#i guess i’ll tune into leaks every now and then to see what happens to yuuji and megumi

[abbynx]

Juliet and Ophelia (Trish Una X Reader)

Like I said I can't pass up an opportunity to simp for this girl.

So this is a continuation of 'How would the La Squadra family react to you having a crush on the former boss' daughter, Trish Una?'

So yes, this series will be called, "Juliet and Ophelia" A Trish Una X Reader with a dash of found family with La Squadra and the Bucci gang so stay tuned!

Genre: Romance, fluff, wholesome

School. Nothing else to say, the certain word can emit a certain reaction from every individual. Some recoil and wince from the sudden flashbacks rushing into them, embarrassment and shame from all of the stunts they pulled. Some react with a certain fondness within them, lips slightly tugged to the side as the sudden nostalgia just soaks them up. Some, indifference. It's just an establishment wherein an individual attended for a quarter of their life and held nothing against it. To you, it didn't really emit anything from you. As a person who has never attended school, you looked at in an indifferent manner. You've been homeschooled all your life, relying on the knowledge your tutor Melone or sometimes Ghiaccio teaching you. They're good mentors, always took the time to make you feel like they aren't dumping overwhelming amounts of data on you. Additionally, they were extremely mindful of your well-being and made sure to not over-work La Squadra's adopted child. You thought of school as something as that, a school. You have nothing against it at all, nor you feel any sorts of things to it but you can certainly empathize those young people who struggle against it, tiring themselves to no end and are unsatisfied until their unmeetable standards are met. So that's what sums it, you were indifferent towards it... Until you yourself have began to attend it and all you can associate it with would be utmost regret. You didn't know what came up to you when Risotto asked of you if you wanted to live normally, he clarified that again; would you like to start attending school, like any other normal teens your age? Admittedly, home schooling is the norm too, but do you really want assassins educating you all your life instead of spending times with people your age, just enjoying the wonders of life? Ohhh, the entirety of La Squadra does not want you to emulate the same misery they've live to get to this, dear no. Risotto was kind enough to give you time to think about it, his right hand man Prosciutto taking the time to also explain its benefits and negatives. They offered to enroll you to a boarding school, attain a certain normalcy in your life for once. Although it was a boarding school, you can always go home every weekend to see them again. They can try to play it smooth and casual, but you know that they'd be too clingy to let you go. And by that, you accepted for some reason and now you've come to regret it, and can never take it back. You remain unmoving from your desk for the remainder of lunch break, head tilted down and interacted at the most interesting specimen to you, that were the pair of polished black shoes Prosciutto bought you. They were ridiculously expensive for a pair of shoes, but they are durable and pretty to look at, I guess. Just the perks of having a fashionable guy around. It was a dumb sight in hindsight and in an outsider's point of view, but you liked the way it gave out a glimmer when directed in light. Not only that, it's not like you can do anything about your crippling isolation in school. Everyone seems to despise your guts in this damned institution for some reason. You really don't know what they problems were, nor were they willing to confront you about it and instead opted to whisper and laugh at you from behind as you tread pass them. It was so damn unfair that you were one of the most fierce assassins La Squadra Esecuzione has to offer and yet you were easily taken down by a bunch of high schoolers who talked behind your back. You loathed this place. You regretted accepting the offer to study in this god forsaken hell and just wanted to go home. Melone's home education was more than enough, heck his teachings were more advance than the school curriculum has to offer and yet Risotto has insisted for you to experience this period of life for some reason. You've grown up from them, raised by assassins and have experienced the weirdest shit as a Stand User and they still think you need to have a normal high school life? And for what? It's not like there's an underground

organisation ran by students at school where you were needed to play double agent but no-- they insisted you to study things you already knew and compete among students apparently. The lunch packed with food remained untouched in your bag, wherein you planned to just give it to the stray cats and dogs just as you wait for one of La Squadra to pick you up from this damned institution. It's not like you were starving yourself, you were just uninterested to eat at the moment and you really didn't want it to go to waste so why not give it to those who are more in need? You weren't really accustomed to eating alone, as there would always be a member of La Squadra eating with you. These past few weeks felt so full without them that now it's made imminent to you that without them— life can be so colourless, so monochrome, so damn boring. Your crippling sense of loneliness, in addition to your utter unaccustomed self in a new environment made life hell for you in here. It would only be a few, agonising hours until you would be picked up by one of the assassins. At least there you'd get some actual slumber that won't require you to wake up at five o'clock to practically rush towards the school shower rooms and bathe in ice cold water in the middle of dawn for another day in hell. The teacher's lectures remained audible to you, and yet you couldn't seem to properly understand what she was going on about. It was a mere noise, as your eyes would impatiently dart up to meet with the hands of ticking clock, idly zooming by, as your legs bounced at the anticipation of the bell ringing. It was only a matter of a few more hours and yet, you just can't wait to ditch this hellhole for two days. "L/N, are you paying attention?" You jerk your head up from your daydreams with a slight yelp. Your teacher stood indignant, hands on her hips as she raised a questioning brow at you. "Well?" She waits. "Yes, Madam." You nodded. "Then pray tell, what is the common misconception about Mary Shelley's Frankenstein?" She challenged, shifting her weight on one side and awaits for your answer. It was then you noticed all eyes were on you. You knew the answer very well, it was simple really and yet being the centre of attention certainly hindered you from answering as soon as you can. "See? This is why--" "The common misconception regarding the Gothic novel Frankenstein is that often they refer the monster as Frankenstein, when in reality it's the name of the creator of the creature, Doctor Victor Frankenstein." You once remembered Ghiaccio's outburst about that, his shrill voice just ranting on and on about referencing the name incorrectly in modern pop culture. For a moment the teacher looks at you from the tip of her nose, as if to say 'I'll get you next time', before returning to the lesson Well, that was a relief. You released a breathe you've been harbouring, before turning your head yet again to watch the ticking hands of the clock go by and finally have the day done. ~•~ Similarly to your situation, it has come to her attention that she deeply regretted transferring back to school after a year of her absence. It was as if nothing changed, she was the same ol' Trish no one paid attention to, nor cared about. She only existed amidst their faint breathes whispering amongst each other behind her back as she passes by; "Whoop, there is she is again. I don't get why she returned." "Maybe she was pregnant last year." "Omg, really?" And she despises it. She couldn't have a single shit about their thoughts about her, but if they ever dared to spread rumours she wouldn't hesitate to use her connection with the mafia. She tries not to abuse this power, but come on, who wouldn't? At least now, they knew they wouldn't dare to land a hand on her, she has her own Stand now and not only that, her new family wouldn't stand something such as this to happen to her. All she wanted to do was to leave to godforsaken hell hole for two days for the weekend but alas, her pickup person was taking way too long. As much as she wants to stand up,

march forward to her new home with Bruno and the others, she was strictly told to wait for one of them to pick her up. But alas, they were taking too long and the roof of the waiting shed wasn't ideal for a rainy day either, not with its leaky roof, that is. All she can do was to sit on the metallic bench, and dodge dripping water leaking from the roof of the waiting shed. Seated at arm's length away from her, was a classmate of hers. A memory implanted itself on her brain after that one lecture in class, impressed at their quick wit to respond to the teacher's question, even if they paid little to no attention to the lesson apparently. And not to mention, their nonchalance response after proving the teacher correct was admirable. If only she can do something similar of that, she knew she'd be more proud of herself. The pinkette looks up in anticipation at the sound of a vehicle pulling over in front of a waiting shed, but frowned once she sees it wasn't the usual van Bruno rents. It was a black van, with pure black tinted windows and honestly, she'd think it was one of those vans that you'd be afraid of when you see it approaching. The student beside her let out a relieved sigh, and practically skipped off before boarding the van. Trish couldn't help but to sigh out as well, as she was now left alone to wait under the leaky roof. Trish shivered from the cold, before she decided to gather her knees in front of her chest to provide herself warmth from the rain. If only she brought with her the pink umbrella Giorno gifted to her, but alas, she forgot and left it back in the villa they currently reside in. She wanted to disobey them, and just walk home but she had no umbrella and doesn't really want to spend the weekend with her nose clogged and throat sealed with pain, as much as she wants to stay and rest within the villa with her new found family. She wanted to go home, she hated the hell hole and regretted her decision going back to it. As she wallows from her regrettable decision, the van door opens and the students steps out of it. Trish was confused for a moment, but didn't reacted to it, as her gaze remains directed down. For all she knew they don't left something behind, but apparently she was wrong. "Hey, it's pretty cold and you might catch a fever. You can borrow my jacket, here," Trish looked up, shocked to see you holding a black jacket and a light blue umbrella. She was shocked to say the least, but graciously accepts it. "The umbrella is a bit broken, sorry about that—" "N-no, it's enough... T-Thank you..." "You're welcome," they were quick to interact with, before they run towards the van once again and drove off. Trish watches the black van disappear into a turn, before she looks back at the jacket, subconsciously smiling fondly at it. She shrugs the jacket on, as it was slightly loose around her frame, before opening the umbrella above her head. After glancing at the direction from whence your van drove off, the smile on her face never wavered despite her impatience for her pick up person to arrive. ~•~ "So how was school, Y/N?" Risotto asks after a cheery round of laughter at the dinner table. You halted for a moment upon hearing the dreaded s-word being spoken. Thankfully, no one took notice of your reluctant pause and cleared your throat. You went on as normal, as you poke with your food in front of you. "It's good." You hoped that it wouldn't come up but alas, it was inevitable they'd ask that like any other adult talking to a young adolescent.  "Anyone got your attention~?" Illuso teases with his usual lopsided grin, with a mock crone. "Not really." You deadpanned, as you mentally rolled at the idea of liking someone in that school when everyone's been mean to you. "Your asking the wrong question, did you get someone's attention, though?" Melone chimes in. Once again, you mentally scoff at the idea of someone liking you. "Nuh uh." Oh if only they knew. Well now that you think about it, it was better for them not to know. They're highly capable people with strings to

pull and honestly, your classmates hasn't done anything physical to you yet. "Enough about the lovey dovey crap, what's important is that they're learning crap in school like they're supposed to be!" Ghiaccio retorts towards the two. "We're just glad you're enjoying yourself at school." Pesci adds with a warm smile. Another reason you can't tell them about your hatred for school. They were happy for you having that normalcy in your life, something they've never experienced pleasantly. As much as yours wasn't that ideal of a usual high school teen drama in one of those novels, but at least it wasn't as worst as their experience. And honestly, you would do just about anything to see them smile. "OHHH SHIT, Y/N'S SCHEDULED TO WASH THE DISHES!" Formaggio shouts from the kitchen in joy, prompting you to jerk up your seat in shock. The man has the tendancy to trick you into washing dishes sometimes and now that you've grown and realised how naïve you were, you grew more wary of his tricks. "SHUT THE HELL UP, NO WAY—" "YES WAY!" Formaggio returns from the kitchen, holding up the chart of dish washing schedule, before sticking his tongue out at you. "SUCKER!" Truly, you've missed the rampant chaos within your family, a stark contrast against the repetitive schedule in school. It was sheer chaos there too, not gonna lie, but this is a different type. This was the type wherein you felt at home, just smiling as the villa becomes frosted with a thin layer of ice unlike the one in school. You wanted to stay with them, but of course, their main priority was for you to have some sort of normalcy in your life and honestly, if that's what makes them happy you'd be happy to oblige. You are certainly doing great at school, and they're proud of it, it shows... If only Gelato and Sorbet were to see you as well. They may be gone, but you can just imagine them smiling and encouraging you. ~•~ Of course happy days would pass swiftly than its duller counterpart. Happy days were over once Monday hits and you were once again strapped to your seat for the next eight hours, another three hours by the library to get the Mount Everest high school work due to tomorrow, before curling up against the corner of your bed staring off into the abyss until slumber has taken a liking to you and claim you within its embrace and then somehow, someway, you would be then pulled from your sweet escape by a shrill bell from your bedside table, before you would inevitably glare at the blaring alarm clock, slam your hand against it before attempting to regain about five more minutes of sleep— only then to remember how things function in this seventh circle of hell as it was enough to convince you to get up and march towards your dresser with your stuff and head to the shower room. Needless to say, you've got the school schedule memorised by now. Even the usual discord occurring from time to time began to bore you. Nothing much really happened in school, you were just slowly deteriorating from boredom and by home sickness... Once gain, just goes to show how much you missed your chaotic little assassin family. You set yourself by your desk with a sigh, just wanting to get through this place without wanting to wreak havoc within the school premises that will prompt a bad mark on your pristine records. Not that you cared, it's just that Prosciutto will surely bitch about once he catches a glimpse of it and make an hour-long lecture about it. You let out an exhausted sigh for the umpteenth time, slumping against your desk with your eyes closed when suddenly a figure stands in front of your table. You immediately straightened your back and tried your best to look alive, before glancing up at her. "Oh hey, what's up?" You instinctively asked to swerve yourself away from the awkward silence, smiling up to the pinkette. "Hi, thank you for lending me you cost and umbrella. If it weren't for them I would've caught a cold back there." She hands you your jacket and umbrella back, in which you graciously accepted. "You're welcome, Miss Una— I-um—" you

stammered, your hands brushing against hers once you've reached to collect your neatly folded, pressed and newly washed jacket, along with your light blue umbrella. It was the heat of the moment when you gave her those following items and felt sorry for the girl, concerned about the dripping rain and the cold, humid air. "It's no problem." "Please no need for formalities, we're the same age. Just call me Trish." She insists. "There's the cafe in front of campus. I'll see you there after classes, my treat. It's the least I can do to show you my gratitude." "Uhhh, of course." For a moment it didn't process that the café she was referring to was an expensive one. The posh, fancy, the Prosciutto's to-go-to type of thing that charges an arm and a leg just to buy a shot of espresso, and they'd charge you your pair of kidneys if you asked for sugar and cream. Money wasn't a problem now that the boss was actually considerate, but why in all nine circle's of hell did you not insist her not to treat you? Well now's too late, as class has started and she's trudged back to her desk. Aside from the expensive coffee shop... Wow, you never thought that your encounter with her would expand to this type of interaction. At the back of your mind screamed wary, but something stronger in you just found this as a perfect opportunity for a friendship to bloom. She seems like a nice girl and quite frankly, she'd be lovely to spend time with. Like the weeks before spending your time in school, you gaze up to the clock as always, excited for something new other than weekends to go back to the La Squadra villa. This time, you were excitedly anticipating the time after class to meet with the lovely pinkette. Something good will happen, I just feel it!

[cobraghost]

STUDY: BJC & HIS PERSONAL MUSIC

it occurs to me i never shared  a headcanon on Billy Joe’s more personal music, the kind of tracks that would never have seen the light of day. so here, i’ll elaborate real quick for those who are interested.

basically. i hc that to cope with the shallow poppy trash his record label makes him push out ( even if he's still defensive abt it he isn't fond of how generic and shallow he has to make it ) he starts producing songs tht are much more emotionally charged / sad in private. 

they are LARGELY consisting of the following subject material: making fun of pop songs, his failed and cut off relationships ( romance or even just friendships included ), how lonely it is at the top for him, how he feels he's nothing without fame, body dysmporphia, EDs, addictions, being used and abandoned repeatedly, things that happened to him -- traumatic things -- that I won’t be delving into here, but are just horrific....

 The list goes on. He has a lot of issues that he hides from the public, and you’d never guess in your life that he was this fucked up. His public mask is just THAT strong.  But music is his only outlet, so .. he’ll just record a lot of vent stuff like that, on the fly or fully produced if he needs to get all his frustrations and such out.

it's a side of him that's never seen by the public, and everyone honestly believed he was all peaches and gravy ( minus his concerning actions he  did for attention and shit. ) ..... until  about seven years after he's died, when all these private tracks leak once spence encourages billy to let em be released. before that, he never let anyone hear them -- where he usually LOVES letting people hear his tunes, these are songs that he is very apprehensive about letting play. Especially when he knows what emotions they’re charged with-- he doesn’t want anyone to be fucked up from it... But it would be both a good way to be put in the spotlight, AND to expose a hidden side that Spencer wanted to expose Hollywood for. 

So, they released it. 

To nobody’s surprise. every single one topped charts. Of course -- nothing less for the Cobra’s music! but man, are they fuckin' sad and hollow. most of it is piano or acoustic guitar music, but he still fully produces them.  they sound along the lines of "so soon”, the song "ever after" by MT, or "dying in LA".

when these songs were released to the public, however ... with the billions of fans of his, you better fucking believe this sent the whole world spiralling into a deep depression as they charted the tops for a few weeks. It was the rawest emotions from BJC anyone’s EVER heard. MOST of the songs the public had were shallow and intended to influence people to love him, or to flex -- but this added a whole dimension of depth that the world never got to see.  It started to make people think more ... like, sympathetically? He was thrust into the spotlight again for a little while, talks on social media analyzing how rough stardom is. How rough being a child star was -- uncovering the abuse from hollywood he had to grow up with, the things he had to do to get to the top.

needless to say, it was devestating . it was as though the world mourned a second time for the Cobra, but not for the loss of his talent -- this time, for the loss of a frustrated man who’s life was only just beginning. they mourned the person he never got to be in life rather than a brand, a status, as they had before. but thanks to him, i’d like to think people started getting more critical of the way pop /  rock / child stars are treated by the public. And though his death was tragic, it set into motion new laws to protect them, to try and assure that a hollywood soldier like Billy was never created again. His life was as horrificly sad as it was glamourous. Now, thanks to his music?

Nobody will ever have to live the way he did again just to get to the top.

[zackcollins]

love you like there’s no tomorrow || mitch marner

masterlist

Author’s Note: Hi! I know it’s been a while and I apologize for that. I’ve just been in a rough spot mentally so I’ve been having a difficult time focusing on writing. The words haven’t really been flowing, ya know? I’ve been having a better time focusing on playing video games because that numbs my mind more and makes me have to think less and less about what’s going on around me. Anyways... I hope that didn’t feel too real for anyone or depress them too much. sorry if it did. I didn’t mean to upset you. GIF credit to naivelystan!

Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything. But feel free to let me know if you disagree. As always, I’ll happily add a warning for something if you feel something needs to be warned about!

Word Count: 3.6k+

Title: Nobody by Dylan Scott

Additional: Even though the reader is portrayed as being a goaltender for the Leafs, they are gender-neutral! This is my fic and I do what I want. I hope you guys are okay with that. Enjoy this and let me know if you have any ideas for future fics. My ask box is always open for requests!

It was a television timeout nearing the end of the third period. You had skated over to the bench to see if the goalie coach had any advice for you. When he shook his head at your asking, you nodded in approval and turned to your teammates. 

 Mitch, who was sitting right in front of you, immediately pointed behind his goaltender. You lifted your mask and turned to see what was there. You saw a couple of the in-arena employees looking at you, both of whom quickly turned away when they noticed that you were looking at them. You weren't certain but you thought you saw a blush rise on one of their cheeks.

 You raised an eyebrow as you turned back to Mitch.

 “What was that about?” You asked. You took your bottle out of your glove and squirted it over your face, shaking off the excess liquid. 

 “What do you mean ‘what was that about?’” Mitch asked, looking at you quizzically. “The in-arena staff look at you all the time.”

 “I mean, yeah? I do play on this team.”

 Hutch reached over and swatted you with his glove. You looked over at the other goaltender and frowned. “What was that for, Hutch?”

 “They look at you because you’re attractive, you idiot,” Hutch said, rolling his eyes. “That girl Mitch pointed out was talking to her friend about asking you out for drinks after the game.”

 You felt your face heat up as you skated back to the crease. You glanced over to where the girls had been. When you met their gaze, one of them winked at you and the other waved and smiled toothily. You did your best to smile in return but you were fairly certain it came across as awkward or goofy. You certainly knew that your stomach felt awkward or goofy from that exchange, though you couldn’t exactly pinpoint if it was from excitement or from the strange look you could see on Mitch’s face as he lined up for the faceoff to your left. Sighing, you pushed those feelings aside and focused on tracking the puck after Edmonton won the draw.

 The puck cycled along the boards for a few minutes, leaving your teammates hemmed in their zone for a long shift. You heard T.J. say something about how he had been out there for close to two minutes and that everyone else was in a similar boat. You took a deep breath and leaned around Leon, Alexander, and Joe to try to see the puck where Tyson had it at the point. Alexander tapped your left pad, which was the telltale sign that the shot was coming to that side. You mumbled a quick thanks as you readied yourself in the crease. 

 When the shot came, it hit Joe’s ankle and shifted to the right. You stretched your pad and goal stick in that direction hoping that either would make contact with the puck. You looked over after a moment and noticed that the play had continued on to the corner boards. You blinked as you assumed proper positioning to watch the play progress.

 ice save.” You glanced over your shoulder and noticed the referee, Graham Skilliter, standing behind the net. “That’ll make some highlight reels for the next month or so.”

 “Oh,” You said, shifting to the other side of the net to follow the play. “Thanks, bud. It must’ve hit my stick because I didn’t realize I saved it.”

 Edmonton turned the puck over to Hyman who tried to exit the zone but got Tyler Ennis’ stick directly to the skates. He fell and the puck instead skittered over to Mitch who passed it back to Justin, who was standing only about five or six feet in front of your goal crease.

 “I’m sure there'll be a replay on the Jumbotron in about two seconds. Furlatt is calling Ennis for a trip as soon as Edmonton touches the puck again.”

 You nodded and not two seconds later Eric Furlatt blew his whistle because Ethan Bear had touched the puck. You turned to grab his bottle, taking a quick squirt through the cage on your mask. When you turned back around, you glanced up at the Jumbotron. The save was replayed from three different angles, all of which made it look more impressive than the last. You felt a small sense of pride wash over you as you shifted your attention from the video to the score clock. It told you that there were barely over three minutes left in the game. You took a deep breath and readied yourself, even though the faceoff was in Edmonton's end of the ice.

 As soon as the puck dropped, Wayne cycled it around to Jason who passed it back to T.J. T.J. toed the blueline for a moment before he found a lane to shoot. The red light behind Mike Smith lit up and the powerplay unit swarmed T.J. at the sideboards. You banged your stick against the ice a few times as you watched everyone skate down the bench for their fist bumps. T.J. skated over to you, tapping both of your pads with his stick.

 "Figured you needed a goal to win the game," T.J. said, chuckling. "Can't finish a game nill, nill. This isn't soccer."

 You tapped the seat of T.J.'s pants with your goal stick, smiling and chuckling. "Thanks there, bud. I'll do my best to make it count."

 T.J. smiled, leaning in to press his helmet against yours. "That's all any of us ask, bud. For you to try your best. We love you regardless. Mitch especially. I hope you know that."

 A large knot had formed in your throat so all you could do was nod and smile weakly; you hoped that T.J. found that sufficient enough thanks. When T.J. smiled and squeezed your shoulder, you got your answer.

 "What's…" you coughed, clearing your throat. "What's taking them so long to drop the puck?"

 "Smith tweaked something in his knee and needed the training staff to go attend to him."

 "T.J.! (Y/N)! We're ready!" Bogosian called from somewhere behind them.

 "Remember, we're proud of you." T.J. tapped his helmet against yours one last time before skating back to the bench.

 As you readied yourself in the net, you swallowed every emotion that had surfaced during that conversation with T.J. You didn't need to have a breakdown about this right now. Not while you were trying to preserve a 1-0 lead with two minutes fifty-eight seconds left in the game. You could have a breakdown about this when you were in the comfort of your bed at home.

 The last two fifty-eight went by in a blur. You couldn't even tell anyone anything that happened, save for the fact that Edmonton didn't score. How they didn't score, you didn't know. You were almost on autopilot because of how unsuccessful you had been at trying to push your emotions aside. They had crept back in and they were all you were thinking about, no matter how much you should've been focusing on the game. But you were only human. And humans aren't always going to be one hundred percent invested in their job, no matter how much they love it.

 When the team swarmed you at the end of the game, you felt overcome with emotions. It had been an incredibly long time since hockey had made you have such positive overwhelming feelings. Being with Toronto was more than you could've ever hoped for. They loved you more than you could've ever hoped for; you loved them more than you could've ever hoped for. You and the Toronto Maple Leafs were a match made in Heaven.

 "(Y/N), hey," Mitch said, placing his hands on your shoulders. "Why're you crying, bud?"

 "Hmm?" You mumbled, only half tuned into your surroundings. "What was that, Mitchy?"

 "Crying. Why're you doing it?"

 "I'm no--" you stopped when you realized that your eyes were watering and leaking. "Oh. I guess I am, aren't I?"

 "Is everything okay? You're, like, the most brave dude ever. Seeing you crying makes me want to cry." Mitch frowned, grabbing your glove as you both skated off the ice.

 Once you both were down the tunnel, Mitch led you into the empty trainer's room, closing the door behind you. You sat in one of the office chairs and Mitch knelt in front of you, sliding his gloves off and placing them at your feet. Mitch hovered his hands over your pad straps and glanced up at you; you removed your helmet before nodding your approval.

 As Mitch unlaced the straps, you slid your hands out of your glove and blocker. You placed them in your lap, running a hand through your hair and shaking it loose of sweat when it came out.

 Mitch moved your pad off, placing it on the ground to his left. He moved his hand down to your skate, carefully working on unlacing the boot.

 "I asked you a question, ya know," Mitch said without looking up.

 "You did?" You replied, genuinely confused. "I must've zoned out between getting off the ice and now because I don't remember what it was."

 Mitch patted your knee before he slid your skate off. He placed the skate sideways on top of the pad before moving his attention to the straps of your other pad.

 "I'm not mad at you. You did look really out of it." Mitch fumbled with one of the straps, cursing sharply as he tried to unlace it. When it finally came unlaced, Mitch flipped it off and stuck his tongue out at it. "Fuck you, you stupid strap."

 You scoffed and kicked Mitch with your socked foot. Mitch looked up and stuck his tongue out at you.

 "This is why I never became a goalie," Mitch mumbled as he went back to unlacing the straps. 

 A few moments passed, filled only by Mitch cursing obscenely at your pad straps. Once the last strap was unlaced and the pad was off and to Mitch's side, Mitch puffed his chest before reaching down to start unlacing your other skate.

 "Anyways. I asked you before if everything was alright. You were crying and you never cry."

 You swallowed thickly, running a hand through his hair.

