant necklace that he bought at a bong shop when he was in college.

Back in the full ensemble, Shen Wei is ready to have a haberdashery throwdown with his jerkass father-in-law, who normally has serious game in a plum coat and patterned vest.  

Today Pop Zhao has unexpectedly said “fuck it” and worn a brown sweater and beige trench. 

Don’t encourage Shen Wei’s boring taste in coats, Pop Zhao!

After easily winning the best-dressed award at tea, Shen Wei accessorizes his look with cheekbones that could cut glass, and his best “oops, busted” face when Zhao Yunlan sees him hanging out with the parent ZY hates so much that he has the same job and facial hair as him.

That leads to a wonderfully layered interaction, in which Shen Wei just kind of stands in front of Zhao Yunlan refusing to engage with his need for control, while Zhao Yunlan roasts Shen Wei for being untrustworthy...and then offers him a ride back to the office.

Guardian is so good at capturing the constantly-fluctuating state of a deep relationship, in which you can be fighting on one level and totally fine on another level; where you’re going to have a donnybrook with your lover but first you’re going to get a decent meal into them. 

Skipping!

We’re skipping over the increasingly bloody tee-shirt ensemble that appears in the final episodes. That look says, “anti-gay narrative tropes suck.” 

Instead, check out this beauty that Shen Wei wore for one poorly-lit scene early in the show. This is the only time he wears a fully-matched 3-piece suit and he SLAYS in it. And then puts it in mothballs forever. 

I guess when you’re wearing an outfit the first time your sweetheart breaks into your apartment and disorganizes your panty drawer, you only want to wear it for the most special occasions after that. 

Look 33

After a bunch of unnecessary yet compellingly-acted death, Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan meet up outside of time and space in a Windows 95 screensaver.  

[That is a Gen X joke. OP is old.] 

Shen Wei’s look for this meeting is the same one he wore the day they met in the modern world - the double-breasted 10-button vest, with arm garters and now also (SIGH) tears in his eyes. Instead of that, here is an infinite loop of Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan talking over dinner in their kitchen, because screw Episode 40. 

Look 34

Exiting the screensaver, Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan fall out into the AU of your choice, because they realize that they left the wormhole together last time so it shouldn’t be too difficult to leave it together this time. They can just hold hands while they leave, for fuck’s sake. 

In the AU of your choice they get married in these beautiful suits, as seen in Bazaar magazine. 

Shen Wei’s look here features tousled hair and the glasses-free look he prefers when he’s with his true love. This is the first black suit we’ve seen him in, and he’s doing fine work in it, particularly with the gold bola thingy he’s wearing at the collar.  Zhao Yunlan is so hot here that only Shen Wei dares to touch him.

Look 35

For the beach party they throw for their AU friends and neighbors a month after the wedding, (also courtesy of Bazaar’s photoshoot) Shen Wei chooses this short-legged suit with white canvas shoes, a lovely display of calf and a sprinkling of leg hair. 

This look says, I love you forever and I'm pretty sure I can give you a spinal adjustment using only my leg muscles. 

Shen Wei has replaced his bong-shop pendant with a tasteful diamond bar necklace, which was an apology gift from Zhao Yunlan after ZY intentionally accidentally set fire to Swamp Coats 1 through 4. 

Near his heart Shen Wei is wearing a tie pin (sans tie) that’s made out of a lollipop stick. 

Preview

The next post features Shen Wei’s cosplay looks including Black Robe Envoy and Ye Zun! 

[namjoonchronicles]

boxes | nj

↳ pairing namjoon, reader

↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship

↳ words 3.3k

↳ summary namjoon’s thriving work and your university never exactly go hand in hand, with the new adjustments made to accomodate the government’s effort to curb the pandemic, namjoon has to deal with your mood swings and all the boxes that came with it

↳ warning suggestive content, mentions of masturbation, stress mismanagement

↳ song dizzy ‘magician’ 

Doorbell. The door swung open to a sullen, barely awake Kim Namjoon. He managed to slide on a grey WTAPS hoodie as he walked to the door in his knee length shorts, rubbing his eyes and squinting at who was at the door.

“Mrs. Kim?” The delivery man asks. “That’s my wife, yes,” Namjoon said in a gritty voice.

He was slowly grasping the fact that he was entertaining a delivery addressed to his roommate and bedmate. The stranger at duty finally hands him a parcel, the size of a small go-kart cart meant for kids; and then shoves him an electronic device that Namjoon was supposed to sign on, where he acknowledges that the parcel had been received. The felt-tip pen doesn’t do justice to Namjoon’s otherwise pretty handwriting, but that’s not the first, and certainly won’t be the last.

And at the corner of Namjoon’s mind, by the time the delivery man left and disappeared to the end of the hall was, who was this from and what could it be?

Just a few hours ago, when the sun was hiding under the horizon, and the stars still decorated the skies, the chirping birds from the floor below had filled Namjoon’s ears as he crawled into bed, laying on his back and finally sighing from the amount of work he forced himself to do. A split second after, your alarm rang. And he frowned. Your arms reveal themselves from the depth of the duvet, snaking over Namjoon’s bare chest, as you brought your face over his nipples lazily to get to your phone that was on the nightstand. He exhaled through his nose and spoke under his breath,

“Your phone’s on the other side.”

Catching a few seconds of snooze before you actually replied, you mumbled,

“I know,” against his supple chest.

A few more minutes of skin contact before you had to start the day, you begged in your head. Your head was underneath Namjoon’s chin and his arm draped over your shoulders. As the mind awakes, you heard him say, “Wake up, or you’ll be late,” while absolutely nothing about his confining arms. His ridiculousness eventually made you smile, first thing in the morning. Had he been sleeping in regular hours, you wouldn’t feel like nagging him. But as you peel yourself from him, unwillingly, you saw his tired face and soft snores, you decided that sleep schedules are a discussion for another day. Rubbing your forehead, you finally fetched your phone on time before it begins to ring again and woke your husband up.

By the looks of it, he really needs the rest. The clock on the phone shows 7.02AM. Yawning, you dragged your feet into the bathroom and like that, your day begins.

It was your birthday. And your husband completely missed it. It hurts, but it was easy to shove every emotional matter aside because you were swamped with work from university. Ever since long distance education began, there were papers after papers after papers that your lecturer had advised to read and report on. Constructing frameworks with related articles, and dissecting what is needed and what wasn’t was not only time consuming, it was draining you emotionally and mentally. Sitting hours on end on the desk at home gave you back pain and earned you some appointments with Namjoon’s physiotherapist as per his insistent requests. There were papers, literally in every corner, on every surface of the house. Namjoon slipped over one. Or two. Once, or twice. Actually, a few times.

It gets mixed with his music arrangements, his lyrics, his online-purchase receipts. It gets stacked on his piano and several on his bookrack. Just, papers.

Birthday? On the most hectic week of your semesters where the final exam is held? And assignments to be submitted? No time. No time for celebration. It is article after article. Citations over citations. Paraphrasing after paraphrasing after some more paraphrasing. Namjoon watched in horror sometimes. Sometimes he just accepted his fate. That his wife, in distress, would place weird things in weird places. Such as, phone in the fridge or the microwave. Car keys in the wardrobe. House keys in shoes -- this one, you insisted that it fell but Namjoon could vouch that he actually saw you put them in the shoes and hung your socks on the key holder. Namjoon also had to text you, while in the house, to eat, and shower or sleep -- all the basic human necessities. And if he is not in the house, he sends pictures of his food to remind you.

Your stress was entirely something else. You were a whole different being. Not to say that you throw tantrums, or that you get fidgety. But you get hazy. The only way to explain it is, sometimes, when Namjoon is speaking to you, you could be looking into his face and watching him talk, and ask him to repeat because you didn’t hear a thing he said. You were just nodding. Like that one time when he was speaking about a certain meteor shower occurring at such and such time and place, you were wondrously staring only to say, “What did you say again? I wasn’t paying attention…I’m sorry.” Namjoon would shut his eyes in agony and fetch the remote to change the channel, refusing to repeat himself. And you would whine in protest because you feel that he felt neglected, and it wasn’t your intention. You were just occupied. By pressing due dates, and pressure to deliver paperwork feasible to your lecturers.

You left the house to have better home-study dynamics. Your Wifi has been on and off and despite Namjoon’s online complaints, no one has been allowed to perform technical aids in homes due to the Corona Virus spread. Aware of this, you took your work to the university where you can focus better. Namjoon wasn’t entirely against it. He was just worried that you wouldn’t eat on time, unsupervised. Namjoon has been actively working from home and you could see his productivity had been slowed down due to lack of environmental stimulation. He didn’t have to say it out loud, but if he does, you’re there to listen. So, it was your birthday. And he was half awake, pushing the parcel into the house, so it sits next to the couch.

And then. Another doorbell. And another. And another. And another.

“Mrs. Kim?” “Yes.”

Doorbell. Signed.

“Is this Mrs. Kim’s resi--” “Correct.”

Doorbell. Signed. Carry parcel.

“.” “That’s my wife?”

Doorbell. Signed. Parcel. Stack. Doorbell. Signed. Parcel. Pushed. Doorbell. Parcel. Signed. Pushed. Stacked. Pushed. Stacked.

Namjoon heaves one box in and lets out a big exhale when his phone begins to ring and he dashes to it, down the hall on the bedside table. His thumb drags the answer button, places his phone on his ear and breathes out, “Honey…”

“Hey, I’ve been calling and calling… I just got a text from several friends that they’re sending some--” “Parcels? Packages? Letters? Yeah, I think I got them…” Namjoon scans around the living room, “All of them.” “I’m so sorry, you must have been so tired, you didn’t even get much sleep. It’s just. My friends, they wanted to send me things for my birthday… is it a lot?”

Namjoon clamps his lips between his teeth, understanding the gravity of the situation. Not only had he forgotten his wife’s birthday, he was being an ass. Muttering fucks under his breath, he leans his forehead on the wall.

“It’s your birthday…shit, I forgot,” he scolds himself through the phone for you. You half-smiled while continuing to type on your computer.

“That’s right,” you hummed teasingly, “What are you going to do…Hmm?”

“I’ll do anything…” he pleaded.

“Anything? I’ll figure it out and let you know alright? I’m gonna be home soon… But I can’t say when… Take care.” “Does that mean today or like--Hello? Did she just hang up on me?” Namjoon stares at his phone screen where it reads ‘Call Ended.’

“Half of the living room is gone,” Namjoon pulled a chair out the dining table looking over the said scene.

You tutted your tongue, already imagining the gravity of the situation. Had it been you at home, Namjoon could have slept soundly. However as you had these assignments to submit and time-pinching articles to read that you have to be here. Namjoon sounded so exhausted. And honestly, you didn’t know how many more were coming since it was a surprise. You got these messages from the delivery company that there was a delivery under your phone number and address so you were notified as Namjoon was being bulleted with endless doorbells. It should end now. You’re not receiving any more messages. Half of you wanted Namjoon to give you a good night as a birthday gift, while the other wants him to suffer a couple of more nights of unattended ‘needs’. And you being you, it almost always falls on the latter.

The door unlocks and Namjoon springs on his feet, dashing to the entrance where you walked in with a couple of thick books in your arm, totally ignoring your lamp post husband holding the door open when you’re trying to close them. He thought he was helping you out so you stare at him to ask him why he is holding it open. He smiled awkwardly and let the door shut while you walked in to place the books stacked on the kitchen counter. Namjoon was hoping that you noticed that the sink is empty and that he washed all the dishes. You didn’t comment on anything but poured yourself a cold glass of water. Namjoon ran his tongue along the length of his lips to keep them from drying up. Eyes restless, body fidgeting at the sight of you gulping down the liquid. He stammers out the question, “H-how was your day?”

And he continues, while you give him your back to wash the mug, “You said you were coming home soon, and you didn’t until like seven hours later… Where did you go?”

“Ah, the lab technicians arranged a birthday celebration for me, you know Yoongi right? So they got me like a cake, I couldn’t save you some…” you smacked your lips together after hanging the glass on the racks to dry. Then you walked past the fridge to open it, poking your head inside while Namjoon chewed the insides of his cheek, looking down to his fiddling fingers. Then he softly said, “For seven hours…?”

You heard him but you spun around and told him flatly, “I’m going to go take a shower, can you heat this up for me?” Passing him a ready made meal, then tip toeing to grab his face to kiss him full on the lips. And deepening it enough to get him moaning, have his arm snaking under your dress shirt but pulling away when he tried to reciprocate the same passion. You smiled slyly as you skipped to your bedroom for him to follow you a bit later, just for him to be door slammed on the bathroom door. And locked. This is where Namjoon picks up the hint that it was a game you decided to play. It’s his punishment. And it began seven hours ago.

After your ready made meal, you were laying next to him in bed reading emails on the tab, rubbing his thigh up and down achingly slowly while he read and grew increasingly uncomfortable with his hardons. He had been reading the same sentences for the past 20 minutes and his philtrum was moist with sweat, he began blinking and shaking his head a couple of times. He said nothing because he knew you were doing this to punish him. Everytime your palm moved further up his thighs, inches away from where he really needs you, you pull away. Ever so accidentally, the back of your knuckle would brush against his clothed hard ons, and he would suppress a moan. He feels sore, itchy, dying to touch himself to the point that he was practically gripping so hard on his book.

Bored with emails, you began to watch a series on Netflix and every now and then, you would let out the gasps that he recognises to be the one you’d make in bed with him. You would also let out moans that would make him dizzy. His knee shakes as his needs go untreated and you asked him, in an angelic tone, “Is everything okay baby?”

He breathes, “No.” The book flew from his hand and he turned to you, begging with everything he has in him for you to, “Please. It hurts.”

You put your tabs away with a sigh, took your glasses off and you thumbed his cheek. Putting your face close enough for him to feel your breath on his skin, you smiled affectionately, “Goodnight baby…” Passing him a box of tissues and reminded him, “Not too loud, okay?”

