#i was about to kill someone okay the mood swings have been insane today

[colorseeingchick]

Period Pains (Iwa, Suna, Bokuto)

Periods still stuck. Nothing has changed since part one. But these boys continue to comfort me when I feel like my heart, head, and stomach are going to explode :D. I hope they comfort you too!

A/N: It’s been rough homies. It really do be your own body that tries to attack you -_-. 

Warnings: EMETOPHOBIA (in Suna’s there’s a semi detailed description of vomiting); swearing; foot massage in Bokuto’s (Ik that makes some people uncomfy); gym bros. 

Iwaizumi Hajime

It was common knowledge that you and Iwaizumi were two halves of one insane power couple. 

No questions asked, you both were generally independent when it came to taking care of your own matters, and you were both were pretty independent. 

But there were exceptions- moments where you would both lean on each other, using the other as an anchor and a crutch to get back up and stay on your feet. 

Your period was one of those times when times you needed your beloved boyfriend to play that role. 

Today was one of those days. 

You and Iwaizumi head over to the gym at around 6 am to get your early morning workout in before you go through with the rest of your day.

You had told Iwaizumi the night before, and he asked if you still wanted to “go gym” the next morning. 

You said yes, hoping that a solid workout would help with some of the cramps. 

And once you had got there, you had your hopes up. 

The first half of your workout was going really well, and you hadn’t thought of your cramps at all. 

But then it hit you while you were walking over to get your water bottle. 

You didn’t know why, but the cramps hit you hard. Instantly you went to the bathroom to try and compose yourself, but that wasn’t really helping either. 

You didn’t wanna bother Iwaizumi mid workout, so you tried to carry on. 

Unfortunately, that didn’t work out too well. 

As you tried to keep going, the cramps in your stomach got worse and worse, until you were pressing your stomach with your hands, curled over yourself on your yoga mat. 

Taking deep breaths, you tried to relieve the only worsening cramps. 

It wasn’t until a warm, firm hand caressed your back did you look up from your curled up form. 

“1 to 10.” Iwaizumi asks you with a soft voice. 

“4.” You say as you curl into yourself once more. 

It was the pain ranking system that you’d both been using since early on in your relationship. You knew exactly what he meant, and you were honestly thankful that he understood you were in pain by just looking at you. 

“Lying to me doesn’t do any good, ya know.” His words are harsh, yet the concern in his voice kills any intimidation that was supposed to come across. 

“7.” 

“Sounds right.” Iwa’s one arm wraps around you, digging into your side, his thumb massaging circles into the spot right above your left hip, while the other hand rubbed softer circles onto your lower belly. 

You felt your muscles untense as his hands worked away at your cramping stomach with deep pressure only he had the strength to apply. 

“What’s wrong with her?'' 

Both of you look up to see some guy (he seemed like a newbie, neither of you had seen him before) talking to your boyfriend. 

“What.” Iwa’s voice is dry, in shock at the fact that this dude was in your business. 

“Did she injure herself working out or something?” He asks, as if you were incapable of speaking for yourself. “Not being careful in the gym can be really dangerous, especially if you’re not trained.” He speaks in your direction this time. 

Iwaizumi Hajime (27) ATHLETIC TRAINER, now looked like he was ready to commit murder. 

Some of the regulars had now turned to watch, most giving the guy dirty looks.

A couple of you and Iwa’s closer gym bros step towards you both, making some preparations for Iwaizumi to swing. 

But before anyone can really say anything, your voice cuts through. 

“That’s real rich coming from you. The only thing that’s gonna cause an injury is your horrendous deadlift form.” 

Your boyfriend goes from a state of shock into a fit of snickers, the guys on the side also amused. The guy in front of you goes completely red. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about you bi-” 

“I actually think she’s right. I was a bit worried, too.” One of Iwa’s (very buff) friends stepped forward, smiling at you two before putting a hand a on the newbie’s shoulder. “Let’s go check it out.”

As you sigh out, your boyfriend stares at you with pride and amusement both bright in his eyes. “All that pain and you’re still able to come up with snarky comments.” 

As his hand returns to soothing circular motions, you dig your face into his chest. 

The soft touches from Iwa were enough to ease your pains, and allowed you to embrace your moment of vulnerability with your sweet boyfriend. 

“Let’s dip and get food, okay? And you can just rest at home. You deserve a break.”

“Weren’t you saying something about how the grind doesn’t stop-”

“It stops when your health is on the line. Let’s go.”

Suna Rintarou

When it comes to you being on your period, Suna is by far the most hands off while simultaneously being the most attentive. 

Suna wasn’t necessarily the biggest on PDA. But when it was just you two? He had no problem being all up against you.

The only situation Suna does not know how to navigate is when he can’t read someone’s moods or behaviors. Luckily for him, you were overly clear with his emotions and needs when you were on your period, even if those moods and needs were all over the place. 

Early on, when you got together, he was a bit surprised to see how bad your period could get.

He’d walked in to your room one day to see you in a fetal position, rolling around on the floor.

He’d seen you go a full day of eating only junk food, upset and trying to satiate all your cravings. 

He’d also seen you go without sleep because of how bad your cramps were.

Essentially, he’d learned you’d go through really bad health habits, and he’d assigned himself the roll of trying to make sure you maintained some regularity while on your period. 

He was ready for anything, so ready that he made it look effortless. 

When Suna came back from practice one day, he couldn't find you anywhere in your shared home. Which isn’t a problem, but he doesn’t recall you saying you were going anywhere....

It’s not till he lazily stalks over to the hallway and hears a horrible retching sound that he realizes you are still home. 

Swinging the door open, he finds you perched over the toilet, vomiting in what looks to be a super painful manner. 

“Rin...ta...r-oh fuck” you can barely get his name out before you start throwing up again. 

Your boyfriend takes a step into the bathroom, but you toss an intense ‘no’ his way with your hand. 

“It smells disgusting… and… I don’t want to be smothered right now…” you sigh as you breathe between your bouts of vomiting. 

He takes a deep breath, recomposing himself. He knows your period can get pretty bad, but he hasn’t seen it get this bad in a while. He obliges, but he doesn’t move from the doorway. 

As you start your next fit, Suna’s face remains blank, but his heart twists. 

He slowly approaches you, kneeling beside you. 

“I said to not.. To smother me....” your protest is weakened by your body inhibiting your ability to speak. 

Suna keeps a bit of space between you two, but he gently grabs your hair, pulling strand by strand, until its completely out of your face 

(alternatively, if you have short hair), Suna keeps a bit of space between you two, but he lets his hand gently rest on your back, rubbing in soothing circles . 

Your hand goes up to push him away, but he grabs your fist with his larger hand, weaving his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumb into the back of your hand. 