 "Ye… Yeah. I'm grand, bud," you said, though you knew even a dead man could hear that you were lying.

 Mitch looked up, pursed his lips, and raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"

 "Ye… no. No, I'm not sure." You slouched in the chair, dropping your head into your hands. "A few things that happened in the period confounded me at the end there."

 Mitch placed your skate sideways on your other pad before he stood from his kneeling position. He motioned his hands up a couple of times. You got the hint, raising your arms above your head. Mitch grabbed your helmet, glove, and blocker and placed them on one of the pads. When he turned back to you, he lifted your jersey over your head, draping it over the back of the chair. Mitch then unhooked your chest protector and dropped it atop your goalie pads. Once all of your equipment was out of the way (save for your pants), Mitch sat in your lap and wrapped his arms around your neck. You swallowed a nervous breath as you wrapped your arms around Mitch's midsection.

 "Care to share what those things were?" Mitch asked, burying his head in the crook of your neck. "I'm willing to listen to whatever the problem is."

 You nodded, clearing your throat. "After Hutch said that girl wanted to ask me for drinks, I made eye contact with her and her friend on my way back to the crease." You felt Mitch's heartbeat falter a little. To compensate for that, you ran your hands slowly along Mitch's ribcage. "Something weird fluttered in my stomach. I'm just not sure if it was from her winking and her friend waving or from you looking like you wanted to murder someone after seeing what they did."

 "Mmm," Mitch mumbled, his heartbeat faltering a little more. "I know what I want the answer to be."

 You ignored Mitch and continued with your explanation. "Then, at the end of the period, I was overcome by the fact that there's no place I'd rather be than in Toronto." Mitch's heartbeat began to even out a little after you said that. You hummed as you reached up and unlatched Mitch's helmet, sliding it off and dropping it at Mitch's feet. You pressed a soft kiss on Mitch's forehead; Mitch's heartbeat suddenly spiked again. You brought your hands down and ran them softly along Mitch's ribcage. "You guys all love me more than I could've ever hoped for; I love you guys more than I could've ever hoped for."

 "Some more than others." Mitch's voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke. His heartbeat had taken to a sporadic beat, almost as if he was nervous or scared of something.

 "What is that--" you started.

 "What did T.J. tell you?" Mitch cut you off, lifting his head to look at his goaltender.

 "Oh, uh…" you mumbled. "All anyone could ask of me was that I tried my best. And that everyone loves me. You especially. But what does--"

 Mitch's only response was to grab your face and pull you in for a kiss. You startled but made no move to push Mitch away. The kiss only lasted a few moments before Mitch pulled back and swatted the back of your head.

 "That. That's what it has to do with anything."

 You felt your entire face and the tips of your ears burn red-hot as you sat there and looked at Mitch. Mitch rolled his eyes and patted your cheek

 "(Y/N), Christ," Mitch said, dropping his head back into the crook of your neck. "I've been flirting with you for months. How have you not noticed yet?"

 "Flirting with me for months…?" You replied, scratching your chin. "Since when?"

 Mitch giggled, vibrating against you. "Every morning when I bring you your coffee."

 "But you--"

 "No, I really don't," Mitch mumbled. "I only bring everyone else coffee after they've asked me to. I bring you your coffee when I buy mine on the way to the arena because I know your order by heart."

 "T-"

 "Two sugar, oat milk, caramel and hazelnut shots. Yeah., bud, I know."

 You ran a hand through Mitch's hair, stopping briefly to soothe his scalp. Mitch hummed, nuzzling closer to you.

 "I know that you like your post-game shower to be exactly seventy degrees and not a degree warmer or colder."

 "Mitchy, I--"

 "Not done yet."

 You promptly shut your mouth and returned to soothingly running your hands along Mitch's ribcage.

 "I know basically nothing makes you angry. Save for people that don't know how to use their signals properly when they're driving."

 "Pisses me off to no end."

 "I know, bud. I know," Mitch mumbled, pressing a kiss to your neck. "You also laugh like a moron at those stupid cat videos on YouTube. And just stupid things cats do in general."

 You chuckled, running a hand through Mitch's hair. "Cat people see cats doing stupid things and we have to laugh. It's the law. Sue me if you don't like it."

 "I never said I didn't like it, you goober."

 "Yeah, yeah Mitchy."

 Mitch hummed, squeezing you tightly. You smiled and squeezed back. Mitch wiggled around a little and hummed some more. He huffed a breath after a moment and curled in on himself. He mumbled something that you didn't hear, prompting you to card your fingers through Mitch's hair.

 "What was that, baby?" You asked, pressing a kiss to Mitch's temple.

 "Said I was gonna love you until the good Lord comes to collect us."

 You froze, staring down at Mitch. "You… you don't even believe all that strongly in God, Mitch."

 "You're right, but I believe that you believe. And that's good enough for me."

 "Mitch, I--"

 "I said I loved you, by the way. Or did you miss that?"

 "Wha…? Oh! Yeah! Sorry," you said, distantly. "It's been a while since I've been someone. Sorry if I'm rusty."

 Mitch chuckled, his breath tickling your neck. "It's fine, (Y/N). I knew it had been a while. That's why I didn't come right out and tell you how I felt. I wanted you to figure it out on your own so you could have enough time to decide if you were ready to date again."

 "Mitch…" you trailed off after your words caught in your throat. You took a moment to gather yourself before continuing. "Of course I'm ready to date again. Nobody is ever gonna love me as you do, baby. You already love me more than my last few partners."

 Mitch sniffled, wiggling around in your lap. You ran your hands along Mitch's ribcage and pressed a kiss to his temple. "It's okay, baby. You're safe with me."

 "I'm gonna love you the only way I know how, (Y/N)," Mitch mumbled, his voice strained at wet. "And that's by doing actionable things. Like bringing you your coffee every morning. Or remembering what temperature you like your post-game shower."

 "Whatever you need to do, I'm okay with. If it makes you happy, it makes me happy."

 Mitch let out a sigh that was soon followed by soft, even breaths that sounded like snoring. You ran your hands along Mitch's hipbone and whispered sweet nothings into his temple. Mitch huffed but didn't awaken. You smiled and pressed a soft kiss where you had been whispering. Mitch mumbled nonsense and smiled in his sleep. A small smile washed across your face as you continued to run your hands along Mitch's hipbone.

 Mitch had been asleep in your lap for ten or fifteen minutes when the door of the trainers' room swung open. Justin was standing on the other side, a relieved look on his face.

 "There you tw--" Justin started.

 Mitch huffed, shifting in your lap. You looked up at Justin and gave him a death glare.

 "Quiet. He's sleeping," you said, voice hushed but stern.

 Justin chuckled, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest. "Does that mean you finally got your head out of your ass and noticed that Mitch is in love with you?"

 You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. "How many of you knew?"

 "Literally everyone. Except you. Even T-Bear knew. And he's an Oiler now."

 You shook your head and chuckled weakly. "For a goalie, I have a hard time seeing what's right in front of me."

 T.J. appeared beside Justin and smiled triumphantly. "There you are! Keefe is going crazy looking for you and--" T.J. paused and blinked when he noticed what was really in front of him. "Keefe told me Mitch would be with you. But did I believe him? No. Idiot, I am."

 "Yeah, yeah," you mumbled. "I finally got my head outta my ass so Mitch and I are dating now."

 "We… we are…?" Mitch chimed in, his voice groggy from sleep.

 You looked down at Mitch and kissed his forehead. "Yes, baby. We are. I'm gonna love you like there's no tomorrow."

 Mitch lit up as he reached up and grabbed your face to pull you in for a kiss. You smiled into the kiss, holding onto Mitch's jersey for traction. When you both pulled apart, Justin and T.J. were smiling softly at you from the doorway.

 "We'll tell Keefe we found you," T.J. said, turning around. "But we'll also tell him that our starting goalie and Mitch finally unstuck their heads from the holes in their asses so they need some private time."

 "Th… thanks, Teej," you said, your face and the tips of your ears burning red-hot.

 T.J. turned back long enough to smile before walking away. Justin watched him walk away before he turned back to you and Mitch. He smiled fondly at you both as he pushed off of the door frame.

 "I should get back too," Justin said, motioning over his shoulder. "I don't need Keefe mad at me next." He smiled as he took two steps down the hallway.  "Just know everyone--myself included--is proud of you for tonight's game, (Y/N). You did amazing." Justin walked away but stopped just before the end of the hallway and turned around. "Congratulations on the relationship as well. Everyone is gonna be so stoked for you two.."

 "Thanks, Hollsy," you and Mitch mumbled at the same time as you both watched Justin walk away.

 Once Justin was out of sight, Mitch looked up at you and smiled fondly. You looked down at Mitch and returned the fond smile. You both stared into each other's eyes for a few moments just gazing at the fondness and pure emotion you could each see staring back at the other. When you both looked away, you brought one of your hands up and cupped Mitch's chin, tilting it up and bringing your lips together with Mitch's.

 While they kissed, you felt your entire world coming together. You were happy in Toronto because you loved everyone here more than you could've possibly imagined. Because you loved Mitch more than you could've possibly imagined. You were happy here because everyone loved you more than you could've possibly imagined. Because Mitch loved you more than you could've possibly imagined.

 Everything about Toronto was perfect because everything about Toronto involved Mitch. Mitch was everything to you. You were willing to admit that. Even if it had taken you a while to realize that in the first place. 

 Mitch was everything to you and you were going to love him like there was no tomorrow.

[monsterywriting]

Maledos - pt 1

masterlist

This is a rewrite. Read the original parts here, here and here

word count: 7,381 (!!!)

AN: i have really wanted to finish this story, but the original wasn’t really well planned out (and reading my old writing was :/) SO i decided to make one GIANT rewrite of the originals and continue from there. i mostly added on to what was already there with some minor changes so the story would make more sense and just add some extra bits :) the originals will be taken off the master list but will still be linked here.

Everything burned as you raced through the streets of your neighborhood, frantically searching for your dog. Your legs and lungs were screaming from the workout you’d only just finished and your eyes stung with the threat of tears from your panic.

Of course Pumpkin would take off after the two of you had just come back from running on the park trails, only seconds away from entering the safety of your apartment building when a car backfired nearby and scared her.

You called her name out in desperation, though you knew she was probably long gone from the area. You had only just moved into the city recently and neither her or you were familiar enough with the area to not get lost.

You bit your thumbnail anxiously. Pumpkin wouldn’t last a minute out on the streets by herself, exposed to the elements. She was sensitive, scared of her own shadow when it was cast on a wall. Not to mention, the weather forecast for the night called for thunderstorms, dark clouds already gathering overhead to block the afternoon sun.

“Hey, kid, need some help?”

You almost don’t realize the stranger is talking to you, too preoccupied in your own worry to pay much attention to your surroundings. Once you do, however, you’re too relieved at the display of kindness to correct the tiefling that you were actually an adult.

Your potential savior towered over you, well over 6’ even without including his horns that curled back over his head, average for a tiefling but giant in comparison to your short figure. His skin was a fiery red and he was dressed in all black - a nice dress shirt tucked into slim-fitting trousers that accentuated his buff figure nicely. The most striking part of his outfit, however, was the leather biker jacket with an unfamiliar emblem of a stag surrounded by brambles. Had you been in your right mind, you may have also taken in his short-cropped black hair, bright yellow eyes, strong nose and jawline, nice full lips - in short, handsome, model-like, statuesque, hot, all terms you may have used to describe him if you weren’t preoccupied with finding your dog.

He also looked fairly annoyed with you, though you decided to attribute it as his resting face since he had obviously taken the time to come out of his way to stop and help you.

“Uhm- yes, my dog, Pumpkin,” you explained breathlessly, hardly able to focus as you continued to look around for a familiar flash of fur, “she took off while I was unlocking my apartment building’s door! We just got back from the park!”

Maledos appraised the tiny human with an eyebrow raised. He was still debating whether to actually go out of his way for you, his question more rhetorical than anything else, expecting the person to wave away a stranger rather than roping them into their problem.

Based on the owner, however, he figured ‘Pumpkin’ was a chihuahua. Or a Pomeranian; something small and fluffy that surely couldn’t have gotten far. It wouldn’t take long to find the little rascal, so he didn’t mind potentially being a few minutes late to work.

“I’ll walk with you and help you look,” he offered. You certainly didn’t look like you were a resident of the neighborhood, and at the grateful look you gave him as you eagerly accepted, you had probably been worried about wandering around the predominantly orcish neighborhood alone.

Maledos came to regret not minding his own business, however, as those few minuets stretched into an hour of searching every single alleyway, dumpster and parked car they came across and he had long since missed the window to get out of this mess. Valbaugh was definitely going to kill him once he finally showed up. 

You, on the other hand, were laser-focused on finding your dog, nervously looking up at the darkening sky every so often and hoping that she was hunkered down somewhere and not running in the busy intersections.

After entering yet another alley while you checked under parked cars, Maledos squatted down to look under a store’s dumpster, careful not to get his shoes or pants in any of the unidentifiable dumpster juice leaking from a crack in the metal but eventually forced to place his hands on the pavement to peer underneath the gap, internally cursing at the definite crease in his leather shoes. He stood up, glancing down the mostly empty alley and catching a glimpse of brown fur disappearing behind some smaller trashcans.

Praying its your dog and not a stray so he can leave, Maledos approaches, intent on grabbing the dog and swiftly returning it to you. Moving the trashcan and expecting to see a tiny fluff ball, his gaze was instead met with that of a giant pitfall, its expression decidedly murderous. Its muscles flexed impressively underneath its reddish-brown pelt and its studded pink leather harness only added to the fearsome image before him. He scrambled out of the way, about to yell at you to run when you suddenly let out a screech and called out Pumpkin’s name again, this time in joy, crouching down and holding your arms open.

The pit ran past him and barreled into you, nearly knocking you over with the force of the collision. Standing up, you lifted Pumpkin with barely a grunt - an impressive feat in and of itself - and peppered her face with kisses as Maledos stood awkwardly out of the way of the touching reunion. 

Finally setting the dog down, you grabbed the leash that had been trailing behind her and began thanking Maledos profusely as the two of you walked down the street and back to your starting point.

“Thank you again,” you repeated as you walked your now definite savior, sincere in your gratitude even if he’d been a grouch the entire time, “I only moved here a month ago and I was so worried I’d get lost!”

You gestured to the specific building down the road, evidently having no issue with telling him your address. In fact, the entire time Maledos had been with you alone in isolated parts of the neighborhood, you didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the fact that he, a complete stranger, may well have been a serial killer.

But more pressingly, Maledos realized the apartment building you pointed to was his own. Another surprise - you were apparently his neighbor.

As Maledos tuned out your rambling, he took the time to fully examine you. You obviously weren’t a little kid as Maledos had originally thought, but were incredibly short - you couldn’t be more than 5’. You were dressed in workout clothes, which was to be expected if you had just left the park as you told him. You spoke animatedly, your eyes and facial expression giving away every fluctuation in emotion while your hands waved about, even as he didn’t pay attention, he could guess you were recounting the moments leading up to you losing your dog - who was walking calmly in between you and him with her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth, seemingly the exact opposite of her spaz of an owner.

“I just don’t know how to repay you,” you finished as you finally reached the front of the apartment building, gulping down a deep breath before looking expectantly at Maledos.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said gruffly, continuing down the street in the direction he’d originally been going before the over hour-long deviation from his routine. Glancing at the time, he realized just how much time had elapsed and cursed under his breath, Valbaugh no doubt fuming at the bar.

“Well, I hope to see you around!” You called after him, certain he didn’t catch your name even as you shouted it as loudly as you dared in a residential neighborhood.

Maledos doesn’t turn around, not bothering to acknowledge your friendliness, knowing you wouldn’t last long in the neighborhood - no matter how tough your dog looked.

You, meanwhile, turn to look down at Pumpkin, the dog whining as she pulled on her leash to go inside. You quickly acquiesce, rushing to unlock the door just as the first raindrops began to fall on the sidewalk where you’d just been standing.

It wasn’t until after you reached your apartment and threw yourself on your bed in exhaustion that the gravity of the entire situation hit you. You could have lost Pumpkin for far longer than the time it took to find her had that tiefling not found her. And only now did you realize you never caught his name, though as you hugged Pumpkin close in your bed with emotional tears streaming down your face, you felt incredibly indebted to him, whoever he was.

You don’t remember falling asleep like that, though you must have as you’re forcibly shaken awake by your roommate facedown on your bed with your shoes still on your feet hanging off the edge and Pumpkin stretched out along your side. In your surprise, you suddenly shot up, effectively scaring the daylights out of Kharza, which in turn scared Pumpkin passed out next to you.

Checking your phone, you were shocked to find it was already 4 o’clock in the afternoon and outside your window the storm was in full force, the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance as giant raindrops sounding like hail pelted the windows.

Kharza flicked your forehead and pouted as her other hand reached over to scratch Pumpkin’s ear to soothe her, “Don’t scare me like that! What the hell happened to you? I’ve been calling you all afternoon.”

“Pumpkin got spooked by some car backfiring today and took off,” you explained, apologizing before getting into the whole spiel of what had transpired, wondering just how much to reveal to Kharza of the grumpy tiefling who came to your aid in case it made for an awkward interaction later, “Somebody did stop and help me, though. I don’t know if he lives nearby but if it wasn’t for him I probably wouldn’t have found Pumpkin.”

Kharza’s expression had grown increasingly grim as she absorbed the story, concerned about what could have happened to either one of you while running around the city’s busy streets alone. Rather than lecture you for not being more careful when you were so clearly shaken up about what had happened still, Kharza instead turned to Pumpkin and mock-scolded her in a baby voice, making you laugh at Pumpkin getting excited by Kharza’s tone alone.

You’ve known the half-orc since you were both in diapers, growing up in the same small town together - and keeping in touch even after she went to college in the much larger city - meant that she knew how important Pumpkin was to you and exactly what you needed to relieve the tension you felt.

“I’m glad you found her quickly,” Kharza said as she got up and walked to your bedroom door, “but hurry up and jump in the shower. We’re going out for drinks tonight.”

“What about the rain?” You asked, looking out the window at the seemingly endless torrent. You couldn’t even see the street below through the thick sheet of rain.

“I already checked the weather. It should be done by 7 so we can head out at 10,” Kharza insisted confidently, “I need a drink after being called in on a Saturday and you need to get out of your little new resident bubble. Bring out the party animal you from our high school days, huh?”

You chuckled along at the memory, somewhat embarrassed but acquiescing with her invitation out, knowing that despite coming out as a demand, she would have no problem if you declined. You supposed Kharza was right in that you had been in something of a slump since moving to the city and away from home - not going anywhere besides your job, the park with Pumpkin and the apartment. You didn’t know anyone here, and hadn’t really made the effort to get to know them.

You thought once you started your job you could get to know your co-workers, but the office you worked at was much larger than you thought and the cubicles kept everyone fairly separate, making it hard for you to really get friendly with anyone. Tonight would be the perfect opportunity for you to meet Kharza’s other friends and perhaps make some of your own.

Still, you were apprehensive standing in front of your closet wrapped only in your towels just hours later. It had taken you hours to convince yourself that Pumpkin would be okay alone, the thunderstorm long past and snoring loudly on your bed after going out to use the bathroom, and now you couldn’t help but agonize over what to wear. On one hand, it was your first time going out with Kharza in a long while and you wanted to go all out. On the other, you didn’t want to be stuck wearing uncomfortable clothes all night long.

Finally, you decided to go halfway, picking out a nice top but comfortable jeans, nice shoes but slipping an extra pair of sneakers into your bag just in case. Once you’re satisfied with your pick in clothes, you decided to leave your hair as it was out the shower, only blowdrying it briefly without brushing it out.

With your outfit complete, you grabbed your bag and keys and went out into the living room where Kharza was waiting to head out, though not before you both hyped the other’s outfit. She thankfully also went with a more casual outfit, wearing a pink crop top with a short jean skirt and black heeled boots. Her long, dark hair flowed down her back in loose waves, untamed but not entirely wild, which it usually was when she took it out her work braid. Kharza had been in the process of putting on her jean jacket to complete her look when you exited your room, and as soon as she was ready, you both left.

“What’s the name of the place again?” You asked as you both walked down the empty sidewalk looking for what Kharza claimed was ‘the best bar in town’ and ‘just down the street.’

“The sign doesn’t really match the name, but it’s named after the owner,” Kharza explained, directing you to cross the street at an intersection, “Mal’s.”

You heard the place before you saw it, the patio completely full even after the sudden rain left everything drenched. Though what made your drop was when you approached and recognized the sign, the familiar crest with the stag surrounded by brambles.

You kept your mouth shut, however, as Kharza led you inside through the crowd to a large corner filled with people of all kinds - a couple of orcs and elves, a satyr and a dryad who jumped up smiling and immediately enveloped you in a hug as Kharza introduced you to everyone else.

After brief introductions, you and Kharza head to the bar and you somehow managed to order your favorite beer from the absolutely colossal orc bartender despite the place being completely hammered.

Once you both return to the booth cradling your drinks, you get settled at the edge across from Kharza, you quickly get comfortable, engaging in the conversation with ease, the coincidence of the sign slipping from your mind as you laughed along with everyone.

Kharza always said you had a knack for making friends ever since you insisted on being her friend even when everyone else in kindergarten was wary of her as a half-orc and even went so far as to convince everyone else in your class that she was quote - the coolest and prettiest friend ever. However, tonight you had to attribute your easy assimilation with Kharza’s city friends to her having apparently talked their ears off about you, her best friend back home - including the story of how you became friends. A nice circle, you thought.

Less than an hour later, a familiar face appeared from the midst of the crowd, making you freeze in the middle of listening to the dryad, Nitidea, talk at length about their day. The newcomer squeezed in next to you, making you freeze where you were. Everyone in the group shouted over the crowd to greet the person next to you, all of them referring to him as Mal.

You don’t look up, caught by surprise and stunned into silence at the sudden appearance of the tiefling you met only a couple hours earlier with the most sour expression you’d ever seen on anyone now smiling so widely you were nearly blinded by his sharp, pearly whites. You do note that the smile does falter once his eyes finally met yours as ‘Mal’ realized not only was he sitting right next to you, but the arm he’d so carelessly draped around the person next to him was also you.

“So you were the new roommate Kharza’s been talking about,” Maledos said quietly, recovering from his initial shock with record speed once the rest of the table’s conversation shifted back to what it had been before he arrived, carefully taking his arm off you and pretending to reach for his drink while flashing a quick smile to everyone else, “I wasn’t expecting you to be…”

“Human?” You chuckle as you took a small sip of your own beer, not wanting to get buzzed too quickly, “and I wasn’t expecting the person who went out of their way to help a stranger look for their lost dog to be named Mal.”

“Maledos,” he clarified just a little too quickly, thanking the gods above that he was too red to noticeably blush as you laughed, though he wasn’t sure why he was so damn nervous in his own bar, though he suspected it may have something to do with the intensity of the stare Kharza was giving him from the other side of the table.

“Thanks again for today, I really do appreciate it,” you turn serious for a brief moment, noticing Maledos’ discomfort, which you presumed to be from how standoffish he’d been when you first met, deciding to try and ease the tension now that you apparently had mutual friends.

Giving Maledos one last nod of appreciation, you turned to rejoin the booth’s conversation, the tiefling soon loosening up as well as you pointedly didn’t make a big deal out of his entirely different demeanor. 

Most of the group had never lived outside of the city and urged you to tell them more about living in “the country” since Kharza only ever went on about how boring it was - downplaying just how wild it could be growing up in a small, half-suburb-half-farmland town could be when kids were left to make their own fun.

As you were in the middle of telling your highly engaged audience about the specifics of the after-prom house party at one of the football players’ houses your senior year, the bartender appeared and quietly extracted Maledos from the group. You glanced up as he left, conscious of the sudden loss of the body next to you but continuing the story with Kharza inputting her own memories of the event.

Some indiscernible amount of time later, you found yourself struggling to get through the crowd and to the bar to order another beer for yourself. Once you finally are able to get the bartender’s - Valbaugh, you overhear a nearby patron call him - attention and get your order in, you noticed Maledos a few feet away talking with another group of people, once again amazed by how different he could be, though you supposed since he was at work he couldn’t exactly be Mr. Resting Bitch Face, an assessment you were now comfortable with making now that you knew that wasn’t how he normally looked.

Just as you paid for your drink and were about to turn away with it, Maledos glanced up and you both made eye contact. You smiled and gave a small wave with your free hand, but instead of returning the gesture, Maledos said something to the people he was talking to and began walking over to you. Neither one of you spoke as Maledos ordered a whiskey and when he gave no indication that he was going to speak while you both drank, you finally decided to break the silence yourself.

“You need that stiff a drink to talk to me?” You quipped, already kicking yourself mentally as it seemed to have the opposite effect than you intended, Maledos attempting to explain himself rather than lightening the mood, “I was kidding, Mal. This isn’t a interrogation.”

“Right,” Maledos cleared his throat, downing the rest of his drink, “Sorry, I’m not usually- I just really didn’t expect to see you again, much less with my friends. No offense.”

“None taken. I get it,” you smile, truly not offended as you figured that was just Maledos’ personality with with people he wasn’t close to, deciding to extend the olive branch of friendship first, “So… Kharza tells me you’re the mysterious neighbor I’ve never seen around the apartment before.”

“Yeah, I’m usually here all night and just knock out once I get home,” Maledos finally relaxed, falling into easy conversation with you once he imagined he was speaking to a potential regular customer, “I come and go at odd hours, so most people with normal work schedules wouldn’t exactly run into me.”

“I’m not envious of the all nighters but it sounds nice to have days for yourself,” you marveled, “so how’d you decide you wanted to own a bar?”

“I inherited it from my mom, actually. It’s named after her, too,” Maledos explained, handing his empty glass to Valbaugh and holding up two fingers, “When she opened it, the city was still pretty segregated between the different races. She wanted to have a space that was a neutral zone.”

“Well, it definitely fits the vision she had,” you smile, turning in your chair to take a full look at the diverse crowd in a new light.

“Well, what about you?” Maledos inquired.

“What about me?”

“Why the sudden switch to big city living?” He pressed, “I mean, I get Kharza’s old roommate sucked but that’s hardly a reason to move halfway across the country.”