Defeated, Namjoon almost felt like crying. How long must he deal with this? How long must he want and can’t have? And if you thought his desires died down after he masturbates, you were wrong. Sleeping right next to you like this, you were pushing your butt on his hip while sleeping soundly, making him shiver. All the hair behind his neck stood up as he tried to control his dick once again. He married the she-devil herself. Sweating profusely, he grabs the duvet above you, pressed himself on you, peppering wet kisses on your neck and shoulders and on every inch of skin he had access to, to hopefully persuade you into forever in a moment. He felt you stir awake and calling out his name in your sleepy voice, propelling him further into neediness.

“Please, let me make you feel good, hmm?” he pleaded. He begins grinding achingly slowly on the curve of your butt and makes you whine.You feel his every crevice and desperation that you sleepily giggle then he groggily says with a boyish tone, “I’ll make you feel so good.” He just really needs to hear you say his name in the manner only lovers know. He was going to lose his goddamn mind if you don’t do something to him. He felt so helpless and vulnerable and bare, it aches. He got on top of you, and suddenly everything feels heavier. His knees digging into the mattress next to your hip, the heat coming out from him, his dilated pupils and baritone voice, repeating how sorry he was. It had you gripping sheets and catapulted to another world. When he said he wanted you to feel good, he really meant rocketing you out the universe it seems. He was gentle and sensual about it, and it was your ultimate kryptonite.

The familiar coiling in the pit of your stomach, the rearing la petite mort as the French says, teeth sinking into flesh, rippling release. Namjoon was adamant to deliver. He then switched from being an absolute gentle angel to a beast. In the back of your mind, you knew he was getting back at you for the torture you let him through. He was determined to not let you leave the bed next morning, or the morning after that. That was the ability of a seasoned lover. He knows where to touch, where to bite, where to spend most time on. He knows just how to make you scream and have you yank his hair back like that. The way he delivers his love is like, “How dare you ignore me? How dare you deny me of your love?”

Namjoon stirred awake feeling sore. The duvet pools around his waist, his happy trails showing as he sat up on the middle of the bed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palm. He saw you curled on your side next to him. Staring at you long enough to watch you switch to your back and displaying the marks he made on you last night. He bit his lips at the sight as the memories returned in delicious flashes. He lays on his stomach and turns his head towards you, smiling like an idiot. He then floats his index finger over your exposed mound, nipples and down the middle of your torso, but there was nothing sexual about it, just sensuality. Consciousness swam tastefully around your head and you blinked several times, before the visions cleared. You caught him grinning.

“G’mornin,” he groggily greeted in his morning voice. “Morning,” you replied just as affectionately.

Then you figured that the boxes outside wouldn’t unpack themselves if you stayed in bed today, so after a quick breakfast, Namjoon was at your service. His job was to collect the boxes and foam sheets that came with fragile gifts. As you gasps and gawks at the items that are sent to you, like the quirky mugs and hand-stitched runners, Namjoon smiles in awe at how creative your friends and families are. There were hand printed t-shirts from your 1 year old nephew finger drawings, old baby pictures of you from your hometown and some signed books from your friend who is an author. They all had little notes that Namjoon would read aloud for you, he even got the tones right from knowing how your friends talk. Your cheeks were hurting from smiling ear-to-ear.

Namjoon watches you from the door sill as you placed the last gift next to his KAWS collection, with a fond smile stuck on his face. Tiptoeing, chin up, hair in a bun--was his wife. Then slowly, your vibrant face faltered. And Namjoon was quick to notice.

“What is it…?” He said, in a defeated tone. You answered with a shoulder shrug. “Another trip around the sun, another year getting older…” You slumped in the hammock next to the window glass. Namjoon joined you by sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall opposing you.

“Sometimes, I just wonder, is this all there is, and even though so, it’s a lot to unpack. Without you, my life would probably be dull, and even with these friends I dearly love, I would have felt very lonely. This year my birthday felt a little special. Although you forgot,” you squeezed your eyes at him, “I was actually happy you didn’t remember. I was sad that I’m no longer what I considered young. The gap just felt a little wider, and things grew over time. I worry about not having more time with my parents, and not contributing enough. I worry about the friends I have that I might no longer have in 3 years time. I worry about you and the things you’ll do and the hurdles you’ll face… I worry about everything that isn’t me.”

Namjoon leans his head back, listening, hugging his knees, hollowing his cheeks.

“I think the question that frequently goes into my mind is, where do we go from here? What’s there to look forward to now that we’re here? And I have to find the answers to these questions. Then I get impatient, anxious of not knowing what the correct answers are…” your voice drifted.

Namjoon scooted over to sit next to your knee like a huge pup, and he turned to face the same view you were looking at. Sunkissed skin, golden rays of the evening, the rainbow cascading from the crystal ball you hung at the corner of the room when the light hits. Everything about the day was tranquil. Then, Namjoon rested his chin on your knee, moved his cheek bone on them, mashing his lips to a pout. And in the comfortable brief silence you stayed, listening to the time tick, and the faint sound of the rustling traffic that Namjoon swiftly say,

“Maybe there aren't any answers.” And if that was true, and it might be true, maybe… there is very little to worry about. Seven trips around the sun with Namjoon. To a whole lot more.

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copyright © 2020 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading

[almaasi]

3 million words fic rec (Destiel)

I’ve officially posted 3 million words on my AO3 account!!

Here’s all 115 of my Dean/Cas fics (as of December 30th 2019). They currently make up 85% of my total fics. I posted 42 fics this year, with a new Destiel fic once every 2 weeks on average, with 24 total.

(The rest, as of the last 6 months, are Crowley/Azriaphale (Good Omens) and Garak/Bashir (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine). There’s separate fic recs for those. And here’s one Cockles fic.)

Fics listed by year (newest first), then by word count (shortest first).

--

2019

Just a Sniffle (2k / canon, Cas has a cold, Dean gives him a foot rub)

Hanukkahn't Resist You (2k, AU, teacher!Dean gives autistic Jewish teacher!Cas a Hanukkah greeting card containing a pickup line)

Brothers Don't Do That (3k / canon, Cas talks to Sam about how their feelings for Dean differ while ordering take-out)

Taste the Rainbow (In the Rain) (4k / AU, strangers sharing Skittles in the rain and kissing to help Dean quit smoking)

Hit Pause Kitty Claws (4k / AU, Team Free Will are cats belonging to Death!Billie, soft fluff and feline antics)

Weird But Confident (5k / canon, Cas finds Dean’s panties in his bag and thinks Dean slept with a woman)

Enemies Closer (5k / teachers AU, Dean keyed the wrong car, Cas runs AV club and Dean joins him so he has an alibi for his crime)

Snugglebird (5k / canon, Dean’s clothes are going missing, Cas is building a nest

Texted My Ex and Got You Instead (6k, AU, title explains it, fluff, asexual!Cas)

The Angel Cake Challenge (8k / canon crossover with Good Omens (book), Dean tells Crowley & Aziraphale they’re a cute couple and they encourage him to make a move on Cas)

Let's Play Doctors (8k / canon, smut, Dean asks Cas for medical roleplay and they use the machines to watch themselves have first-time sex)

Good For You (11k / canon, Dean teaches Cas to masturbate over the phone, then shows him properly in person)

BFBF (Best Friend's Boyfriend) (11k / AU, ft. Eileen - Cas has an absent bisexual boyfriend named Dean, Sam has an absent straight brother named Dean, oops they’re the same Dean)

Dean and Castiel's Lagoon of Love (12k, canon, Cas is cursed with tentacles and that’s Dean’s kink, they roleplay Dean’s favourite anime, smut and feelings)

Measure of Thigh Love (14k / canon, Dean is turned on by big muscles, Cas has some of those. smut, bottom!Cas)

Eleven Erogenous Zones of a Fallen Angel (15k / canon, Cas accidentally has physical wings and he hates them, Dean bathes and grooms Cas to soothe him, wing kink smut)

Two Heart Pose (17k / AU, overwhelmed papa!Dean, yoga instructor!Cas helps out with baby care)

Through the Lace (18k / office romance AU, desperation & pee kink smut, Dean in panties)

Sycamore Smile (18k / AU, professor!Cas, barista!Dean with a pet bunny, both are a hot mess, Dean helps Cas KonMari his life, ft. the purest fluff and sunshine)

Circuitry and Dust (23k / AU, demiromantic antique dealer!Cas, gaming lounge owner!Dean, Cas wrongly assumes his love is unrequited so helps set Dean up with an ex-girlfriend)

He's Kind of a Hairy Fairy (24k / AU, Team Free Will & co. running a summer camp, there’s only one bed in Dean & Cas’ cabin, Rowena curses Dean with fairy wings and he has to confess his feelings to get rid of them)

First and Only (35k / AU, Dean bets Sam he can have more sex in one year, Dean & Cas become fuck buddies, but Dean wants more so asks Charlie for help)

☆ Sleigh ☆ (46k / Christmas AU, makeup artist!Cas also works for Santa, Dean tags along delivering gifts on Christmas Eve, later a long distance relationship and eventual smut)

He's a (Zoo) Keeper (74k / AU, when zookeeper!Dean isn’t dating anyone, he and beekeeper!Cas have a BFF-roommates-with-benefits thing, but then Cas becomes a wedding planner and plans their fake wedding, drama with smut and feelings)

2018

Gulls N’ Roses (2k / canon, Dean hands Cas a rose, Cas interprets it as romantic)

Lost Night (2k / canon, Dean has nightmares, Cas dreamwalks to help)

He Called Me Honey (3k / canon, breakfast fluff, Dean dreamed he kissed Cas, talks to Sam, Cas shows up)

Note to Self: Cas Loves You (3k / canon, very drunk!Dean, Cas confesses his love)

I’m Dreamin’ of a Grey Christmas (4k / canon, Team Free Will 2.0 snow fight, Cas has some new grey hair, Dean has hearteyes, season 14 divergent)

Dry in the Downpour (5k / Pixar-short-inspired AU, umbrella-sharing)

Prince of the Ether Realms (5k / canon - season 13, must get married for a spell, Sam officiates)

Never or Forever (5k, canon, family dinner, Jody POV)

Without Further Ado (5k, canon, Dean has a list of “reasons not to be with Cas" but they’re all irrelevant now)

Wee Little Love Child (10k / canon, de-aged!Sam thinks Dean and Cas are his parents, gets them together)

Room for Two (The Mattress AU) (14k / college roommates AU, autistic!Cas, fake relationship, ALL the bed-sharing tropes)

Paramour by Post (18k / historical-ish AU, mail delivered to the wrong address, love letters, agender!Cas, bisexual!Dean)

Barbershop Duet (22k / Christmas AU, smut, shaving kink, domesticity, family gatherings)

The House That Wanted to Be a Garden (32k / AU, famous musician!Dean, gardener!Cas, fairies, accidentally moving in)

Duck Duck Boots (92k / ex-daredevil kindergarten teacher!Dean, agoraphobic Cas, small town magic realism & fate AU, looking after ducklings together)

2017

Unconditional (2k / canon - season 13, Dean explains why he loves Cas)

Mostly in Silence (4k / canon, Cas is depressed, Dean helps with self-care)

Restaurant Revelations (4k / canon, Dean and Cas tell Sam they’re engaged)

Whoa There Cowboy (5k / canon, cowboy-kink smut, porn-watching, magic fingers bed)

Pretty Panties and the Pool Shark (6k / kid!fic AU, autistic!Cas is scared of an imaginary shark in the school pool)

Purple Horse in a Coffee Shop (8k / ultimate office romance, pride parade, coffee shop AU)

Lucid Nightmare (10k / siren!Cas AU, dreamwalk-or-die, spooky fluff)

Stumble and Fall (20k / Team Free Will as dogs AU, search-and-rescue adventure, fluff & pining)

A Place and A Feeling (24k / AU, real estate agent!Cas, Dean looking for a house)

Night Exhibition (26k / AU, security guard!Cas at museum at night, friends to lovers, sex everywhere)

The Emporium of Christmas Enchantments (28k / Christmas, magic toyshop AU, kind of like a Disney movie)

Marshmalloween (33k / Halloween AU, Dean takes Sam’s teen friends to a haunted swamp, meet old bestie Cas, ghost adventures)

Our Garden Home (36k / everyone is a garden fairy, AU disabled autistic!Cas, found families)

The Wireless (58k / solarpunk carnival adventure AU, famous hunter!Dean, famous radio presenter angel!Cas, tent sex)

What We Ache For (93k / sex worker!Cas AU, Dean wants to make love, trauma recovery, Team Free Will & found families, a dog)

2016

Fight and Fool Around (5k / AU, bartender!Cas, Dean realises he’s bisexual, alleyway smut)

Tickle Fight Wasteland (5k / AU, fluff in a post-apocalyptic world, everyone is alive, tickle fight & cuddling)

Raising Hell in a Hotel (29k / kid!fic, living in a hotel AU, friendship, pining)

Welcome All Winchesters (60k / AU, snowy Christmas cabin, fake relationship, friends to lovers)

The Moonlighter and the Magician (67k / 1920s historical AU, asexual jewel thief!Cas, bisexual!Dean, running away together)

2015

What’s a Hickey? (1k / canon, Cas has a hickey, talks to Sam about it)

A Postcard for Castiel (4k / AU, kid!fic, autistic!Cas exchanges compliments with Dean, teacher!Charlie)

Symbols of Affection (4k / canon, Dean accidentally texts Cas a kissy-face emoji)

In Which Dean Frogs Up (6k / canon, Dean’s turned into frog in Moondoor, needs true love’s kiss to fix)

The One Where You Are A Guinea Pig (8k / canon, title says it all, Cas takes you to the bunker, Team Free Will interact)

We’re the New Romantics (8k / gifted & talented high school camp AU, aromantic!Cas, pop culture geek!Dean)

Waiting For That Final Moment (8k / AU, Cas interrupts Dean & Lisa’s wedding at a roller rink to declare his love, polyamory)

Delirium and Doctor Sexy (9k / canon, bisexual!Dean high on magical gas, thinks Cas is Dr. Sexy)

#ThankYouSammy (9k / canon, Sam prepares a Valentine’s Day dinner-date for Dean & Cas)

Dean Winchester the Puppydog (10k / canon, puppy play, submissive!Dean, hurt/comfort, non-sexual)

Father Material (12k / AU, asexual uncle!Cas, babysitter!Dean, kid!Claire, romantic attraction)

The Tailor of Fairy Ridge (17k / fairytale AU, tailor!Cas, fairy!Dean helps with clothing designs, good witch!Charlie, evil witch!Rowena)

Take You To The Country (18k / 1920s historical AU, pining, Dean reads an elopement proposal in the newspaper and realises it’s for him, running away together)

Sharing the Rain Dog (19k / AU, musician!Dean, FBI agent!Cas, sharing custody of a dog, have to move in to look after her)

Drop Anchor (42k / pirate!Cas, sailor!Dean, trapped on a deserted island and accidentally achieve domestic bliss AU)

Snow Place Like Home (But My Home Is With You) (47k / canon, Team Free Will in a B&B over Christmas, softness, smut & domesticity)

Held in Your Tender Hands (59k / AU, agender tattooed masseur!Cas, customer!Dean, workplace sex, paintball, found families, somnophilia)

2014

Cheek on Your Shoulder (1k / canon, Dean misses Cas, hugs him and can’t let go)

The Literal Bear Hug (1k / canon, Cas is accidentally a bear, cuddling)

If I Fall For You (2k / canon, Hannah likes Cas but Cas loves Dean)

If You Could Go Anywhere (3k / canon, Team Free Will ponder: all the drama is over, so what now?)