“I won’t smother, don’t worry. But I’m gonna be here.” He’s soft in his tone, unfazed despite the relative unpleasantness of the situation. 

As you finally stop, you fall back, your hands covering your eyes. 

As you lean back, your body giving out, your head finds its way onto the plush chest of your green eyed boyfriend. He doesn’t touch you, but just acts as a makeshift couch for you to lean on. 

“Rintarou.” “

Yeah?” 

“I need your touch.” 

Your words are blunt but effortlessly received as your boyfriend instinctively wraps his arms around you, languidly stroking your thigh with one hand and holding your stomach with the other. He adjusts you so that you’re pressed up against him. 

“Better, babe?” he asks as he backs up into the wall, loosening up as you relax against him. 

“Mmm.” You croon, sinking down against him. “I should  brush my teeth, I’m sorry you came back to this.”

“It’s fine. Get cleaned up. Wanna watch movies? I got Chinese takeout.” 

“I don’t want Chinese,” you comment.

 “What do you want?” 

“Pizza.” 

“...”

 “...”

 He sighs. “I’ll be back in 20.”

 “I love you.” you smile at him as you tell him what he already knows. 

He presses his nose into your hair, letting your conditioner’s scent fill his nose. “Mmm… and I love you.” 

“How much?” You ask.

“How much do I what?” 

“How much do you love me?” 

“Enough to get you pizza at 10 pm in the pouring rain.” 

“It’s raining??”

“Yeah.”

“...Nevermind I don’t want pizza anymore.”

“Well I want pizza now so I’m going.” He pulls himself up and out of the bathroom despite the way you tried to cling to his leg to keep him from leaving. 

“Rin!”

Bokuto Koutarou

Bokuto is honestly the ideal boyfriend, especially when you are on your period. 

Early in your relationship, when you got on your period, you didn’t tell Bo. But he ended up learning the hard way. 

He’d come back from practice a bit later than usual and didn’t text you. Usually he didn’t, especially if he knew he’d only be a little late. But when he walked through the doors, instead of finding his usually happy, bubbly girlfriend who usually showered him with love, he was greeted with you crying. 

“W-why didn’t-t you text me, Kou? Do you-u not care about me?” 

He had nooo idea what was going on, and he was very panicked and sad. 

He felt like the rug was pulled out from under him when you proceeded to snuggle into his chest 2 minutes later, cries completely stopped. His little owl eyes were wide open and very confused. 

2 days later, he asked about the situation again, scared to bring it up.

But you were really embarrassed as you explained how you were on your period and could get extreme mood swings. You apologized and promised that you’d never do something wild like that again.

But Bo wasn’t content with your answer. 

He went and asked Akaashi if he knew anything about what periods were like (he was shy to ask you). 

Akaashi found the lovely statistic of “period pain being of equal pain levels of a heart attack” and Bokuto lost his shit. “

I’ve never had a heart attack, but they kill people! And they go for the hospital for those! And she apologized for being a little emotional… that doesn’t seem right, right Kaashi?”

Akaashi agrees, of course. And sends Bokuto off with the advice of “she’s always there for you. All you have to do is be there for her.” 

When the next time you had your period rolled around, and you found yourself a little emotional, you did your best to control it. But Bokuto was having none of it. 

“Baby, you don’t have to hide it! You can be emotional!! I don’t mind. You always help me when I’m emotional! I can do the same for you. I’ll take the best care of you, I promise!” 

You would honestly call it a turning point in your relationship, cause this was when you learned to start really depending on Bo. And you realized just how dependable he could really be. 

When Bokuto comes back from practice today, he finds you splayed out on the couch, koala-hugging a pillow, whimpering a “welcome home” between grunts of pain. 

Bokuto stays quiet as he walks up to the couch, dipping down to place a kiss on your cheek before stripping his sweaty t-shirt off as he walks off to take a shower. 

Once he comes out, fresh and clean, he throws on a comfortable t-shirt and shorts before coming back to find you on the couch. 

He grabs your legs, pulls them up, sits down, and then places them in his lap. “Baby, do you want a massage? I can press your legs.” 

“You don’t have to, Kou, it’s okay.” 

“I want to!” He cheers back as he starts to knead at your calves, moving down to your feet and slowly pressing over your socks. 

You sigh and huff, slowly relaxing as the soothing feeling of the pressure applied to your feet counteracts the pain you felt in your lower abdomen. 

While Bokuto concentrates intensely on massaging your calves again, he perks up at the sound of a sniffle.

 Swinging his head, he sees you slowly dissolving into sobs. 

Panicked, he slides your legs onto the couch and comes by your face. 

“Baby, did I press too hard? Did I hurt you? Please tell me.”

“No, no, Kou, you’re fine. I’m just- I’m so lucky and blessed to have such a loving amazing boyfriend~” you get the words out as tears stream down your face, turning to look him in his big, gorgeous, gold eyes. “I don’t deserve you, my love.”

Now, for reasons unknown, Bokuto finds himself crying as well. 

“Why are you crying!” You cry and laugh out at the same time. 

“Because I have such a sweet girlfriend who always showers me in love! Don’t say I don’t deserve you. You’re perfect for me.” 

Cheesy as the exchange was, it was really soft for you. Because you knew Bokuto, and you knew he meant every word exactly as is from the bottom of his heart. 

Crying while your laughs got lighter, you pull him in and kiss him all over his face. 

He laughs too, and holds your face as he pulls away, swiping the tears from under your eyes. “Your turn!!” 

After smothering you with kisses, he picks you up and carries you to your shared bedroom, so he can love on you more, with enough space for both of you to lay next each other and peacefully drift off to sleep. 

A/N: Gym guys who don’t mind their business seriously bother me. I hope you all enjoyed! Requests and commentary are greatly appreciated :D 

[rhysismydaddy]

Naughty Neighbors pt. 2 (Elriel)

As promised, it’s in Azriel’s POV which was actually super hard for me to write for some reason. Don’t ask why it’s in first person when Elain’s isn’t. Just go with it I’m so tired.

I LOVED reading the comments on the last post they brought the biggest smile to my face so thank you all so much for the love!

Part 3

______________________________________________________________

~Azriel~

At first, I’d thought it was just attraction.

I mean, it was inevitable. She'd shown up in the middle of the night, dressed in a thin, rose-colored robe that did absolutely nothing to hide the curves underneath, smiling at me like I don’t deserve to be smiled at.

It was obvious I’d be attracted to her.

But it was also different. 

Because usually, when I’m attracted to a woman, I go after her and get her out of my system the old fashioned way. But with Elain Archeron... it’s somehow more than that. 

Don’t get confused, I’d be more than happy to have her under me. Or on top of me. Or trapped between me and a wall. 