“You’re right,” you snort, “I was already offered a job here when Kharza told me she needed a new roommate. The pay’s good and the rent was in my budget, so I decided to just bite the bullet and come out here—”

“With Pumpkin,” Maledos finished, chuckling as you beamed at him and nodded enthusiastically in agreement. You had a nice smile, he thought offhandedly, “I’m not gonna lie - seeing that giant dog when I was expecting a chihuahua almost gave me a heart attack.”

“A chihuahua?!” You feigned indignation, the corners of your lips threatening to turn up into a smile, “I’ll have you know a lady of my stature needs a dog to match.”

At that, Maledos burst out into laughter as he commented you probably had to scale the bar stool you were sitting on when you sat down, which finally broke your own serious expression and you both were laughing uncontrollably. The rest of the night passes in a blur, you and Maledos talking at length about anything and everything with only occasional interruptions as other patrons of the bar came to say goodbye to Maledos before leaving.

“I was totally surprised to find out you were so talkative… and smile-y,” you admitted, only a little tipsy after cutting yourself off on your third beer since sitting down, “I mean, you hardly said two words to me all afternoon.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of an asshole before people get to know me, or so I’m told,” Maledos admitted, slightly embarrassed that after making so many assumptions about you, he was now actually enjoying an entire conversation with you.

At some point, Kharza comes looking for you, everyone else heading out. The orc was giving you a familiar look, one you pretend not to recognize or notice. You were shocked you’d spent so long talking to Maledos after telling everyone you were just going to buy a single beer. Maledos glanced down at his watch, looking just as dumbfounded as you.

“Shit, it’s already closing,” Maledos frowned, “Valbaugh, why didn’t you announce last call?”

“I did,” the bartender replied, rolling his eyes, though the grin on his face indicated he wasn’t truly annoyed as he added teasingly, “I guess you were too preoccupied to notice.”

You and Kharza burst out laughing as Maledos’ tail, which had up until then been lazily swishing behind him, stood straight up as he began sputtering indignantly.

“Well, we’re going to head out,” Kharza said, dropping her hands on your shoulder and about to lead you away from the bar when something finally dawns on you.

“Oh, since we’re neighbors we should exchange numbers!” You said quickly, rummaging around in your bag for your phone and completely missing the looks Valbaugh and Kharza shot Maledos.

“Don’t feel too special,” Kharza warned sarcastically, “she also got Ms. Lalshur’s and Mrs. Umekrana’s numbers the first week she moved in.”

Valbaugh snorted, but Maledos’ pointed ears perked up at the second name, “I understand Ms. Lalshur, she talks to everyone… but I’ve lived there for almost five years and Mrs. Umekrana hasn’t said more than ten words to me. And they were ‘quit making all that fucking racket on the stairs every night’.”

You bite back a smile at the jab at your cranky neighbor, handing Maledos your phone so he could add his number to your contacts and taking his offered phone in return, “she’s nice once you get to know her. But it didn’t hurt that I was able to fix her sewing machine for her the day I met her…”

After saying your final goodbyes to both Maledos and Valbaugh, you and Kharza walked back to your apartment, Kharza wasting no time interrogating you about your apparently two hour long conversation with the tiefling as soon as you exited the bar. What did you two talk about? Did he pay for your drinks? Was he flirting with you? And, most importantly, do you like him?

You barely manage to keep up with the barrage of questions, and the last question nearly makes you choke on your own spit at its abruptness. As far as Kharza knows, you’ve only just met Maledos tonight at the bar, and while it is too soon to discern any deeper feelings, you can’t deny that you had fun spending time with him, or that he was incredibly attractive. However, you reason, it wasn’t ideal to date within a friend group, especially when you had no one else you knew - if things even got that far. Frankly, you would probably just embarrass yourself developing a crush on Maledos.

In any case, it would be more trouble than what it’s worth for everyone involved and you immediately decided it would be best to avoid that road altogether, firmly denying any feelings when Kharza asked.

…

A month passed quickly since your first night at the bar. It was the go-to hangout spot for Kharza and her friends, so it was a given once you became a part of the group that you would hang out there often as well, which meant even more interactions with Maledos - the only time you’d see him despite living across the hall from each other. And whenever you went to the bar, the two of you would inevitably take up each other’s time and attention, a fact Kharza loves to claim as proof of something deeper going on between you, entirely convinced that the two of you were sneaking behind everyone’s backs no matter how often you point out that your very average conversations were nowhere near the proclamations of undying love she imagined.

Rather than convince Kharza that nothing was happening - which it wasn’t - it always managed to set her off in a long speech about how dense you were and how you wouldn’t recognize Maledos’ feelings for you if he got down on one knee before you in front of everyone, to paraphrase.

While you couldn’t deny that Maledos was attractive to your best friend, who would easily see through such blatant lies knowing full well your ‘type’ had remained largely unchanged since you were teenagers, you still stood by your decision not to complicate the dynamics of the group with undoubtedly unrequited feelings. It was just downright unlikely that a hot, successful business owner who met hundreds of people every week through his job would find you of all people particularly interesting. Especially considering the fact that Maledos hadn’t given you any sort of indication that he wanted to be anything more than friends, no matter what Kharza said about the ‘subtleties of love.’

Despite your conviction whenever you told Kharza she was reading too much into things, but that didn’t stop the part of your pride that reared its head whenever she inadvertently stroked your ego with claims that some small action showed Maledos secretly was crushing on you. Despite it feeling so very high school, it was still an addicting rush to think so and didn’t help your burgeoning feelings for the tiefling every time you saw him.

After a particularly long day at work - a visit by an important client for the company you worked for requiring all hands on deck as your boss had everyone bending over backwards for them - you fell asleep almost immediately after getting home, only taking Pumpkin out to use the bathroom by your apartment building before passing out and even bailing on Friday night drinks with everyone. So when at almost 6 in the morning Pumpkin’s whining at your bedroom door to be taken out woke you up, you rushed to get changed and take her for a much needed walk, feeling terrible for depriving her of her evening walk.

You went to the park a couple blocks away, sitting on a bench in the small dog park while you watched Pumpkin excitedly sniff around. Despite sleeping well over eight hours, you still somehow nod off, not even realizing you do until you felt someone tapping on your shoulder, eliciting a shrill scream from you.

“Gods above that was loud. And here I was trying to save you from falling off a bench,” you recognized Maledos’ teasing voice right away, twisting around in your seat to look at him leaning over the fence as Pumpkin jumped onto the bench next to you for ear scratches.

“Are you barely coming back from the bar?” You stifle a yawn behind your hand, grinning as you watched Maledos easily scale the fence to sit next to you, still apparently full of energy even after pulling an all-nighter at the bar. He was wearing the leather jacket with the bar’s logo on it - the one article of clothing you had yet to see him without in all the time you’d known him - but now he wore a plain black shirt, jeans and white sneakers as opposed to the dressier clothes he’d been wearing when you met.

“Yeah, Fridays are always our busiest nights so I usually have to stay until the next morning,” Maledos sighed, draping himself over you melodramatically with one arm thrown over his face in mock despair, “I was bored all night without you there. Why did you leave me all alone?”

“Oh, I’m sure you were absolutely lonely in the bar surrounded by 800 of your closest friends,” you snarked, nudging Maledos in his side to get him off. You stifle down your soaring emotions at his remarks, knowing that Maledos’ words were far from flirtatious.

You had long since realized that the tiefling was very much like a cat in that respect - an aloof brick wall to those he didn’t know but incredibly needy with those he was close to - though you couldn't help the swell of pride that came with thought that he preferred having you around over anyone else. It certainly didn’t help dampen your growing crush on the man.

“And what are you doing sitting around in a dimly lit park this early?” Maledos asked, finally sitting up but still draping his arms around the back of the bench.

“I fell asleep early and didn’t get a chance to walk her,” you replied, placing both palms on either side of Pumpkin’s face and squishing the excess skin, making the dog grow so excited her whip-like tail began swinging right dangerously close to Maledos’ arm, “but when else would I be able to run into my night owl of a neighbor?”

Maledos snorted, the two of you beginning to joke around with each other while you sat, mostly about a certain couple on the first floor who was seemingly constantly arguing. You thought it was just in the middle of the night, but Maledos assured you they also kept him up during the day when all he wanted to do was sleep.

As the sky rapidly lightened overhead, Pumpkin started tugging on her leash in your hand, a sign that she was ready to go. Maledos walked with you through the park and back towards the apartment building in a comfortable silence, Pumpkin sticking close to Maledos’ side since he pet her while you walked.

“Oh yeah, Ms. Lalshur tells me you baked her the best cookies she’s ever tasted when you first moved in,” Maledos mentioned as he held the building door open for you, “gotta admit I feel a little left out.”

“I gave some to everyone on our floor, but somebody never answered their door when I knocked,” you said as you started up the stairs with Pumpkin.

“Y’know, I think I remember looking through my peephole and seeing a girl scout once…” Maledos tapped his finger on his cheek while feigning a contemplative look, though he was soon doubling over in laughter as you shoved him for the jab, though he doesn’t even budge.

“Well you can forget tasting any of my baking skills, mister,” you scoffed, turning as though you were going to stomp to your apartment door.

“Hold on, I’m sorry, please give me—shit!” Maledos tried to follow behind you, but neither of you noticed Pumpkin standing between you, the large tiefling falling forward as he tried to avoid hurting her and stumbling over his own feet.

Maledos fortunately caught himself on the wall, effectively caging you between his muscular arms as he hunched over you, your faces mere centimeters apart just short of a collision that would have surely left you both concussed - you worse if his horns had knocked into you.

You let out a chuckle to try and ease the tension, but it comes out too airy, made worse as you tried to joke, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you tripped on purpose, Mal.”

Maledos’ expression softened at the nickname you so rarely used for him in favor of his full name despite how universal it was for everyone else. He broke into a small grin, beginning to say something when the door across the hall slammed open and Mrs. Umekrana walked out into the hall with her trash in one hand and a cigarette in another, interrupting.

“You can’t keep it in your fucking pants until you get into your apartment, Maledos?” She muttered, continuing towards the stairs and taking a long drag that somehow doesn’t set off any of the smoke detectors.

The two of you watched the willowy-looking drow disappear down the stairwell like deer in headlights, the moment quickly hurtling towards uncomfortable.

“I didn’t know Mrs. Umekrana even knew my name,” Maledos said weakly, the first to break the silence as he quickly stepped away from you and loudly cleared his throat.

You were still struggling to catch your breath, not wanting to sound too flustered when you finally responded, though you were fortunately spared from the awkward situation as Pumpkin began whining to go inside beside you.

“It was good seeing you, Maledos,” you said with an only slightly strained smile, unlocking your apartment door and waving one last time before finally shutting the door and able to let out a deep breath you weren’t aware you were holding.

Your mind and heart were racing as you took off Pumpkin’s harness, relieved Kharza was such a heavy sleeper. Obviously unable to sleep after that, you tossed and turned in your bed as you wondered what would have happened - if anything at all - had Mrs. Umekrana hadn’t decided to take out her trash at that very moment.

Finally giving up on sleep, you got up and ventured into the kitchen, Pumpkin not moving from her spot on the bed. It was already 9 o’clock, which meant if your started baking now you could be done in an hour.

You quickly set to work, gathering all the necessary ingredients from the pantry and refrigerator while the oven preheated. Rather than make cookies, you decide to go with brownies since they were much easier to prepare.

Kharza wandered into the kitchen after you’ve already set the pan of mix in the oven, futilely pushing back her bedhead as she watched you pretend to scroll through your phone and look at anywhere but her while you sat at the dining table.

“Brownies? Who’re you bringing out the big guns for?” Kharza yawned as she leaned on the island counter with her chin resting on her palm.

“I’m not bringing out anything,” you replied, pressing the oven light to watch the brownies’ progress despite only just putting it in, keeping your voice even as you nonchalantly add “I’m just making Maledos some brownies.”

“Oh, Maledos, I should have known.” You don’t even need to look up to know Kharza was wiggling her eyebrows with a knowing smirk, her tone saying it all.

You don’t bother to make a reply, any defense of your actions only feeding into her conviction. You definitely could not tell Kharza about what had transpired hours earlier - no matter how badly you needed her advice on the matter. It would only make her more convinced that you and Maledos were an item and Kharza would no doubt tease Maledos with the information, which would make it obvious you were overthinking things with him when nothing actually happened and you couldn’t risk Maledos finding out your feelings like that.

By the time Kharza left on her morning jog with Pumpkin, you had already taken the brownies out the oven and placed the pan in the fridge to cool before cutting them into squares. After stacking two thirds of them onto a plate and sending a quick text to Maledos about coming over, you leave your apartment to go down the hall.

It took you a minute of pacing back and forth in front of his door to gather up the courage to knock, praying that Maledos was even awake. However, before your lifted hand can even make contact with the door, it was swinging open, Maledos standing before you before you can even jump from the sudden movement, your mouth slack in surprise.

“I- uh- got your text,” Maledos explained, standing aside to let you inside. He had changed into a plain white t-shirt and sweats, his hair still dripping obviously fresh from a shower. 

As you walked into the apartment, you were struck by how different it appeared from your and Kharza’s, even with the exact same layout and fixtures. The interior definitely suited Maledos - a lot of steel grays with black splashed here and there, all very modern. The entire apartment was impeccable, ripped straight from a catalogue, a show apartment for tours rather than a home and definitely not one lived in for the last five years. However, it made sense considering Maledos spent most of his free time in the apartment sleeping, the rest in the bar, so it was a given the apartment wouldn’t be messy.

You set the plate down on the kitchen counter, nearly running face to chest into Maledos when you turned around just as he was reaching around you for a piece.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, ducking around him and not looking at Maledos as you felt your cheeks burning. In turn, you missed how Maledos turned to watch you make your way to his bookshelf, reading the spines but not daring to move your hands from your sides lest you mess up the order of everything.

Unbeknownst to you, Maledos had also been unable to sleep after the almost-something in the hallway. He had laid in his bed, wide awake and texting his older sister, who had been less than pleased to be woken up so early on a Saturday but easily placated with the news that Maledos of all people was having girl troubles.

He had been surprised as well. For years running the bar had been his life, everything else put on the back burner to that goal. He was good at that. Successful, even. But in romance, short flings and one night stands were his forte, not pining over his neighbor or a friend’s best friend - in your case, both. You were growing increasingly important to him and he knew for a fact you didn’t deserve having to deal with his ineptitude in longterm relationships. You were someone who baked cookies for your neighbors in your free time and helped old ladies fix their ancient singer sewing machines. You just came over with a plate full of brownies just because he mentioned he wanted to try your baking that morning.

Not to mention he would be risking your friendship if you didn’t even feel the same way. There was simply too much at stake for him, preferring to keep his feelings closely guarded and never acted on.

But all that care and caution was all thrown out the moment he would see you - just as he had this morning while walking back home from the bar. He had needed to rest, wake up before noon and go back to do the expenses. Instead, he found himself already walking over to you and tapping your shoulder, reveling in how all drowsiness dissipated from your expression upon seeing him and the way the corners of your eyes crinkled as you flashed him the widest grin - unconscientious, unabashed in wearing your heart on your sleeve.

“Maledos?” You asked again, jumping up to wave your hand in front of his eyes and drawing him back to reality, “You were spacing out pretty hard. Are you okay?”

“Of course!” It came out too forced, you certainly looked unconvinced. He laughed sheepishly, “Sorry, the all nighters are starting to get to me. What happened?”

“I said Kharza and I were going to go for drinks tonight since we didn’t get a chance to go out last night,” you reiterated, curious of what he had been thinking but respecting his decision not to share, “Maybe you could go with us? I think you could definitely use a night off. You seem tired. Get away from the bar for a night, scope out the competition. I’m sure Valbaugh and the others can hold down the fort.”

The concern you showed for him made a surge of emotion rise up in Maledos, bringing forth a wide smile before he could stop himself, agreeing to go with you. And Kharza.

“Great,” you clapped your hands together in excitement, heading towards the door with a wave, “See you tonight, then. I’ll text you.”

“See you tonight,” Maledos repeated back, returning you wave and standing in the middle of his foyer for a good five minutes after you’d closed the door behind you.

His phone alarm finally sounded, rousing him from his stupor rather than a nap and telling him it was time to go back to the bar. Dismissing it, Maledos opened up his recent calls and dialed Valbaugh to let him know he would be taking the night off.

[tyrantofthefirmament]

The Gift

Ice cold spring air whipped across Starscream’s fuselage as he banked into the wind. This was the most perfect flying weather they’d had in some time - dry air, steady, low winds, and only a few thin cirrus clouds well out of the way overhead, splashing a striated iridescence across an otherwise crystal clear sky.

Below, Starscream kept a watchful optic on his own Cirrus, as the younger Seeker went through his 8 point hesitation roll practice. Weather this fine made Starscream want to fly wild and free, but it was good to take advantage of the calm winds for precision training. 

Cirrus was getting good at this. His telemetry fed live to Starscream as he practiced, and everything - his roll, his control of his ailerons on the pauses, the level of his nose - was so well regulated it was almost soothing. They would go over it later, but it would only be fine tuning at this point. Pride and contentment filled his Spark as he sent Cirrus a ping to take a break and transition back to 4 point rolls for a while.

But contentment never sat right with Starscream. He couldn’t trust it. 

As he circled wider, over the growing construction site and radar tower, worry crept in. The foundation of a new spire was underway, but he’d halted construction on the earlier ones. They would continue to build, but outwards, not upwards. Not yet. Save for the necessary radar tower, he didn’t dare build higher than the crater wall. It would draw attention. 

His thoughts turned automatically to the tally that ran always in a corner of his mind, pushing Cirrus’s telemetry to the background. Assets versus liabilities. Progress versus setbacks. Where did he stand? Where could he afford to extend himself? Was he spread too thin?

His recent overtures with Ultra Magnus stood out. That was progress. But it was also a risk. He’d offered Energon Seekers in a bid to stabilize the alliance and demonstrate that he had trained soldiers to spare, but the truth was he could barely spare them. Still, it would be worth it. And he needed the bluff. Ultra Magnus had already guessed where he was building. Vos couldn’t stay hidden much longer...

Even now, Ultra Magnus couldn’t be the only one who knew.

What would your followers think if they saw you now?

Megatron’s words came back to him, as chilling now as they had been when the warlord had him cornered. More so. Every day that passed was a day Megatron’s whim could turn from warning to action. He had to know where to strike by now.

I know you, Seeker! Are you really going to ask me how I knew?

Megatron did know him, better than anyone alive. How many times had his former master rubbed his predictability in his face? How many times had he, Starscream, so cunning and sharp, been the one outmaneuvered and taken by surprise? How many times since-

A flash of sunlight from somewhere - a ruined spire, the melted ground, or maybe a memory - hit Starscream’s optics and he was back. Back on Trypticon amid cheering Seekers in the moments before the reports began to come in and that terrible silence fell. In the clear air around him his mind supplied raining metal and flaming Seekers all thrown together and falling.

Falling!

An altimeter alert jerked Starscream back to the here and now, but he only had to correct slightly for some disorientation. The alert was from Cirrus’s feed!

He located the purple silhouette in an instant, far below, seeming in control but heading nearly straight down.

::Cirrus!:: he commed, already speeding down to intercept him. ::What’s your status?::

The reply was a burst of static but he could make out the word “landing”.

::Your approach is too steep! And you’re headed for rough ground. Level off and make another attempt!::

::I can’t! Um, I’ll try.:: Cirrus rocked dangerously as he tried to pull out of his dive, and he didn’t have much room left. To make matters worse, he reduced thrust and lost more altitude, then overcorrected with a jerk that froze Starscream’s Spark.

::Keep your speed up! Steady on your elevators. Don’t spin.:: Starscream passed him, and couldn’t see anything wrong. Something was clearly wrong though. Crunching relative velocities in his head as sped downward, he positioned his wing just below Cirrus’s nose.

::Listen - this is going to be a bad landing, but trust me. We’re low enough for this to work.:: He didn’t tell Cirrus they were so low this might be the only thing that would work. ::When I say go, you extend all flaps! Then I’m going to push you from below. As soon as you’re heading up, you transform and land. Understood?::

More static. 

::CIRRUS! I NEED YOU TO CONFIRM!:: The window Starscream had calculated was closing rapidly, but if Cirrus didn’t do his part they could both be killed.

::U-understood!::

::Get ready.:: Starscream reduced speed, dropping directly underneath Cirrus. 

::GO!:: Starscream spent the next instants doing several things. He transformed, getting enough of a glimpse of Cirrus as his plating whirled around to see him extend flaps as planned. Before his body fully rebuilt itself he transformed again, jet mode pointing upwards now, with Cirrus’s nose just passing above him. His turbines hadn’t even had time to spin down, and now he fired his full afterburner, slamming against the bottom of the other jet.

The collision shattered his cockpit and brought a cascade of system alerts, but Starscream ignored them. He stalled himself and transformed yet again, dropping heavily to the ground on one knee, already frantically searching for Cirrus along their trajectory. A moment later Cirrus landed hard, too fast to keep his footing, and rolled several times before coming to a stop.

When Starscream got to him he wasn’t moving, but he was alive and in one piece save for some missing control surfaces. His wings looked ragged as a result, and he was leaking where his knees and elbows had hit the ground. Overall he appeared to be in shock, trembling and holding his head in his hands.

“Cirrus!” Starscream checked his head and neck cables, then helped him sit up. That snapped Cirrus out of his numb panic, and he collapsed forward onto Starscream and began to cry. In that state he seemed even bigger, with all his plating bristled open to dump heat. Some of the heat was from flying, but Starscream knew the ammonia he was giving off wasn’t from damaged coolant lines. All of Cirrus’s vents were weeping as his cooling system boiled off heat from the terror that gripped him.

Adjusting his balance so he could bear Cirrus’s weight while kneeling, Starscream let his own plating open up. Once they were both cooled down, he would bridge them to the medbay. For now he just rubbed the back of Cirrus’s neck and his shoulder, and accepted the talons digging into his own wing roots, and the boiling tears against his neck cables where Cirrus’s face was buried.

“Starscream I- I’m sorry!” Cirrus choked through a burst of static. “I forgot all your lessons! I-”

“Shh.” Starscream patted his shoulder. “You recovered. You focused.” He tried to force the fear out of his own voice, without much success. Truly another second longer would have been fatal. He let Cirrus get out another bout of trembling sobs before slowly leaning back to look at him. “Tell me what happened. Did something go wrong?”

Cirrus sat up and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Everything was fine, but then- I got really scared. It felt like... like something terrible was going to happen, and I didn’t want to be there. Like I would die if I stayed. That’s why I tried to land.” He looked at Starscream and drew his knees up, curling up and hiding his face as he began to cry again. “I didn’t mean to go too steep. I was so scared! The sky-”

Starscream wiped the look of bewildered horror off his face too late, so all he could do was shift so he was sitting beside Cirrus, and talk. “We’ll figure it out. Once you’re repaired and rested, we’ll figure it out.”

How they would do that was beyond him. He was never able to fix his own panic attacks, let alone anyone else’s. But there was more. Cirrus’s words described exactly what Starscream had felt leading up to and during his flashback. 

Just as Shockwave had predicted.

[harrylee94]

Log Entry XXXXXX - Chapter 7

Summary: A new space station, complete with the most high spec and up to date technology there is to offer, has been set up at the edge of the known universe, a new way point for explorers to keep in contact with the rest of the human race. It has been carefully designed by the best scientists and engineers Earth could offer, and now 7 brave souls are being sent out to ensure everything works perfectly.

However, when Logan wakes from cryosleep from the journey, he is informed that several things are now in need of repair, though everything had been in perfect working condition when the station had been reconstructed before he and his crew had arrived. They will have to solve the problems they’ve been left with before the station is up and running, and yet Logan can’t help but feel he’s done this before…

Relationships: Intrulogical (Remus/Logan)

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Parasites, Remus having an overactive imagination, It’s an Among Us crossover so there will be bad stuff afoot.

A/N: It’s been a while, but I hope you enjoy the update!

For those of you who don’t know, this story is based off of a comic by @fangirltothefullest which I HIGHLY recommend you check them out on the link above! Their art is AMAZING.

Note to everyone before we begin; there will be graphic descriptions of gore, dismemberment, possibly torture, and any other awful things that come with the territory of writing a story in an Among Us universe. (No gore in this chapter though!)

Link to; Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

To read it on AO3 please click here.

Chapter 7: Day 1

Day 1

As Remus was dragged into the waking world, he realised his body felt weird. Not the good kind of weird either -- the kind where you had a deep ache inside you and your skin tingled with the aftermath of gripping fingers and biting teeth -- but an annoying one. It was like he'd been put in a tumble dryer and built up too much static because of all the jumpers, or he'd been squashed under a giant butt (and not the juicy kind) and every part of him had fallen asleep.

It was weird.

He rolled over, trying to find someone to comfort him, but he hit something hard and, without looking or thinking about it, he climbed over it.

He hit the cold floor with no warning, the meat of his arm and leg having taken most of the impact, along with his elbow and knee, and he groaned in pain and annoyance. He loved bruises, how they blossomed into great puddles of browns and purples and greens and blues and yellows under the skin, but he didn't like the cold of the floor. In revenge he spread his body out over it to heat it up as he blinked at the growing brightness. What was he doing again?

"Are you alright?"

Logan! Of course, this was the shuttle to the Sanders Station, and he’d swapped with Virgil so he could be with his boy-toy! How could he have forgotten? He groaned in response and rolled over, pulling himself towards the other cryotube in the room, his muscles feeling tender and uncooperative. When he reached the giant metal dildo he pulled himself up until his nose poked over the edge of the tube.

Logan was lying in reprise, his eyes closed, like a corpse at a wake, but after a few moments of staring at his love Remus could see the lines of tension between his eyes, a stiffness to the set of his shoulders, and the hard set to his jaw.

“Bad dream, Ana-Logie?” he asked, reaching out to brush the hair from the man’s brow.

“You could say that,” his nerdy Wolverine said with a sigh as he leaned into his fingers, opening his eyes. The tension was still there, but he smiled up at Remus with a sad yet fond look. “It’s all a bit of a nightmare.”

It took him a few moments to realise that Logan hadn’t been shocked at all by the little switcheroo, but he pushed the thought away. For now.