Cherry Pink Wedding (4k / AU, Dean & Cas both cry at Sam’s wedding)

Lettuce Share This Moment (4k / canon, Dean secretly likes salad… and Cas)

The Joke Is on You (And So Is Castiel) (4k / canon, April Fool’s Day, Cas pranks Dean & Sam when they pray for him)

Some People Would Call This Romantic (5k / canon, Dean and Cas take a long walk on the beach)

Panic Kiss (5k / AU, Dean has a panic attack, Cas calms him down, accidental kissing)

Boutique du Ballet (6k / canon, Dean loves ballet and wants to try the outfits - either crossdressing or trans-curious!Dean)

Minty Fresh Kisses (7k / canon, Dean teaches Cas to brush his teeth)

Sexier Than Doctor Sexy (8k / AU, doctor!Cas, Dean gets a prostate exam and enjoys it more than he should)

Sam Accidentally Sees the Whole Picture (10k / canon, smut, Sam is in the room while Dean & Cas do it for the first time, Sam POV)

Understanding Your Body in Ten Easy Steps (12k / canon, smut, Dean teaches Cas how to masturbate)

Roost (12k / AU, Dean and Cas are rescued fighting roosters, for some reason not that interested in girl chickens)

Dead Body Disposal 101 (14k / canon, angel!Cas wants to be a hunter so Dean & Sam show him how, Dean & Cas are bad at expressing feelings)

Of Shampoo and Fruit Flies (17k / roommate AU, autistic!Cas, confessing feelings surrounded by supportive friends)

Love Him in His Sleep (Love Him Always) (32k / canon, Dean has wet dreams about being cuddled, Cas is into somophilia and dreamwalks to gain consent)

Preacher Comfort (42k / AU, hurt/comfort, asexual preacher!Cas, nurse!Dean, hugs & cuddling, Halloween)

Nine Times We Met (And One Christmas We Parted) (58k / queer historical romantic angst AU, teacher!Cas, firefighter!Dean, meeting over the years & falling in love)

Hart of the Storm (119k / historical AU, hunter!Dean turned into a deer by shapeshifting god!Cas, magic forest)

2013

For a Scarf in October (1k / canon, Halloween, Dean wants to buy a ~women’s~ scarf, Sam tells him it’s okay)

Of All the Bars in the World (There Are None Between Us) (2k / prison AU, Dean and Cas are cellmates, discuss past and future intimacy)

Dean’s List (3k / canon, Dean writes a list of men he’d ~go gay~ for, Sam has a suggestion to make, bisexual!Dean)

Nobody’s Daddy (3k / canon, accidental baby acquisition, Dean breastfeeds, then Cas arrives with actual milk)

Foal Delivery Service (4k / AU fusion with ‘My Little Pony’ - kid pony!Dean finds out how heteronormative the world is, then meets agender pony!Cas, later have baby ponies together)

Winchester’s Rouge (6k / canon, angst, Dean tries on makeup and remembers his mother)

Manscaping (6k / canon, Cas cuts himself shaving his junk, Dean does first aid, boners)

Sharing Hands (6k / canon - season 8, smut, Cas is possessing Dean, masturbate together)

Play Nice, Kids (10k / AU or alternate canon, reverse-verse, angel winged!Dean, wing kink masturbation, sex toys)

Hello Night (11k / historical AU, demon possessing Dean, priest!Cas, crossroads sex to save Dean, Cas/demon & Cas/Dean)

Shadows Across the Camera Lens (13k / AU, smut, dominant bottom photographer!Cas, submissive top crossdressing underwear model!Dean)

Faerie Strange Circumstances (30k / AU hunters, fairy!Cas, fairy realm adventures, Bobby’s house, Charlie, Jody)

Bad Things With You (31k / AU or alternate canon, smut, catboy!Dean, catboy!Cas, mating urges, biting, licking, fake relationship is actually real)

Cowboys and Real Estate Angels (36k / AU, bisexual retired musician cowboy!Dean, old fan!Cas, lovemaking, falling in love in one night)

Try-Something Tuesday (48k / my most popular fic of all time, teacher!Dean, librarian teacher!Cas, smut in strange places, school trips, moving in together AU)

The Feline Perspective of a Guilty Conscience (51k / canon divergent - season 9, hurt/comfort, Dean transformed into a cat, sad angel!Cas, Team Free Will, forgiveness)

Foxfire Blossom (283k / AU, florist!Dean, rich!Cas, affairs, soap opera-level drama, sex, highly problematic lies, and cheating, ALL the characters)

2012

Angelhawke (407k / epic medieval fantasy AU, Dean and Cas are cursed to be animals in the day/night, travel with Sam and Bobby as they tell their story in flashbacks, quest to be together, based on ‘Ladyhawke’ but ~70% original story)

--

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Elmie x

[darksiders-scenarios]

Intimate/ fluff moment with War please??

This has been sitting in my drafts for far too long. Begone! Forgive, as always, the inaccuracies, grammar and everything mistakes.

Scenario goes something like this (?): War and Y/N step into Eden. Y/N collapses from angstsy lil shit syndrome emotional overload or something. Misses fight with War’s shadow. Story starts now.

“On your feet.” The voice was resonant, its rumble like distant thunder, the tone stern but never cruel. It drifted through the murky sludge of your melancholic thoughts like the fresh breeze of daybreak. You obeyed, for it was impossible not to. You reached up with trembling fingers.  

The first time War had clung to you was after crashing down from his Chaosform, disoriented and shivering in pained exhaustion on his knees. Though the gesture might have been instinctual than voluntary, you had nonetheless cradled his head in silent support, feeling the slackness in his muscles and cold sweat soaking through your clothes. You had absently noted the passage of time through his laboured breathing, the cool evaporation of your mingled sweat as the desert sun had past its peak, down to the cramped stiffness of your leg muscles. Until finally - as though reaching a nonvocal agreement - you swore you had sensed an invisible pulse of satisfaction from the horseman. His satisfaction to slowly begin lowering the drawbridge to you from that moment forth - not granting you full entry into the fortress of his mind but still presenting to you a sliver of its opening.    

The moment was now mirrored when War’s warm-chapped palm, riddled with calluses, grasped yours gently. He had removed his gauntlet. He pulled you up from the sacred dust and guided you to his cold breastplate, welcomed in his embrace.

It could have been a moment, or a day or a year when you felt his body curl slightly inwards as War leaned down. His trembles were subdued but they transferred through your skin and into your muscles like a fever. He still hasn’t recovered from his fight with the shadow. “Do you require privacy?” he asked quietly.  

You nodded. A single downward motion that got swamped in the bulk of his armour. But he saw. For War always saw, always heard, always knew what you needed without the necessity for words. Your throat was parched and sere as the sands of the Ashlands and your body ached. You were so very, very tired.  

War lifted you with the care due to the holiest of relics, and you were enveloped in a cloak of warmth. Your eyelids slid half-open and you almost scrunched it shut again when radiant golden sunlight awashed your vision.  

“Lord…” the strength it took to simply formulate those words.

“Child of Eden,” the archangel Azrael whispered, leaning down to cradle your face, wiping away the grime and dried tear tracks from your cheeks with soft fingertips. You almost recoiled in shame. “I am not your lord. I wish nothing but infinite peace and blessings upon you, dearest Y/N. Oh… Oh how my heart bleeds to sense the guilt and shame that scorch your soul that which should never be existent. To know that I assisted in… in this. To have the temerity to presume that I can ask for an atom of your forgiveness all the while my accursed presence sullies the sanctitude of this realm,” his eyes were impossibly sorrowful as he held your gaze. Eden, already tranquil with the hums of ethereal unreality seemed to have quieted further as though in solemnity with the archangel’s hushed confession. “Perhaps… preserving the remains of Eden was a mere self-deception under the guise of atonement,” his pale eyes glistened like the purest crystals, “Only by the grace of the Creator can your pain and grief be alleviated, dearest Y/N.”          

Azrael’s smile was a brittle, broken thing but it lit his face like the damned sun. His magnificence lending to the beatific of Eden as though he was the missing conduit to the realm’s veiled radiance. It was impossible to not feel safe in the archangel’s presence, to not bask in his warmth and light and love. Such naked love. It was little wonder humanity had been revering these entities since the dawn of their creation, erecting statues and creating wondrous art to emulate their perceived soulful nature- until that delusion, that ancient lie of earthen myth was horribly shattered when the murderous, hubristic angels made themselves known at last.

Great Azrael. The truest angel. So utterly beautiful. So utterly broken. As much a pawn as every living soul in this detestable chess game.  

“The Creator,” you spat but the venom was lost in the whispery tone. You drew in a shaky breath. “Abandoned us. Used us…” you clenched your teeth, muscles bunched,“ Played us all as… as pawns-”

“Enough,” War said- ordered. You lapsed into silence, sagging against him.  

“Wait here,” he directed to the archangel. Azrael bowed deeply and moved away, joining the Watcher, but not before you caught the tears that flowed down his cheeks in slow, silver trails. You pressed your face into the hood on War’s shoulder and let him carry you into Eden. Deeper into Paradise.  

An image bred within your mind, of majestic landscaped gardens veined by fragranced basins and tributaries, the perfume of heaven flowing into your olfactory senses, sweet without being dizzying, breath-taking beyond mortal description. The notes in the breeze sang in your bloodstream and its taste was golden honey on your tongue. All the greatest manuscripts and paintings by the most gifted artists would never approach the purity of a speck of Eden’s sacred earth. The paragon of protected serenity.  

You startled when War carefully set you down on a soft bedding of flora of indescribable shades, hues and colour- nameless and undiscovered by mankind. You briefly imagined him clearing the ground for you while you- Had you dozed off?

Your eyes burned when War’s hand fell upon your shoulder in a fraternal gesture, sure and solid. Real. “Do you want me to leave?”

You swallowed, unable to speak for several moments. War waited patiently, not rushing you. Then you nodded. “I am sorry…”  

“Do not be,” he paused and you imagined him watching you, staring down at you with those gentle eyes reserved only for you. “When you are ready, join me. I shan’t be far.“    

Join me. Not we shall leave. Join me. He was telling you to stay. To linger a while… You felt a pull, a tug, a melody from your soul to whatever gestalt consciousness that inhabited this realm, Eden’s mournful cry of longing in the wind chimes soothing your frazzled mind and caressing your broken psyche, calling to you as though welcoming a lost kindred. Every touch, sight, sound, taste and smell was an invitation to release, to let go. To lie down and simply  

be.

You closed your eyes and listened to your friend’s fading boot steps, honouring your wish.

He wasn’t far. You found him sitting amongst the flora with his back to you, hand folded atop the stump of his other arm in his lap. A beautiful turquoise tributary flowed gently in front of him, unspoiled and clean, shimmering like a thousand gems beneath the golden skies. You spared it only fleeting moments of attention.  

War was bare-backed safe for his leg plates, his armour and weapons laid in a neat pile beside him. His shoulders rose and fell with quiet breaths, his snow-white hair gently swaying with its rhythms.  

Your eyes wandered over the geography of scars on his skin, cobwebbing around his arms and ribs, winding over his shoulders and disappearing down the front. Your gaze lingered on the fresh ones, wishing nothing more than to soothe and undo them. For a while, all you did was stare at him, allowing his calming presence to ground you. He was inhumanly beautiful, gleaming gold as though kissed by Eden’s aura, like a god of summer. His presence was far more suited here than yours.      

You couldn’t resist a smile, the trickle of reverent adoration filling your heart, momentarily hushing your melancholy without fully fading.  

“Our missions necessitated a fair amount of travel, moving from conquered world to the next and the next and the next without pause, without delay,” he didn’t turn to you, and you suspected he was talking more to himself than you. “Upon every world we set foot on, be they of starless skies, of harsh deserts or oceanic worlds, my gaze would always travel heavenwards. The action seemed hardwired yet the reason had always eluded me. It eventually became something of a strange dance, one that I began to entertain without conscious thought, fast becoming a thirst that couldn’t be sated in the centuries to come.” His tone was distant yet weighed by emotion, “And every sky was as beautiful as the first.”

“War?”

His words melted into a chuckle and War shook his head. “Forgive me, I ramble. Come. Sit with me.”