But I also crave her smile, her laugh. Her blush. 

Fuck, I love that blush. 

The woman turns red at any sort of innuendo, like she’s never been flirted with before. At least not properly. 

I’m damn near addicted to it. 

Which might explain why I’ve developed a routine in the week after moving into my apartment. I get up and get ready, walk with her to work, fight the temptation to go across the street and kiss her stupid, then walk with her home. 

It’s only a total of ten minutes together a day, but it's enough to drive me fucking crazy. 

Crazy enough to do it over and over again, just like I am right now. 

I knock on the door to her shop, keeping my unspoken vow to never go in the flower-infested place. 

“Hey,” she says with a grin as she comes down to meet me, locking the glass door behind her. “How was work?”

“Well, a three-hundred pound man got a tattoo of a raccoon on his back. Shit took three hours and was bigger than in real life.” She giggles, and my lips twitch at the sight. “You?”

“I sold a lot of bouquets, since it’s wedding season. Nothing special.”

We start the short walk back to our apartment complex, walking close enough that our arms occasionally brush. The feel of her soft skin on mine has me gritting my teeth, and we’re still four minutes out. Fuck.

Elain shivers slightly, and since it isn’t cold, I take it to mean I’m not the only one affected. I could be a gentleman and let the reaction go, but... 

“Are you cold?”

Soft brown eyes meet mine, and there’s a bit of surprise in them. “No.”

“You sure? You shivered.” 

Those eyes narrow slightly, well on to the game I’m playing. “I’m sure.”

I can’t stop the smirk from forming on my face, but she just sighs and turns straight forward again. 

“Any plans for the weekend?”

I’m practically baiting her into saying she’s doing something with her boyfriend, even though I doubt that’ll be the case. I haven’t so much as seen the guy around the entire week. 

If I were him-

No. We’re not going there. 

“Not really, actually. I might go to the MOMA.”

It’s easy to picture her in a museum, staring adoringly at overpriced pieces of art a child could probably recreate. “Art fan?”

“Not really. My sister has an exhibit this week and wants me to come. I like her art, but she’s the exception.”

For some reason, this makes me smile. “Nothing’s good enough to impress you?”

Her eyes narrow in the cute way they always do when I tease her, and she says, “Nothing makes me feel anything. Art should make you feel something. Right?”

Is she seriously asking me that? “I don’t know. I’ve never been to a museum.”

Elain stops walking suddenly, and I turn to face her with raised brows. “Ever? You’ve never been to a museum?”

I shake my head, confused as to why she’s confused. Is that not normal?

“What about on school trips?”

Oh. 

That explains it. 

I turn and keep walking, knowing she’ll catch up in a second. When she does, I say, “Maybe my school was low on field trip funds or something.”

The lie tastes like dirt in my mouth, so I light a cigarette to wash it down. 

She rolls her eyes like she knows I’m full of shit and keeps walking. 

“You look beautiful today, Elain.” 

Her cheeks go pink at the words, and the urge to punch her boyfriend grows. If a woman blushes every single time someone calls her beautiful, she probably doesn’t hear it enough. 

And I know I tell her everyday, but it’s especially true today. She’s in one of her probably hundred dresses, and it’s tighter around the waist and loose around the bottom. 

I think it was designed just for her.

Or maybe just to drive me insane. Either theory works. 

Her hair’s down, framing the soft features I’m disgustingly obsessed with, and there’s a pink tone to her full lips. She looks like a goddamn flower. 

I hate flowers, I remind myself helplessly. 

We keep walking, and I’m so focused on thinking about anything except the way that pretty little dress swishes around her thighs that I don’t even realize we’re back at the complex. 

I open the door for her, and she goes inside but waits before heading up the stairs. 

“What are you doing?”

Her cheeks go a bit more red, even as her eyes narrow. “I’m wearing a dress. You go up first.”

“Elain Archeron,” I scold instantly, mood brightening already, “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of trying to look up your dress.” 

I probably would’ve, but that’s another point entirely. 

She bites her lip, and my blood starts to thrum. “I didn’t say that, actually.”

“Oh, I see. You just want to look at my ass, then.”

A laugh bubbles out of her, and I take mercy and head up the stairs, pausing once every now and then to shake my butt in her face. 

“You’re a child,” she laughs, pushing my back to make me go forward again. 

I’m laughing, too by the time we make it to the hallway with our apartments. But the joy falls away as we stand outside, both nervously silent. It feels like the end of a date, for some reason. 

Maybe because we were laughing and smiling and flirting. Maybe. 

“What’s your name?” she asks, exactly like she always does. 

Fucking unable to help it, I lean in close enough our noses brush, smiling when she sucks in a breath. “You ready to pay the price?”

Every day it’s the same response. She usually shies away, rolls her eyes, and drops it, but today she surprises me. “What’s the price, exactly?”

Her voice is a little scratchy, and her legs are tense, like she’s pressing them together. For a moment, I can’t even breathe, let alone tell her. She looks so adorably naive and beautiful right now. It’s hard to focus on anything except the heaving of her chest, the lip tucked between her teeth. 

Bu it’s the raw desire in her eyes that makes me finally respond. “I want you to give in. I want you to kiss me like I know you’re dying to. I want you to admit that it’s me that turns you on, me who you think about at night.”

Her breathing’s rougher now, and it ignites a fire in my blood. “I want you to tell me you want me, Elain. Because we both know you do.”

“I...”

Fucking hell, she’s going to kill me. I’m desperate to hear the words, so when I speak, it sounds like a plea. “Say it.”

But something comes over her, and the cloudiness sweeps from her eyes instantly. She takes a deep breath and places a palm against my chest to shove me away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have a boyfriend.”

Her favorite thing to say, apparently. 

“I love him,” Elain says with strong, fake conviction. “I... I don’t want you.”

A harsh laugh forces itself out of my throat. “Beautiful little liar.”

Her cheeks go pink, and I smile in spite of the tense conversation. “I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are, but that’s okay. I get it.” Before I can stop myself, I’m moving to tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “But I’m not telling you my name until you stop.”

Before she can respond, the door behind her swings open, revealing a man instantly recognizable as the boyfriend. He’s in a disgustingly cheap suit, about 5′11 with red hair and golden brown eyes with his hair pulled back in a low bun.

I automatically want to punch him for some reason, but I deny myself the satisfaction. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, glancing between me and Elain. There’s something in his voice, but it’s not suspicion. It’s surprise. Like he can’t even fathom the idea of seeing her with another man. 

Fucking idiot. 

A woman like her is always going to get male--and probably female--attention. 

“Nothing,” Elain says instantly, taking a step towards him. “This is our neighbor. He moved in Monday.”