Remus frowned, wondering why his boyfriend sounded like he’d just sat through one of Roman’s boring movie marathons, only to find out there was another love story lined up, but worse. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Logan shook his head, still smiling. “I just… need to find the right words. Maybe over breakfast.”

Remus’s brow furrowed even more, knowing Logan was lying, but nodded as he continued to stroke his fingers through their hair. “Alright then. I’ll be here if you need me.”

“I know you will.” Why did that sound so sad? Logan reached up and held Remus’s cheek, running his thumb over the bone under his eye. “Give me a bit and I’ll join you for breakfast.”

Remus hummed and lay back down on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. He tried to find cracks, lines that were silent promises of doom and distraction, but there was nothing. He huffed and pushed himself up to the edge of the giant dildo and looked down on his whale penis with a pout.

"I didn't get my-" he began, only to get cut off as Logan lunged from his spot to kiss him greedily. Not one to look at the mould and puss in a gift horse's mouth, Remus reciprocated in kind, holding Logan's cheek even as they pulled back, gasping for air. "Wow."

Logan smirked in a way that made Remus’s heart feel like it was going to disintegrate into ashes inside his chest. “I missed you.”

“Yeah,” Remus said, staring at Logan for a few more moments before he pulled himself up and over the edge and onto Logan, who had started laughing, probably because Remus was kissing every inch of skin he could find and he had said that his furry nose fiend made him ticklish.

There was soon a lot more skin for him to tickle, and Remus was only too happy to show Logan just how much he’d missed him in return.

When they headed to the small seating area some time later (Remus didn’t really know how long they had been, nor did he really care, he just knew that he was feeling the good kind of weird now, and his body ached deliciously) after a quick stint in the refresher, Remus headed straight to the screen in the wall to prepare breakfast.

Logie-Bogie was still acting a bit off, so perhaps a trip down memory lane would help. The meal from their first date sounded like a good idea. He typed in the order for pesto pasta and hummed a little bit of the Jekyll and Hyde musical, wiggling a little to the silent beat as he imagined the psychotic monster wandering the streets for his next victim.

“Alive,” Logan said, bringing Remus’s tune to a quiet halt, “and then you’ll move on to Bring On the Men. You’ll give me a bowl of pesto pasta--” The machine in the wall dinged and a steaming bowl slipped out from the slot. “--and call me your Emma and Lucy both before spinning me in your arms and kissing me as you suggest I take you back to bed for a little longer.”

Remus ignored the pasta and sat at Logan’s feet, taking his hands in his as his mind reeled. That was exactly what he was going to do. Probably. He didn’t know for sure, but he knew he would have sung Bring On the Men, and it did sound like something he would do. Was Logan a mind reader now? Could he see into the future? Did that mean his brain would end up overloading and exploding and end up leaking out of his nose and ears?

Logan smiled at him. His eyes were sad. “Then, after I tell you this, we’ll meet the others, Virgil will be having a panic attack if we’re later than seven on the dot, we’ll make a plan of action, and then we will enter the Station. Three hours later, two of us will have fatal encounters with the parasitic aliens that are waiting for us. Over the next few hours, be it through the lack of oxygen, from a reactor meltdown, our own paranoia, or being murdered by imposters in the shape of our friends and family, we’ll all be dead.” He chuckled, the laugh dead and limp in the air, and almost desperate. “What’s worse is that I don’t even remember how many times it’s happened. I tried to keep track but… I don’t even know why I’m trying anymore. I can never save you. I can’t stop the loop. You… You never remember. I…”

Remus climbed up onto his partner’s lap and held him close, waiting for him to cry but instead finding his chest dry. Logan was just blank, staring at nothing. “Lo…”

“I’m all alone,” the man whispered. “You’re all here, but I’m so alone. I think I’m going insane. I have lived this day over and over on a constant loop with almost no reprieve, I have seen your death so much that I’m almost numb to it. I don’t want to feel nothing when I look at you. I don’t want to shut off from this, but if I don’t, then I’m going to break... I just want it to end.”

“Oh my bleeding heart,” Remus murmured, rocking them both back and forth as he imagined Logan snapping, his brilliant mind shattering into a thousand pieces. Would it leave behind a shell; a husk of what had once been? Would it be a blank face, like the one he was holding to his chest, a robot still working but empty of feeling? Would Logan go in the other direction and feel too much; would he be overwhelmed by everything? That would lead to that shell-like state, but it could also mean acting irrationally, and possibly dangerously. He didn’t know enough about mental health to make any real guesses, but if any of those were to happen… He held Logan a little tighter to his chest. “What do you want me to do?”

Logan let out a stunted laugh, but there was a small smile on his face now. “Hold me. Just for a little bit longer.”

“I’d hold you ‘til the end of eternity if you asked me,” Remus said, kissing Logan on his temple.

“I know you would,” Logan said with a sigh, finally wrapping his arms around Remus’s back.

For a while they just sat there, holding each other, Remus focusing on the steady breaths of his beloved and swatting away thoughts of death and carnage and broken minds as much as he could in the silence. He started humming again after a while, not thinking about the tune until Logan chuckled, where he realised he’d continued with his rendition of Alive and moved onto Bring On the Men, just as Logan had said he would.

“Sorry,” Remus muttered, sure that the tunes weren’t helping.

“It’s alright,” Logan replied, and he snuggled into Remus’s chest a little more. “It’s nice.”

“It is?”

“Mmm.”

“Good,” Remus said, brushing at Logan’s hair.

Logan leaned into the touch and Remus continued to hum, but he stopped once he reached the end of the song.

“... Why do you always believe me?”

Remus pulled back a little. “Why do I always believe you?”

Logan nodded, meeting his eye. “It’s a ridiculous thing, what I’m saying. Impossible by any logical count, and still you take me by my word. The first time I explained myself you tested me, but now…”

Remus smiled softly. “Because it’s impossible, and ridiculous, and you told me about it like you were stating the facts that you found in one of your algorithms or through one of your experiments. I believe you because I know you would never lie to me.”

Somehow, this brought on the tears, and Remus softly wiped at the trail they left on Logan’s cheeks. “But I have lied to you!”

“Was it during the loop?” Remus asked. “Was it to try and protect me from being killed by a face hugger?”

Logan sniffed. “They’re more like the creature from The Thing.”

“Was it to protect me from being killed by the Thing then?”

“... Yes.”

“Then I forgive you.”

Logie-Bogie’s face crumpled and he pressed it to Remus’s shoulder, where he rubbed at his back in some hopeless attempt at comfort.

“... You would also never lie about something like this, so there’s that too.”

Logan let out a wet laugh. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my snotty love.”

They sat like that, comforting each other, for perhaps a bit too long, though Remus would have stayed there indefinitely to keep Logan happy if he had to; by the time Logan had pushed him through the rest of their morning, eating the pesto pasta despite it having gone a little cold, it had gone seven, and Emo was recovering from a panic attack with help from Prince Perfect and Daddy-kins. It was all exactly as Logan had said it would be, and when each of them headed off to where they had each decided they would be best needed with all the work they had ahead of them, Logan continued to explain the situation in a little more detail.

“You’re saying that there are videos from past loops?” Remus asked, pulling his tablet out as Logan made quick work of the Oxygen filter.

“Yes,” the scientist replied, “but, for some reason, you can only access them on the screen in Communications. There are some text files that you can access though, once you’ve downloaded them from the Station.”

Remus hummed and swiped through the screen a bit to connect before setting the tablet aside as the little man walked from one end of the screen to the other carrying digital files like a fae creature carrying a baby away from its crib in the middle of the night. “And we still have a few hours until anything really happens.”

“That’s correct,” Logan said, slotting the first of the filter boards back in before pulling out the second. “The air is breathable by the way, though I suggest you keep hold of your helmet in case the creatures decide to turn off the lights again.”

“So lights, oxygen and reactor,” Remus said with a nod, trying to remember exactly how long it took for a body to deteriorate and decompose when it was exposed to radiation. However long it took, he was sure it would be painful, or at the very least disgusting, considering it probably involved burst blood vessels and the vomiting and so forth. Very messy.

“And doors.”

“Doors?” What did doors have to do with anything?

“They can close doors too. And travel through the vents.”

“Oh.” So they could trap you in a room, isolate you, turn off the lights, and murder you while everyone else thought they were in another room. He chuckled, though there was no humour in it; how could there be when it was his Logan who was living through it. “It’s a real life horror movie.”

Logan hummed in agreement as he continued to clean the filter. Remus watched him for a few moments more before sliding on his butt across the floor and hugging him from behind. Logan immediately relaxed into him, though their helmets made the whole process extremely awkward.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I wish there was,” Logan said, his voice quiet, defeated. “I haven’t been able to think of anything that could prevent the death of at least two of our crew. Even when we have ejected them into space with five of us still alive and well I have awoken to the start of the day. My efforts result in nothing but disappointment.”

"Maybe you have to keep everyone alive," Remus suggested, watching as Logan slotted the filter back in place.

"It's something I've considered," the scientist admitted, "but I don't see how it would change anything. Besides, no matter what I try I can never catch the parasites before they find their hosts."

Remus hummed, looking at the tablet to check its progress before reaching up to remove his helmet; just a minute more until he could see what Logan had recorded. He breathed in the air, which tasted stale, like bread that had been out for too long, or a freshly dusted room but the cleaner had died before they could open a window so it was still all just sitting there. He gave Logan another squeeze.

“How often do you take breaks?” he asked, wondering what his booger buddy would look like if his body could reflect what he’d been through. Would there be bags under his eyes? Would he be pale? Would he have lost weight, hair, strength? How many scars would he have? What would a body look like if it had been torn in two and stitched back together again?

“You tend to make sure I get some sleep when I need it,” Logan replied, and Remus could hear the smirk in his voice. “You always know. I don’t know how you do it.”

Remus chuckled. “I know you too well.”

“You really do.”

Smiling, Remus rested his head against Logan’s helmet for a moment before pulling away. “So, are we going to be doing any rescuing? Any daring attempts at fighting off the hordes of hell?”

“Not this time,” Logan said with a sigh, resting the filter in his lap. “I’m tired, Remus. I don’t think I could handle anything like that. I can’t...” His voice faded and his head drooped down. He looked defeated.

“Can’t what?”

“... I can’t watch you die again.”

That… was a good reason. “I’ll stay with you then. For now at least.”

Logan hummed and sent him a smile. “You can read my notes.”

“Yeah.” He looked at the tablet, which had finished downloading all the files. There were over a thousand of them. “I might skip a few.”

“I don’t blame you.”

Remus all but cackled and opened the first document.

An hour later he was almost in tears, the content of the files more painful and horrifying than he could ever have thought. He felt the way Logan had been pulling away with each entry, fading from the world as his hope was taken over by despair, like a growing shadow reaching out and blanketing him with its slick and sticky fingers, an oil spill too thick to escape. He saw how exhausted he was from the phrasing of his words, the loss of formality and scientific data, turning this into more of a journal rather than a log book.

“How could you ever think that this is your fault?”

Logan looked up from his wiring with a puzzled expression. “What?”

“Your last entry…” He held out the tablet for him to see. His sexy nerd didn’t even look, he just sighed and turned away.

“What else am I supposed to think?”

“I don’t know!” Remus exclaimed, waving his arms around and almost breaking the tablet against the wall. “That some weird black hole freak of nature just randomly did this, or maybe some eldritch horror Old One decided to have some fun just to mess with you, or that we got caught in some weird Christmas magic!”

“It’s October.”

“Halloween magic then! The spirits of the damned followed us out here and found some weird space creatures to haunt us with!”

Logan sighed and gave him a fond look, but somehow his eyes looked like deep black pits of despair. Remus dropped the tablet, ignoring the way it clattered to the floor, and removed Logan’s helmet to hold his face.

“This isn’t your fault.”

“I wish I could believe you.”

With those words, it was like every spec of joy inside him had been sucked out of him, and now his body was filled with holes like swiss cheese. He was sure that if he looked down he would find blood leaking out into spots all over his suit, and still he would have been more full than what he could see of the eyes of his heart.

“Lo...” he started, rubbing his gloved thumb over a smooth cheek, wishing he could be touching him in truth, but then the moment was interrupted by a blaring alarm.

Logan looked slowly up at the ceiling. “A meeting’s been called.”

“Shit,” Remus said, his eyes also drawn skyward (or ceiling-ward, since there was no real atmosphere, just what the Station’s system along with a nearby giant planet had provided, which made him wonder if the Imposters had ever had the thought to turn off the gravity enhancers, since that would have made travelling through the Station more difficult). “What happened?”

“Janus found Orange,” Logan replied, and he pulled himself to his feet, pulling his helmet up with him. “He’ll be dead in Storage.”

“Shit,” Remus said again, thinking of the boxes and fuel tank they had passed and imagined them splattered with wet red streaks, or a pool beneath a pile of limbs and body parts. He gathered his own helmet and tablet and scrambled after his partner, who was already heading out the door. “It’ll be Roman and Virgil again then.”

“Yes,” Logan agreed.

“What do we do?”

Logan sighed. Again. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Remus made to argue, but Patton had caught up with them and  he was forced to keep himself in check, though it was like holding back a tsunami with a bucket, and the town was already flooded and filled with bloated corpses. Patton was curious about what the ‘fuss was all about’, of course, and while Remus did say that someone had died, the peppy man took it as a joke and waved him off. That is, he did until the meeting.

Remus had seen a corpse or two before. Well, he’d seen more than just two, and even made a few thanks to his time in the military (and if he had a dollar for every person who didn’t believe him he would have been able to fund his medical training instead of having to sign up -- he’d be a millionaire for every look he got about the fact that he was a certified surgeon), but it was never easy. Sure, he liked to pretend everything was alright, being nonchalant and his usual brand of unsettling, but that body had once been alive and breathing, and now all it was doing was shitting itself and starting to decompose. It didn’t help that this was a friend rather than a nameless nobody.

They put Orange in one of the cryo pods, freezing him up like a chicken ready to be put in a microwave, though from the way Roman and Virgil were acting, there wouldn’t be a later.

Had he not known, had he been focused solely on the death they had been forced to face, he would not have seen the way Virgil was decidedly not having a panic attack, far too calm for the way his anxiety would play up, and Roman swept all emotions under the rug after a minute or two, after everyone had become more occupied with other things. Well, after Janus and Patton became more occupied, that is.

Logan was almost listless, watching the proceedings blankly, a little pale, but otherwise drifting into a state of ghoulishness that made Remus wonder if he was going to turn around and eat one of them (but then he remembered that the ones who were likely to eat him had already killed someone, and they weren’t Logan). That left Remus to watch the pair like a hawk.

There was no other outward sign that they had changed at all, though the personality shift would have been enough in ordinary circumstances. Subtlety wasn’t exactly his strong suit though, and he knew that the Roman Imposter had taken note. It was obvious in the way it made his brother’s body stiffen, and the twitch of those once familiar fingers.

“Shouldn’t we sti-stick together?” Patton was saying, his voice wobbling as he kept close to the Virgil Imposter’s side (who was taking advantage of the attention by keeping a hold on his arm, ready to drag him off into a dark corner and tear him to pieces no doubt).

“What if it’s one of us?” Jany asked, looking between each of them with suspicion, which made Remus love his friend just a little more. He’d always been a suspicious asshole, but now it was working overtime, and with good reason.

“How could it be?” Patton asked with a nervous laugh. “We’re all friends! We’ve known each other for years!”

“And yet Orange is still dead.”

Patton gulped and shrunk in on himself.

Janus sighed, a look of guilt passing over him, but it was quickly squashed. “Maybe we don’t know each other as well as we thought.”

“That, or we’ve got some imposters among us,” Remus said, glaring in accusation at the thing wearing his brother as a meat suit. It frowned back at him, but he saw the flash of surprise.

“That’s ridiculous,” the Roman-suit scoffed.

“Is it?” Remus asked.

“Yes!”

“Why don’t we just… find out if there’s anyone else here first?” fake-Virgil suggested. “There’s a way to do that, right?”

“Only in the terms of being able to see where each of the active suits are in the Station,” Logan replied, and Remus stepped closer to his side when he realised how lifeless he sounded compared to everyone else. How broken. How suspicious.

Janus narrowed his eyes at the both of them, but turned back to the conversation. “That’s so useful.”

“Is there no other way to check?” Patton asked.

“We could look,” Roman-suit said.

Remus snorted, hoping his boogers would shoot from his nose and hit the Roman-suit. Maybe they’d be like a caustic acid to them and burn through their skin and it would scream and die in agony. “They could also move and stalk us.”

Patton hugged himself, looking daunted. “Then… Then…”

“What if we fix everything?” fake-Virgil asked. “Would that help?”

Logan sighed, and Remus knew from that expression that they’d already had this conversation before. “It’s possible, though unlikely.”

“Possible’s better than nothing.”

“We should do that then,” Roman-suit said with a decisive nod, and Remus almost scowled at him, but just barely held himself back.

“Split up?” he said instead, face twisting in disgust instead which was almost as good as a scowl, but not quite as good since he was regularly disgusted by his brother.

“The sooner we get things done, the sooner it’ll be over,” Roman-suit said (and he really needed to think of a better name than ‘Roman-suit’).

“You’re acting like you’ve never watched a horror movie! And I know you have because I made you sit through one until you ran off screaming like a baby,” Remus said, pointing an accusing finger at Roman-suit.

“Well what else would you suggest?!”

“Not this!”

“Boys!”

Remus blinked in surprise as he and the Roman-thing turned to look at Patton, who was looking between them in exasperation. Wow, little pappy Patton had some lungs! How long could he hold his breath for?

The man in cyan blue sighed and looked between them, then at Logan, Janus and not-Virgil in turn. “We should vote on it.”

Janus snorted but gave a nod. “It’s an even number…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Logan said and his flat tone had Remus back at his side in a second. “No matter what we choose it’ll be wrong.”

“Logan-” Patton started, but Remus touched his beloved’s cheek and shook his head.

“It could be different this time.”

“This time?” he heard fake-Virgil ask behind him, but all he could focus on were the voids of Logan’s eyes, where even the despair was beginning to fade.

“You always say that.”

Remus wanted something to say to that, some way to bring life back to those dying eyes, to fan the flames of passion that had once thrived there, but even had he been able to think of something he was given no chance to.

His head came close to making contact with the floor as the surprise of Logan’s push almost kept him from reacting, but he managed to catch himself with his elbows. But then came the gasp, and the horrifyingly familiar sound of someone choking on blood.

He knew who it was -- how could he not -- and for a brief moment he let grief consume him, chewing precious pieces of him he had never let anyone see into chum and feeding it to the vicious beasts of rage that flooded the spaces that were left. He didn’t need to look to know, but he did anyway.

Logan had been pierced by several sharpened tentacle-like appendages, the fleshy weapons leaving a shower of blood scattered across the wall behind the man they had so brutally murdered as the creature they had come from sneered at Remus. Logan, the man of his dreams, his bleeding heart, wheezed. Remus could see that his lungs were likely shredded, his liver punctured, intestines ready to spill out of the hole that would be left behind… No, he had to stop looking at that now. Logan was dead, even if he still breathed. There were others who needed help.

“Remus…” the scientist choked, and that was all the additional motivation he needed.

He all but pounced from the floor, dashing past the Roman-suit that was pinning his better half to the wall and tackled Patton, hefting him over his shoulder as fake-Virgil’s body split in two with a wet tearing noise, revealing rows upon rows of teeth.

“Janus!” he cried, and the man in yellow shook himself from his stupor and fled in the opposite direction. Remus hoped that he would be able to survive long enough for them to meet again, but he had other things to worry about; like the horror of a mouth that was reaching out to take a bite of him and the stiff body in his arms.

Logan choked again, the gasps his flooded longs made tempting Remus turn around, but he didn’t. He couldn’t spare time for the dying, no matter who they were.

“Vir-Virgil?” Patton stuttered from his shoulder, even as Remus ran from the scene, trying to remember the rooms without vents.

An inhuman scream of rage followed them, winding through the corridors as he headed for the Oxygen room and dropped Patton unceremoniously on the ground. He could hear the imposters gaining ground on them, and he could only hope that Janus got somewhere safe before he pulled out his tablet. The screen was almost severely damaged, but he somehow managed to get the doors closed, and not a moment too soon.

The entire room shuddered, equipment and all, as one of the somethings collided with the door, and Remus took an instinctive step back, spreading his arms out in a futile attempt to protect Patton.

“Can you deadbolt the door, Pops?” he asked, gaze never leaving the door which was likely moments away from being rent asunder.

“What?” came the quiet, fearful voice of their navigator. “I… I think so.”

“Then do it,” Remus commanded, eyes remaining on the door.

“O-okay.”

Remus tensed further when the room shook again with another hit, but he exhaled in relief when he heard Patton tap away at his tablet. It would be useless in the end, he knew, but even a little distraction would prevent complete panic, and he couldn’t have that.

And then the banging stopped.

Remus blinked in surprise, but he wouldn’t be fooled; he’d seen enough horror movies to keep himself from falling for this trick.

“Oh brother mine.”

Remus growled. “Whatever you are, you’re not my brother.”

Roman-suit chuckled through the door. “Why don’t you come out here, Dukey--”

“You don’t get to use that name!”

There was a pause, and then the room flashed red as an alarm blared.

“Dukey,” the imposter cooed. “It’s time to come out now.”

“That’s the reactor,” Patton said, tears evident in his voice.

“Shit,” Remus muttered, eyes flying everywhere to try to find an out, and the imposter laughed.

“Re-Remus?” Patton said, and all Remus could do was stare at him as all the hope drained from him. Patton crumpled a moment later and started sobbing.

Doing the only thing he could think of, Remus knelt done next to him and cradled him in his arms. As the voice counted down, he tried to pretend that it was Logan in his arms, but even the burn of the oxygen tanks exploding through him couldn’t make the lie anymore believable.

_______________________________

Day 2

Remus shot up with a gasp, clutching at the shirt section of his latex jumpsuit as his fingers instinctively clutched at the edge of… his cryopod? He blinked, looked from side to side and rubbed at his eyes. He was in the cryochamber, in the shuttle. He was in the giant dildo freezer, he was alive, and…

In his rush to look over to his right he made himself dizzy and, before he knew it, he’d fallen out of his coffin with a breathless ‘oof’.

“... You okay?”

Remus’s breath caught in his throat, threatening to choke him, but he pulled himself closer to the second pod with a groan and pulled himself up.

Logan looked up at him, slightly amused but so very exhausted, and very much alive.

[jokertrap-ran]

(未定事件簿) EVENT!「午夜华章」 [Tears of Themis] EVENT: Symphony of the Night Translations (Chapter 1-01: Prologue)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist  *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *The tracking tag for ALL Event Stories will go under: #Tears of an Event *(y/n) is your name when in direct referral; otherwise referred to as MC. *Presenting: 10 pages of prologue content (cracks fingers)

Location: Detective Agency

The winter sun shone into Xia Yan’s office, but I couldn’t feel even the slightest bit of warmth from it.

Now, Xia Yan was beside me with a frown on his face as we both stared intently at what he was holding in his hand…

???: Listen well, Great Detective and partner… This will be your last chance.

A voice that had been processed by a voice-changer came from the strange box that he held within his palm, holding absolutely no trace of emotion at all.

???: If you cannot help me complete this commission of mine by finding the missing hacker within the specified time limit…

???: I will immediately launch an attack on the Big Data Lab, which will paralyze Stellis City’s entire network.

The voice cut off here, ending spontaneously, leaving me facing Xia Yan, who had a look of utter seriousness on his face.

Xia Yan had received a commission last evening. The Client came oddly in the form of a box, and the details of the commission were all also transmitted to him through the very same box itself. Knowing how I loved puzzles, Xia Yan had invited me to investigate it together with him. But who knew that this commission also came with a threat.

The Big Data Lab would come under fire if we failed to complete the commission… The Client had repeatedly emphasized on that point without providing us with any other explanation. 

Xia Yan: Since you’ve already come to us with a commission, then how about you tell us about everything clearly? Who exactly is this hacker you’re searching for…?

Bzzt, bzzt―—

The phone that I had left on the table buzzed to life. Seeing the Caller ID flashing upon the screen, Xia Yan stopped questioning the box.

MC: Lu Jinghe? Didn’t he say that he had a whole day of meetings with the Board of Directors? Why is he suddenly calling now…?

Xia Yan: ...I have a bad feeling about this. In any case, let’s answer his call first.

I nodded and answered the call.

Lu Jinghe: (Y/n), I heard yesterday that you were going to the Detective Agency to play. Are you still there now?

MC: I am. Did something happen?

Lu Jinghe: Could you pass the phone to Xia Yan?

He wants to talk to Xia Yan? I paused for a moment, looking towards the guy in question.

Xia Yan nodded, signaling for me to put the call on speaker.

Xia Yan: Lu Jinghe, has there been any problems with the Big Data Lab recently?

Lu Jinghe: What a direct question. Looks like you do know something about this after all.

Lu Jinghe: The Big Data Lab has been harassed by hackers a couple of times recently. The engineers there have just warded off another attack just now.

Xia Yan: Why are you looking for me? Is it because you feel like I’ve done something similar, and thus, being the first one on your list of suspected people?

Lu Jinghe: ...If you absolutely have to put it that way, well, you’re not exactly wrong either.

Lu Jinghe: But, what I’m more worried about is the fact that this isn’t an attack by just a single person, but rather, an organized large-scale attack.

Lu Jinghe: If this is the case, then we can only rely on the personnel currently stationed there. But I’m afraid it’ll be hard to ward them off with just that amount of manpower.

Lu Jinghe: So, I was thinking of asking you for some recommendations of experts in this field. Even better if they’re open to external contracts.

Xia Yan: So that’s how it really is after all… If I’m not guessing wrongly, I think that this has something to do with the current commission I’m undertaking.

Xia Yan: This matter involves the entire Stellis City Network, and it’s not something that any one of us can handle on our own.

Xia Yan: Can we call a full NXX Member Meeting at once? I’ll explain everything then. 

Lu Jinghe: Yes. You and (Y/n) head to the Base first, I’ll notify the other two.

Ending the call, Xia Yan’s gaze fell to the box by his hand once more, his expression solemn.

MC: Xia Yan, does this mean that something serious has happened for you to be calling everyone together to investigate this?