You lowered yourself cross-legged on the cool flora bedding, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his skin. It offered more comfort to you than the actual ambiance of this land. Eden. Paradise… Heaven. Jannah. It was real. You closed your eyes, tight enough to pain, and dropped your head into your palms.  

“Too much?” came the gentle rumble above you.

You let your silence answer for him.

“I am sorry that it had turned out this way, young one,” the sympathy in War’s tone made your throat tight. “We can always leave if you wish, but that would mean leaving the only site untouched by violence.”

“I don’t know what to think,” you admitted quietly.

“I understand.”

Your fingers dug into your scalp. “May I lean on you… please?”

A creature of action, War answered you by pulling you close, carefully tucking you to him. His skin was warm as sunlight. You let go against him, boneless and pliant. You heard him murmur something soothing but your mind was unable to shape the words, to process their meaning, but you drifted to the sound of his voice – deep and calming and grounding. His hair was soft on your forehead.    

“Eden. The emergence of mankind and womankind,” you mused, echoing War’s little soliloquy. “And here I am, perhaps marking its epilogue. Quite the honour, eh?” you snickered, stopping short when thick fingers brushed your shoulder. “Perhaps I am indeed the last human alive…” you pulled away and managed a weak smile for your friend. “But in the end, I am glad that I have met you, War.”  

“And I you,” War stared at you in silence. “Your story shall not decay, this I give you my word, Y/N. Azrael will chronicle everything of your people, its wealth of lore, cultures and histories. There are many things I can fault the angel but his honesty is incontrovertible.“ His words were ladened with silent conviction.

You winced. “Lord Azrael… I should not have said those things to him.”

“He bears no ill-judgment of you.”

That did not ease the heaviness in your chest. Perhaps War sensed your unease because his lips quirked at the corners. His was always the barest of smiles, softening his statuesque features, making him unarguably youthful. His smile put you at ease.

"You’re beautiful,” you confessed without thinking, the words easy on your tongue.

He didn’t stir. “We were created to be above such mortal sentiments.”

“I… I know,” you tensed, cheeks burning. “But the sentiment is sincere.”

"That is why I honour you.”  

You swallowed, toying with the hem of your top. You remembered to breathe again. “I’m sorry I missed your fight with your… that shadow.”      

“There was nothing to miss. You’ve seen me battle many times,” he stroked a silken petal, its hue a gentle contrast against his skin, “I sit here now because I triumphed.”

“You sounded dubious when you said you triumphed”, you remarked, cursing yourself in the same moment for your crassness.

“That’s because I am,” War confessed without hesitation, never one to reel from the truth.  

You held your tongue, your gaze following his lazy patterns with the petal.  

When War spoke again, sorrow inched into his murmured words. “In that instant, I feared I was witnessing my authentic, batin self. Those eyes… I had no idea I was capable of such hate Y/N. My soul blackened with such inveterate rage and hate and malice,” his voice softened almost to a whisper and you knew that he was reliving the fight, reliving those unpleasant moments. “Every iota of repressed fear, desires, every base savagery beyond mortal comprehension, I bore witness to it all, embodied it. There is purity in aggression, if tempered by self-restraint. But this, this was poison polluting my veins, crippling my cognition and judgement. Like a specimen sliced open to see its inner workings, so too were my heart and soul laid bare and vulnerable before me.”    

“Was that the most disturbing thing for you?”

“He was I and I was he. We were in perfect harmony in cognition, temperament and soul. It is not a memory- a truth I recall with any comfort.”  

You rested a hand on his forearm. Warm. “Thank you for your candour, War. That shadow. Your darkest, most abhorrent mirror, if you may. You know that it is simply your unrestrained self let loose. We all carry it, War. It’s one thing to repress our basest urges, but to bear witness to its ugly truths is another level entirely. But they are just that. Truths. Simple, raw unrefined concepts that care nothing for what we desire. Just as you taught me when faced with any truth, it is what you do with it what matters. And as far as urges go, I would imagine such sentiments of the Nephilims to be magnified tenfold to that of a human,” you looked up, meeting his eyes and almost robbed of breath by the warrior’s beauteous features under the ethereal glow of Eden’s skies. His presence was indeed far more suited here than yours.  

“Every soul is a prisoner to fate, Y/N,” War said gently.  

“I know,” you agreed, bitterness burning through you. You suppressed a growl. “But you made a choice. You chose another path, contrary to your innate drive to annihilate without question. All those urges, all those traits that you loathe about yourself- you didn’t just experience them all, no. You fought and struggled and triumphed. Yes, triumphed. You chose this outcome. That can only mean one thing, War. You are you, and, by definition,” you smiled, amending yourself, “your definition, not he.”  

War snorted. “A matter of perspective.”

“As you say.”

He held your gaze, soft mirth glazing his blue eyes. “I jest.”

You nodded. “Thank you for confirming my hypothesis.”  

His laughter was an exhalation of quiet breaths. Even after all these years, his soft laughter remained the most beautiful sound you’ve heard. It was impossible to not join him. “Oh War, if it’s one thing that I shall miss the most when we part would be me tormenting you.”

“It pleases me to know that we can be comfortably candid with one another.”

His statement was accentuated when you both lapsed into comfortable silence, each to their own thoughts, at ease with the other’s company. One bitter thought hammered at the forefront of your cognition, pulsating more strongly with every passing moment.

“Speak your mind,” War encouraged quietly, as though sensing your disquiet. This may be the last time, you translated. You confessed to him as much.

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “I am not a being who gives into the falsehood of luck as you know, but if it may allay your mind, there is an iota of a chance that I may prevail.”

You snorted. “Idealistic. Not bad. Your optimism is getting better.”

He shrugged a bare shoulder. “It gladdens my heart to hear you approve.”

“As is your wit.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “I am not my brother.”  

“I didn’t imply that.”

“Your tone suggested otherwise. As well as the notion that perchance, your statement was intended as a compliment?”

You smiled in reply. “A matter of perspective.”

War didn’t respond; the pensive look that shrouded his features dimmed your fragile jovial streak. "I meant no disrespect, War.”

“No,” he sounded almost distrait. “Forgive me a moment’s distraction, my friend. Talk of my siblings often evokes ruminative musings in me.”

You listened to the susurration of petals grazing the sacred earth beneath his fingers, his mind clearly elsewhere. You waited patiently, not rushing him.

War leaned forward, almost hunching. “The love of my kindred runs deep, of that there is no doubt, accompanied by the inveterate fear for their fates. But they, like me, are creatures of intelligence and predation. They can fend for themselves and weather any trials and tribulations. I dread nonetheless for they are my brothers and sister. You agree it is an innate drive.”  

You said nothing.  

War brushed a hand over his face, didn’t lower it. “For all our kinship, I never fully comprehended the dynamics of the Nephilim collective psyche. Yes, we are psychically bonded by a singular agenda, no, we are never identically minded in that concept.”

You remained silent. Rare were such moments of reminiscence for the horseman.

He continued. “We were noble in some morbid way, I suppose. When one shamed, we all bore that brother or sister’s shame. When a brother or sister fell, we always carried out the mercy stroke, never allowing them the indignity to suffer in helpless humiliation, all the while disregarding the butchering of the realm’s natives for this… act of honour,” he faintly sneered the word, uncharacteristic for the horseman.      

War’s fingers lowered, shivering with the faintest tremors. His eyes were clouded, and you knew that in his mind’s eye he was journeying through the ashen lands of nameless, now forgotten worlds, inhaling their choked funereal air all over again.

War chuckled darkly, as though at a private jest. “Yet for all my talk of our ‘nobility’, the Nephilim was a cancer to reality. It was right to annihilate them.”

“War.”

“We were a brotherhood, yes. A close-knitted brotherhood of mindless, bloodthirsty savages void of free-will, credos, honour…”

“War.”

“Perfect living engines of warfare, excelling at nothing but bestial bloodshed-”

“That’s the shadow talking!”

That rendered him silent. You were close enough to see his chest rising and falling rapidly, his breathing shallow. His fingers still twitched.

“That’s the shadow talking,” you repeated softer. “You are Nephilim yes, but you are also War. My protector and companion. My dearest friend and brother,” you willed him to see the absolute unconcealed sincerity in your eyes. “That is the truth.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “The truth is not always absolute, young one.”

You looked away. “It’s exhausting when you keep denying my points.”

“Forgive me. It is not my intention to discomfit you.”

“No, forgive me.”

The slow release of a deep breath rumbling from a mighty chest. “Y/N, I would like to think that my points are also as valid as yours,” though his voice betrayed no irritation or anger, his gently spoken words bore the same sharpness of a blade. The shame scraped your conscious raw.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha-” you began.

"I do not deny you, dear Y/N,” War cut in gently. “I am merely reluctant to accept your outlook of me with what…” he closed his eyes. “It is difficult to put into words.”

“I think I know what you’re trying to say, War,” you quietly assured him.  

He opened his eyes, studying you for several heartbeats. The haunted look diminishing slightly, softening. “Your words are heartfelt and for that, I am grateful. There are moments, I feel, that you read me better than I do myself,” he sighed, almost soundless, and the urge to press your shoulder against his was overwhelming. “My mind is… aflamed, dulled by pained dwellings of an ignoble past. You, my companion and friend, see beyond who I am supposed to be, rather as who I am, in your eyes anyway,” his eyes were bright enough to ache. “That is why I honour you.”

“I love you too, War.”

He inclined his head away from you, but his shoulders were shaking. He was laughing.

He was laughing. Your heart warmed. It took you several seconds to stop grinning like a fool.  

Once more, there was a long silence, safe for the gentle gushing of Eden’s water. The breeze caressed your cheeks like a lover’s touch. You reined in your emotions and focused on the large fingers still stroking the flower on the ground. There was a certain reverence in the touch, as soft as the petals he was tracing, but there was also a concealed yearning, the passive hunger of a patient predator, searching and sifting, searching and sifting, through layers and layers of-

“The sky,” you echoed War’s earlier word. The revelation came unbidden to your mind.    

War blinked slowly as though hesitantly tearing his attention from the petal between his thumb and forefinger.

“The sky,” you repeated softly. “Does it remind you of home?” Of a home you can only envision in your dreams- that you did not voice aloud.

War turned his gaze from his ministration to you. His smile was flecked with buried grief that you’ve only now begun to see.  

You winced from the shame that seared your heart.  

His people. His kindred. His family. You were so deeply entrenched in your grief that you forgot that this was a place of sorrow for him too. A nationless race forever trapped in the clutches of fate ever since their miserable creation. The creature in front of you always carried himself with the perfect stoicism of a fortress yet his soul has always been a fresco of guilt, burden and shame, buried so deeply within the protection of his walls and defences. Eden was his tombstone.

You lost count of the times you had ruminated and berated yourself over ill-made decisions. Over hasty and ill decisions that almost always landed in disappointment and frustration, in risks and misery - hasty and ill-advised decisions that you knew would make again and again and again.  

But the moment your friend reciprocated your affection by resting his heavy head on your shoulder, you knew that you were right to be impulsive in your decision. This may be the last time.

“I’m sorry,” you said into his hair, running a hand through the fine strands as you held him. “I’m sorry War.”

“Is that pity I hear in your tone?”

Your smile was pained. “Or perhaps I am simply not without empathy.”

His chuckle rumbled against your shoulder. The sound enriched by melancholy. For an irrational moment, you couldn’t help but imagine that you were embracing a child, willing the ache in his heart to soothe and ebb away, to be the balm to his soul. War, you thought, did you even have a childhood?

War would be welcomed in your home; you had told him this, day in, day out, time and time again. War had always responded in that taciturn way of his; a small smile followed by gentle laughter robbed of any ridicule, laced by amusement and hints of budding affection.

“You know you would be welcomed in my home,” you reminded him, stroking down his nape and back, feeling the powerful shifts of muscles.

War relaxed in the embrace, threads of his hair cascading off his closed eyes, his breathing deepening. Calm. Trustful. Where the purity of rage was intoxicating in his veins, the gift of serenity was almost anathema to his mind’s touch. You loved him most for trusting you, for allowing his ironclad mask to lower in your presence.

As you held him, you marvelled at how times have changed, oh how they have changed indeed. You wished you could stay with him here, forever.  

“…harmonises with mine.”

Your fingers stilled. “What did you say?”

“I said that your thinking harmonises with mine.” His voice was so soft the breeze almost stole it from you. Had you mused this aloud?

War stirred, wrapping one strong arm around you, tightening the hug without hurting you. His voice softened further, “I also said that you already have.”

A beat of silence. You opened your mouth then closed it at once, mind racing as your thundering heart. You drew back slightly, maintaining contact with a hand on his back while you lifted the other to encompass your surroundings. “Sorry for the mess!” You exclaimed brightly, wincing at the hitch in your voice and laughing at the fusion of amusement and dignified shock in your friend’s bright eyes.

“But of course, it should not come to me as a surprise,” War teased, playing along, delighting you. “To treat your gift as such.”

You huffed. “As my gift, surely I can do with it as I will?”  

His brows furrowed, then he smiled. “You make a compelling argument, young one.”

You snorted, and then laughed. When you finished laughing, you drew in a shaky breath and laughed some more, a little hysterical, a little desperate. You laughed and laughed until your eyes watered and stomach ached. At some point, War had hugged you to him again. Like you, he was also catching his breath, but he was recovering far swifter than you.

“Xoron,” he began, startling you, his tone as soft as your touch. His face was tucked in your shoulder and you lightly scratched his scalp.

“Astragr. Ghyssa,” he continued in that same reminiscent tone. “Bhal. Alli. Istis.” You kept your silence as War continued his litany of names. While he spoke on, you had buried your face in his hair again, breathing in the familiar waft of mountain dew and cinder, the cocktail of unknown compounds in his sweat and skin. You smiled with him during moments of fond reminiscence and lent your silent sympathy during moments of sad recollections.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him when he finished. “for trusting me.”