“Oh. Hey, man. I’m Lucien.”

I ignore his outstretched hand. “The boyfriend?”

A bit of the friendliness leaves his eyes, and he pulls Elain to him and wraps an arm around her shoulders. “The boyfriend.”

“How exciting,” I mock, sounding like a total prick. I don’t really mean to, but I can’t help it. I mean, this is the guy she’s with? Objectively, I’m man enough to admit he isn’t exactly ugly, but he sounds about as interesting as a can of beans. 

He probably works a desk job. Something in finance. 

And he has Elain? 

It makes no sense. 

Lucien The Boyfriend ignores that statement and looks down at Elain. “I missed you this week,” he mutters before pressing a quick, grossly wet kiss to her lips. 

The surprise in her eyes makes it clear he’s not usually so... affectionate. 

I have to cough to hide a laugh. 

He’s trying to mark his territory, but if he actually looked at his girlfriend’s face, he could easily see how stupid it looked. 

“Have a nice night, lovebirds,” I say sarcastically as I unlock my door, still chuckling to myself. If he kisses her like that, gods know how he fucks her. 

Poor woman. 

~Elain~

Well, that was uncomfortable. 

And embarrassing. 

The little laugh her neighbor had barely attempted to hide made her skin burn. Lucien wasn’t a bad kisser, but neither of them had really been ready for his sudden display of affection. 

Plus, it’s not like the man had tried to hide his reason for kissing her. They hardly ever touched in public. 

Or at home, really. 

It’d been three weeks since they’d slept together, so she knew the kiss was for their audience’s benefit. 

She ignored the gross feeling inside her gut and went to the kitchen to start dinner. 

“That guy’s rude,” Lucien commented, sliding on a bar stool and loosening his tie. “And he looks like a drug dealer.”

The urge to roll her eyes was almost overpowering. He thinks anyone with tattoos is a drug dealer. “He’s nice.”

“So you’ve met before?”

Elain sighed, not knowing how to answer this. “Sort of. He works at the tattoo place across the street, so I bump into him some. I don’t even know his name, though.”

Why was she lying? 

I bump into him? 

Seriously? 

She’d walked with him every day this week. And thought about him all the time. 

Not to mention tonight, when she’d been a second away from finally finding out what his mouth felt like against hers, what it tasted like. 

Gods, just the thought of that encounter made her sweat. 

He knew exactly what he was doing to her. 

And her mind knew, knew, he was dangerous and might very well be involved in all sorts of illegal activities, but her body didn’t give a single shit. 

She wanted him like she’d never wanted anyone before. 

But that was just attraction. What she had with Lucien, that was love. A lifelong, everlasting love. Right?

She slid the plate of reheated chicken and rice in front of her boyfriend and muttered, “I’m going to shower.”

He nodded, not even looking up. 

Two hours later, they were watching a movie in bed, neither of them paying much attention to the screen. There had been a tension between them ever since the weird kissing incident. 

She wasn’t mad, but it had just made her feel a little strange. 

He seemed to notice it, too.

“I love you,” Lucien whispered quietly, rolling on his side to look down at her. “I know things have been weird recently, and I’m sorry. I’m just stressed at work, but I don’t need to bring that home with me. I just... I love you. You know that right?”

She nodded immediately. “I know. It’s okay. I love you, too.”

A small smile on his face, he leaned down to her and kissed her. There was no awkwardness now, thank the gods. 

She thought he’d pull away like usual, but he tilted his head and took it deeper, sliding his tongue in her mouth.

Surprised, she kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Something in the back of her mind was hatefully muttering that he was only doing this because of their neighbor, but her body didn’t really mind. It had been weeks, and just being touched made her happy.

Supporting himself on his elbows, he came over her, resting in between her thighs. A hand snuck down and tugged her robe open, then she heard his belt buckle open.

Normally she’d want to take things slower and draw it out, but she didn’t mind tonight. Her body needed him and whatever contact it could get.

A few moments of shuffling, then he pressed against her, and she gasped as he immediately started to move. Okay, maybe a little more drawing it out would have been helpful. 

Her hips moved with him, trying to keep up with his increasing pace. Lucien grunted in her ear, breath hot on her neck. 

It was too much too soon, and he seemed to sense that. His hand came to her breasts, and she moaned softly as he molded one to his touch.

The sound seem to affect him, and he stilled above her, then kissed her deeply.

Elain laid underneath him, heart racing, and tried not to raise an eyebrow. Or laugh. Or cry. 

That was it? The first time they had sex in almost a month, and that was it?

He pulled out slowly, kissed her brow, and rolled over. Her mouth dropped open.

He wasn’t even going to make sure she finished? Because she sure as hell hadn’t. And more than that, he rolled away from her?

They didn’t always have great sex, but it was usually better than that. And he always held her afterward until she fell asleep.

She felt cheap. Used.

Definitely unsatisfied.

Now more than ever, it felt like they were fifty years old. She made him dinners and kept the apartment clean, he worked a desk job at an investment bank, they came home, barely talked, then had unremarkable sex.

She’d known for a while they were in a slump, but now it seemed like it was a permanent thing. 

After waiting until he started snoring soundly, she slipped a hand between her legs, trying to relieve some of the tension.

Gods, that had been awful.

Maybe it was her fault. Maybe it was because she was so worked up from...

Her neighbor’s smirking face popped into her mind. The ache between her legs got worse, and she moaned as she slipped a finger inside herself.

Sitting up suddenly, she pushed his face out of her head. This was wrong.

She couldn’t... fantasize about another man while in the same bed as her boyfriend.

Elain threw her robe on the ground and walked to the shower, ignoring the fact that she’d already taken one tonight. She’d wash this night away and forget about it.

But he appeared in her mind again, shaking his head with a smile. That’s not possible, beautiful.

Hard to forget someone when they were mentally stalking you.

~

The next morning, Lucien was gone before she even dragged herself out of bed. She was technically late, but she didn’t even care. Perk of being her own boss. 

Elain trudged around, getting ready slowly. It had been a long night. Even after her very cold shower, she hadn’t been able to clear her mind and relax. 

When she opened the door, she couldn’t repress her groan. Apparently, his face was stalking him in her head and real life.

“Long night?” he asked, a small, almost victorious smile on his face.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at that expression. She knew him well enough to know he was trying not to laugh. “Yes.”

“Same. Noisy neighbors.”

It took a few moments, but a furious blush exploded on her face as she realized what he was talking about. She knew the walls were thin, but... “Oh, my gods.”

He’d heard!

Oh, gods.

This was really, really bad. 

“Have fun?”

She glared at his annoyingly handsome face, barely resisting the urge to punch that smile away. “Yes. So much fun.”