Xia Yan: Yes. Even though everything still looks peaceful now, I have a hunch that…

Xia Yan: This commission that was headed by a threat must be much more complicated than we think it is.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

One hour later, at NXX’s Base.

Location: NXX Base’s Meeting Room

Mo Yi: So? The Client oddly came to you in the form of a box that cannot be pried open and even threatened the one who’s taking on the job for them, all just to find a single missing person?

Xia Yan: The Client has repeatedly emphasized on the fact that this matter cannot be let known to the public. I suspect the missing hacker must have come upon something dangerous.

Lu Jinghe: No matter how dangerous it might be, they should have been prepared for some leaks to happen when requesting for outside help. Using the Big Data Lab as a threat is just too unreasonable…

Zuo Ran: How serious were the attacks on the Big Data Lab so far?

Lu Jinghe: Even I can’t explain this properly, myself. But I’ve found a helper who’s very good at this aspect of things, so it’ll be more reliable to let him do all the explaining.

Saying so, he booted up NXX Base’s computer.

After inputting in a series of commands, he turned on the projection device, and a figure slowly formed before us.

MC: Huh? Aren’t you…

Chu Dai: Hello, I am Chu Dai, the Big Data Lab’s exclusive AI. I'm pleased to be of service to you.

I was stunned for a while at seeing the AI boy who I only saw on my phone, the one who loved leaving interesting evaluations on encyclopedia entries, appearing before my very eyes.

MC: You’re Chu Dai?

Chu Dai: I am! I can always talk to you like this if you prefer this form of mine more~

Lu Jinghe: Chu Dai, report on the current status of the hacker attacks on the Big Data Lab.

Chu Dai’s expression turned sullen upon the mention of the “hacker attacks”.

Chu Dai: Yes, leave it to me to explain that.

Chu Dai: Ever since last month, the Big Data Lab has been facing small-scale attacks every few days. Fortunately, they all seemed to be just testing the waters, so no real harm was done.

Chu Dai: The hackers launched yet another attack this morning. And the engineers think that they may be just buying time to analyze the Firewalls.

Chu Dai: Chu Dai has been pushing back the hacker's parsing progress, but Chu Dai thinks that they've already completed it.

Chu Dai: If there's another attack, the Firewall will have a higher than 90% chance of being broken through…

Xia Yan: This Client who's looking for a missing hacker's actually also a highly skilled hacker themselves.

Xia Yan: Based on my understanding of the warning that the Client had sent, I suspect that what the Big Data Lab has been subjected to are just pre-emptive attacks.

Lu Jinghe: You mean, he deliberately pushed the cracking process to a critical point, only to force you to complete the Commission?

Xia Yan: I'm afraid so. These attacks are simply to prove that he has the capabilities to take down the Big Data Lab.

Xia Yan: In my opinion, I think that the best way to resolve this incident would be to track down the Client before they can launch a next attack.

Mo Yi: Which mean, you intend on accepting this commission?

Zuo Ran: Buying time by accepting the commission, and then conducting reverse-tracking to locate the signal from where it was originally sent from would also be a plausible method.

Lu Jinghe: What's your stand on this, (Y/n)?

Everyone turned to look at me at his question.

⊳ Choice: Accept commission

MC: I think it'll be better if we accept this commission too.

MC: I think it's better for us to play along with the other side's tune first, until we get a full grasp of the situation. This way, we might also be able to find more clues along with our investigations.

Mo Yi: Nothing ventured, nothing gained… that's a very interesting way of thinking.

Mo Yi: I'll be very happy to accompany you, if that is your decision.

Xia Yan: Yup, I'm of the same mind too. You can rest assured on the problem of safety if we're going to be working together.

⊳ Choice: Refuse commission

MC: Logically speaking, I think that we should accept it… but personally, I still think that we should look into it a little more.

MC: We’re unable to identify the true motives of the person we’re up against at this current moment in time. And if finding the missing person’s just a guise...

Zuo Ran: So, you’re worried about what the other party’s motives are. Truth to be told, I’ve also thought about that.

Zuo Ran: But this is also the only option we have that allows us to obtain more clues. Rest assured; I’ll be accompanying you.

Lu Jinghe: And you have me too! Leave your safety to me; still worried about it, Big Sister?

Chu Dai: Yep, yep! Chu Dai will also follow the hacker's signal to its source and provide all of you with support! 

Xia Yan showed everyone the box that the Client had sent by placing it atop the table.

Xia Yan: This is what the Client sent. I tried to pry it open yesterday but found that it's a complicated piece of electronic equipment that cannot be disassembled at will.

Lu Jinghe: ...It's not a bomb or anything along those lines, right?

Chu Dai: No, but it should be a device that requires special commands to open. Can you connect it to the computer? Let me try opening it.

Xia Yan connected the box to the computer with a USB cable. The projection of Chu Dai temporarily disappeared to focus on analyzing the box. We waited for about ten minutes before the box on the table snapped open with a click, opening from the gap in its center.

Lu Jinghe: Whoa! It's open?

His voice had only just faded before Chu Dai's own rang from the computer's speakers.

Chu Dai: This box is called the "Vespers' Box" —— And this is the data that the creator has placed within it.

Chu Dai: Oh yes, by the way, there's a special program installed into the "Vespers' Box" which records the first person who boots it up.

Chu Dai: But Chu Dai is definite that it won't pose any threat to anyone! So, please feel free to investigate it to your heart's content!

Everyone exchanged looks with each other, leaving Xia Yan to pick up the box. After confirming that there were really no problems with the box, he handed it to me.

Xia Yan: I see that you've been so curious about this box for a long time now, so how about you lead everyone on the investigation of this thing?

MC: Me? Are you sure about that?

I looked around, only to meet everyone's trusting eyes.

MC: Alright then… Let me check this out!

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅

MC: I just have to open the box from here, right?

Xia Yan: Yup, just flip both sides open.

Zuo Ran: Be careful while opening it since there's a delicate device inside.

MC: I won't handle it roughly… you really should have a little more faith in me, Lawyer Zuo.

Zuo Ran: ……

Zuo Ran: What I meant was...be careful not to scratch your hands from the small, intricate parts of the device.

MC: S-Sure…

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅

MC: Nine screens? Is it used to display different parts of the commission?

Mo Yi: Perhaps it has something to do with it's name of the "Vespers' Box"...? Unless, maybe it's really a commission from an undead?

Lu Jinghe: Well… don't you think this is shaped a little similar to cosmetic products and the like that girls use…?

MC: Cosmetic products for girls…? You don't look the type to be that knowledgeable about it.

Lu Jinghe: Hehe— Of course I'll pay attention to something that might be a potential present for you one day!

Chu Dai: Everyone, I've already activated the program within the "Vespers' Box". You can activate the screen to light it up by tapping on it again so please try it out!

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅

MC: Whoa… how beautiful!

Mo Yi: ...It can be regarded as an Art Masterpiece.

Chu Dai: The contents being shown on the screen are the instructions for your investigations. I'm still analyzing it so please wait for a moment.

Zuo Ran: Only one screen has been lit while the others are locked and marked by a serial number… Are these all steps dictated by the Client themselves?

MC: Looks like we can only play along with them until we manage to find them…

Lu Jinghe: Let's first discuss the countermeasures we're going to be taking while waiting for Chu Dai to decrypt it.

Xia Yan: Yup. We have to listen to what everyone thinks of this before deciding whether or not to participate in this Case.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅

We temporarily put the "Vespers' Box" aside since Chu Dai was still parsing the encrypted content on the screen.

Lu Jinghe: Let me share my opinion first. I cannot ignore it now, since this matter concerns the Big Data Lab.

Xia Yan: This person approached me by name and even threatened the Network Security of Stellis City, so I can't stand by and do nothing about it either.

Lu Jinghe: ...So you're saying that you want to settle this together too, don't you?

Xia Yan: This was originally a matter that the Client entrusted to me alone.

MC: ……

Don't we all investigate cases together all the time anyway? Why do the two of you have to be so…

MC: Then...how about we all solve it together?

Xia Yan: You want to participate too? But I'm afraid it'll affect your job…

Zuo Ran: Priorities are priorities. This issue of the "Vespers' Box" involves the Information Security of Stellis City as a whole, and thus, cannot be ignored.

Zuo Ran: (Y/n), I can give you a vacation to let you focus on this matter at hand. I will lend my aid as well.

MC: What…? Are you sure?

MC: Thank you, Lawyer Zuo!

Lu Jinghe: I knew that things would eventually turn out like this…

Mo Yi: We're all members of the same team, so it's not good to be leaving teammates behind and act on your own accord, correct?

MC: Are you joining us too Dr. Mo?

Mo Yi: Of course. I'll naturally accompany you to face this challenge that you've undertaken.

Lu Jinghe: Acting cool even in a time like this…?

Zuo Ran: How much longer till Chu Dai decrypts the tasks?

Chu Dai: Mission completed! Everyone, you can now check the tasks on the screen of the "Vespers' Box"!

Chu Dai made a re-appearance before us again as a projection after completing the decryption process.

Chu Dai: The Client has made nine task groups and will probably be giving us clues and hints on where to investigate after completing them.

Chu Dai: Actively complete the tasks set out by the Client, and you should be able to see what his true motives are soon enough!

Lu Jinghe: Complete tasks to get hints…? Does he think of this as a game?

Xia Yan: A hacker's code is unique, each to its own, like a fingerprint. It'll come a long way in helping us identify the Client if we can crack his method of compiling source codes.

Xia Yan: I'll be cooped up here most of the time from now on, using what resources we have at hand to crack the codes. I hope Chu Dai can assist me with that.

Xia Yan: This way, I can also provide remote support if the Big Data Lab faces threat again.

Lu Jinghe: No problem. I've already notified the Big Data Lab to leave enough Memory Space for Chu Dai to work with for this Case.

Chu Dai: Yup! Chu Dai's daily serviceable functions won't be affected at all, so feel free to use me to assist you in your investigations!

I felt a surge of relief upon seeing them settle the arrangements without a hitch.

MC: Please don't hesitate to tell me if there's anything I can help with! I'm still on vacation, so I my time's more flexible now.

All eyes on the floor turned to me right after the words left my mouth, making me feel oddly embarrassed out of nowhere.

MC: Don't...Don't look at me like that. I might not know much about hackers, but I'm still able to run around doing errands and investigations for clues…

Xia Yan: Actually, there's this one other important thing that only you can do. Sorry, I kept forgetting to tell you about it.

Under my curious gaze, Xia Yan took a deep breath before speaking slowly.

Xia Yan: I hope you'll take custody of the "Vespers' Box" and lead this investigation.

MC: !!!

Xia Yan: I know that this is a little risky. It was I, who received the commission, and I shouldn't have involved others who didn't have anything to do with it…

Xia Yan: But I have to stay at the Base most of the time to analyze the codes, so I had to find someone who would be able to take on the task and carry out the investigations out in the field much more conveniently.

Zuo Ran: This is too dangerous. We do not know of the reason behind the hacker's disappearance and have no way of identifying who we're up against.

Mo Yi: But her safety will be guaranteed so long as there's always someone by her side, yes?

Mo Yi smiled at me.

Mo Yi: My recent schedule is somewhat free, so I can accompany you if that's any reassurance.

MC: Huh? But wouldn't I be troubling you way too much…?

Lu Jinghe: Trouble or no trouble, I wouldn't trust someone who only wakes at 9AM to protect you.

Xia Yan: Same.

Zuo Ran: Mo Yi, I hope you'd consider the feasibility of your suggestion before putting it forth.

Mo Yi: ......

Zuo Ran: All four of us have a fixed range of activities we are involved in; be it work or investigation...

Zuo Ran: So how about we take turns to accompany her based on whose workplace is the closest when the tasks get triggered?

Zuo Ran: The "Vespers' Box" will be stored in NXX's Base after completing the daily tasks every day. This way, there'll be no need to be afraid of being tracked.

Lu Jinghe: Yes, that's certainly a good idea.

Xia Yan: I won't be careless when it comes to the problem of her safety. I'll also track and monitor her location in real time when she's out through the GPS signal beamed from her mobile.

Mo Yi: Alright. This is certainly the most efficient method we've come up with.

Chu Dai: So... have all of you decided the course of action you’ll be taking?

Chu Dai, who had been watching us all this time, seemed to have finally found an opportunity to interrupt us.

Chu Dai: Oh! Looks like you've all talked it out! (Y/n) has a very good work record! I'm sure she'll have absolutely no problem at all leading the investigation!

MC: Haha, thank you for the compliments, Chu Dai!

Chu Dai: Then next, I will be explaining the functions of the "Vespers' Box" that I've analyzed.

Chu Dai: All members of NXX, please listen carefully, for you'll be using these eventually in consequent investigations!

Everyone nodded, gathering where I was to listen to his explanation.

A heavy sense of responsibility weighed on my heart as I held the "Vespers' Box" in my hands.

MC: (Please rest assured, all of you who have placed your deep trust in me…)

MC: (I'll definitely complete this commission and find out the true colors of this mysterious Client of ours!)

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Next Part: (NXX Group Chat: Big Data Lab)

[vicunaburger]

Imperfect and inhuman, are we?

Fandom: School of Rock: The Musical (AU Verse) Chapters: 2/? Pairing: Dewey Finn x OC (Magdalena Newton) The Players: Dewey Finn, Magdalena Newton, Ned Schneebly, The School of Rock Students Word Count: 1,779 Warnings: M for Future Things

Notes: Oh yeah, this was a thing I was doing.

Chapter 2 - Evening - Serenade 

It was that near perfect sort of weather outside: the kind where it was cool enough to open all the windows, but not cold enough to warrant breaking out the portable heater and pointing directly at his feet. Instead of shutting himself away in the makeshift “soundproof” corner of his apartment, Dewey decided to take his personal jam session out onto the fire escape.

He had long since chased away the neighbors who took issue with his might tributes to the rock gods, so he wasn’t too concerned with having the police called on him.

Again.

Noise complaints carried expensive ass tickets.

Besides, using an acoustic guitar dampened the noise enough to satisfy the holdout residents around the building.

“Why is this G sounding like an A? Are you out of tune- fuck!” He mumbled though the impromptu song, angrily adjusting the strings. “I thought I fixed you when the humidity changed.”

“I don’t know that song,” a voice from the alleyway below called up to him. “Play Freebird.”

Startled, Dewey nearly fell off the windowsill onto the harsh, metal grating of the fire escape. Setting he guitar -gently- on the floor of the apartment, he climbed outside, peering down over the shaky railing to the ground below.

Looking ever so much the small, porcelain doll from such a height, he spotted a familiar woman wrapped in a winter white coat. Her dark hair spilled over one shoulder onto the pristine fabric, reminding him of one of those ink blot tests the Horace Green resident counselor would give the faculty every month.

She waved up to him, but it was hard to read her expression from such a distance. He could only assume she was in a good mood from her cheeky joke about requested another song. Then again, he had yet to see her in a bad mood.

Dewey was surprised -in the very best way- to see her so early in the evening. Magdalena had a habit of catching him as he arrived home from late night practice; it was uncanny how she always seemed to sneak up on him, barely making a sound as she approached him on the sidewalk. Normally, he could hear a pin drop from six feet away, but she was something else.

They would exchange pleasantries before she would continue her trek down the sidewalk toward the city proper, “to work” as she explained. She made no attempt to elaborate on what sort of job started so late at night; so, he guessed it was something medical.

Or she was a classy hooker.

Didn’t much bother him either way.

“Hey, Snow White!” Dewey called down to her, “Hold on, I’ll be right down.”

He near leapt back into his apartment, scrambling around on all fours, picking through various piles of laundry on the floor. They were organized – in a way – by the level of wear they received throughout the week. Obviously, something on the fresher side was the goal; it would be mortifying to pick out a shirt that had food stains or some other sign of his lack of forethought to hit the laundromat last week.

Magdalena always looked like a million bucks striking down that grimy sidewalk, whereas he looked like he rolled around a thrift store clothing bin.

He had gotten most of his wardrobe from thrifting, but she didn’t need to know.

“Aaaah – I’ll be right down… gimme just another minute.” He grabbed a sweater vest from under his bed, jamming it over his head as he yelled toward the window. “I don’t want you being late… for… whatever you would be late for!”

Struggling with the vest, as he had somehow managed to slip his head through an arm hole, he failed to notice the woman sitting politely outside the window.

Magdalena watching him angrily try and right himself; amused that he was taking such great pains to dress nicely for her sudden arrival. Frankly, what he already had on was enough for her, as she enjoyed seeing him so vulnerable?

No, casual was a better choice. Sometimes the nuance escaped her.

“No need to shout, Mr. Finn.” Magdalena finally announced herself, wanting to end his struggles. “I can hear you perfectly well.”

Dewey stopped midway removing the vest, dropping the garment to the ground, and pulling his t-shirt down over his stomach. It had ridden upward in his haste, exposing his midsection entirely. A bright blush spread across his cheeks, noting the fact she had been starting directly at the exposed pudge of his belly. Was it because of the pudge? It was the pudge, he concluded, her staring at him for any other reason was making a beeline for cheesy porn fantasy territory.

“What- how did you get up here?” He asked, blinking slowly.

Magdalena tilted her head, mirroring is blink, “The stairs.”

“Well, yeah duh the stairs, I meant like how you got up here so fast. There are like fifty steps up to this floor-” He sat on the windowsill across from her.

“Fifty-three steps.” She corrected him gently, brushing some stray hair behind her ear.

“How do you- “Dewey began.

“I counted.” Magdalena finished for him. “I passed all of my arithmetic courses some years ago, Mr. Finn, as I’m sure you have.”

Pausing, he ran a hand through his mess of hair, trying to smooth down his perpetual bedhead fluff. Magdalena’s hand twitched with the impulse to run her fingers through his hair, wondering if it would be as soft as it looked against her sensitive skin. It wouldn’t have been too hard to just reach over a little, just for a brief moment to keep that sensation as a memory.

Two things kept her impulse in check: one, social convention would frown upon such a familiar gesture of affection towards a man she hadn’t yet spoke a thousand words to altogether. Two; she dared not cross the threshold between the fire escape and his apartment.

Fire escapes were public, specifically owned apartments were not.

“I… sound like a complete jackass when I talk to you. I’m usually better? Sometimes. Most times. Promise. Swear on my vinyl collection; may it melt if I’m lying.” Dewey scratched the back of his neck nervously.

Shrugging, she gave him a small, reassuring smile, “Well, I don’t know anyone personally to compare your behaviors with, but I’m hardly offended by what you say.

Dewey looked about to cry, which she couldn’t be sure if it were because of her response, or the chill in the weather. He leaned forward, elbow on his knees, with his chin in his hand. The fact that his upper body was now technically beyond the windowsill was not lost on her, her eyes flicking down to calculate the angle between his head and the window frame.

He sighed heavily, taking note of her impeccable posture, “You’re so… polite, ya know that? Like those women in fancy drama movies on PBS. Sitting around waiting to marry some fancy lord or whatever. Why are you up here talking to me anyway?”

“Oh, well, shouting from the street would be grossly inappropriate. My mother, she always says, ‘Magda’” She deepened her accent, hunching slightly, “ ‘If they cannot be close enough to hear you speaking softly, they aren’t worthy of hearing what you have to say in the first place.’”

“So, you came up here because you wanted me to hear you better?” Dewey tried to piece what he could through the thick, eastern European accent she had donned. “I would have come down! Now you’ll get that coat all covered in rust and I’m gonna feel bad about it. And that’s gonna make me break out the wallet so you can get it dry cleaned, because I need to be a gentleman.”

Magdalena laughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, “I can get it washed, no charity required. It’s just a coat; but a Mr. Finn is unique, so I will gladly sacrifice something that can be replaced.”

The rocker stared at her, his jaw a little slack, “…are you real?”

“The eternal question plaguing the greatest minds in history.” She played with the ends of her inky hair, twisting it around her fingers, “Maybe. Maybe not. In this instance of sitting with you, yes, we are real in relation to each other. Then again, when I leave, you might not exist until I come back. Or vice-versa.”

“Terrifying,” He replied, shaking his head sadly.

Seizing the opportunity, she reached over with her free hand, patting his shoulder softly, “Quite; but I could always be wrong, Mr. Finn.”

Dewey reached upward, placing his larger hand upon hers, frowning when he felt how cold she felt, “Hey, why didn’t you tell me you were freezing? Here.”

Before she could stop him, he took hold of both her hands, pulling them inside the warmth of the apartment, rubbing them between his own hands to generate heat. Magdalena’s arms felt like their were being pulled through a nest of razor wire, her very sinew feeling as if it were being peeled back from her muscles.

She steeled her expression, biting her tongue to keep from screeching in pain from his selfless gesture, trembling head to toe with the effort. He thankfully didn’t notice her discomfort, cupping his hands around hers and puffing warm breaths against her cold skin. What should have been a tender, friendly gesture was being overridden by her compulsion to stay outside. His permission needed to be verbal, not physical. Words were powerful things in her experience.

Her head was pounding, her vision growing blurry with the pain streaking through her veins like acid. Faintly, she could feel a small drop of blood leaking out from her nose, trickling down her to her lip, and falling onto her lap.

Dewey must have taken his attention away from her hands, his eyes growing wide as he let her go, “You’re bleeding? Are you okay? Snow?”

The woman pulled her hands toward her body, one of them going up to try and hide her bloody nose, “Oh! I’m… forgive me, it happens occasionally. Not your fault!”

The moment her hands were outside the threshold of the window, her body felt perfectly normal. No pain, no throbbing headache. Just as she had been moments before.

“Allergy medication. Sometimes with the dry weather… ah, still, I apologize for the gruesome interruption.” She took a handkerchief out of her coat pocket, wiping away the blood as best she could. “Did I get it all? Less hideous?”

Leaning forward, Dewey pretended to examine her face, struggling to keep a stern expression, “Well, less hideous than you usually are, so it’s a start. Might take a little more work to get you from hideous to tolerable.”

Magdalena pouted, stuffing the handkerchief back into her pocket, “I’ll enlist your help to make sure I’m daresay presentable in the future. Goodnight, Mr. Finn, I expect a better song choice tomorrow.”

Writing Tags: @amywright @mrgeuse  @hoodoo12 @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @a-subconscious-manifestation @asriells @missihart23 @heknowshisherbs @clairjohnson

[lovelessmako]

This is a demon/exophilia love story I've been working on that I thought I'd share here. If people seem to like it then I'll add more.

Ve

Chapter One:

Kivet laughed inwardly as blood and adrenaline rolled off his dark form in waves. The thrill of the chase. Watching a child cling to you, begging you to let them go as the light slowly leaves their eyes. This was what he was created for. He was a peacekeeper between the different species. It was his job to keep the status quo in any way possible. If that meant killing children because a fae dared to have a child with a human, then that was what he had to do. Afterall, mutts were incapable of kindness or love. Sure, they could fake it quite convincingly, even Kivert himself would've fallen for it had he not been taught the truth, but it was impossible for them to experience any pleasant emotions. If Kivet enjoyed his job then that was nobody's business but his own. Everyone needed to stick to their own people. Only the Ve, which he was, could leave their lands.

Sometimes people would send messengers to other species in order to broker peace. Kivet hated those. Scared, unarmed, diplomats with enough medals to make you go blind as they reflected the sun. They didn't deserve those. He always made sure nothing arrived and would leave a bloodied medal behind as a warning. He would keep the others, of course. They were rather good quality and he had quite the collection coming along. He had no idea what they stood for but surely he deserved them more than their original owners.

Kivet set to work wiping his claws off on a rag he kept in his pocket. He frowned slightly when he saw that the blood had reached there as well. So much for clean hands. He gave up and settled for sitting with his back against a tree and admiring his work. Even in their last moments, the two criminals had held each other and tried to shield the child. That's commitment, he'll give them that. Maybe they thought it would gain his sympathy. Dumb. It did make him a bit lonely though. If such scum found someone to play along with their ruse, then why was a hero forced to work alone? He wasn't forced per say, but his old partner had fallen for an orphaned mutt's tricks and had to be put down. It was unfortunate, Suvo was pretty good at his job. He had even told Kivet that what they were doing was wrong! Saving lifes is wrong? What an ass! No, he reminded himself, it was that mutt's fault. Suvo had younger siblings and the creature looked similar to one. Meanwhile, Kivet had never been around children except for when he was in school.

He gathered himself and started in to the nearest town. Kivet could use something to eat, and there were always mutts scatted about to kill. It was disturbing how many there were. Why do people insist on disobeying the natural order of things? The strangest part was how many purebreds supported the movement. The town wasn't too far of a walk, and his shadowy wings were still a bit sore from the long flight over, so he didn't mind walking. The land was nice enough, a dirt path with a small lake to the right and wilting forest to his left. There were some huts in groups of 3 or 4 every now and then; It seems the humans were not advanced enough to feel safe living alone yet. It made sense, they were a very fragile species, very easy to injure; even by accident. They also contracted illnesses often and usually died from them. And, even if they managed to be extremely careful, their lifespan was still very short. Most species told tales of these weak creatures and used them as examples of the good alliances between species would do. They were nothing more than figureheads, however. Something that would be cast aside when no longer needed.

Humans were the worst when it came to mutts. They found fae and elves to be attractive for some reason. He could see it from a procreation standpoint; every parent wants their children to be powerful. But what did the others gain? Maybe humans had special bonding rituals that they preformed in order to create children. That could be interesting. Not that it would ever be possible for a Ve, even if it was allowed. He was reminded of that time and time again as humans ran or hid from him. "Nightmare. Demon. Bad omen. Monster," he had heard it all.

This time, however, the humans seemed to be crowding around a figure on the ground. He hissed loudly, causing them to scatter and leave the body. He crouched nearby, not caring about the pool of blackened blood that was leaking from a bashed in skull. This was a Ve. A wing had been torn off along with their hands, likely for grizzly trophies. Something caught his eye behind their ear. Kivet yanked out the sharp object to see a steady, blinking, red light. A tracker. This wasn't a Ve that had gotten out of line and needed to be put down. They were hunted. He growled and glared around at the humans. No, not one of them. They were much too timid; many crying already. Entire towns had been decimated for less serious offenses.