Instead of replying, War pressed you tighter to him. Your eyes burned and the lump in your throat swelled more painfully. You knew that you were stalling, and you knew that he knew that you were stalling. Nothing this precious, this sacred should ever last. Destiny was too cruel in its sense of humour. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t make the moment worthwhile.

You slowly pulled out of War’s arms, smiling when you felt his reluctance in letting you go. You asked him to wait. You knelt by his armour and rummaged through till your fingers brushed his pouch. You pulled out an empty flask. Then you stood up and strode to the stream, rinsing the glass thoroughly before filling it up.

You turned back to War.

His back was straight, his muscles locked and eyes wide, a cornered beast in anticipation of an attack. He began to speak, to protest, but shortly trailed off when you did not utter a word in defense. Your eyes were closed. When War said nothing else, you opened them again.  

War bowed his head. “Forgive me. It is your gift. You do with it as you will.”

“To share with you,” you amended gently. “War, this is not coercion. It is an offer from me, from a host unto their guest.” He was so stooped that it seemed like he was trying to curl into himself. You gave him pause, waiting patiently. Then you stood before him within three steps.

War slowly raised his head and you saw the silent plea in his eyes. He was making no effort to conceal it. Your heart broke. War never pleads. You ached to reach out to smooth those tight frown lines with your fingertips, to wrap him in your arms and never let go.

You closed the distance, leaning forwards and pressing your lips to his forehead, whispering, “Let me share this gift with you, War. Please. You have given much and sacrificed even more. I love you. I love everything about you, your light and your shadow.” His breaths came out as near-imperceptible stutters. You brought your palms to his temples, as though seeking to ground him.

“From this moment forth-”

“Y/N.”

“-regardless of happens when we leave-”

“Y/N.”

“-I need you to know that-”

“Please.”                          

You kissed his forehead. “Eden is your home too.”

He was silent and still, rigid as marble stone. When the silence stretched on, you pulled away, careful not to make eye contact. You turned around, taking in the lands of your foremost mother and father for the last time, committing as much to memory before leaving.  

“I place myself in your hands.”

Tears spilled down your face and neck. Without a word, you turned back to your friend. The plea had shifted to something softer, deeper, but not fully disappeared. Slowly, very slowly, you raised the flask, willing War to see your intent. But War had already bowed his head, true to his words. Honourable War.

Carefully, reverently, you poured the flask over his head, washing away the dirt and crusted blood from his hair. “This is your home now,” you murmured as the water trickled down his neck, shoulders and back, crystal droplets caressing and cleansing his golden skin easily.

You understood his reluctance to stepping into the stream itself. So you refilled the vial and returned to him again and again. “You will always be welcomed here.” You poured the shimmering water over his arms and feet. The water was so clean and pure that you didn’t need to physically scrub off any stubborn dirt, scabs and blood.

You knelt before the horseman as you bathed his hand, between his fingers and the plates of his nails. Finally, you laved the naked stump of his other arm, most thoroughly and gentlest of all.

You didn’t move away once finished, unwilling to break the intimacy of the closeness, unwilling to do anything but

be.

Your hand hovered over the stump. You looked up. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead. His ancient eyes, blue as the winter skies sparkled for a moment, almost as though with-

“War.”

“You may touch,” he murmured.

You kissed the golden stump instead, reverently, and pressed your forehead against his cooled skin. His vulnerability. His beautiful, beautiful, vulnerability.

“I’m sorry War,” you said again.

He breathed, slow and deep.

“It is not I who sits homeless on the broken husk of a sacred land.”

“I am sorry that you were wrongly accused of a crime that you did not commit.”

“It is not I who wandered the scorched, barren wasteland of their annihilated home realm, whose bare feet remained drenched with the ashes of their people in the years to come.”

“I am sorry that you no longer have your brothers and sisters with you.”

“It is not I whose kin begged and wept and bled away in senseless eradication.”

You reached up and touched your fingertips to his closed eyes. “For being blind to your loss and sorrow.”

He grasped your wrist in a gentle grip. “For being deaf to your needs.”

You cupped his cheek with your free hand. “For clinging to you.”

His lips were warm against your knuckles. “For being stubborn.”

“I am sorry,” you said as one.        

War stared at you, the depths of his eyes capturing you, absorbing you as they always did. “There may be no coming back, little one,” he offered his last piece of argument.

You stared at him, the depths of your eyes capturing him, absorbing him as they always did. “You are my Eden, War.”

Silence seemed to stretch for an eternity. The barest tremor shivered along the Horseman’s arm and you hugged the stump in a tight grip, feeling the shifts of muscles beneath his golden skin. You heard the gentle clink of clenched teeth. Your eyes slid shut. A teardrop fell onto the back of your hand, mixing with the purest water in existence.

It was not yours.  

Later that day, the archangel Azrael would observe the Rider’s eyes to be tinged a raw pink. He would keep this observation to himself.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Galaxy Girl

Fox Mulder x Reader

Words: 2980

Summary: The Mulder family celebrates the eighth birthday of their daughter, Grace. 

Notes: Not much of a summary, but I hope you guys really enjoy this one. I wanted to write some fluff for Fox, but I also had to throw in some sad moments concerning the other kids at their daughter's school. Again, hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! (P.S., I named their daughter after Grace from Return to Me.)

-

You woke up to feel the emptiness in your arms and panic sent through you. 

“Fox.” You whispered, nudging your husband’s arm to wake him up. When he didn’t stir, you spoke louder. “Fox.” 

“Hmmm,” He groaned, his eyes slowly opening. When he saw the fear in your eyes, he was wide awake. 

“Where is she?” You asked, searching every corner of the tent. A snapping twig outside caught both of your attention. Fox cautiously moved the flap of the tent to the side, stepping out when it seemed safe. The rising sun cast his shadow onto the tent, along with the small mass creeping out of the bushes. 

“No… please!” He exclaimed as the shape leaped onto him. Hearing him scream, you bolted out of the tent. Fox was lying in the grass, attempting to defend himself as the little creature tickled him. You sighed with relief and couldn’t help but laugh. “Save me! Save me!” Fox begged through his uncontrollable laughter, the masked fiend on top of him pinching and poking his sides. You lifted the beast off of him, removing the ugly monster mask to reveal your giggling daughter beneath. 

“Rawr!” Grace growled, pretending that her fingers were claws. You set her down and leaned so that only she would hear you.

“Tag team?” You suggested, bringing a giant grin to her face. You both slowly turned back to Fox, who had just gotten up. 

“What?” He asked innocently. You and Grace exchanged a mischievous smile. 

“Attack!” 

You both charged him, tackling him back into the grass in a whirlwind of tickling and pinching. 

“This isn’t fair!” Fox shouted through a chorus of laughter. Powering through your very brutal attack, Fox grabbed you and rolled over, turning the battle on you. Seeing that her team was losing, Grace quickly joined her father’s side. 

“Traitor!” You exclaimed, hardly able to breathe from laughing so hard. After a few minutes of tickling torment, the three of you lay in the grass out of breath but all with grins on your faces. Grace was in between the two of you, holding hands with each of you. You turned to her and smiled. “Happy birthday Gracie.”

You went inside and made breakfast- blueberry pancakes and bacon, Grace’s favorite. Fox and Grace sat at the table, drawing pictures of the tent outside. Grace’s had a small flying saucer hovering over it. 

It was her idea to camp out in the backyard, using a low hanging branch to hang the tent and bringing out the couch cushions to sleep on. Since it was her day, you let her decide everything- within reasonable limits. No trips to the moon would be arranged, but you would try to make it as special as possible. 

“So who did you invite to the party?” Fox asked, putting Grace’s drawing up on the fridge. Grace shook her head. 

“I didn’t invite anybody. I want to spend the day with you guys.” She was smiling, but her finger tapped her side. She did that every time you asked who had taken your best shoes and she told you it was the little green men. “That’s my perfect birthday.” You could just see Fox’s heart melt, kneeling down to envelope her in a hug. 

“That’s my Galaxy Girl.” He beamed. You felt a twinge in your heart, knowing the true reason why there wouldn’t be any party. 

Grace wasn’t the most popular girl in her third-grade class. You had spoken to the teacher a few times and she told you that Grace was being teased by the other kids. They called her names like Alien Girl and Space Geek. You didn’t remember eight-year-olds being so mean. 

“I hope there’s room for one more at this party.” A voice said from around the corner. 

“Auntie Dana!” Grace squealed, practically tackling Dana and her bags of presents. 

“Hey Scully.” Fox greeted happily. Clearing the table and putting in the sink- without rinsing them off, as usual.

"Can I open them now?" Grace begged. Dana shrugged. 

"Ask your mom." Grace looked up at you and pouted her lips, her green-blue eyes wide and pleading. Those same eyes gave you a wink, but now it was Fox trying to persuade you. You sighed. 

"You can open one." Dana handed her the smaller of the two bags and Grace tossed the tissue paper aside. Inside was a box of those little plastic stars that stuck to the ceiling and glowed in the dark. 

"I love them!" Gracie exclaimed, capturing Dana in another hug. Fox reached for something on the counter, but whatever he wanted wasn't there.  

"Where are my sunflower seeds?" He asked. Grace shrugged and a cascade of shells fell out of her jacket pockets. A guilty grin spread across her face and shook took off up the stairs. "Gracie Samantha Mulder get back here!" Fox chased after her and you and Dana laughed.

"She's just like him" She chuckled. You leaned against the counter.

"Sometimes I worry she's too much like him." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I love Fox." You sighed. "But he isn't exactly the most popular agent in the bureau."

"The other kids don't like her," Dana concluded grimly. To her, Grace was one of the sweetest little girls she'd ever met, but she could see why her interest in extraterrestrials and UFOs might not be well accepted amongst the other children. 

“According to her teacher, she doesn’t have any friends, the other kids pick on her, and all she does at recess is sit alone reading tabloid magazines.” You opened one of the drawers and took out a pile of invitations. “Her teacher found these in her desk.”

Scrawled across almost all of them were crudely drawn flying saucers with the words “Space Freak” and “Alien Girl” in big letters. Dana shook her head, her heart breaking for that little girl. 

“She told Fox that she didn’t invite anyone. She doesn’t want us to know that this is all happening.” You ran your fingers through your hair. “I don’t know, maybe she thinks that she can just handle it on her own.” Dana gave you a small smirk. 

“She gets that from you.” You laughed, knowing she was right. “Have you talked to Mulder about it?” You shook your head. 

“I can’t…” You looked at the picture on the fridge and smiled. It was taken when Grace was born. The night you brought her home, you found Fox fast asleep on the couch with Grace sleeping on his chest. “You know how he is. He would feel like this is his fault. Grace is his world. Besides, those 8-year-olds wouldn’t know what hit them.” 

“I’m about to call some parents myself,” Dana added, only slightly kidding. 

You put the vandalized invitations back in the drawer and the two of you went out to the back porch. Unbeknownst to you, after reclaiming his sunflower seeds from his thieving daughter, Fox had come back to the kitchen to ask you about the plans for the day. He came out from the doorway, having heard the exchange between you and Scully. He opened the drawer where you had hidden the invitations and felt his heart drop. One had the image of a figure he presumed was supposed to be Grace, but the bully had added antenna and pointed teeth under the words “E.T… Go Home!” 

He couldn’t believe it. Gracie told him everything. Why hadn’t she told him about being bullied by the other kids? Not only was Grace keeping secrets, but you knew about the whole situation and kept it from him. He put the papers back in the drawer, running a hand down his face. 

“Why didn’t she tell me?” He muttered to himself. The last time you hid something from him was when you were being threatened by a secret society to stay away from him. But that was years ago before you were married. 

“Daddy, can we go to the park now?” Gracie asked from behind him, making him jump. He pushed back all of his confusion and hurt and just smiled. 

“Of course,” He leaned over to be at her level. “We can do whatever you want. It’s your birthday, sweetie.” Her smile broadened and he couldn’t help but wonder what she was really feeling. 

“You’re the swamp monster!” She shrieked, sprinting out the door towards the nearby park. He tried to push everything he’d heard to the back of his mind and chased after her, making monster sounds that would probably concern the neighbors. 

-

The table was oddly tense while Grace blew out her candles. Fox was glancing at you while he crunched his sunflower seeds. While Gracie had a big grin on her face, you could tell there was another emotion hiding underneath. Dana, wanting to defuse the situation before anything happened, suggested for Grace to open her presents. 

You gathered in the living room and sat next to your husband, putting your hand on his knee. 

“Everything okay?” You asked, feeling a twinge of guilt. Once you figured everything out, you would tell him. He shrugged and put on a smile that you could tell was fake. 

“Yeah, of course.” The first present Grace picked was the second one Dana had brought. This one was in a rather big box that Grace tore open quickly. Her excited squeal told you exactly what was inside. 

“It’s a microscope!” Grace bear-hugged Dana and your jaw dropped.

“Dana, when you said you had a big surprise, I wasn’t expecting this.” Microscopes were expensive, even ones made for kids. 

“So you knew about this too?” Fox muttered angrily. 

“Too?” You turned to him with a confused expression. 

“Are you okay, dad?” Grace asked. 

“Nothing honey. Why doesn’t Aunt Dana show you how to use your new gift?” He explained, motioning for you to follow him into the kitchen. You and Dana exchanged a look before you followed him. 

“Fox, what’s going on?” You asked. He leaned against the fridge, crossing his arms. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that Grace is being bullied?” You stepped back, about to ask what he was talking about. "I heard you talking to Scully." He pulled the invitations out of the drawer.

"I didn't…" You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. "I didn't want you to worry. I knew how much her keeping this from you would hurt and I wanted to try and figure out how to handle it before I told you- which I promise I was going to."

"Jesus, Y/N, they're calling her 'Alien Girl'." He lowered his voice to keep from shouting. "That's my fault."

"You don't honestly believe that, do you?" You could see where his frustration with you was coming from. He wasn't angry. It was guilt. 