She was, in fact, a dirty little liar. 

“Mmhm, sounded like it. All three minutes of it.”

An indignant sound escaped her, and he started to laugh. She ignored how lovely the sound was and chanted, “Shut up shut up shut up.”

“Not a chance.” He glanced down at her legs. “Hey, do you need help waking there? Or are you too sore from all that terrible se-”

She slapped a hand over his mouth, and he smiled under her fingers.

“You’re such an asshole,” she told him. “I love him. And he’s a great lover.”

The asshole just raised an eyebrow.

“Usually,” she amended. “He was tired.”

Gently, he pried her hand off his face. “I could be in a coma and do better than three minutes.”

“Pretty sure that’s illegal. And beyond disturbing.”

He smiled. “We going to work?”

Elain glared. “Only if you promise not to make any more comments about my sex life.”

“I haven’t made a single one!” He protested, still smirking. “I’ve been joking about the lack of your sex life, baby girl. Keep up.”

“Oh my gods,” she growled, pushing past him and yanking her door shut.

“At first, I didn’t even know what you guys were doing,” he told her, walking easily beside her as she stormed down the stairs and started down the empty sidewalk. “I heard his weird ass grunt and thought he was working out or something.”

She rolled her eyes.

“But then I heard you moan, and I-”

“I swear I’m going to kill you.”

“Anyway, I heard the boyfriend start snoring, so I figured the debacle was over. But I heard you again.” He smirked down at her. “Wanna tell me what you were doing over there?”

From the look on his face, he knew damn well what she was doing. “You-”

“No, I know you weren’t doing me. Would’ve been a lot louder if you were.”

Her glare could’ve frozen the Sahara. “I was going to say that you are the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

The man just smiled, more than happy with himself today. Gods, he was insufferable. “I might be annoying, but at least I last longer than your little boyfriend.”

The way he said that made her jaw clench. What was it with the men in her life being completely useless today? It pissed her off. “Oh, I seriously doubt it.”

A dark, almost promising look crept into his hazel eyes, and he leaned down to murmur, “I promise you one thing, Elain. If I had you under me, I wouldn’t stop until you were screaming my name. Maybe not even then.”

She didn’t bother pointing out she didn’t even know his name.

Then he pulled away and smiled, and she noticed they were in front of her store. “Have a nice day, gorgeous.”

She was so fucked. 

_____________________________________________________________

To all my Lucien stands, I don’t really believe he’s complete shit in the sack (yes, yes I do), but I’m trying to write a story here, okay?

Part 3

@astreia-oniria @whimsyrhys @lameomclameo @wineywitch202 @thedarkdemigod @captainthefangirlofhp @elriel4life @queen-of-glass @courtofjurdan @nessiantho @texas-shaped-waffle-maker @stardelia @myshadowsingeraz @tswaney17 @illyriangarbage @nicerhero @fancycrowncat @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @bamchickawowow @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @poisonous00

[obxhoe]

Anon request//JJ x reader

I accidentally deleted the anon request but it was about Rafe and reader being in an unhealthy relationship and JJ helps/saves her. 

a/n: i tried my best with this and i hope this is okay!!! thank you for requesting! Sorry this is so late and that i have been lacking with content, work has been insane and i’m slowly getting back on track. I have a few things in progress. I tried to make this story as positive as it could be, having been in an abusive relationship myself and I didn’t wanna trigger anyone or anything. Soooo yeah enjoy!

word count: around 2,400

Warnings: drugs, abusive/unhealthy relationship (i tried to leave out graphic content, just a lot of yelling), swearing

He was high. Again. This had become the new normal, Rafe getting high out of his fucking mind almost every night. And it was usually the only time he was somewhat nice to you. It started out when he went from smoking with you or his friends to him smoking alone, multiple times, every day. Then came cocaine. One night at a party you two decided to try it. The rush was too much for you, a whiplash of sensations hitting you all at once and you decided to stick to weed from that moment on. Rafe on the other hand fell in love with it and well, shit hit the fan. Fast. It was exhausting having to deal with his constant mood swings. 

Last night was bad. He says he would never physically hurt you, but he’s gotten close to it before and it terrifies you. He grabbed your arm last night when you were trying to leave and this morning the bruise was already apparent. It was right above your wrist so it was going to be hard to hide, the humidity was insane and long sleeves did not seem like the move. But, you put on a long sleeve shirt anyway in an effort to hide it from your friends.

You arrive at the chateau, lugging your surfboard up the steps and letting out a huff. Beads of sweat were already forming at your hairline. You drop the surfboard on the floor of the porch and head inside. The rest of the pogues were in the back, Kie reading, and the guys playing soccer.

“Why does it always feel like we live in the actual jungle. The humidity is so disgusting my clothes are literally sticking to my skin.” You complain as you plop down into a plastic lawn chair. Your friends turn and smile at you, happy you finally arrived. John B and JJ run over and tackle you to the ground while Pope stands there laughing so hard that there are tears forming in the corners of his eyes. This is where you are the happiest, not with Rafe. It’s a red flag, one of the many you have chosen to ignore.

“Okay okay hello to you too, now get off!” You squeal. They climb off of you and sit in a circle.

“We haven't seen you in like, what? A week? Where have you been?” Kie asks. Your stomach starts to churn, Rafe doesn’t like it when you hang out with the pogues. The past week you’ve been with him or working.

“I was working, a lot, all the time.” You hope they believe your excuse. The boys seemed to believe it but Kie wasn’t having it as she raised an eyebrow and you gave her a look as to say ‘not now, please’. She nods, but you know that the next time you two are alone, she’s going to confront you.

“Okay well I need water or something because I am dying” Kie gets up and you can tell she wants you to follow.

“I’ll come with you, do you guys want anything?” You ask the guys, trying to seem less suspicious. A chorus of ‘beers’ rang out and you nodded, following Kie inside.

“So spill. I know you haven’t been working all the time because I called your mom and she told me you’ve been spending all of your time with Rafe recently. Yes, we hate him but you don’t have to hide that from us.” You can see worry in her eyes. Subconsciously you roll up your long sleeves, obviously overheating and needing some relief.

“Look, I don’t know why I don’t tell you when I see him. I honestly don’t” That was a lie. “He’s just frustrating sometimes and I don’t want to bring anyone into the relationship drama” You reach for the fridge and Kie kicks the door shut and grabs your hand lightly. 

“What’s this?” She asks in regards to the bruise Rafe left last night. Your stomach drops, your mouth goes dry and you don’t know what to say. 

“I was walking Ace and he just pulled a little too tight when another dog walked by that’s all, no big deal” You try to laugh.