If someone was hunting Ve then Kivet needed to be safe. While Ve normally had a solid form, they could take on a shadowy apperation that couldn't be harmed. Unfortunately they couldn't harm anyone either. An even trade off. It also took effort. Not a lot, but it would surely add up. He weighed his options. He couldn't eat while in that form so he would have to drop it for those moments. But waiting a few days to eat could help. It would be a lot easier if he had a partner that could help by taking turns keeping watch. But they would just be hit instead. Maybe he could trick a troll into protecting him. They're a good 3-4 feet taller than him and bright blue; an easy target. But that would mean putting up with a troll. And he didn't even speak their language. Not worth it.

"Are you alright, sir?" Kivet jumped, how could he have let a human sneak up on him like that?! They continued, ignoring his suprise, "it's a pretty gruesome sight."

"Don't talk to me." He went ignored.

"Did you know them?"

"Why are you still talking to me?!"

"Its still sad, even if you didn't. I know if I saw a human like that I'd likely take my own life from the trauma."

Why didn't this human-? Wait, they probably couldn't understand him. Humans had a spoken language, not psychic. Kivet remembered studying that back in Academy; they had to choose a language and it seemed the easiest.

"Fine," he choked out, voice scratchy and broken from lack of use. The human apparently took that as emotion and placed their hand on his shoulder. He hissed in warning, but it wasn't removed.

"Why don't you come inside? I'm not sure if you can digest the same things as us, but I made some nice potato soup. Its chilly today as well. I already have a fire going inside."

Why was this human being nice to him? They didn't even know his name. Hell, he didn't even know their gender; humans were difficult to ascertain with their lack of horns or spikes. He considered the offer. On one hand, he had come to the village for food, and while he wasn't affected by the weather, seeing such a mutilated corpse sent shivers down his back. He was reminded of what his father told him when he started school, "Don't trust anyone, regardless of species or blood relation."

"Sounds lonely."

He startled, not realizing that he had spoken it aloud. "Its all I've ever known." Lie. He had traveled with Suvo for 3 years before the incident. "Find me another Ve and I'll consider changing my mind," he tried to joke. It probably sounded too serious in his underused voice.

"You'll be pretty hard-pressed to find another." A tall fae with tanned skin and a whimsical voice pranced over to them, feet light and airy. Humans referred to Fae as the opposite of Ve. Kivet hated them. Even more than mutts.

"Oh, don't give me that look, demon. I come with news." Kivet continued to glare. How dare he speak to him! "The Ve were attacked a few weeks ago. Whole towns wiped out. Only a handful of you guys remain and they're hunting you down." Who? He was too confused to ask. Ve were untouchable. Heroes who used their strength for good. Why would someone attack? How could they lose? "The Golems." The Fae seemed to understand the unspoken question. "They asked the Fae to join them but our queen refused. The last time we angered Ve our capital was destroyed. So much unnecessary death."

"Just tell me what happened already!" Kivet was getting fed up with this stupid voice already.

He shrugged, a human expression, "that's all I know. My guess is a full frontal assault. Ve are good at tactics, but you lack- what was the word? Oh yeah-strength." That was a blow and he knew it. The Ve were all about strength. They were the best when it came to 1-on-1 fights. Then other species had to invent blades and spears. Kivet, like most Ve, refused to use them. They were a crutch. He hated to believe what a fucking Fae was telling him, but it added up. Golems were known to be able to track anything; relentless hunters. Now he knows it was all thanks to tiny machines.

"Serves you right! The Ve should've be wiped out centuries ago." The Fae laughed. Stupid, musical laughter. Kivet couldn't take it! He lunged at the taller man, causing them to fall to the ground. They seemed shocked and caught off guard. Kivet spread his wings threateningly and hissed in his face, taking joy in seeing the spots of saliva that splattered that stupid, perfect face. The human seemed to be saying something, but all Kivet saw was red. His instincts tuned out all other distractions and focused on their prey. He tried to let out a threatening laugh, but it only sounded broken with emotion. "Not strong, huh? Then what does that say about you?"

The Fae relaxed suddenly, much to his confusion. "Hear that? The Golems are coming." And they were. Their heavy footfalls could be heard not too far away. Likely near where Kivet had left the mutt and it's parent's bodies. He acted solely on instinct and shot off flying towards the sound of the noise. He had to see it for himself. His wings burned from the effort, not used to going faster than a leisurely pace. He stumbled in the air when one popped. Likely a sprain or dislocation, not broken. He fought through the pain until he heard the voices nearly under him. He landed on a sturdy tree branch and started to leap his way across to get a better view, yet be less visible. He didn't know much of their language, but he could pick out a few words "Troll. Her. Reward." They weren't tracking a Ve afterall! But who was this Troll? Someone important for the Golems to make a special trip. Maybe a criminal? Didn't matter. They could kill her for all he cared. Wasn't his problem.

Wait, then why was that Fae in a human village if not to warn him? The fucker came up with some random story to district him from his job! A Fae in a human village was very clearly against the rules. He inwardly scolded himself for not realizing earlier. Oh, he was going to pay!

Kivet turned to move, forgetting about his hurt wing, and stumbled slightly. The rustling attracted the attention of one of the Golems. He froze as he was stared directly in the eye. Neither made a move for what felt like forever. Another Golem said something to the one watching him who then turned his attention away. This was the perfect opportunity to run! So why couldn't he move? The one who had spotted him said something about a bird before the group continued on their way. Did a Golem just cover for him!? Wait, why would that be shocking? Ve had important jobs and couldn't afford to be distracted by insignificant creatures. Surely that was public knowledge by now.

He should really go after that one Fae, but right now he was just too tired, rules be damned. He doubted he could sleep with all that had happened in the past few hours. It seemed like weeks had passed since he last awoke. He wrapped himself into a snug position and closed his eyes.

[katefiction]

Cora, Chapter 5: Revelations

by katefiction (Maria) / 2013

Westminster Hall, London

The coffin lies still, elevated on a platform in the middle of the hall. Surrounded by six long candles, it is draped in the royal standard, the crown glistening on top. The stone walls and ornate wooden beamed roof make the vast space more chilling than it already is and I shiver slightly on the balcony where I’m standing.

Granddad has been lying in state for two days at Westminster Hall, but soon, like monarchs before him, he will be taken to Windsor Castle for the funeral ceremony and to be buried. Three hundred thousand people have passed through these doors to pay their respects to the King that was undeniably the loved by the country, but now, as the guards prepare to take his coffin to the gun carriage, it is time for the capital to say goodbye.

Behind the balcony, out of the view of prying eyes, I take Dad’s cold hand and squeeze it tightly. He keeps his eyes forward stoically, but I feel him squeeze back briefly.  When I had got back to London, Dad had been in a state of shock. As well as grieving for his beloved father, he had decisions to make – when to release the information, what to write in the statement- and I could see him flinch every time someone called him ‘your majesty’.

As the coffin is prepared to be taken down, we are ushered away to join the procession.

I have never seen London so quiet. The roads are closed and along them stand thousands of people, their heads bowed as the gun carriage drives past. You can almost hear the flutter of the occasional flag in the bitter February wind. But other than that, it is silence, and sorrow.

I sit behind the gun carriage in a carriage holding my grandmother and other ladies of the family. I bow my head, trying to ignore the masses of people and cameras that surround my family. Behind us, Dad stands tall, processing on foot, showing no sign of breaking down.

I resent the fact that this moment has to be shared with the world. When I want to curl into a ball and cry, I know that I will have to be talking to dignitaries from around the world. And when I want to hug Dad tightly, I know the camera flashes will put a stop to it.

The eighty one bell tolls from Big Ben become more distant as we approach Marble Arch and I struggle to keep it together, glad of the black veil covering my face. I know that the next time we have a procession, my face covered in a veil; it will likely be for my wedding. A wedding that Granddad won’t be there for.

*

St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle

Staring into space, I pretend to listen to one of Granddad’s old university friends tell me old stories about him.

‘And then James filled the shower head with tea bags so she was drenched in tea!…’, he laughs.

I laugh along politely, wondering when I’ll be allowed to be alone for a while.

The funeral service had been filled with sadness and plenty of tears. From the massive show that was the procession through the streets of London, the funeral was in stark contrast, an intimate family event. But as soon as we’d thrown the dirt into his grave, it was back to duties, with the family playing host to the Granddad’s closest friends and many a dignitary at the wake.

I feel a buzzing in my bag as the friend continues his story.

‘Please excuse me’, I interrupt, ‘I must go speak to my father briefly’

‘Yes yes’, he waves me away and continues speaking to someone else.

I scuttle away into a neighbouring room and pull my phone out of my bag.

‘How are you doing?’, the text says.

I tap my reply in quickly, ‘Ok, I wish you were here though’

He replies almost immediately, ‘So do I, but I’ll see you in a couple of days’

‘I miss you’

I had only seen Ben once since Granddad had died. He had texted and called me constantly, acting as a pillar of support. I wish I could’ve seen him more often, but the attention our family was getting meant that I wanted to protect our relationship more than ever.

‘Well who wouldn’t?’, he replies.

I giggle out loud, grateful for the distraction.

‘Something funny?’, a voice from behind me makes me jump.

I turn around to find a tall, handsome figure, hid hair flicked perfectly to one side.

‘Nicholas…’, I kiss him on each cheek. ‘I didn’t know you were going to be here’

Our grandfathers were close friends. Of course he was going to be here.

‘Would you rather I wasn’t?’, he says seriously.

I laugh awkwardly, ‘of course not, it’s been too long’

I hadn’t seen Nicholas since the Highland Fling. Call me a coward, but I was too chicken to face up to him after ending things with him that night.

He nods in agreement. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Cora’

‘Thank you, it was a big shock’, I cast my eyes downwards. I never know how to respond to sympathy.

‘It must be a big change for you, becoming Princess of Wales’, he leans against the mantelpiece.

‘Oh no, that’s not happening yet!’, I protest.

‘So you’ll still be working up in Scotland for a while?’

‘For as long as I can’

‘I guess all the focus needs to be on your dad right now anyway?’, he says kindly.

‘Exactly, the less I stay out of the papers, the better’

We make small talk for the next ten minutes, until, inevitably, the conversation dries up and we’re left standing awkwardly in silence.

‘Look Cora, can we just forget about what happened between us last summer and be friends’

Thank God.

I breathe a sigh of relief, ‘I would love that, I really would’

‘I’m having a dinner in a couple of days, would you like to come?’, he asks hopefully.

‘Oh Nick, I’d love to, but I’m busy’, I don’t quite meet his eye.

Because I’ll be with Ben.

He shrugs it off. ‘Another time then’

‘Definitely’. And I mean it.

* * *

Curled up on the couch a couple of days later, Ben hands me a cup of peppermint tea. I’d suddenly developed a cold the day after the funeral.

He pushes the hair back from my face, ‘your face is pretty hot’, he says, resting the back of his hand on my cheek.

‘Why thank you’, I snigger.

He rolls his eyes, ‘that was a crap joke’

‘No better than yours’.

I had been in his London flat since the afternoon. Now that that the funeral was over, all the attention was tuned onto Dad. Despite asking him if he needed me to stick around, he insisted that I get back to life as normal.

‘Normal’ now included spending lazy afternoons with my boyfriend.

Ben props my legs up onto his lap and begins massaging my feet. I notice him smile at the sight of my birthday socks.

‘I’m not surprised you’re ill with the week you’ve had. All that adrenalin keeping you going and then your body just crashes’, he mimics a plane crashing with his hand.

I blow my nose into a bedraggled tissue, ‘urgh I feel like hell’

‘You need a break’. He looks at me conspiratorially, ‘I’ve been thinking…’

‘Yes…’

‘Maybe this summer, I could take you on holiday, give you a proper birthday present’

‘You gave me a proper birthday present’, I wriggle my toes in his hands.

‘I mean it’

‘I would love that, you know I would, it’s just how would we do it without people finding out?’, I nibble at my bottom lip.

‘We could just tell people’. He looks me dead in the eye, forcing me to face the conversation. ‘By the summer, we’ll have been together a year, don’t you think it’s time?’

I shuffle closer to him, leaning my chin on his shoulder, ‘I just want our relationship to be ours and when we tell people, it won’t be anymore’

I think back to my discovery a couple of years back. The lengths William and Catherine went to, to keep their relationship to themselves.

His jaw tenses and his voice deepens, ‘the world will find out eventually, I’m sick of sneaking around’

I pull back, sensing his tension, ‘so am I’, I say quietly.

Just when I think he’s going to start an argument, his dark eyes soften, ‘I know’, he sighs. ‘It’s frustrating, that’s all’

I test the waters and lean towards him again. He plants a quick kiss on my lips.

‘You’ll catch a cold’, I grin.

‘I’ll risk it’, he says, pulling me into the warmth of his body.

*

The next morning, I’m woken by my phone going off non-stop. After ignoring Dad’s call on the day Granddad died, I now always pick up my phone first time.

I reach over to it, my eyes half open. To my surprise, Ben is doing the same, his phone going off at the same rate as mine.

‘Hello’, I say croakily.

‘Good morning Your Royal Highness’, Maggie’s voice says; her voice much too bright for 6am.

6am. Something’s wrong.

I bolt upright, ‘what is it? Is it Dad? Or Grandma, or Mum?’, I say, panicked.

Next to me, Ben in growling into his phone; all the while looking at me.

‘Everyone is fine, Ma’am. But it seems the press have caught wind of your relationship’

I feel bile rise to my throat.

Maggie continues when I don’t respond, ‘I’ve sent you a link of the article, you’ll have to decide if you want to make a statement, please get back to me ASAP’

Maggie has a way of making the biggest problems seem manageable, but even as I put the phone down, I feel my face paling.

‘Shit’, I say.

‘Let’s just see what it says’. Ben is already finding the article on his phone. That was presumably his agent calling to tell him.

I sit staring at the wall as he reads the story aloud.

‘Exclusive: Princess Cora dating tennis ace.

Princess Cora is in a secret relationship with Britain’s number one tennis player Ben Evans, the Mail on Sunday can exclusively reveal.

Sources reveal to us that the pair began dating last year after Cora began working with Evans’ charitable trust, the Marion and James Evans Tennis Trust.

The couple are said to be ‘serious’, with friends stating a royal wedding could come as early as next year.’

At that point, Ben throws the phone onto the bed, ‘what a load of bollocks’

‘Only a few people know, who’s leaked this?’, I jump out of bed and begin pulling on my clothes.

‘God knows’, Ben runs his hands through his hair and rubs his head. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Where do you think, I need to get out of here before the paparazzi turn up’, I say, struggling to button up my jeans.

Ben comes over to me, stroking my arms, ‘everyone knows now, what’s the point of running away?’

Why isn’t he more upset about this?

My phone rings again as I’m about to retort. I grab it. Dad.

‘Don’t say it Daddy’, I say before he has a chance to speak.

‘Were you planning to tell me Cora?’, he says it like he’s speaking to a small child.

‘Of course’, I button up my jeans with my free hand.

‘How long has it been going on, or shall I wait for tomorrow’s story to find that out?’

I’m embarrassed to tell him how long it’s been now that I have to say it out loud. ‘Since last July’

I hear him breathe in sharply, ‘we’ll talk about this when you get home, you’re with him, I assume?’

‘Yes’

God this is horrible.

‘I’ll see you later then’. He hangs up before I can try to back out. I don’t have a choice but to go and face him.

‘I need to send for a car’, I say, more to myself than Ben as I text Maggie quickly.

Ben sits at the end of the bed in just his boxers, watching me rush around the room. ‘Can we talk about this?’

‘About what?’ I say distractedly.

‘You can’t just run off, anyone would think you’re ashamed’

I stop in my tracks, ‘don’t be stupid’

He grabs my waist and pulls me on to his lap, ‘we can go places together now; go on that holiday without having to worry’

I clench my teeth at the thought of a hundred photographers following us around some sunny island as we attempt to have a romantic holiday.

‘It’s not the right time’, I say pushing off his lap.

‘Then when will be?’, his voice begins to rise in annoyance.

Why does he have to be so stubborn?  Why can’t he just accept that I know what I’m talking about?

‘Granddad has just died’, I snap. ‘My dad needs my support, not for me to be on the cover of the fucking Mail on Sunday!’

‘Calm down’, he says slowly.

‘I sorry, but it’s like Nicholas said, the focus needs to be on Dad’

‘When did you see Nicholas?’, I can tell he’s trying to sound casual.

‘At the wake’, I don’t have time for this. ‘He was being a friend’

‘I bet he was’, he sneers.

A text from Maggie comes through; telling me a car should be outside. I pull on my coat and grab my bag. I can’t stay here and argue with him.

‘I’ll call you’, I say, as he follows me down the hall.

‘Fine’.

I turn around and attempt to peck him on the mouth as a small peace offering. He turns his head a fraction so I catch his bristly cheek.

‘Right, see you then’

‘See you’, he says. 

I open the door and jump into my waiting car just as two photographers pull into Ben’s road. My car speeds away, the feel of Ben’s missing kiss hollow on my lips. 

[mymarvelbunch]

Be Your Own Hero - Steve Rogers x Reader

This is my first imagine, so feedback is greatly appreaciated!

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/N) has lost all her family and most friends in The Decimation (I refuse to call it The Blip). Refusing to believe their deaths are permanent, she dedicate years to find a way to reverse it. When she finally finds something that might help, she searches for the Avengers. It’s Steve Rogers x Reader, but there is also a lot of Badass!Reader. Also, Non-American!Reader. If you are American, think of a country you’d have loved to be born into :D

Warnings: for now, only a lot of sadness.

Note: Y/Co = your country. Y/Ci = your city

Steve won’t be featured in this part, only mentioned, and not in any romantic light, since the reader hasn’t met him yet.

Part One

A week after The Decimation

A huge memorial was prepared for every inhabitant of (Y/Ci) who dusted away. It was raining, as if Mother Nature was mourning with them. You stood in the far back, black umbrella open, all by yourself. There weren’t many people to keep you company. The few friends who survived had family members to stay with.

The vice-mayor (who was actually mayor now, since the old one was gone) made a heartfelt speech in honor of the fallen ones, but you barely paid any attention to it. Mentally, and in whispers, you recited the names of all the loved ones you lost: your mother, your father, your two older siblings, your sister-in-law, your only uncle and his wife, your 5-year-old cousin, your 89-year-old grandma who blissfully escaped Alzheimer’s. You had around forty friends, close and not-close, but now only twelve remained, and only two of them could be called close friends. Not to mention your college class, cut down from 48 to nine. You haven’t even counted the college staff.

It was surreal. Mass extinctions have happened before in history, but not like this. This wasn’t natural. The Avengers have called international press to explain what happened, but for most it was hard to understand.

For most. Not for you.

You searched Captain America’s video with the full, most detailed explanation and watched a dozen times, writing everything he said down. Apparently, an alien ingrained with Malthusian mentality used powerful items to wipe out half of the universe, believing that it would delay civilization’s self-destruction due to lack of resources. At one point he slipped the term ‘infinity stones’.

You haven’t had time to search about those ‘stones’ or anything else from the video (like the alien’s name, Thanos), but you fully intended to. Because there was surely a way to bring everyone back. Their deaths were result of magic (or whatever they called it), and magic can be reversed.

You refused to believe your family was lost forever.

You refused to believe that so many lives, families, hopes, dreams and achievements were gone for good.

There had to be a way out. And, while she hoped the Avengers would find a way, you decided to take matters into your own hands too. Everyone was mourning; you had the ‘advantage’ of having no one to comfort, meaning more time in your hands.

The memorial ceremony was over. After most people left (around two hours later), you walked over to where your family’s names were. “Mom, Dad”, you whispered, “I’ll do everything in my power to bring you back. I promise.”

A year later

Your graduation party was small and intimate. Your dusted classmates were properly honored, and, thanks to everyone having got closer in the following year, you all had a good time together. It was, overall, incredibly sweet.

You were now a doctor. Not so long ago, you’d be overjoyed by finally getting your medical degree. You were still happy, but the feeling was overshadowed with grief. You wish your family was there to celebrate with you.

At least your two close friends were there. They even brought their remaining parents to help cheer you up.

But now, you had a task: work to save money to keep your research.

The year had been productive, especially given the mess that was college. Thanks to Black Widow’s leaks from 2014, you progressed rapidly.

The so-called Infinity Stones had a few mentions, notably concerning the Battle of New York in 2012. The ‘Tesseract’, which seemingly fell in that category, had been mentioned in SHIELD files since the 50s; apparently, Captain America himself had come in contact with it in his war time. There is a mention of a Captain Marvel and the Tesseract  in the 1995 files, but all were vague, as if SHIELD itself didn’t know who were dealing it. Probably an alien.

There was a mention of an Aether in 2013, which seemed powerful enough to be an Infinity Stone. The leaked files, obviously, ended in mid-2014, meaning there is nothing on the incident on Sokovia.

News sites and channels mentioned that the AIs created by Tony Stark had been powered by ‘an unknown object that seems to be a remain of the alien invasion of 2012’. There was no description, but there were pictures of Vision that featured a glowing yellow round-shaped thing. There was no way to be sure, but you’d guess it was also an Infinity Stone. Besides, Captain America’s announced that Vision was destroyed by Thanos right before the Decimation. Wouldn’t it be reasonable that the alien did that to steal a Stone?

Of course, you were far from being the only person researching on the Infinity Stones. In fact, so many were doing it that the Avengers (Natasha Romanov this time) had to make a press conference for a few statements:

1. There were no Infinity Stones in their possession.

2. They would not confirm nor deny whether they were ever in possession of a Stone or not.

3. As it was too dangerous, they would also not disclose information on the Stones.

It meant you had to hack into... somewhere to find more information. That held you back, since you didn’t have time to learn hacking abilities and finish college at the same.

Now that you graduated, you had more free time in your hands. You’d work few hours a week, enough to get money to survive. All your family’s inheritance belonged to you, which granted you more than enough money for you self-assigned mission.

Seating down, you opened your computer and started the next step of your research.

Early 2020

Hacking was useful, but not in the way you expected.

There was little new information concerning Thanos and the Infinity Stones. Most things you found were conspiracy theories, most of which were absurd and didn’t match the knowledge you already had.

However, Deep Web proved useful in one thing: you found out about the Mystic Arts and its Masters.

Information was vague and of questionable reliability, but you managed to gather that they possessed knowledge of many things ancient and alien. You also managed to find out their nearest temple’s location: Y/Ci! Ha! There was even an address!

It was near Valentine’s Day, meaning streets were crowded. You decided it was the best moment to search for that temple (which they called Sanctum). The best to hide, in your opinion, was in a big crowd.

Your first place of search was the given address, of course. Its street was crowded as hell, since it was a commercial one, full of shops that were perfect for buying valentine gifts. Good thing you didn’t find a boyfriend; there was no one to distract you from your goal.

(Were you obsessed? Maybe.)

The number on the address belonged to an oriental-styled house, something not really common in Y/Ci. You knocked on the door of the supposed tarot-reading house, hopeful that there was more about that place.

“Good morning, miss”, the woman who opened the door said. “Are you here for tarot reading?”

You took a deep breath and said, in a low voice, the sentence you read as being the password for entering a Sanctum: “Oh, I’d love to know if I was a Titanic victim in my past life.”

(God, it was such a ridiculous phrase. That was probably why they picked it; not even an insane person would willingly say that in a tarot house.)

The woman arched her eyebrows. You bit your lip, waiting for her to call a psychiatric ambulance, but she simply smiled. “Follow me, sister.”

You released your breath.

Next part

------

Hey, everyone! Hope you liked it! Feedback would be greatly appreciated :D

The MCU barely acknowledges the repercussion of Natasha’s leaks in Captain America: The Winter Soldier. I imagine most people wouldn’t read all leaked files, but, after the Snap, many would try to find explanations in those leaks. After all, Thanos was an alien, and everyone knew SHIELD was behind the Battle of New York (among other events). I do suspect there would be little information on Captain Marvel (a codename to hide Carol Danvers’ identity), since there is nothing said about her until the after-credits scene in Infinity War, and no one aside from Nick Fury and Maria Rambeau (who is not SHIELD) really knows what happened in 1995.

I’m not sure whether the events of Thor: the Dark World would actually be on a SHIELD file, since I haven’t watched Agents of SHIELD, but I guess the more information the better! However, there is no indication in the movies that SHIELD ever came into contact with the Master of Mystic Arts, which is why the reader doesn’t find anything on them until she goes to the Deep Web to find answers.

Part Two will be set mostly in the Sanctum and focus on what the reader finds there. If you have any suggestion on what you’d like to read in this part, you’re welcome to tell. The reader won’t meet Steve until part 3, but I think she’ll meet one or two Avengers by the end of part two, so stay tuned!

Taglist is open if anyone is interested! See you next time!

[shannygoatgruff]

My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter IX

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA 

Overall Warning:  Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.  

Chapter Warning: Drug use, talk of spiraling out of control

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other.  Boys will be boys…

Chapter IX

Why the fuck am I watching the news?  This is what flipping through channels gets me.  I should have never stopped when I saw this bitch’s face.  I fucking hate her. 

Now, I either want to put my fist through the TV or pull my damn hair out.

Fuck, I hate this bitch! She’s no different from the rest of these news assholes. Always trying to dig up some shit that should be left alone. Putting all of our personal business on blast like that...pieces of shit. And this whore is the worst of them.  She's purposely trying to make Ivar and I look bad. 

"Police are trying to find a common thread between these murders. The victims have all been found in remote areas throughout the county.  The coroner reports each victim showed signs of sexual trauma and or torture, pre- or post-mortem. While police have no suspects, in these killings, they do believe they are all connected and have been committed by the same perpetrator.  Witnesses to the last two victims’ disappearances have described seeing a Caucasian male, between the ages of 18-35, approximately 5’8” – 6’2”, medium build, with medium to dark hair, leaving with the victims. If you have any information about these victims or the suspect, please call Detective Torstein, Homicide." The white numbers for the police station flash on the screen under this bitch’s face.  

“You fucking cunt!” I don’t know what just fell to the floor as I kicked the coffee table in front of the couch.  She has no right to show fucking pictures and the names of our past guests.  But, I’ll be damned, if they are there.  All the ones from this month: Halfdan, Porunn, Astrid, and Erlendur.  None of them looked like that when we met them.  Then, they were all slutted up and ready to please.  But looking at these pictures, they look like they’re a part of a fucking church choir.  

You bitch!

But, fuck you news-lady, you forgot one. You forgot about that girl we met at the concert. I almost did. At least, I can keep one of those special nights sacred without you fucking it all up and turning it into some freak show for these news groupies to salivate over.  