“If I hadn’t always been so… me with her maybe she would be like the other kids. Maybe she’d be popular and liked, like you.” 

“You think I’m a freak.” A small voice whimpered. You both turned around, a horrified look spreading across your husband’s face.

“Gracie, no, of course not.” He stammered. Everything was just spinning out of his control. 

“You both think that.” She said accusingly, turning her glare on you. “Just like the kids at school.” Her big blue-green eyes welled up with tears and she ran off, disappearing up the stairs to her room. 

“Grace!” Fox shouted after her, taking a step to follow. You grabbed his arm. 

“Give her a while… she’ll be okay.” You said sadly. He looked like he desperately wanted to say something, but instead, he stormed off to his office to think in the dark. You groaned, laying your head against the cool countertop. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Dana walk into the doorway.

“I’ll get the wine.” 

-

You lightly tapped on the door and opened it slowly. Dana had gone home and wished you luck. There was a single lamp on, besides the chair that faced the window. You made your way around the desk and knelt down. 

“Fox?” You began quietly. He had a pile of drawings on his lap that he’d been looking through for the past hour. Each depicted some alien or monster being fought off by a caped hero known only as ‘Galaxy Girl.’ 

“I never wanted her to change…” He said, turning to another picture. In this one, Galaxy Girl was accompanied by two others with the words Mommy and Daddy underneath each. “I just didn’t realize how much my obsessions were rubbing off on her.” 

“Our obsessions.” You corrected, putting your hands on top of his. “I’m just as much a part of this as you are.” You took the drawings and set them on his desk. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” He put a hand on your cheek. 

“I’m sorry I stormed off.” He moved off his chair so he was sitting on the floor beside you. “Do you remember what I said to you the night we brought her home?” You paused, thinking back eight years. “I said that you were my moon and stars.” 

“And that I’d given you a galaxy.” You smiled and laid your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him. “She’s going to be okay.” He took a deep breath.

“I know.” He shifted, a devious grin spreading on his lips. “You know… I’m sure that if I went to her school and told all those kids they were under investigation for grand larceny, they would leave Gracie alone.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You looked up at him with a mischievous look of your own. “Say they’re parents are committing tax fraud.” You both laughed and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You didn’t get very many intimate moments with your husband, but this one was perfect. 

You and Fox went upstairs and made your way to Grace’s room. More drawings were scattered across her floor, along with different toys and art projects. 

“Gracie?” Fox called out. There was a dim glow coming from under her closet door, so you knocked gently. 

“Leave me alone.” 

Fox sighed and turned the knob. Grace was curled up in the corner of her closet, hiding under a blanket. 

“Permission to enter?” He asked. She threw the blanket down, revealing a scowl and a tear-streaked face. 

“Permission denied.” 

“Come on, Gracie.” He begged. She shook her head and threw the blanket over herself again. 

You blew out a long, dramatic breath. “I guess we’ll just have to open your present all by ourselves out here.” You shook the box lightly. Grace slowly peaked out again. “We’ll be out here… opening your present.” You closed the door and Fox gave you a look. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just wait.” You whispered sitting down on her bed. After a few seconds, the closet door creaked open. This time, she covered her face using a piece of tape and a sheet of paper. “Grace, why do you keep hiding your face?” 

“Because I’m a freak.” 

“Grace, you know that’s not true.” Fox scolded. “Now can I please see my beautiful daughter’s face?” She nodded and he lifted the paper off, lightly taking off the tape. “Grace, what I was saying before, I just meant I wished the other kids didn’t make fun of you.” 

“Everybody has bullies, Grace.” You put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she sat between you. “Even me and your dad.” 

“Really?” 

Fox nodded. “Oh yeah. You know what everyone at work used to call me?” She shook her head. “Spooky Mulder. They thought I was weird because I’m interested in the unexplained. Because I want to find the truth.” 

“And when I was in high school, there was a group of girls who would spread rumors about me.” You figured telling her that those rumors falsely accused you of sleeping with the whole soccer team was probably for a different time. “We just had to learn how to face them.”

“But you’ll have us supporting you the whole time,” Fox added. Grace sniffed and wiped her face with her sleeve. “We love you more than anything in the world, Gracie.”  A smile spread across her face, making your heart leap. 

“Can I open my present now?” 

You and Fox chuckled as you handed her the box. She ripped the wrapping paper, looking down at the image on the box. Without hesitating, she tore open the box and pulled out the telescope. 

“Happy birthday sweetie.” You beamed. She pulled you and Fox into a big hug. “This was the best birthday ever.” The hug tightened. “I love you guys.” 

-

Grace had just fallen asleep in the tent after you spent the rest of the night using her new telescope to look at the stars. You and Fox were sitting on the lawn, eating leftover pieces of cake. 

“So what did you mean about those girls in high school?” Fox asked suddenly. “I thought you were always Miss-Loved-And-Adored-By-All.” You scoffed. 

“Yes well, according to those girls I was ‘adored’ by basically every male athlete in school.” Fox whistled. 

“Damn.” 

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” You shrugged. “Besides, I never really liked jocks.” He moved closer to you. 

“Oh really?” 

You nodded, leaning in. “I’m more into the nerdy type. You know, the ones with offices in the basement surrounded by file cabinets full of conspiracies and unexplained phenomena.” “Are you making fun of me?” He wondered in mock offense. 

“Not at all.” He draped an arm around your waist and pulled you into a kiss. 

And that’s how the day ended. Grace was a year older and the three of you were closer than ever. You knew that it wouldn’t last forever. But for this night, all there was, was your perfect family, lying under the moon

[incoherentbabblings]

On the Twelfth Day (2/2)

AO3 Link Here.  TimSteph Christmas Fluff.

-7-

Fancy dinner did not occur. Or rather, they had their starter, but a certain Robin bird crashing through the crystal domed ceiling had put an end to the dinner, and they had rushed out to change and help against Mr Freeze who was having a whale of a time in central Gotham. Stephanie had slipped at one point on a mountain of ice, and had bruised her spine in the fall. She lay on the sofa in the manor, Tim sat on the floor in front of her at quarter to twelve, whilst the family were out cleaning up the mess Freeze had left behind. They watched as the countdown began. Steph jolted as her memory was triggered by the sight of Gotham’s clocks.

“Oh! Tim, my handbag. I was going to give you my present at dinner. Open it before midnight! Hurry!”

He crawled over, having changed from one formal suit to his super suit to his jammies, and tugged over her little brown bag.

She watched, more nervous than she had been with any of the other gifts, worried about what he would think.

“A watch?” His voice wasn’t offended, thank God, but she still felt the need to justify.

“I just thought… I know Bruce gave you one, and you have your dad’s, so okay, maybe you don’t also need one from me, I mean it’s not as fancy…”

He kissed her, long and sweet, using whatever he could to distract her from her worries. “Fancy doesn’t matter. This is one I can wear everyday, tell people my girlfriend bought me it.” He turned just as on the tv the clock stroke midnight. “Ah! Happy New Year.”

Stephanie pressed kisses to the back of his head, his damp hair smelling sweet from the bath they’d shared earlier. “Happy New Year.”

Tim put on the watch, setting it to midnight, and kissed Stephanie again.

-8-

“Not very exciting this time I’m afraid honey.”  Tim mumbled. He was buried under the bed covers, not really wiling to get up and start the day.  He waved vaguely over in the direction of the wardrobe.

“Implying that I don’t love chocolates… false.”  Stephanie shuffled over, settling on the bed next the lump under the duvet that was her boyfriend.  Wincing with her back pain, she began to stuff her face with the selection box.  She looked down at Tim and smiled.

“Timmy, open up.”

Tim poked his head out from the covers, dark hair ruffled with sleep.  She popped a chocolate into his mouth, watching him smile, then disappear back under the covers.

-9-

“Catch!”

In the cave, Stephanie threw a large wicker basket at Tim, which he managed to grab hold of before it hit his head.  He swayed at the weight of it.  Stephanie trotted over, fully in costume, whilst Tim had yet to put in his mask. Tim turned and rested the basket on a nearby table.  Opening the flaps, he went to peer in, but Damian appeared, shoving Tim out the way.

“Honey?  Really Brown?  You raid a farm or something?”

“Damian!” Dick pulled Damian’s judgemental look and stature away from the pair, shooting an apologetic look at them.

“He’s not totally wrong.” Stephanie sighed.  “It is a lot of farm stuff.  Hamper food.”

Tim began rummaging through the tissue, pulling out jars of chutney’s and jams and cheese and dried fruits. Two small bottles of beer were also nestled in.

“Steph…”

“I know the weather has been… pure shit.  And there isn’t really anywhere we can go but…”

“We can go to SanFran.” Tim looked at her, eyes smiling. “Next weekend, before college starts up again.  Conner says it’s been dry.  Not warm. It never really is over there but…” He trailed off and looked at Steph, still facing forwards.  “You’ve never spent more than a night at the tower have you?”

“No.”

“Well you have right to. It’ll be nice!”  He squeezed her hand reassuringly at her nervous look. “This is really sweet Steph, thank you.”

“You can thank Conner and Kara, half this stuff is from Kansas!”

-10-

The Fourth of January was more than a little stressful, Tim had had an awkward conversation with both Crystal and Bruce (and Alfred, hovering like a bee) which had led to Dick swamping Tim in the manor corridors.

“Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii know what you’ve done!  Gonna tell Cass!”  He sang, smiling so broadly that Tim became faintly petrified of Dick’s teeth being put on display.  Immediately alarmed, he began to slap Dick on the arms, legs and gut, as if that would shut him up.

“What do you know?”  Tim hissed.  Dick just laughed and sprinted away.  Tim gave chase, throwing himself onto his elder brother’s back.  He clung tight, and began to tug at Dick’s perfectly curled hair. “How did you find out?  What are you? Psychic?”

“Just nosy!”  Dick spun in a circle bent in half, Tim hanging off his back like a monkey.

“Don’t say anything!” Clinging tight and trying to choke Dick from behind, Tim entered a blinding panic. No-one was supposed to know!

“Oh, come on!  You have so little trust?”

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, and you know it!”

“Who’s dumb?”  

Steph appeared out of Cass’s room, several strings of strawberry laces hanging from her mouth being chewed obnoxiously, curious at the racket.  Tim leaped off Dick’s back like he was made of fire.

“Nothing!  C’mon, I was grabbing you for your present.”

Stephanie smiled, shoving the rest of the candy into her mouth. Waving goodbye to Dick, who waved glibly back, Tim watched with horror as he snuck into Cassandra’s room, no doubt to gossip.  

Goddammit.

Pulling her into his room, Tim rushed to the bed, then held out a large picture frame, nearly as wide as his arm berth.  She took it gratefully and looked at the collage Tim had compiled.  It was many candids and posed shots of her, Tim, their friends and family.  From them aged fifteen, to photos Tim had taken just the other day with his new camera, it was their lives together compiled into one frame.  There was a gap of about two years in their mid-teens, but otherwise, it was all their history in one frame.

She set it back down on Tim’s bed.  Pointing at one image of them when they were younger, their cheeks pressed together, Tim half out the frame, but they looked so young, so fresh.

“That’s mine.  I had a bunch posted above my bed… Did you take them?”

“I ‘borrowed’ them, made copies for this.  Your mom helped.”

Stephanie nodded approvingly.  “Ahhhh, I see.  Going behind my back now is she?”

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” Tim teased.

Stephanie huffed, then pressed a kiss to his cheek.  “This is unbearably sentimental Tim.  Thank you. But just wait until tomorrow.”

-11-

Tim had been hurt this time. A sprained ankle which had swollen up to an impressive size.  He’d hurt it catching some poor kid jumping out of a building to escape a fire.  The rice treatment had ensued.  Rest, ice, compression and elevation.  It as an old rule, but it was one Alfred stood firmly by. He had dozed off, waiting for Stephanie to return from patrol. Their plans to go to San Francisco had been delayed, since Tim was going to need the week to recover. Stephanie had tired not to let her disappointment leak through. These sorts of things were bound to happen, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Not truly.  

She stared at a sleeping Tim, his skin looking warm in the lamp light.  She then looked down at the package in her hand and decided to unwrap it for him.  This one she had been working on for over a month, and it had become increasingly tricky to hide it from Tim due it’s ever growing size.

Unravelling the hand knitted blanket, she sat down on the sofa next to Tim, and spread it over them both. Tucking it under his chin, she settled into his side, and shut her eyes.

When Tim started awake later from a vague and fuzzy nightmare, he woke to the rain on the windows, the room softly lit, and his girlfriend resting at his side.  His foot had flopped down off the table when he had jerked, so wincing he raised it once more to the table.  Noticing then the blanket she had thrown over them, Tim picked absently at the thread, noticing almost immediately that this was a new one, and although it was neat, it wasn’t as uniform as what a machine would do.

He knew she had been working on something.  He’d seen the receipts from different craft shops across Gotham, but he’d assumed it was something for herself, or maybe the other Batgirls.  

The blanket was a deep gem blue, and as large as the sofa.  Not only that, it wasn’t just one large square, she had done different stitches along the rims and even a circular pattern in the centre.  She had worked extremely hard on this, in between college and Batgirl-ing and Stephanie Brown-ing.

Tim shifted his arms, wrapping them tight around Stephanie under the fabric.  She sighed happily in her sleep, and nuzzled into his chest.

“Love you.”  He murmured.

Even in sleep, Stephanie smiled.  

-12-

Taking down the decorations was always intensely depressing.  It meant there was no more twinkling lights or shiny paper to catch the winter light (what little there existed of it in Gotham).  No, now the grim winter had truly begun.

Tim was still sat on the sofa, carefully wrapping the decorations in tissue and bubble wrap. Amongst them was Steph’s first gift of the robins. He stared at the chubby pair hard, then set them aside. They cold stay out until Spring at least.  He occasionally side glanced at Stephanie getting into an argument with two sets of Christmas lights.  One set she was wearing on her head and shoulders, the other tangled around her arms and outstretched legs on the floor.  She huffed and puffed and cursed.  He tried not to laugh, as that might have set her temper off properly, which was the last thing he wanted for today.