“Y/n,” Kie shakes her head, nervousness filling your stomach. “This is not from a dog leash. You and I both know that. This literally looks like a handprint, like someone grabbed you way too hard. And it looks fresh as if it happened within the last day.” She says, releasing your arm and you bring your hands to your head, grabbing at your hair. ‘Don’t cry, don’t cry’ you repeat to yourself silently. But it doesn’t work. You choke out a sob.

“He doesn’t mean it. I know he doesn’t. He just gets really angry sometimes. It was my fault for trying to leave so early” Tears now falling and your breath starting to get falter.

“What is going on? Did I just hear what I thought I heard?” JJ slips in from the hallway, eyes almost all black, fits clenched and face bright red. This was the last thing you needed right now.

“JJ-” you try to calm him down but he just cuts you off.

“No. Do not ‘JJ’ me. Let me see your arm” You shake your head. “Y/n, I said let me see your arm!” He’s shouting now, causing you to cry harder, your body shaking. You stick out your arm and he spins and slams his hand through the wall.

“JJ!” Kie screams. 

“What the fuck” Pope yells as he and John B rush in, obviously hearing the screaming and slamming going on.

“I’m going to kill Rafe. I’m going to fucking kill him” JJ says in the darkest voice you’ve ever heard him use.

“JJ please. She’s been through enough for fucks sake. Look at her” Kie yells pointing in your direction. You’re now crumbled on the kitchen floor. He realizes what he’s done and rushes over and sits down next to you, immediately pulling you into his arms. He rubs your back and apologizes quietly for yelling, you know he just wants to protect you.

“Can someone please explain what is going on” John B runs his hand through his hair, flustered and confused.

Kie shakes her head no but JJ cuts in.

“Y/n has a bruise on her arm and she tried to play it off as if it was some accident her dog caused. It’s literally a handprint. Rafe fucking grabbed her, hard. He’s dead, I swear.” JJ keeps his tone surprisingly calm, remembering he scared you earlier.

“Ok well as much as I would love to kill Rafe,” Pope starts, “We would probably just be putting y/n in more danger.”

“Well we can’t sit and do nothing” JJ says.

“For once I agree with JJ” Kie states, “Not the killing part, obviously. But we can’t just do nothing. She’s obviously unsafe with him.”

“Well what do we do then?” John B asks, walking over as sliding down to sit on the other side of you. 

“I have to talk to him” You state, and everyone starts to tell you how that’s a bad idea and it’s risky etc. etc. “Let me continue. Jesus people, I’m not that dumb. As I was saying. I have to talk to him, but not alone. JJ” you turn and look at the boy “You’re coming with me.”

The group shouts, protesting against your wishes.

“Are you crazy, he’s going to either kill Rafe or get himself killed!” Kie yells.

“I thought you were the other smart one, what kinda plan is this y/n?'' Pope says, shaking his head.

“JJ can’t control his temper when it comes to you, this is not a safe plan” John B says looking over to you.

“Oh since when did you become the expert on safe plans JB? I know this sounds dumb. But Rafe gets scared of JJ when he’s alone, no Topper, no Kelce. I’m going to see him when he’s alone and JJ will be outside waiting in the car. I’ll be on speaker phone the entire time and if shit starts to hit the fan, and I expect it to, JJ will come in and help me.” You say, everyone falling silent. 

“Well” Kie starts, “That’s actually kinda genius. But can the three of us at least sit in my car down the road?”

“Yeah that’s probably best” You state as you stand up and look at your phone going to the “find my friends” app. “Well he’s home now, we should probably get going in case he leaves. I know for a fact he’s alone because Topper and Kelce are off golfing” You show them your phone with the boys’ various locations. 

“I guess having an overprotective, psycho boyfriend has given us an advantage today” Pope mumbles, referencing the fact that Rafe and all of his friends have your location at all times. You nod, the nausea starting to build in your stomach as you get more and more anxious.

You and JJ hop into the van and Kie, Pope and John B get into her car. The plan was to have Kie follow you but pull off the road before the Cameron’s giant driveway. You text Rafe that you’re coming over and get the thumbs up emoji in return causing an eye roll. If you needed any validation that this was the right decision, that was it right there. No enthusiasm or anything. You pull into the driveway and have JJ sit in back so no one sees. It wasn’t weird arriving in John B’s van, you often borrowed it at times because you liked it more than your own car, who wouldn’t? 

“I’ll run in there in a heartbeat if things start getting the tiniest bit heated” JJ says, taking your hand into his and squeezing. You nod at him, forming words right now is too difficult and you don’t want to risk crying beforehand. You rehearse the script you’ve been playing over and over in your head for the last hour. 

You get out of the car and drag your feet to the front door, opening it up and walking in. You spot Wheezie walking down the stairs, running to give you a hug. Rose pops her head out of the kitchen to yell a quick ‘Hi!” and goes back to cooking dinner. Thanking the universe that you were not alone in this house with just Rafe, you head upstairs. You call JJ and put the phone back into your back pocket so he can hear everything. Knocking softly on the door, you hold your breath as he swings the door open.

“Hi” he mutters, going back to the video game he was playing. Your jaw drops. His room is a mess, his eyes glossed over and rose tinted, the smell of weed emanating off of every object scattered across the room. 

“Uh hi.” You mumble back, staying close to the doorway so that this encounter would not happen behind closed doors. “Can we talk please?” your voice cracks, great start. He looks up at you confused but then starts to realize what's going on.

“You’re leaving me aren’t you?” He throws the controller onto the floor and stands up, making his way to you. You tense up.

“Rafe, I-” He cuts you off, face inches away from yours and fist colliding with the wall.

 “You can’t leave me, Y/n. You can’t.” You see sadness more than anger in his eyes and tears start to fall from your own. 

“I have to” you whisper.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m sorry for everything. I’ll do better I promise.” He starts to cry. This is usually when you give into him, but not today.

“I can’t do this anymore, Rafe. I’m exhausted.” You run your hand through your hair and he spots the bruise on your arm. He freezes in place, hand coming up to his mouth.

“Did I, did I do that?” He says reaching for your arm, but you tense and pull away. “Fuck!” He screams. “I don’t remember that. I swear. I never meant to do anything to hurt you.” You hear footsteps coming. You turn. Wheezie. Your heart drops, she just heard everything. She looks hurt and mad and storms over to Rafe.

“You let her leave this house now!” She screams, tears threatening to fall. More footsteps. Rose and JJ. Dear God, this is the last thing you need. You look over to JJ and shake your head and the two of them stop before they make themselves noticeable. 

“Wheezie stay out of this please” He says harshly.

“Rafe,” You break your silence. “I need to go. And I need you to let me go.” You say backing up. Thanking the universe that JJ was right there ready to run with you back to the car. Rafe tries to follow but Wheezie steps in between.