Shit, I just wish I could remember that whole night. 

I can only remember meeting her and bringing her back to the cabin.  I remember she was a great lay, and that looked fucking amazing. But that’s it.  Every time I try to remember what we did, or how many times we did it or anything else, there’s like a blank spot.  I don’t know if Ivar got to try anything new with her, or what.  

Ivar said I blacked out, again.  Did she pass out before or after he got to her?   Did she try to escape?  Did he punish her long and hard for that?  Did she cooperate and he let her go?  Is that why she wasn’t on this little photo lineup? What the fuck I am saying? He wouldn’t’ve done that shit.  They just haven't found her body, yet. 

That bitch reporter is smiling again. She's enjoying all the fucking lies and the smear campaign that she’s creating against us. "Stay tuned for more information on these murders as they become available. Judith Wessex, reporting, Action 10 News."

"Lying bitch!" Just the look on her face and the sound of her voice is driving me crazy. She doesn't know us. She has no right to say those kinds of things about us. Nobody tortured or brutalized anybody. It was all in fun. They were into it.  

Ivar takes the remote from my hand and tucks it into his palm, "You don't need to watch this." He's been extra protective since I woke up in his bed. I can't do anything. He must have really been scared after this last blackout because he won't let anything upset me. Changing the channel, he settles on something non-threatening; Property Brothers. He knows I love that show. "There. That's better."

"I'm fine, Ivar,” I lie, “that bitch on the news just got under my skin.”  I reach over to pick up the ashtray – when did I start smoking so much?  I’m already on my second pack today and I’ve only been awake since noon.  

"I know you are. But you get bothered so easily. I just want you to take it easy." His smooth voice caresses my ears and instantly gives me goosebumps on my arms. But he knows the damage is already done. Standing behind me, he holds his arms out on either side of my head, with his fists out in front of me.  “Left or right?  Pick one.”

I have no idea what’s in his hands, but since we’re both right-handed, I nod toward his right hand.  He tilts my head back so I’m looking up at him.  “Open up.”  I obediently do as I’m told and feel three pills of varying size hit my tongue. 

He quickly places a kiss on my forehead as I sit up to swallow the pills dry. Turning in my seat, I watch as he drops the pills from his left hand into his mouth.  He holds his tongue out for me to see his four pills before his tongue darts back into his mouth.

“What was that?” I try to swallow hard enough to make the pills slide down my throat.  Hopefully, it’s something that’ll make me stop wanting to throw this fucking television out of the window.  

Ivar shrugs and smiles, “Fuck if I know.  I found them in my coat pocket.  Guess we’ll find out shortly.”  He picks up the dishtowel that he had sat down on the back of the couch and slings it over his shoulder, "Anyway, Serk, that shit that reporter said wasn't true. She's just trying to fuck with us. Trying to make us slip up." He starts to walk out of the room but stops and turns around with a huge smile.  "Maybe we should party with her." His smile immediately fades when he sees how upset she's made me. "Awe, brother… don't worry about that bitch. I'll kill her if you want."

"They know what we look like, Ives."

"How many white guys are there in the world, Serk? They can’t even agree on my goddamn hair color.” He leans against the wall and folds his arms across his chest. “I took care of everything. No one knows. No one will ever find out." There is such honesty and power in his voice that I can’t help but trust that he believes this.  I know he wouldn’t chance anything getting in the way of the life that we've built together.

But, there’s still that part of me that fears that our world is about to come crashing down around us. What would I do if I didn’t have this outlet or God forbid they took Ivar away from me? 

"I can't handle this shit anymore. Fucking bitch reporters are lying on us. Stupid fucking cops are trying to dig shit up and sticking their pig noses where they don't belong." Everything as of late is running through my mind. This use to be so much fun, but now everyone else is fucking it up. "Something wrong with me. My blackouts are getting worse.  We went out and I can't remember it. I can't remember jack shit from the past week! Who the fuck blacks out for a whole week?  How long can I go on like this before something really fucked up happens?" 

It feels like my throat is closing and I’m starting to sweat.  My heart rate is speeding up and I think I’m about to die.  I can’t breathe.  Jesus, why does Ivar put up with me when I'm like this? "I'm fucking up at work. Fucking Ub is gonna come here and start asking questions. Thora’s gonna fucking leave me.  You're gonna get tired of taking care of me! Shit's just all fucked up." I sit forward with my arms on my thighs and try to catch my breath.  I try so hard not to give into the fear, but fuck if I'm not feeling it leak out of my pores. 

This is why I need Ivar.  Thora could never handle me like this. I can't even handle me when I get like this. "I don't know how much more I can take, Ivy. I can't do this shit, no more! I can't."  All the air I’m trying to gulp in isn’t helping at the moment.

Standing before me with a concerned look on his face, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. "Hvitserk Ragnarsson." And there it is - that voice that I fucking hate.  That voice Father used to keep us in line.  Ivar rarely uses that voice, but when he does it immediately gets my attention.  I look at him obediently as he sits on the edge of the couch next to me and studies my face.

The amount of emotion in me is overwhelming and before his hand even reaches up to touch my hair, my throat starts to ache, my head hurts and my eyes are stinging. Shit. 

Ivar's arms around me remind me just how much I need him and how important he is to me. "I'm sorry." I lean my head back on the pillow and let the tears run down my face. I’m so embarrassed and tired of always losing my shit.  But true to form, his arms are around my neck and he presses his lips to my cheek and coos sweetly in my ear until I feel my fear dissipates.

With a smile on his face, he turns my head to his. "Better now?" His thumbs trace my tears as he holds my head in his hands. The look in his eyes tells me that everything is going to alright and I believe him. A simple nod of my head convinces him that the worst is over and with that, he places the gentlest kiss on the tip of my nose. I don't how he does it, but he always makes it better. "Come on," he takes my hand to pull me off the couch with him, "I baked cookies."

Now I just feel silly. I had another meltdown and truthfully I can't remember why especially when I see the plate of fresh-baked cookies that he has laid out on the kitchen table. Whatever was wrong with me just moments before seems trivial. It's amazing how he just always seems to know what to do to make everything better.

Ivar's back is to me as he looks out of the kitchen window, but judging by the way his neck is arched, he's taken an interest in something. "We have new neighbors." His voice is distant, almost like he's speaking without thinking.  He can’t tear his eyes away from whatever is outside, but his head turns the slightest bit to face me.  

I’ve never seen him entranced this before. Ivar never fixates. These neighbors must be amazing.

I stuff a chocolate chip cookie into my mouth and pick up another one on my way to the window. He's right. A new young couple is moving in right next door and the woman is exceptionally beautiful. Her eyes are big and bright, her face is like silk and she has this refreshingly innocent look about her. It's enough to remind me that I haven't called Thora since the last night she was here.

Then there's the guy with her. There's something in the proud way he stands... the way his muscles protrude from the sleeves of his t-shirt, and the powerful way in which he slips his arms around her and lifts her off the ground…It makes my top lip sweat and a tingle start at the base of my skull. 

I can't move. I can only stand here and chew my cookie as I watch these beautiful creatures in front of me. “They are perfect,” My voice comes out like a dream.  I don’t even recognize the sound of it. 

As soon as I look over at him and see that gleam in his eye, I know that he already knows. They are perfect.

He lifts my hand to his mouth and takes a bite of the cookie I'm holding. "Yes. They. Are." Chewing, he nods his head and smiles. "We should welcome them to the neighborhood." He always says that the only way to get over the last one is to take a new one. The more I think about it, the more sense it makes.

Something happened with the last girl. Something bad enough to make me forget the most important things. I wish I could remember that night because I want to know that I showed her a good time, but I don't want to remember why I lost control. It's no use worrying about it now. I can't dwell on old memories. I can only look forward to making new ones. New memories with my new neighbors.

No matter what I've done before or how I feel about it now, the only thing I can concentrate on at this very moment is the dull gnawing in my gut. I need something to keep my mind off of all of this shit. 

I need this. I need them. I may always be fighting with the half a conscience I have, but the growling inside of me is usually much louder than it.

The beast inside of me is awake again. And it's so damn hungry.

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[killmongerkink]

Slumber Party

Summary: Erik sleeps over for the first time. 

Pairing: Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens X Black!Reader

Warning: fluff, slight slight slight smut? (i guess)

Length: 1.6k

BTW: i’ve been slacking on my writing and i’m sorry for that. since i’m not 100% done with my other stories (11:37PM and Behind Closed Doors), i decided to drop this little short that’s been sitting in my drafts for a minute now. hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

“Really? That’s the reason? Bitch please, explain and don’t leave out any details.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes as you began to remember that night.

With your arms crossed over your chest, you entertained yourself as you watched Erik attempt to get comfortable on your old hand me down couch. It was probably in the family for at least 10 years and when you finally moved, your parents gave it to you as a gift. For being 10 years old, it was still in great shape and it was perfect for cuddling and watching tv, but sleeping? You’d rather lay on the floor. That’s why you were so confused when Erik insisted that he was okay and that it was actually comfortable, as if your ass didn’t lay on it from time to time. Sleeping in your bed was off limits, you had never shared a bed with a man before and felt awkward just thinking about it, especially since that man was Erik. Although you both had been talking for a couple weeks and you found yourself thinking about him 24/7, you didn’t want to rush things. Sure, waiting months wouldn’t make a difference if he had plans of hitting and quitting, but for your own mental health, you decided to wait. He was prepossessing, captivating and had this aura that pulling you in. You knew better than to get too comfortable with him too fast. 

The only reason he was at your place anyways was because he had ran into some problems with his old apartment. After a major leak broke out due to some “fuck ass neighbors” as he put it, there was no other option but to find some place to stay until it could get repaired. All his homeboys were either living with their girls or their parents, and he didn’t have anyone else close that he could stay with, so that left you. You couldn’t lie, you were kinda offended when he said you were his last option. He explained over the phone how he had tried all his connects, even going as far as trying to room with one of his co-workers that he absolutely hated and you really didn’t know how to take that. 

“Well, you know where everything is. If you need anything, just grab it.” You turned to walk to your bedroom before stopping abruptly and turning back around. “Unless it’s my Naked smoothies, they’re off limits. So don’t even think about sneaking one, cause I counted them.”

“Relax ma. Nobody want them thick ass juices anyways, shit be taking ten years to pour out the bottle.”

Sucking your teeth, you waved him off. Only his goofy ass would pour it out the bottle when he could’ve just drank out of it. Making a few kissy noises, you watched your cat bounce down from the table and job off into your room. After entering, you made sure to close the door behind you which was uncommon since you always left it open. Just the thought of someone in your space was weird, but it was also nice to not be alone for a change. You unsnapped your bra from under your shirt and tossed it onto the chair, embracing the feeling of no longer being restricted. After finishing up your nighttime routine, you made sure to secure your bun with a scarf before getting into bed. Tomorrow was Friday, known as Fly Fri’s at your job where everyone was allowed to wear jeans and sneakers of their choice, and your hair had to be on point to set off the rest of your fit. You were not one to play games and everybody knew you came through on Friday’s, you couldn’t disappoint. 

* * * * *

Snickers ran back and forth throughout your living room, bouncing off furniture and nearly knocking your vase over as he tried to dodge it. After a while, he wore himself out and jogged up to you. He sat there and stared, contemplating if he wanted to jump up or not. 

“What are you waiting for? Come here.”

He jumped up, resting himself on your lap and licking his nose. You fake meow’d, causing him to look up at you as you whined at how cute he was. His paw slapped the top of your hand and you grabbed it, messing with his hair before rubbing it softly. You really loved this cat as if he was a baby, which he was in his own way. You pet him back and forth lightly, feeling his skin move with your hand as you tried your best to calm him down. He was always overly-excited, but you chucked it up to him being a stray on the streets for so long before you got him. His paw kept moving, almost as if he was trying to pull away from your hold, but he continued to purr, showing his appreciation of your touches.

“You’re such a good boy, hm?”

His other paw came up and he began to knead your bare thigh, his nails digging into your skin, harder than usual. You heard your name being called and looked around, your once bright apartment now turning dark. 

* * * * *

“What?” You mumbled,  blinking your eyes as you tried to get used to the dark. 

No longer were you sitting on your couch, you were now laying down in your bed, the sound of the distant traffic meeting your ears. All you could hear was heavy breathing and light pants, not realizing that the latter was coming from you. It felt as if you were moving in slow motion as you turned your head, your cracked door not registering in your sleepy state as you turned and expected to find an empty spot, only to see a figure. Freezing immediately, you wondered if your eyes were playing tricks on you. This had to be a dream, one of those that felt extremely real, almost as if it was happening in real life. It had to be. 

Erik laid beside you, his eyes moving back and forth quickly under his lids as he continued to breath heavily, groaning every now and again. You felt movement by your feet and looked down, finding your cat stretching before going still again. What the hell was going on? How could you be rubbing your cat if it was down- your felt something jerk under your hold as Erik shuffled closer to you, his hand pushing itself deeper in between your thighs. It didn’t take a second longer to realize what was going on and you gasped, pulling your hand off of him as if it burned you. You attempted to scramble off the bed, but that turned out to be impossible as his grip tightened on your leg, forcing you to stay still.

"What you doing girl?” He sucked his teeth, mumbling groggily.

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to be on the couch!” You didn’t know why you were whispering, but you were. Almost as if you were scared that speaking out loud would somehow make the situation realer than what it was.

“You told me come in here. Plus, that couch is uncomfortable as fuck. Why you let me sleep on it?”

“I told your dumbass it was uncomfortable and you said you were okay.”

“So? You knew I was lying and you just left me there to suffer when you got this nice ass bed all to yourself. You don’t care ‘bout me.”

You sucked your teeth, half annoyed and half happy that he was here. Erik was just .. ugh. It was hard to put into words how freaking annoying, but cute he was. He was just such a big baby about everything, and it wasn’t until he was mumbling a “what?” under his breath did you realize you had said that outloud.

He scoffed, releasing your thigh just to pull you closer to him in a near death grip. It seemed as if he was harder than before, the constant pulsing making you feel some type of way. You still couldn’t believe that what you thought was a dream was actually happening and although you told yourself you wouldn’t have sex yet, that didn’t mean you couldn’t think of ways to do other stuff. You wondered if he masturbated as much as you did? Did he think of you when he did? You were hoping so, since all you could picture was him whenever you were pleasing yourself. You acted as if you were getting comfortable, consistently back it up against him and releasing heavy sighs out of fake frustration when you couldn’t find a good position. Chuckling and deciding to tease you back, his fingers began to dig into your side, your surprised squeal and heavy laughter filling the room as you tried your hardest to release yourself from his hold. He finally showed some mercy after a chorus of out of breath “i’m sorry’s”, a pleased laugh filling the air.

“I hate you, you know that right?”

“Mhm. Now girl get comfortable, we ‘bout to do something you’ve never done before.” The warm air from his nostrils kissed the back of your neck, his lips joining in soon after. You wanted to cackle at him singing, but he was actually holding the tune pretty good. Since when did he have vocals?

“And just cause I’m letting you slide now doesn’t mean I will next time. You gonna stay in the living room tomorrow, period. Okay?”

“She say period, I be like periaaaawwwwwd!”.

“Eriiiiik, shut up dang.” Your body bounced as you laughed, he was forever being goofy. “I’m serious though, okay?”

“I’ll try baby, you know I gotta hard head.” He mumbled, grazing his nose against your neck and making you smirk at his innuendo. 

taglist: @madamslayyy @chaneajoyyy @thehomierobbstark @destinio1 @softnani @mareethequeen @honeytoffee @maddiestundentwritergaines @vikkidc @blackgirlreadsfanfic

[sunny1ace]

Fix You - Part 3.4 of the FamAU

Characters: Patton Hart, Janus Viper, Logan Viper

Summary: It’s almost like everyone except Patton wants him to tell Logan the truth

Words: 2087

Warnings: Sad feelings, anxiety, let me know if I should add more :)

A/N: Listen we all just needed some soft platonic Mociet

Taglist (let me know if I should add you or take you off): @espepspes, @kaileah-kat, @i-need-you-buddy

***

Patton is running out of time. 

On one hand, he has endless time. Even when they graduate, it doesn’t mean it’s the end. But on the other hand, who knows what will happen! Logan could move overseas or go to space!

(Admittedly, the second one isn’t very likely, but Patton has come to realize that with Logan, nothing is impossible.)

It doesn’t help at all that Dee has been giving him that look since he met up with him back in their dorm room after class. Maeve isn’t much better, but at least she’s mostly focused on painting Dee’s nails ten different colors. 

“Remind me again why Aldridge didn’t convince you?” Dee asks with a sigh.

“Stop moving!” Maeve protests. Dee sticks his tongue out at her.

Patton shrugs, pulling his blanket around him tighter. “I guess I know there’s a chance we’ll find each other again, but what about all the time we’ll miss spending together?”

“Patt,” Maeve says, not looking up from Dee’s fingers. “What’s so hard about saying you wanna bang him?”

“Maeve!”

“Stop moving!”

Dee huffs at her. “What Maeve would say if she had any sort of elegance-”

“Fuck you, for one.”

“-is that if you really care about him, tell him. Holding back will only hurt you.”

Patton makes a pouting face. “Worse than him not feeling the same way?”

“At least that way you’ll know.”

The room falls silent aside from Maeve’s out of tune humming and the occasional hiss from Dee whenever she gets nailpolish on his hands. Patton watches them, and part of him is jealous. He wants what they have. Complete trust and care and openness.

He could have it.

Patton bites his lip. “Okay.”

Maeve jumps at the sudden break in silence, “Dee don’t move!”

“I didn’t!” Dee glares at her, then looks up at Patton. “Are you sure?”

“Aw, kiddo, I’m always sure!”

“I’m not a child.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Just paint my nails, Maybelline,” Dee snarks back at Maeve. He raises his eyebrows at Patton. “I’m serious. I watched the two of you dance around each other for four years, and you’re just deciding this here, now?”

Patton shrugs. “No time like the present!”

Dee snorts, “Tell that to the you of the past.”

“If I could time travel, I’d make sure to let him now.”

It takes Dee a few seconds, and he blinks blankly. “Truly one of your best puns, darling.”

Patton smiles shyly, “Yeah, I’m nervous.”

Twisting the cap on her nailpolish kind of violently, Maeve flops down onto her back, sticking one foot out to poke Dee in the face with it. “I feel like I’m at a middle school sleepover. Just call him!”

Dee shoves Maeve’s foot away and tosses Patton his phone. Patton fumbles it, accidentally hitting it back at Dee, who looks very tired as the phone and Maeve’s foot hit his face. Patton grimaces, “Sorry! One more time.”

Tossing it slower, Dee ducks, only straightening when he’s sure Patton has the phone securely in both hands. “Good, now dial.”

“And say what? I can’t confess over the phone!”

Maeve sits up again, blowing her uneven bangs out of her face. “You’re having lunch with him, right?”

“Yep!”

“Ask him if you can tell him something important when you meet, that way you can’t chicken out.”

Patton tilts his head. “Hey… that’s pretty smart!”

“That’s because I’m pretty smart,” Maeve says, throwing a pillow at Dee when he makes an ‘eh’ noise.

Giggling, Patton shakes his head. His friends are pretty weird. With a deep breath he dials Logan’s number, holding his phone to his ear. It rings four times and Patton starts to think Logan won’t pick up when the line clicks.

“Patton, I was just about to call you.”

Patton is well aware of Dee and Maeve’s eyes on him as his face brightens. “Really? Well I guess I beat you to it!”

There’s something off in Logan’s voice when he says, “I suppose you did.”

Ignoring it, Patton fiddles with the blanket around him. “I wanted to ask you something, but you go ahead, okay?”

“Very well.” Logan clears his throat and Patton already knows it’s bad news. “I’m afraid I- well you see something came up and- Patton I’m afraid I’ll have to cancel lunch.”

Apparently the disappointment on his face is obvious, because Dee starts waving his hand with a question look, “What?”

“He has to cancel lunch,” Patton whispers.

Maeve makes a face. “Dick.”

“I’m sure he has a good reason!” Patton defends, still whispering. “I’ll just talk to him tomorrow.”

Dee shakes his head. “No, you won’t. I know you. Tell him now!”

Patton stares at him, one beat, two, then goes back to the phone. “That’s okay, Lo! Don’t worry about it!”

Both Maeve and Dee groan.

“Excellent, now what was your question?”

“Oh…” Patton goes back to whispering. “He wants to know what my question was.”

“Tell him!” Maeve and Dee whisper shout at the same time.

Patton gives them an apologetic look, raising his voice for Logan, “I was just wondering where you wanted to meet. That doesn’t really matter anymore though!”

Dee slaps his forehead, Maeve goes back to painting her toes.

Panic starts to settle in Patton’s chest, the same feeling he gets when he accidentally procrastinates on homework and only realizes the day it’s due. He’s pretty sure Logan says something else, but he can’t make it out over the rushing blood in his ears. “I’ll see you around!’

It’s only after he hangs up that he realizes he didn’t tell Logan how incredible he is, which is definitely something Logan would notice. So now Logan probably hates him.

Dee stands up and ruffles his hair, “Come on, sunshine. Maeve is going to meet her sister for lunch, you and I can grab something together.”

Forcing a smile, Patton nods. “Okie dokie!”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Pretend you’re fine.”

Patton shrugs, and then Maeve is hugging him. “Dee doesn’t know what physical affection is,” she says.

“Shut up,” Dee replies, but he smiles encouragingly at Patton and his hand stays on his head. 

Maeve huffs into his shoulder. “You’ll be okay, sweetheart. There’s always tomorrow.”

“Right.” Patton hugs her back. “Tomorrow will be better.”

“There you go.” Maeve pulls back and stands, and just like that her soft, caring behavior is gone. “Now I’m going to go eat the hottest wings that place downtown has!”

Dee’s eyes widen in alarm. “What!? You can barely handle normal hot sauce!”

“That’s what my sister said!” Maeve is already halfway out the door. “Time to prove her wrong!”

“Or go to the hospital!”

“Sounds like an adventure!” The door slams, Dee pinches his nose.

Patton smiles, “She still wants kids, right?”

“Yes. I’m terrified.”

“I’m excited.”

Dee snorts and passes Patton his cardigan, “Let’s get going, I want steak.”

“I bet you take it rare-”

“Oh god.”

“-like you!”

Rolling his eyes, Dee stuffs his hands in his pockets. “You’re a comedian, Patton.”

“I know that was sarcastic, but I’m going to take the compliment!”

Campus is busy, friends and couples rushing from place to place, to get food or to class, some are already going home. It tugs at Patton’s heart, that he won’t see these things anymore come next week. He glances at Dee, puffing up his cheeks. “So… you mad at me?”

“Never.”

Patton smiles, sticking his hands in his pockets and his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he tries to keep pace with Dee. Unlike Logan, he doesn’t slow down for him. “Hey Janus?”

“Uh oh.”

“What?”

“You only use my real name when it’s serious.”

“I do not!”

“Do too.” Dee throws an arm over Patton’s shoulders. “Come on, let it out.”

Patton huffs. “Do you think that if you really love someone, you’ll always find your way back to them?”

“No.”

“What- that fast?”

Dee shrugs. “I don’t think love is on the universes scales of who you happen to run into on the street. There’s no such thing as soulmates, Patton.”

“Then…” Patton wrinkles his eyebrows. “What do you call people who are in love, who want to spend the rest of their lives together?”

“Idiots.” At Patton’s affronted noise, Dee sighs. “Happy idiots.”

Stopping, Patton turns to frown up at Dee. A bicyclist passes them, and Patton can’t even force himself to smile and wave like he usually does. “So what happens if graduation comes, and I never tell Logan?”

“Most likely? You get a good job, you buy an apartment with a leaking sink, Maeve stops by at least once a week to annoy you, we have Sunday dinners that move to Friday’s after Maeve has a kid. We learn how to golf of all things, and that replaces the parties and “wild nights”. We get old, we retire, we die and I give my law firm to one of my godchildren, and we’re buried next to each other like the codependent bachelors we are.”

Patton giggles, “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“No. It doesn’t.” Dee rolls his eyes and sets a hand on Patton’s shoulder. “But it would be so much better if you had Logan.”

“I know.”

“Then tell him.”

Right on cue, Patton’s phone plays the familiar “Up” theme. He takes it out of his pocket, staring at Logan’s contact. “I can’t tell him.”

“Darling-”

“I want that.” Patton puts his phone away and smiles at Dee, “I want the golf and leaky sink and annoying Maeve. I want to get old with you.”

“And without Logan?”

No. More than anything, no.

Patton smiles up at Dee, “Come on, Janus. Lunch is waiting.”

It’s not until Janus is walking ahead of him that he pulls out his phone to text Logan an apology. Maybe Dee is wrong. Maybe one day they will find each other. One day when Patton isn’t so scared.

The rest of the day is a blur. Patton puts so much effort into trying to keep up a happy facade that every minute blends into the last until he’s sitting in his dorm, and Janus sets a bottle of blue nail polish in front of him and says, “Tomorrow will only be better if you let it.”

Staring at the blue shade, Patton imagines a yellow one next to it, an orange next to that. He imagines his mom’s voice that he can barely remember past the few home videos in a box under his bed. 

Tomorrow will only be better if you let it.

Was that her mistake? Is that his?

“Patton.” Dee sits down on the edge of his bed, taking the nail polish and setting it gently in his palm. 

“I know.”

Dee nods, leaning forward to kiss Patton on his forehead. “You’re letting fear keep you from being happy.”

“I am happy!” Patton argues, and there’s weight behind it. He is happy. He loves Janus and Maeve and his dad and he’s so excited to get his degree-

“You’re not the happiest you can be.” Janus smiles, “Tell him, for our collective sanity.”

Patton’s phone dings. The roommates both lean over to see who would be texting at this hour, Patton half expects it to be Maeve, asking if they have any frozen burritos left. 

It’s not. It’s Logan.

Library? Only if you wish to.

“Should I say yes?”

Dee gives him a deadpan look. “No. You should turn down this perfectly timed opportunity because of campus curfew.”

“Oh..”

“Say yes!”

Patton jumps. “Oh!” he fires a text back, jumping up to shove on his shoes. He turns and looks at Dee. “Tomorrow will be better.”