“Tim? Change the music? The bass is too much and…”  And she continued to grumble to herself, tugging unnecessarily hard on to lights that had crossed over each other and gotten tangled.

Tim called for his speaker to switch radio stations, flipping to a classical music channel. To his relief, it was playing a soft piano tune, and Stephanie’s grumbling lessened in response.  

They worked in silence for a moment, and Tim was struck by how peaceful it felt, how domestic. Safe.  

Putting the lid on one of the storage boxes, Tim noticed his hands were shuddering.  His nerves were kicking in.

“Stephie?  Can I borrow you for a sec?”

Always weak to him calling her that, and somewhat relieved to be distracted from the lights, she leaped upwards.  “Is it your ankle?  Need a cold press?”

“No, no.  Just, can you swap the boxes for me?  Done with that one.”

She did as she was bid, but before she could replace the box with an empty one on the seat, Tim tugged her down.

Thinking he wanted a kiss, she swiftly leaned in for a smooch.

Not wanting to jostle his foot too much, she clambered onto him, finding she was sorely needing an unscheduled make out session to vent her stress.  

She felt his hands twitch. One held her neck, the other had drifted downwards, fumbling around his hoodie.

“Steph.”  He broke away, bringing his hand up to her cheek. He suddenly looked horrendously nervous, which only served to make Stephanie on edge.  He gulped, then squeezed his other hand in between their chests.  “Steph… your last present… you don’t have to say yes, if you don’t want to, you’re not ready, or… or if you don’t feel the same way…”  The sadness that permeated his expression broke her heart as she began to understand what was happening.  What the point of the twelve days of Christmas gift exchange was for. A ploy really, a stinkingly sweet plot.

Tim popped the tiny black box open to reveal an engagement ring.  It was one of those rings that looked like it were three, crossing over in the middle, one filled with round diamonds, the other rubies, the final a plain band of white gold.  Stephanie had pianist’s fingers, long and thin with bumpy knuckles, and Tim had spent an embarrassingly long time deciding what would look good on Stephanie. When he had spoken to Crystal the other day, to try and be good as ask her permission, Crystal had only pursed her lips at the sight of the ring, face giving nothing away. She did say yes to Tim asking, so that was something. The very same day he had also spoken to Bruce, for whatever reason Tim couldn’t recall.  Just a small part of him that still craved Bruce’s approval, which, to Tim’s utter shock, he had given.

He had done one thing though, which had ticked Tim off at the time.  Bruce had hummed at the sight of the ring and suggested that Tim could have gone bigger.  Tim must have looked so offended that Bruce quietly corrected himself and said it would probably do.  Tim was old enough now to know when Bruce was being deliberately cruel and when he had just put his foot in it.  The guilty look on Bruce’s face suggested the latter and Tim tried to quell his feelings of inadequacy.  

Now, with Stephanie’s eyes growing wet and her mouth smiling, he thought the ring was indeed fit for purpose.

“Will you marry me?” He asked.

Tears dropped down her cheeks, and her eyeliner began to run horribly.

“You want to marry me? For real?”

God they were both insecure as anything.  Tim had been petrified of the concept of her saying no, she had seemingly not expected him to ever ask, to even want to ask.  

“Stephie, I wouldn’t… I do. For real.”

“Me too!”  She sobbed.  She nodded again and again.  “Yes, yes, yes!”

Tim fumbled taking the ring out of the box, sliding it onto her finger.  He struggled a bit at getting it past her lower knuckle, but once it got past it fit neatly around her ring finger.  Stephanie laughed, tilting her hand in the light to see it glitter.  More tears dripped down her face, then she kissed Tim once more, happier than she’d ever been.

“Rubies?”  She asked, pressing their foreheads together

“Thought amethysts might be too on the nose.”

“Red for you then?”

“For Robin.  Both of us.”

Another kiss.  “Utter charmer.”  She murmured, settling in on his lap.  Tim picked up her hand, and began fiddling with her finger and ring, smug as anything that she was wearing it.  That she had said yes.  

“Last day to say it Tim… Merry Christmas.”

“Heh.  Merry Christmas.”

[soriseerakyra]

A Flight of Fancy -1- (Black!Batmom)

AN: So hi I know this is the first story I’ve posted in months and that there are tons of other things that I still have to write and catch up with, but this request was important to me so that’s why I did it first. I’m not sure when I’ll feel like talking about why I’ll was gone, but I will be trying to post more regularly from now on (Trying!). Anyway way thank you to @farala-sunita for the request and the detail given. It really helped me get this story out faster than I would have other wise.

TW: Guns and Gunfire,a hostage situation, and a few cuss words

“I don’t see you, are you sure I’m at the right place,” You mutter into your phone.  Rocking forward on to the balls of your feet you try to see through the crowded club. The heavy bass and the flashing lights are making it even harder to see the people you’re looking for.

“Ari is going to jump, she’s wearing one of those busted silver wings she likes,” A slightly irritated voice responds. You hear a small voice squeak out a perturbed ‘HEY!’ through the phone.

Moments later you see a small head rise above a group of girls. It is in fact a silver wig, not as horrible as some of Ari’s wigs usually are, and cutely styled in a pair of pig tails. Her short arms waved as she jumped, making her look like an excited fairy.

“I see her,” You say with a chuckle.

“Good, now hurry the hell up,” The phone clicks off quickly.

You roll your eyes at the tone but simply shrug it off.

Working your way through the gyrating bodies of the crowd, you have to apologize more than once when your hips bump into unsuspecting couples. Luckily none seemed too bothered by the intrusion, opting more to try and coerce you to dance once they see your figure than turn you away. Your cheeks warm at the invitation, but you politely decline.

“You guys got a table?” You question breathlessly as you come upon your group of friends.

A tall woman with honey brown skin stands with her hands on her hips, she flicks her eyes up and down your form, “It’s not like we haven’t been planning this for months, it just took to ‘til now for you to show up.”

“Sorry Kenya,” You say sheepishly. “We get swamped so easily, it’s hard to make time, you know that.”

She frowns, dark eyes looking over your form. Under her gaze you shift nervously, and your eyes flick to the other stone faces at the table.

Your eyes bounce back up to her pretty but firm face; you try you best to give her big doe eyes. You two lock eyes for a moment longer.

“Aww you dummy bitch, come here,” A wide smile spreads across her full lips and her long arms envelop you into a warm hug.

You have to stifle a giggle as she warmly rubs her hand up and down your back in sisterly affection. A chorus of cheers ring out from the other girls.

“How have you been, girlie?” She coos as she nuzzles into your curls.

“Okay,” you sigh as you pull back from her and giver her smile.

“Good,” she says slapping you on the back and then throwing an arm around your shoulders. She pulls you close and turns to the other girls, “Now that she’s here, let’s get fucked up!”

***

“What is with this city?” Serena, a mahogany brown beauty with straight dark brown hair and cinnamon highlights, questions exhaustedly as she throws down her second shot of tequila. “I swear almost everyone is on their way to crazy town.”

“There has to be something in the water,” you speak up, “I’ve never seen so many, like, objectively bad people.”

“You just think these people are crazy because you guys have been sheltered so much,” Kenya says taking a long sip from her vodka tonic. “As someone whose been working since they were fourteen, let me tell you, everyone is pretty fucked up. And they’ll do something fucked up to you the first time you let them. You always have to be on guard.”

As if on cue a thump lands on your shoulder, a warm head snuggles into you. You look down and let a small smile cross your face. Ari’s small head slumps against you, her eyes hazy as she drinks the last bit of her margarita. It was only her second drink, but she was already out of it. It was no secret to anyone at the table that neither you or Ari were the most capable of drinkers, but even you can handle more than two drinks; more like three.

“You’re right,” she coo’s drunkenly. “But it’s definitely worse her-*hic*- here.”

“I thought we came here to celebrate,” Jo-Jo, a full cheeked, septum pieced, artist drawls quietly as she sips her Hennessy. “Not to talk about how shitty this city is.”

“Boooo, why don’t you ever let me rant,” Serena, says full red lips pulling down in to a pout. “I don’t have anyone to talk to besides you guys. No one gets it when I say this city is weird, especially at work. They all think that I’m the weird one. Like sorry, I’m not used to niggas robbing banks every day like we’re in the middle of the 19-fucking-20’s.”

Kenya chuckles, “Jo is right though, we’re here to celebrate our two youngest.”

Eyes around the table shift to you and Ari, who gives a lazy thumb up.

“Our two babies here have finally made it too the big city,” Kenya starts with a smile. “No more suburbs, no more living out of mommy and daddies house. They are officially adults.”

A little cheer goes around the table. You feel a little shy at the attention, but Ari cheers loudly.

“So as a little gift we got you girls this,” Kenya, motions to another woman at the table, Chanté. Chanté was a quiet, slightly stern woman. Best friends with Kenya, and surprisingly Ari’s older sister. The woman hands Kenya two envelopes who in turn hands one to you and places the other in front of Ari. “We all chipped in.”

Excitedly you open the envelope and are almost instantly confused, “Happy six months?”

“Well, if you had shown up earlier it would have been the six-month anniversary of you moving into your own apartment.”

“Yeah but, Ken,” You sputter, “This is a congrats on your pregnancy card.”

Sure, enough the mostly white card had a featureless pink drawing of a woman with her hands spread lovingly across her protruding stomach.

“Hey bitch, we can take it back!” She snaps playfully.

“Okay, Okay,” you say fully pulling the card out. You flip open the card and among the words of congratulations, there is a small folded check sitting in the middle of the card. “You didn’t.”

“You haven’t even looked at it yet,” Serena says hazel eyes buzzing with excitement.

Gingerly, you take the check from the card and flip it open; you gasp.

“You guys, this is $7000,” You say slightly shakily as pinpricks of tears begin to assault your eyes.

“Holy shit,” Ari says as she tears into her own card. “What the hell guys?”

“We’re your sisters,” Jo-Jo says with a click of her tongue and a smack of her black painted lips. “Clearly you guys didn’t read our bylaws.”

“Bylaws,” Serena snorts, “No one read them Jo. Ken and Chan wrote them on a piece of notebook paper that was barley legible by the time these two came a long.”

“And they still signed it,” Chanté interrupts speaking for the first time. “If they couldn’t read it they should have said something at the time.”

“Why so you could give them the evil eye? Girl bye,” Serena responds with a roll of her eyes and a flick of her wrist.

Chanté does, indeed, proceed to give her a withering glare.

“We told you we’d take care of you when you graduated right?” Kenya asked looking between the two of you. “We meant to give this to you guys when you first moved here, but some of us weren’t all the way financially stable.”

Serena shifts uncomfortably while Jo-Jo sticks her pierced tongue out at her in defiance.

“And we were supposed to give you this at your six-month anniversary, but we know that didn’t happen.”

This time her accusatory tone is directed at you and you find yourself shifting as well.

“But money a year later is better than no money at all.”

“It’s so much though?” You protest looking between the older women at the table.

“Speak for yourself,” Ari says swooning slightly.

“We figured two months' rent in any decent apartment in this overcrowded city, and a little for expenses and fun,” Chanté said looking at you with a warm smile before her gaze narrowed at her sister. “Ari, give me your check so you don’t lose it.”

The drunk young girl stuck her tongue out at her sister and teasingly waved it at Chanté, “I’m rich you can’t tell me what to do now!”

Chanté snatches the check from Ari’s and stuffs it in her purse, “I hope you know you’re coming home with me. You could never handle your liquor.”

“Whatever, as long as I can see my baby when I get there,” the younger sister croons. Chanté had a Boston Terrier, named Prince who was just as spoiled as the name implied.

“He’s at a sitter, you don’t think I’d leave him alone by himself when we’re going to be out until God knows when,” Chanté reasons.

“Can we get Ice Cream then? I’m really hungry all of a sudden.”

“Are you 12?” Jo-Jo interrupts with a snicker.

A raspberry effortlessly flows from Ari’s lips.

“This means a lot to me Ken,” You say softly while the others engage in a childish argument. “Student loans are a killer.”

“We got you, girlie,” She says with a confident wink. “I know for a fact that if I hadn’t gotten that one big scholarship, I’d still be paying that shit off.”

“Hey, waiter!” Serena shouts banging on the table trying to get anyone’s attention over the bass of the club. “We need shots!”

“Water for me,” you speak up.

“You done for the night?” Ari asks looking at you with big eyes, “You barley drunk anything!”

“I have a shift in the morning I can’t afford to get drunk,” you reason.

“Ugh you and work,” Ari says with a wave of her hand. “You’re almost as bad as those two.”

She jabs a thumb ant Kenya and Chanté both of whom narrow their eyes in irritation.

“We could take our money back,” Chanté says quickly.

“If you do I’m telling mommy.”

“Ugh, he’s not even paying attention,” Serena says practically standing on her seat waving her arms around.

“This isn’t a restaurant, you’re going to have to go up to him,” Jo-Jo says coolly.

“When are you going to come work for us?” Kenya asks looking at you seriously.

“I don’t know, corporate seems scary,” You answer hoping that she’d drop the issue once she sees how uncomfortable you are.

“Yeah it’s scary as hell,” Kenya agrees. “But once you get there and you make a name for yourself, they can’t tell you shit. I’m telling you some of them people be looking at me like I’m crazy when I come up with new ideas, but guess what, they do it. They know the rules: they listen and get paid or don’t and get fired.”

“I-,” you start but she cuts you off.

“Look pulling triple shifts at a bowling alley and waitressing while selling papers to college kids isn’t going to pay the bills forever.”

Your cheeks warm when she calls you out.

“I know you had a bad experience at the place you were at last time, but this is me we’re talking about. You need to put that degree to work. You’re a programmer at heart and I could use you, and you can use the money.”

“I wouldn’t have to work with a lot of people would I?” You ask slightly timidly.