“Y/n please” He whispers and you just shake your head.

“Goodbye Rafe” You turn and walk towards JJ, grabbing his hand and running down the stairs. You want to wait to thank Rose and Wheezie, but you can’t risk staying in the house a minute longer so you remind yourself to text them after.

You get to the car and slide in the passenger seat as JJ hops in on the other side. All of a sudden a sob racks your body. You’re free. You’re finally fucking free. He just stares at you for a second before pulling out of the driveway and stopping next to Kie’s car. He gets out and opens the passenger door, climbing into the seat with you, pulling you on top of him. He holds you while you sob.

“You did it” He whispers into your hair, “I’m so proud of you”. He repeats his words over and over again and the three others step out of the car. He looks up and nods at them, confirming that everything was okay and you were finally free. Kie and Pope go back into her car as John B climbs into his and drives the three of you back to the chateau. 

Once you arrive, you climb out of the car and strip down to your underwear and walk to the water. You submerge yourself for as long as you can and rise to the surface, taking the deepest breath you’ve been able to take in a long time. You can finally breathe, you’re free. The rest of the pogues join you in the water and you go to hug JJ. You hold each other for what feels like two minutes.

“Thank you JJ” You say against his shoulder. 

“Anything for you, y/n” He squeezes you tighter. “Anything.”

[alolowrites]

Happy Birthday

Summary: It’s your birthday and Izuku surprises you with a cake. 

Author’s Note: Fair warning, some angst feels ahead but it ends on a good note. I gotta admit, I wrote this story in less than two days to deal with some shit that happened. Hopefully it’s not too sad (and please excuse any grammar mistakes). 

Music softly plays from your earbuds

Your feet are sore after a long day at work. One of the few perks of living close to a convenience store is the ready-to-eat meals. Minimal cooking is required and the food is delicious. The plastic bag carrying your dinner swings as you stroll down the sidewalk.

The neighborhood is quiet. Lights shine through some windows and shadows dance across the beige blinds. Like them, you will settle into your nightly routine when you arrive home. First you’ll take a nice warm bath to relax your muscles. Then you’ll warm up your food and enjoy it while watching your favorite TV show. Afterwards, you’ll scroll through social media until sleep takes over.

A simple, but effective routine.

You walk upstairs to your apartment floor. The keys jingle into the hole, but something is off—the door is unlocked. You check the plant sitting outside and worry; the spare key is missing. You’re on high alert as you cautiously step inside. No one else lives with you. Your close friends know where you hid the spare key, but you did not receive a text saying they would stop by.

Not bothering to close the door, you grab the umbrella near the entrance. A bright light is on at the end of the hallway. Your footsteps tiptoe towards the source. You grip the weapon tighter in case the intruder attacks first. There is no way you were going to die in your own home. Whoever broke into your place messed with the wrong person.

Here goes nothing!

“Hands up! I have an umbrella and I’m not afraid to use—”

“Whoa it’s just me!”

“Izuku!?”

Said man chuckles nervously. “Hey…”

“What in the world, Izuku!” You drop your pathetic weapon on the floor. “Why are you here? How did you know where my spare key was hidden? Are you insane—I could have almost stabbed you with my umbrella!”

“I-I wanted to surprise you!” He squeaks and steps aside to reveal a small cake. Izuku gives you a sad frown.

“Why didn’t you tell me today’s your birthday? I know we’ve been dating for a couple of months…but I would have planned something way better for you!”

The bag drops to the floor.

Your eyes gaze at the cake as you stay silent. Izuku grows concern when you don’t move. He strides forward and squeezes your shoulder to grab your attention. It fails since all you could think about is the cake smiling on your coffee table. One candle happily sits on top and waits to be lit.

You numbly approach the table.

The words Happy Birthday! are charmingly written on the surface. Seconds later, you feel watery tears build in your eyes. Izuku hears sniffles as your arms wrap themselves around your body. His anxiety goes through the roof as he wonders if he messed up.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers from behind. Izuku’s hand gently turns your face to him and he’s taken aback by your puffy red eyes. “Are…are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“No…you’re fine,” you croak at your boyfriend. A tear rolls down your cheek and you look down. “It’s just me…”

His red shoes greet you.

“I never told you about my birthday because I…I don’t like thinking about it.”

Izuku’s eyebrows furrow at your confession. “Did something happen?”

You raise your head to meet his soft gaze. A shaky sigh escapes from your lips as you mentally prepare yourself for the hurt.

“I never liked celebrating my birthday because of the bad memories tied behind it.” Your fingers dig into your arms.

“The day starts out normal, happy even, but it never ends that way. Either a family argument breaks out or someone ends up getting drunk. Doesn’t matter which one happens since the outcome is the same for me…”

Fresh tears rush down your face as the pain pierces through your heart.

“…I always end up crying alone in my room. There’s only so much disappointment and hurt one person can take y’know?”

The room grows quiet. A water droplet falls down from the faucet. The refrigerator hums nonstop. Footsteps stomp across your ceiling. And your pulse races beyond control. Your protective walls crumble into dust as you reveal your deepest fears.

Usually you are one to keep quiet and repress your negative experiences. Out in public, people only see your nonchalant face and small smile. They are blissfully unaware of your unresolved turmoil hidden away from plain sight. It’s a coping mechanism that worked well so far.

Besides, why burden someone else with your emotional baggage? It wouldn’t be right, especially to Izuku who deals with enough problems protecting society. You did not want to ruin this relationship. It is the best thing going on in your life so far.

You snatch a tissue conveniently placed near the cake. Wiping away your tears, you try to calm yourself down. A weak laugh echoes into the room.

“I’m sorry if I killed the mood.” Your hand gestures to the delicacy occupying the table. “Especially since you did something so sweet for me.”

“Hey, c’mere,” Izuku whispers as he embraces you in his arms. It’s a warm cocoon which soothes your fragile state. “It’s not your fault. You have your reasons and I respect them. Just know I will always be here for you and to lend an ear, ok?”

No lies detected. Only sincere honesty.

“…Ok.”

Your heart slows and your tears dry up. Tranquility flows throughout your body as Izuku holds you closer to his chest. Feeling much better, you pull away to gaze into his emerald eyes. They hold so much fondness that it makes your stomach perform summersaults. People like him are so hard to come by, but you are grateful to have crossed paths all those months ago.

“Thanks for the nice surprise.”

“You’re welcome.” He grabs the scrumptious dessert. “I guess I’ll go put this away—”

A hand stops him. “No…I would like a piece of that cake.”

“Not before making one wish,” Izuku grins.