“Because you’re going to let it be, you giant sap.” Janus throws Patton’s cardigan at his face and waves his arms at the door, “Go!”

Ten minutes after that, Logan is standing in front of him in the empty library, breathtaking and smart and tired and sad.

Patton tries to remember all the love stories he’d ever heard, a song lyric or a poem, any one of the things Janus had beautifully said about love over the years, some way to tell his best friend and love of his life how he feels.

At least forty forced smiles, the rollercoaster of a day, and the late hour make it so very, very hard.

He shuffles his feet and then sighs, he can do this. “Logan-”

“I’m in love with you,” Logan blurts.

Patton’s eyes widen.

The world stops.

[ego-driven-one-wing-angel]

Send a number | Answers

Thanks again for 250 followers!!!

What’s one animal you wish you could have as a pet but can’t?

A penguin. I love them so much.

Favorite thing to wear to sleep?

Sometimes I wear one of those “drug rugs” or baja hoodies. With shorts. And sometimes knee high socks. I HATE pajama pants. So if I’m cold I find alternatives. 

What song really gets you going?

Right now, Drinking Alone by Carrie Underwood. But usually Tranz by Gorillaz.

Where do you usually eat your meals?

At my dining table or in the family/living room with my mom.

Favorite meal: breakfast, lunch, or dinner?

BRUNCH

Most embarrassing habit?

Sometimes I’ll pick my nose at the most inconvenient times like a child.

Chocolate or fruity candy?

Chocolate

Soft or hard tacos?

When I ate meat regularly, soft, with carne asada. 

Worst way to break up a fight?

Throwing a pan at them? Dude I don’t know. Wrestle them to the ground? I feel like either of those are terrible.

Best thing to say in an elevator of strangers?

“You’re all probably wondering why I gathered you all here today.”

What color/design are your bedsheets?

Teal. And my comforter is a black/white diamond pattern.

Any hidden talents?

I was a dancer for roughly nine years. So I’m pretty good at that.

Favorite thing to drink out of (mug, glass, etc.)?

My Star Wars Luke Skywalker lightsaber water bottle. 

Socks or bare feet around the house?

Bare feet man. Those who wear shoes in the house are weak and will not survive the winter.

 Favorite board game?

Clue!

Do you sleep with the fan on or off?

I don’t even own a fan.

Heat on or keep it cold with lots of layers?

Heat at 67.5 and a sweater. Perfection.

Do you sing in the shower?

Who doesn’t?

Favorite song to belt out at the top of your lungs when you’re alone?

Tranz by Gorillaz. All time favorite song EVER.

Last thing you cried about?

Watching Zack die YET AGAIN in Crisis Core. I don’t think I’ve ever watched that scene WITHOUT crying.

At what age did you first have alcohol?

15ish. Wine.

Relationship status?

Single

What’s the most amount of money you’ve spent on a single item of clothing?

249$ A Guess coat that I absolutely adore.

What do you typically wear to formal events?

A modest dress. Heels. And a Louis Vuitton bag to match.

Favorite memory?

Probably almost getting arrested with my friends back when I was 17. We were at a closed park, after hours, past curfew, and it was like 3 am. We bought 64 tacos from Jack in the Box and pigged out in the venue. Super rad.

Gum or breath mints?

Gum

Favorite shoes?

Probably my Guess sneakers. I don’t wear them often, but I love the design.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

My chubbiness. I’m not fat per say. But I’m not skinny either, but I want to look more like a classic, 1950′s pinup model more than anything.

What is the natural state of your hair?

My hair has very soft curls. Naturally, there more like “beach waves”

Have you ever had braces?

YES. WORST YEARS OF MY LIFE

Most dangerous thing you’ve ever done?

Ghost hunting. I was illegally trespassing, and the building was real sketchy. 

Most embarrassing thing your parents have caught you doing?

I’m just an embarrassment through and through. What haven’t they caught me doing. But I guess writing porn is a close first.

Last time you had an orgasm?

I’m a virgin who has never experienced anything remotely sexual. 

Celebrity crush(es)?

Sebastian Stan, Bill Skarsgard, Sam Claflin, Karl Urban, Sebastian Stan

Windows or Mac?

I’ve never owned a Mac, so I’m biased when I say Windows.

How old were you when you learned to ride a bike?

Six, seven? I was still quite young.

Makeup or natural?

MAKEUP

What color do you wear the most?

I wear a lot of neutral colors like gray.

Favorite season?

Winter.

Umbrella or rain coat?

Umbrella.

Have you ever fallen out of a tree?

No

First car you ever owned?

A 2002 Toyota. Super old, and the chip was painting off. My trunk also broke. Oil leak. Y’know, a traditional first car.

What time do you usually go to bed?

Anytime between 11-1 am.

Are you a competitive person?

Yes.

Least favorite color?

Orange.

First pet you’ve ever owned?

A cat :)

Sweet or salty?

Sweet

Favorite pasta dish?

Ravioli 

Favorite kind of chips?

Cheetos

Talk about something you’re passionate about.

Writing. I love being able to put my ideas on paper, let my thoughts and emotions run free in a world where I have to act a certain way. I can be anyone while writing!

What are some of your hobbies?

Writing

Drawing

Watching too much television

puzzles

Caffeine? If so, what kind?

I’m a tea gal. But I LOVE coffee. Especially mochas and caramel. With extra pumps of espresso. Hell yeah.

Favorite kind of pizza?

Ranch and Chicken or just plain cheese.

Fast food or sit-down restaurant?

Sit-down

Lots of acquaintances or a handful of close friends?

I love having a large circle, but I choose my best friends wisely. I only have about two or three of those and they’re the one’s I keep close to my heart.

Something that ruins your appetite?

This is a bit more dark, but my dad and I don’t bond outside video games. And he’s the type that believes it’s his way or no way no matter what. So if you get him angry he acts like a two-year-old who just got a toy taken away, and will try to push your buttons until you’re the same way. I saw the signs years ago, but whenever his anger is targeted at me I just don’t want to eat. I write instead. 

Favorite labels about you?

As in names? It’s near 1 am while writing this so I might have just gone stupid. But I love it when my friends call me cutie. Or my good friend Charlie calls me Smarties. And he’ll pull out a smartie from his pocket when he does it. I also get called Reid, as in Spencer Reid, a lot.

Are you a religious person?

Yes. I try to be at least. I’m Christian.

Night out with a bunch of friends in public or night in with one friend having deep conversations?

Night out. I spend too much time indoors with one friend as is.

What size shoe do you wear?

9

Favorite thing about yourself?

My confidence, or my keen fashion sense. 

Have you ever told someone you loved them first?

No.

Have you ever had sex on the first date?

No.

Heroes or villains?

Villains. (Sephiroth, Bucky Barnes, Loki, etc.)

Favorite fruit?

Pomegranates. 

Least favorite fruit?

Bananas. I’ll eat them, but there are a lot better choices honestly. 

Favorite vegetable?

Broccoli

Least favorite vegetable?

Brussels sprouts

How many plates can you eat at a buffet?

About a good three. First is salad. Second is fruit. Third is desert. 

Favorite dessert?

Ice cream. Bubble gum flavor is my favorite!

Do you play any sports?

Nope.

Age you learned how to swim?

Seven or eight.

Tell a funny story.

Maybe this is just funny to me, but earlier today my cat was trying to lick her coat but she set her front paw on a piece of paper and anytime she bent over to lick herself she slid and she would have to readjust herself. She did this like four times before she decided to move.

What’s one interesting thing about your culture?

As someone who is a part of the Navajo tribe, something neat is the more fat you have on your bones the more people respect you because they believe you have money.

What’s one annoying thing about your culture?

We can’t touch cold-blooded animals. It’s said if you touch the scales of a snake, or even breath in the same air, you’ll get the same skin as them.

What job would you be terrible at?

Accounting. I can’t do math to save my freaking life.

Would you rather watch a TV show or a movie?

TV shows.

What’s your favorite compliment to give?

“Cute Outfit!” or “Love the Hair!” You have no idea how many people light up on either of these, male/female/nonbinary. Looking good is a happiness found across all the spectrums. 

What’s your favorite compliment to receive?

“Cute hair.” Or “Love your makeup/nails.” 

Has your opinion changed on something recently?

I can’t remember. Like I said, it’s close to bedtime where I’m at and boi, it’s hard to concentrate right now.

Do you always order the same thing at a restaurant or order something different each time?

I order the same. 

What’s something you’ve always wanted to try but haven’t yet?

This sounds awful, but I’ve always wanted to try ecstasy. I have buddies who’ve taken it and say, if you do it right, the first time is pretty bomb. 

If you could learn to do anything right now, what would it be?

Singing. I can’t carry a tune.

Favorite physical feature about yourself?

My eyes.

Least favorite physical feature about yourself?

My wide hip/waist ratio. If my waist was thinner I wouldn’t mind as much.

What’s one amazing thing you did that nobody was around to see?

OKAY. I scored a strike on Wii bowling while i was on the toilet one time. Two rooms away and not even looking at a screen. Just using my heart and determination and it was SUPER COOL AND I WISH PEOPLE COULD HAVE SEEN THOSE SKILLS.

If you could change your height, would you?

Yes. Everyone is a good foot taller than me. So I would most definitely want a few more inches.

What’s something you would rate 10/10?

Final Fantasy 7 Remake’s Character concept for Sephiroth. The eyes, the height, the hair. WOW. In love.

Heels or flats?

Heels

What’s something you wish you had more knowledge about?

Politics. I want to get more involved but every time I do I get so confused.

Would you want to be famous?

I wouldn’t mind. But I value my private life.

What’s something you would get arrested for?

Well I already almost got arrested for eating tacos in a closed park at 3 am. So maybe that.

What’s your spirit animal?

A cat. 

What’s the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to you?

The fact that I graduated high school. I was developing anxiety and literally had no idea what the frick was happening with me and no one told me what it was. So I ended up skipping loads of school for that reason. 

Are you the type to have an organized mess, or no mess at all?

Organized mess. Or just a mess. 

Do you tend to make decisions based on the past, present, or future?

The future.

Are you a planner or a more spontaneous person?

Planner. I hate when things are sprung on me last minute. I have to emotionally prep up before a social event so 5-10 business days are needed.

Thoughts on the oxford comma?

I was taught to use it, but it’s literally so useless? I found myself either not using it or just doing it on instinct. So in one story you could probably find multiple instances where I use it and where I don’t use it, maybe in the same paragraph. I just do whatever fits that moment I guess.

What do you hope never changes?

My squad. I love them to pieces and it would break my heart if at some point they’d want to split.

How would you celebrate your 100th birthday?

Something extremely dangerous like skydiving or zip lining across a canyon. 

[thecleverdame]

Control and Release - 7

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: With the rest of the staff caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification,  mutual masturbation, spanking, cum play, fingering, anal play, orgasm control, dub-con, nipple clamps,(more warnings as the story continues)  

Words: 3.2k

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Parts Eight and Nine are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

“You made it!” Max claps his hands together.

“Yeah,” you smile walking toward the table. Half the bar is filled with the staff from W & S.  

He’s clearing off a chair for you next to him, directly across from Pepper who looks like she’s already had a few.

“What is she doing here?” Pepper groans.

“Play nice, Pep. We’re all friends.” Max gives you a shit-eating grin, pulling the chair for you.

“The last thing I need is her running to the boss, tattling about how his assistant complains about him.” She looks from you to Max.

“I’m not a snitch.” You settle in as Max pours half his beer into an empty water glass and slides it front of you.

“We’ll see.” Pepper purses her lips, giving you a once over. “Sam has a way of turning people on each other. Everyone needs to survive in the end.”

“He can’t be that bad.” Max rolls his eyes.

“Ask Y/N,” Pepper scoffs, sitting back in her chair. “She’s in tears every time she leaves his office.”

You want to melt into the floor.

“I, um, he’s just-” you sputter, searching for the right words. “Sometimes he gets a little...intense.”

“That’s one word for it.” Pepper snorts, martini sloshing over the edges of the glass. “You know,” she points at you, “I have a theory about what he’s got you doing.”

“Oh yeah?” You’re just about done with tonight and you only just arrived. You thought this might be fun but instead it’s an exercise in hiding your reactions. Not to mention Max failed to mention your sworn nemesis would be here.

“Internal employee audit.” She nods. “He’s got you keeping track of something across departments. If I had to guess I’d say he’s looking for something. Maybe...a mole? A leak?”

“Are you spying on us?” Max laughs, placing a hand on your back.

“I’m not supposed to talk about it.” You look around for a waitress, you’re going to need a stronger drink.

“Give us something.” Max shakes the back of your chair.

“I don’t do many things well, but I can keep a secret with the best of them.”

“Hey Pepper,” Doug chimes in from the other side of Max. “Does Winchester ever talked about his brother?”

“His brother?” Your interest is peaked.

“You don’t know about Dean?” Pepper cocks her head. “Sam’s brother is on the FBI’s ten most wanted list.”

“For what?” You’re flabbergasted, you guessed there were some dark secrets in Sam’s past but you didn’t expect a fugitive to be one of them.

“Murder, kidnapping, robbery, you name it.” Pepper shrugs, fishing an olive out of the bottom of her glass. “Every once in a while an agent shows up at the office to ask him questions.”

“Here.” Max pulls out his phone, pulling up the information. “Dean Winchester, unlawful flight to avoid prosecution. Wanted on five counts of murder, one count of kidnapping...where’s the good stuff - here we go -  grave desecration, impersonating a federal officer, torture...the list goes on. The guy is a real piece of work.”

“Wow.” You take the phone from Max to look at a photo of a handsome guy in an orange jumpsuit. “That’s crazy. Sam’s been so successful and his brother is...this.”

“I guess their dad was some crazy, backwoods survivalist type. His mom died when he was a baby.” Pepper nods. “The story goes that Sam got as far away from his dad as he could. Got himself into Stanford. His senior year Dean showed up and killed Sam’s girlfriend. Burned the whole apartment building down with her inside.”

“Are you serious?” You’re horrified, looking from Pepper to Max. “His brother killed his girlfriend? Why?”

“I guess Dean wanted Sam to ditch school and go with him and their dad.  When Sam refused, Dean went off the deep end.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe, handing Max’s phone back to him.

“That’s why he’s so uptight about everything. The man is brilliant but he’s fucked in the head.” Pepper raises her hand to find a server. “I need another drink.”

--

“Really, I’m fine.” You stop in front of your apartment building. Max insisted on walking you home for safety but you get the distinct impression he expects to be invited up.

“There could be creeps out here.” He shrugs, looking at the steps of your building. “You tired? Up for a nightcap?”

“I don’t think so.” You shake your head. “It’s late and we’ve both been drinking.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” He grins, all charm and white teeth. He’s handsome and cocky, and in another lifetime you’d take him upstairs and ride him until he popped like a champagne bottle.

“No hypotheticals.” You step back and he moves forward in tandem.

“Come on,” he grins, leaning closer. “We both know we’d have a lot of fun together.”

He goes to kiss you, but you stop him with two hands on his chest. “I told you I was seeing someone. And you told me we were out tonight as just friends.”

“Seriously?” He cocks an eyebrow. “I thought you were just trying to play hard to get. Why are you out with us on a Saturday night if you’ve got a guy?”

“None of your business.” You pat him on the shoulder. “I’m going upstairs and we’re both going to forget this ever happened.”

TUESDAY

“Good morning.” Sam greets you without looking up from his tablet.

“Yes, good morning.” Pepper sneers, looking up from her laptop long enough to give you the stink eye. “Boarding begins in five minutes. You’re cutting it close.”

“I got stopped by TSA,” you explain and Sam smiles without looking up. “Random check, I had to have the hand swab and they searched my bags.”

“Early is on time.” Sam looks up at you, giving you a once over.

“And on time is late.” You parrot back. “I’m sorry Mr. Winchester, it won’t happen again.”

“Better not.” He confirms.

W & S owns two planes, both of which are in use. Sam’s not one to shake up a finely tuned system. While he could simply bump the legal team, he won’t. Schedules were solidified and this is a last minute trip, so today he’s flying Delta with all the other lowly non-millionaires.  

The first class section is separated into pods. There are a few singles and the rest are in pairs, with ample leg room and enough space to fully recline the seat if one wants to sleep.

You’re struggling to get your ticket out of your purse to check your seat number when Sam grabs your arm, thumb and forefinger pinching just above the elbow. “You’re here. The window seat.”

“Um,” You look around as if he’s the one who’s confused. “I’m in first class?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He rolls his eyes, already impatient. “Sit down.”

You take your seat, sinking into a pod large enough to hold two of you. This is how the other half lives.

“I’m up here...with you.” You state the obvious, watching as the few other people in the section find their seats.

“Yes, you are. God, I hate flying commercial.” He shudders, retrieving his computer from his briefcase. “Would you have preferred to sit in back with Pepper?”

“No, but...doesn’t it look strange that I’m up here?”

“Things look however you want them to look,” he snips, putting up a finger to call over a flight attendant. “Next time I’ll make sure you’re back in the cargo hold if that would make you more comfortable.”

“What can I get you, Mr. Winchester?” the stewardess asks, smiling sweetly.

“Two blankets, two waters,” Sam orders, turning to you as she walks away. “Stop fidgeting.”

“Sorry.” Sitting back you force your legs to stop bouncing. “I’m not the best flyer. I get nervous.”

“Lucky for you I have a few tasks to take your mind off things.” A small smile appears for a fleeting moment. “Just try to relax.”

The plane boards and the minutes tick by. While you’ve flown plenty of times it never gets any easier. And today is worse. Sam makes your senses heightened. Normally it’s just sex, but today it’s also fear that’s swimming in your belly, churning like a swell rolling toward shore.

The attendant brings Sam two thin blankets which he passes off to you.

“Thanks.” you whisper, unsure. “You think I’m going to be cold?”

“I think,” he leans in your direction, close enough that no one else will be able to hear, “that you’re going to have that skirt up around your hips and your hands between your legs for most of the flight. So unless you want the flight crew to see your pussy, you’ll want the blankets to cover up.”

“Oh.” You look towards the crew who have been stealing glances at Sam since you boarded. “But...they’re watching us.”

“This is a perfect opportunity for you to learn the true meaning of discretion.” He buckles his seat belt, wordlessly reaching over and doing the same for you. He grabs one side, then the other, sliding the clip into the buckle, tightening it around your stomach as if you were a toddler. “Now cover yourself and pull up your skirt. We’re about to take off.”

He logs onto his computer, checking his email one final time.

Carefully unfolding both blankets, you lay them over your lap, before subtly hiking your skirt up until your bare ass is directly on the seat, then fold your hands together in your lap as the plane picks up speed on the runway.

“Fuck,” you whisper, closing your eyes at the sensation of the front wheel leaving the ground.

“I think nervous flyer is an understatement.” Sam observes.

“I’m not normally this much of a baby. I was on a bad flight once,” you whisper eyes closed tight. “I was a teenager and I was flying alone. The turbulence was so bad people were crying, we all thought we were going to die.”

“Well, you’re not going to die today.” One of his big hands curls over both of yours where they’re clutched tightly in your lap.  You’re so startled by the compassionate touch that you flinch and he squeezes harder.

Slowly, the plane gains altitude and he releases your hands. Looking around carefully to make sure no one is paying attention he leans over, voice low as he murmurs into your ear.

“I want you to rub your clit for the next five minutes. Nice and slow, nothing too fast. Tell me when you’re wet.” And with that instruction, he sits back in his seat. A thrill shoots up your spine at the challenge of complying with the request.

You look around, checking to make sure no one is paying attention and snake your hand under the blankets, sliding over your pussy. It doesn’t take much movement to do as he asks, just the pad of your finger moving back and forth over your clit, slow and even. Sam pulls out his phone, starting a timer for five minutes and you think you might die of embarrassment.

It’s truly an exercise in restraint. Your jaw is locked in place, trying your best to maintain a neutral expression as your own touch begins to stir excitement between your legs. A familiar tingle blossoms from your cunt up to your belly.

It doesn’t take long, there are still two minutes on the timer when you swallow hard and lean toward Sam and whisper, “I’m wet.”

“Already?” He tilts his head to the side to look at you, pulling his glasses off. He smirks, eyes dropping down to where your hand is moving imperceptibly under the blanket. “Two more minutes, keep going.”

Instead of watching the seconds tick by you close your eyes and concentrate on keeping your face from giving away your dirty little secret. You think about Sam, how badly you want his hands on you and what new experiences will happen over the next three days. You’re here for two nights and you wonder if he’ll want you to spend all your time with him, or if he’ll send you away as soon as he’s had his fill, like the first night you touched yourself for him on his hotel bed.

“Times up.” He announces. And you take a breath, yanking your hand away. You’re pretty good at knowing how to touch yourself. He’s given you ample practice, all those mornings and nights of denial, getting yourself right to the edge are paying off. You just hope he’s not expecting you to cum, not here.

“Can I have some water, please?” You clear your throat, gesturing at the two bottles tucked into the pocket in front of him.

“Of course.” He opens the bottle, holding the cap and hands it to you. “You have ten minutes, then we go again.”

You sit stoically next to Sam as he reviews documents, unphased by the fact that you’re right there, next to him, shifting in your seat. Time ticks by and he leans over again, looking away from the screen as an afterthought.

“Five minutes, touch yourself the entire time, don’t cum.”

“I will.” You look at him, his stare sending little zaps of anticipation to every inch of you.

This time he watches you, glancing up every so often to ensure privacy. From your seat no one other than Sam can see below your neck but controlling your facial expressions is proving the hardest part of all. As your finger brushes over your clit again and again. You lock your jaw, it’s the only way to keep your mouth from falling open. At one point your eyes flutter shut, but he doesn’t like that.

“Look at me.” He commands, voice low and confident as you turn your head to look him in the eye. “We’re just two people having a conversation. No one knows otherwise.” He glances down to where your hand is moving gently under the blanket. “When’s the last time you came?”

“When I was last with you,” you confirm in a breathless whisper, pleasure steadily building.

“Did you touch yourself after that?”

“Yes, twice.”

“But you didn’t cum?” He smiles, shifting in his seat to give you his full attention. “I don’t remember giving you any homework.”

“It was so good last time.” You take a deliberate breath, pausing to control your throbbing pussy before you continue. “Making myself wait for you made it so intense when I finally came.”

“I’m glad to hear it was so good for you.” His mouth barely moves as he speaks, pressing his hand over the crotch of his pants to adjust himself. “From now on you don’t cum unless I give you explicit permission. You’re to ask every time. That wet little pussy is mine and so are your orgasms. Am I clear?”

“Yes,” you hiss, fingers slowing. Rubbing yourself is hard enough, but listening to him talk like this is almost enough to make you cum all on it’s own. “I need to stop.”

“You still have a minute left. You better not stop.” He chastises, frowning as if you’re a petulant child in time out. “Just slow down and control yourself. Deep breaths.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you rasp, staring at him as a tear slides down your cheek. Your hand is shaking, middle finger pressing against your aching bud. “Please, I can’t-”

“Don’t you dare.” Sam looks at his watch. “Just a little bit longer. You won’t like what happens if you disobey me right now.”

“I’m trying so hard, but I can’t-”

“Times up.” He taps your knee and you instantly pull your hand out from the under the blanket. You’re one firm touch away from falling over the edge, your pussy is slick, dripping with arousal and you can feel it on the seat under you.

“Everything alright over here?” There’s suddenly an attendant standing next to Sam, looking at you with concern.

“Nervous flyer.” Sam explains, patting the back of your hand. “Panic attacks.”

“I’m fine,” you offer, voice shaking as you wipe sweat away from your forehead. “It’s just nerves.”

“Please let me know if you need anything.” She nods, giving you one last look before walking away.

“You’re attracting attention.” Sam chuckles, as your cheeks burn bright red.

“I was trying to be discreet,” you puff, sitting back in the seat.

“Trying and failing.” He points out the obvious. “But by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be surprised what you’re capable of suppressing.”

There’s no response for that. It’s terrifying to hear that for him this is just the tip of the iceberg. But it’s also exciting, everything about this arrangement is exciting. The fact that he has you edging yourself on a plane, surrounded by people and manages to remain so casual about the whole thing makes you want him even more.

There are three more sessions. Each farther apart than the last as he gives you ample time to calm down. By the time you’re finished with the last session the world is blurry, your entire body sweating and quaking as you use every last ounce of self-control to hold back an orgasm.

It’s just as the pilot announces that you’ve been cleared for landing that Sam closes his computer and starts to roll up his sleeve as if he’s about to go to work. The flight attendants strap themselves into their own seat and Sam tilts his head toward you.

“Spread your legs.” He murmurs, turning to watch your face as you comply. He snakes the hand closest to you under the blankets, wedging his knuckles between sticky thighs. His eyebrows shoot up when he feels how wet you are.

The plane begins to shake as you hit a turbulent patch and at the same time his finger slides over your swollen clit. You almost shout out, instead slamming your eyes shut and gripping the armrests.

“You love this don’t you? Being on display for me, everyone else just going about their lives ignorant to what’s going on between your legs.” The heel of his hand presses over your clit as he scoops down, sliding two fingers into your throbbing cunt. You whimper, sinking teeth into your bottom lip.

His fingers slide out and up, stroking your clit before burying back inside. He does it again and again, finding a rhythm, stroking your bud and teasing your hole open until you’re a mess, squirming uncontrollably.

“You’re gonna make me cum.” You wheeze, trying to squeeze your legs together.

“You better not.” He warns, hand slowing to make slow, painful circles around your clit.

“I’m trying but it’s too much.”

“Then we better stop.” He quips, pulling his hand away, leaving you gulping for air as the plane’s wheels touch down on the tarmac. “You did well.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, smoothing your hair back, ignoring the constant throb between your legs.

You put yourself back together, unlocking your seatbelt and pulling your skirt back into place. Right on cue, Sam hands you a napkin that you use to wipe off the seat under you, blushing as he watches you clean up the mess you’ve made.

In stark contrast to your usual roles, Sam stands up grabbing his own carry on bag, then takes yours, throwing the strap over his shoulder.

“You good?” He looks down, offering a hand to pull you up.

“Yes, thank you.” You nod, following him down the aisle.

The stewardess offers you a little pout, gently touching your shoulder as you pass by and a moment later you step off the plane into the San Francisco airport.

-

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