“A small team of like minded people that I picked out myself,” She says with a shrug. “Just come see me this week. Quit those jobs, I’m saving a spot for you.”

You look at the woman whom you’ve called an older sister for years now with wide surprised eyes, “Okay.”

“Okay,” She says with a grin, “Good.”

“I’m going!” Serena says as she forces herself up from her seat.

“Kick his ass!” Ari screams.

“Chan, control your gremlin,” Jo-Jo mutters.

“I’ve been trying since she was six,” The woman in question spits out between clinched teeth.

“We have to get one dance out of this before the night is over,” Kenya says.

“Aww you know, Pea isn’t going to dance,” Ari says snuggling back into you and poking your cheek.

“We’re still calling me, Pea?” You moan slightly embarrassed. Pea was short for Sweet Pea, the name that Ari and Chanté’s mother used to call you when you would stay at their home. The others got hooked on calling you that and the name has stuck.

“Only if it’s a wedding,” Jo-Jo comments slyly.

“Remember when she took it down to the floor?” Kenya laughs

“All the way down,” Ari says slapping your thigh.

“Guys!” You whine, “I don’t want to-”

“HEY LET GO OF ME!” A voice shrieks.

All of you snap your heads toward the voice, the familiarity of the scream sending shivers down your backs.

From your position you can see Serena struggling to wrench her arm away from a figure. The room was still dark and the music was still pounding, making it hard to determine who was holding her.

“What the FUCK!” Kenya screams flying from the booth with Jo-Jo right on her heels.

“Call the police!” Chanté said to you before joining the other girls to help Serena.

“Hurry,” Ari says slapping your shoulders slightly as she got on her knees to watch the situation unfold.

“Trying!” You scream as you as you fiddle through your purse searching for your phone.

“Let go of her asshole!” You hear Kenya scream.

The music is still going but the atmosphere in the club has started to change. You can hear a mumbling break through the crowd. And then the screams started.

“HE’S GOT A GUN!”

It wasn’t the voice of one of your friends it was someone else.

“He’s hurting my sister Pea! What do we do?!” Ari screams.

Your head snaps up to look back to where the situation was unfolding just fast enough to see Chanté fall to the floor holding her cheek.

And while it was an awful sight, it only held your attention for a minute. There wasn’t just one figure over where the girls where, he’d multiplied to at least three or four.

“SOMEONE GET THESE FUCKING LIGHTS ON AND TURN THE GODDAMN MUSIC OFF.”

The command was followed by a rapid succession of gunfire and screams from patrons after. The music went off almost immediately, but the lights were a different story. At least thirty seconds had passed and the lights were still off.

Thinking quickly, you grab Ari’s arm and pull her down with you under the table.

“What are you doing?” She shrieks. “We have to help them!”

“What are we going to do? Think! They have guns” You hiss. “If they don’t see us when the lights come on maybe they won’t know we’re here.”

She looks at you with teary worried eyes and nods her head in agreement, wig shifting slightly.

“While we’re down here we can call the police and tell them what's happening,” You say as level headily as possible, while still searching for your phone.

“What if they kill her, Pea?” She whines her hands coming up to cover her ears as if she was trying to keep her head from spinning, the alcohol likely wasn’t helping.

“They won’t,” You say finally finding your phone and pulling it out. “If they wanted to kill her they just would have shot her.”

She opens her mouth to respond but is startled when the lights of the club finally come back on. The once hazy purple club is sudden lit, almost bone white. The dark table, while still a place of refuge, becomes less bearable as the light reveals the disgusting pieces of gum and other matter that are stuck to the bottom of the piece of furniture. Ari gags when she sees what was under the table that you had all been previously sitting at.  She shakes her head and tries to clear her thoughts.

“We’re going to be okay,” you assure her with a whisper.

You aren’t sure that she hears you, because she either refuses to respond or no longer has the will to.

Shifting your attention back to your phone, you finally begin to dial 911. You press the phone to your ear and wait as the phone rings.

And you wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Until finally, the phone clicks ending the call. You pull the phone away from your ear and your brow furrows angrily when you see that you have no service. But that shouldn’t be, you pay your bills on time and even if you didn’t, shouldn’t you be able to place an emergency call?

“Hey boss,” you hear a deep voice call over the whimpering over the crowd. “I shut the phones off but I think someone tried to get a call off.”

Your shoulders tense, we’re they talking about you? You couldn’t have been the only one who tried to get a phone call off could you? Surely, if they were able, someone would have tried to call the police too. And how could they stop phones from making calls?

“Nothing they can do now,” A voice says rather nonchalantly. “We just gotta wait here until we find a way out.”

“You heard the man!” The first voice yells, “Find a way out of here.”

You can hear at least ten pairs of boot clad feet start to move around, hurriedly looking for an emergency exit.

You want to peak out, to see if you can get a glimpse of your friends, but just as you’re about to make a move to do so a large figure stops in front of your table.

A thick pair of legs clad in dark pants and a pair of steel-toed combat boots are now positioned in front of you. You feel a lump form in your throat as the barrel of some type of military grade weapon dangles precariously between you and the figure in front.

Ari too, seems to see the gun and gets frightened. A small gasp leaves her form before she slaps a hand over her mouth.

You shoot impatient eyes at her and she gives you an apologizing look. Her gaze however, turns fearful as she begins to look past you.

Slowly you turn your head, and find yourself staring face to face with angry green eyes. A gloved hand reaches under the table and pulls you out from underneath. You let out a terrified screech.

“Pea!” Jo-Jo’s voice screams out followed by a grunt of pain.

There is some relief in hearing her voice and knowing that she is safe.

Quickly however, the relief is lost as you are smashed against the attacker’s body, his arm around your neck and his other around your wrist squeezing until your hand was forced to drop the phone that you were holding.

“Found the snitch boss,” he says gruffly.

A black masked figure in the center of the room, lording over a horde of whimpering bodies barley looks at him, “Smash the phone.”

The man brings a large leg up and his foot quickly descends on your phone, smashing the screen to bits.

“Done, boss.”

‘Boss’ seemed like he was going to respond when suddenly the lights in the club shut off. It was pitch black; it was so bad you almost couldn’t see in front of you.

“I thought I told you to get those fucking lights on!”

“They are on Boss! At least that’s what the system says,” another crony screams.

“Shit!” Boss says. “That means one thing! It’s the Bat be on guard!”

“Fuck!” The man holding you says gruffly.

He pulls you tighter against him and situates the two of you so that the gun is in front of the both of you. He’s moving frantically, almost spinning around like he’s looking for a ghost.

His movements get more erratic as there starts to be various moans of pain permeating throughout the room.

“Oh God,” he mumbles, “He’s here, he’s going to kill me.”

“Not likely,” a dark voice growls from behind the pair of you.

The man spins and lets off a few shots in the air, screaming in terror as he does so. The heat of the gun causes you to scream slightly.

There is small movement again and the man shoots. The flash of the muzzle lights up the room in front of you and because of it you are just barely able to make out two objects flying directly at your face. They seem to have a mind of their own as they swing around your face to hit the man behind you.

You fall to the floor but before you can right yourself, your leg is pulled and you’re going sliding across the floor.

“Pea?” An unsure voice questions when you finally come to a stop.

A warm hand finds yours and squeezes slightly.

“Ken?” You question.

“Thank God,” she mumbles, “He saved you!”

You all sit in darkness for what feels like ages the only thing that makes time pass is the occasional grunts of the hostage takers. It was the only sign that what you were experiencing was real, that you had really been saved by the Bat.

Soon a large spotlight is flashed into the club and your mind begins to register the police sirens. Had they been there the whole time?

The light illuminates the club and you’re treated to something of a horror show as police officers begin to rush in and secure the scene.  The bodies, not dead, of most of the attackers are hanging from the ceiling by their arms, legs, and whatever else he could grab to string them up.

The man himself is standing not too far from where you are and looking around the room like he was surveying his work.

A strong hand is grabbing your and pulling you out of the club and you allow yourself to be pulled passively.

“Thank you, Batman!” You say loudly hoping he would hear.

There is only a slight turn of his head to let you know that he heard you.

***

“That was quite an experience, are you sure you’re doing better?” A smooth concerned voice asks looking at you with worried brown eyes.

You meet the eyes of your new therapist, Dr. Campbell. An older black woman that reminds you of your mother with her kind and caring face but also with her cutting advice that cuts as much as it does motivate you.

“I mean I think I’m okay,” you answer with a shrug. “I took that job with Kenya, that’s how I got you. And work is good, it’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

“I asked how you were,” She interrupts looking at you with stern brown eyes.

Your eyes flick away from her, as you suddenly find it hard to meet her gaze and tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Finally, you say, “I thought I was going to die. I thought they were going to use me as shield. I thought I’d wouldn’t get to see my family again. I thought my friends were going to have to watch me die. How am I? I’m horrible.”

A box of tissues is shoved in front of your face. You touch your cheek and realize that tears had been rolling down your cheeks.

“And I thought heroes were supposed to make you feel safe!” You scream out suddenly. “He was just as scary as the guys who held us hostage.”

She looks at you slightly confusedly before something clicks in her head, “Oh, he saved you that night.”

“Yeah he ‘saved’ me,” you say shrugging. “Doesn’t mean that I don’t get nightmares about those little bat things flying at my face.”

“He tries his best,” she says with heavy sigh. “But he does leave a bad taste is some people’s mouths. It's just a part of Gotham living unfortunately.”

“He could at least smile; you’re already having the worst day of your life when saves you”

“Oh sweetie,” she says with a chuckle and a shake of her head. Her shoulder length, gray streaked bob shaking with her, “This is Gotham. If you want someone to smile while they save you move to Metropolis. Here, we take what we can get.”

“I get it,” you say with a relenting sigh. “I guess he fits the city somehow.”

“According to your schedule,” she says as she checks the clock hanging behind you. “We are running out of time.”

“Eleven already?” You mumble earning a chuckle.

“First things first, I want to say that even if you can’t see it you are definitely improving.  You gave me details today that you never mentioned before, and you got through most of the story without crying. You are strong, you survived, and you are going to continue to overcome things that you never thought you would be able to.”

“Thank you,” you say slightly warming inside at the reassurance.

“Secondly, I want to give you some homework. Call a friend, watch a movie, go to brunch,” she says giving you a knowing look. “You have to start getting back out into the world. You can’t let this stop you from living your life.”

“I-, okay I’ll try.”

“Good,” she says standing up and holding out her hand to shake.

You meet her warm hand and shake it only to stumble forward as she pulls you in for a warm hug.

“Good luck today,” She says with a warm smile as she pulls back.

“Thank you,” you say slightly breathlessly and with an airy smile on your face. “I’ll tell you how it goes next week.”

You gather your bag and head for the door.

“E-mail me if you need me,” She calls.

“Will do.”

***

In the small private elevator reserved for the partners of Warner and Bobbitt’s Medical Fabrications, you rocked back and forth on your heels. The coffee that you stopped to get on the way over to the office had done little for your nerves, but at least you felt like you were zooming a million miles a minute. If you were moving fast maybe the rest of the world would speed up too.

As the elevator shot fast up to the 31St floor you started to worry. Was your blouse too tight? The beige pencil skirt too much? An aunt had warned you against wearing fitted clothes like the ones you were wearing now. That your natural shape and curves would distract people from your talent and brain. But you couldn’t exactly show up to this meeting in a sweatshirt and jeans the way that you usually did. After all, this wasn’t your job on the line, it was Kenya’s. The only thing you were confident in was your hair; thick and curly, you’d spent hours to make sure the lusciousness of your hair was on full display. Still was that enough to distract from your nervousness.

Maybe you had time to shoot a quick email to Dr. Campbell?

*Ding*

Too late you’re already here.

With a gulp you step out of the elevator and make your way to the conference room.

The glass is see through, and you can see the familiar tall form of Kenya talking to a group of men in suits. Sometimes you swear that all that sweet talk to get you to take the job was really for her own benefit. It was hard enough being a woman in a corporate power position, but being the only black woman? She must have felt like she had a target on her back. And while you were glad, she trusted you enough to give this job, you weren’t sure what you were going to do if she really did need back up. What if you got tongue tied and couldn’t explain your work?

Kenya catches your gaze and gives you a curt nod and a small professional smile. You take that as your que to come into the room. The door slides open and the chatter momentarily stops. The executives who recognize you turn their attention to the files in their hands.

Kenya’s assistant, Max, quietly moves over to you and hands you a folder with Warner and Bobbitt’s initials on it. Inside you find an itinerary of the meeting. An overview of the project you’d been shadowing and just started work on. It seemed like this was an acquisition meeting. Meaning someone was trying to buy the project even though it was barely out of prototype stages.

“I know that we have gone over the gist of the project gentlemen,” Kenya starts with a smile. “If there are any questions about the programming of the machine or the software, please feel free to ask them to our new lead engineer on the project.”

‘Oh shit that’s me’

Kenya gives you a reassuring smile, “If there are any other questions about anything else having to do with the project please feel free to ask me.”

To your surprise and relief, none of the executives in the room were too concerned about A.I. programming. Did she just bring you here to get your nerves all jumbled up? Clearly the meeting was over, even though you had come at the time that she’d told you to get there. What was Kenya up to?

“Excuse me?”

You jump, your shoulders find their way up to your ears in surprise. The voice is deep and considerably younger than the rest of the men in the room.

Your eyes meet with Kenya’s who has a sly smirk on her face. This is what she wanted?

Stiffly you turn to look back and meet a pair of dazzling blue eyes and wide million-dollar smile.

“Can I ask you a question about how this works?” He says smoothly.

“Huh?” You reply dumbly.

“Sorry,” he says mistaking your awe for contempt. “I’m Bruce Wayne.”

Your words are stuck your throat and your eyes can only go back and forth between his now outstretched and his eyes. Unfortunately, there is only one phrase that comes your mind.

“Son of a Bitch.”