You hold the cake in your hands as he lights up the candle. Izuku quietly sings ‘happy birthday’ while you stare at the dancing flame. There’s a brief moment of silence after the song finishes. During this time, you think long and hard for your wish.

One creeps into your mind.

You love it and keep it close to your heart.

So you blow the candle knowing deep down your wish will come true.

:)

[hookedonapirate]

Daddy!kink prompt: I know it’s different than the verse a bit, but what if they didn’t know the other was into that kink? And one day one of them lets it slip? Maybe? I think it could be fun/you’re ridiculously talented and I know you could do it. Thanks!!!!

Oh Daddy Prompts

Summary: Office AU. Killian is Emma's boss, and after a Freudian slip of the tongue, very inappropriate office etiquette ensues ;)

A/N: This one-shot is not related to the original Oh Daddy verse, per request, and so this is a fresh setting entirely. I hope you don’t mind this is not an established relationship, Nonnie. If you’d prefer, I can totally write one where they are in a relationship. 

I also paired this with another prompt from someone who sent their Oh daddy prompts via gifs. But I've only included one in this part and the rest of the gifs will be in another one-shot, probably used together if I can swing it. 

Thank you @itsfabianadocarmo for the delicious banner above!

prompt gif 1

Other Oh Daddy Prompts: 1. You’re being an awfully bad girl l 2. Daddy, can you pass the potatoes? l 3. Better than coffee l 4. Caught In a solo act l 5. Naughty School Girl l 6. Busted l 7. Bless Me, Father I 8. Tell Me When to Grab the Cupcake I 9. Proving a Point

Rated: Explicit

Talk Dirty to Me

Emma has it bad for her boss. She’s been working at his firm for about a year now and has yet to gather the courage to admit her feelings for him. Instead, she keeps telling herself they should remain friendly but professional, and every day, she carries this huge lie on her shoulders, and every day, either he goes into her office to chat with her, or she goes to his, telling herself they’re just good friends and nothing more. She’ll sit on the edge of his desk and they’ll talk about whatever—work, the weather, and anything that comes up naturally in conversation. She’d like to think he feels the same for her—if the way his eyes light up when she enters his office or the smiles he graces her with are any indications. He also has this adorable habit of scratching behind his ear when he’s nervous, and yep he does that when he’s with her.

But if he feels the same way about her, then why hasn’t he said anything or asked her out? Is it because he wants to keep things professional? He’s her boss after all, and if he were seeing any of his other employees, she’d think it was creepy and wrong and unfair (and yes, she'd be insanely jealous), but somehow she doesn’t find it wrong to fantasize about him every night fucking her on his desk or in his chair. She’s not sure if his feelings are mutual, but she’s sure he would’ve said something if he really heard her and Ruby talking about him in the break room a few weeks ago while they were eating lunch from the cafe down the street. 

Emma regrets the day she admitted to her foul-mouthed friend she has feelings for their boss because while Emma tries to forget (but miserably fails every single time) Ruby constantly reminds her.

“You know, Emma, I don’t understand why you don’t just march into Killian’s office, ride him in his chair like he belongs to you, and make him your Daddy.” 

Emma also regrets the time she told Ruby about one of her fantasies which entailed Emma calling him Daddy as he fucked her.

“Hello, ladies,” Killian greeted cheerfully as he entered the break room and headed to the refrigerator.

Fuck.

Emma’s cheeks were on fucking fire, and as soon as Killian turned his back to open the fridge, she shot Ruby a scowl so deadly, she was surprised her friend didn’t burst into flames. Ruby just covered her mouth trying to choke down a laugh. 

Thankfully, Killian said nothing and nuked up some leftovers he’d brought to work and left to eat in his office. 

To this day, Emma still has no idea whether Killian overhead Ruby talking about him. If he did, he never said anything about it.

Emma’s busy running some insurance quotes for a potential client when she hears a tap on the door frame. She stops typing to look up at Killian as he stands in the doorway. 

“Morning, Killian,” she greets, flashing a slight smile.

“Good morning, love. May I come in?”

Oh God, that smooth British accent, that silky voice always does things to her. She clenches her thighs together under her desk. “Yeah, of course.” 

He offers a shy grin and walks over to her desk. “If you get a moment today, can you step into my office?”

Emma gulps. Something tells her he’s not inviting her into his office to shoot the breeze like they normally do. No, this sounds a bit more serious than that. She clears the frog from her throat. “Yeah, sure.” 

“Great, I’ll see you then,” he says before turning around and leaving her office. 

Well, that was disappointing. He didn't even start up a casual conversation like he usually does. And did he seriously just wink at her? What the hell is going on? Is he finally saying something about how Ruby spoke of him? Are they getting written up, or worse, are they getting fired? 

But that was weeks ago.

Emma feels sick to her stomach and pales as she tries to continue with her tasks without constantly wondering what he wants to speak with her about. But she can’t stop worrying. So as soon as she finishes the mountain of work on her desk, she gets up and goes to Killian’s office, which is around the corner. The atmosphere is either very hectic at the end of the day, with people calling and requesting quotes or endorsements at the last minute, or quiet and laid back, and today it’s the latter. Jones Insurance Agency isn’t very big, but because it was just remodeled six months ago and in a prime location downtown, it does pretty well for a small insurance firm in an insignificant town like Storybrrooke. 

Emma takes a deep breath, her hands shaking and her heart racing as she knocks on Killian’s door.

“Come in.”

Emma steps in and shuts the door behind her. Killian’s office has an enormous picture window with a stunning view of the sea, and she always loves gazing out the window on a sunny day or in the evening when the sun is setting. But truthfully, she loves gazing at the owner of said view, who is currently dressed down, with his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up, shirt untucked with the top three buttons undone, exposing some chest hair, and his tie loose around his neck. 

“Hi, love,” Killian says sweetly as he drags a hand through his unruly hair before gathering some papers from his desk. “I wanted to go over these reports for tomorrow’s meeting.”

Emma sighs in relief, her heartbeat slowing a little as she rounds the desk and looks over his shoulder so she can see the papers he’s referring to. 

“You can have a seat if you want, love,” he says, looking up at her.

“No, that’s okay, I’ve been sitting all day,” she laughs. “I’m good where I’m at.” In more ways than one. Even though it’s the end of the day, she can still smell his intoxicating cologne. He smells amazing.

“I won’t be here tomorrow morning, so I need you to lead the sales meeting tomorrow if you don’t mind of course.”

“Yes, I can do that,” she says with a smile.

“Brilliant,” he says appreciatively and goes over the usual topics covered in their meetings, like what their best experience with a client was that week and what was the worst. They always share stories and challenges and ways they can overcome certain challenges. Their jobs aren’t the most exciting—Killian is a Life Insurance agent and the owner of the firm and she’s a home insurance agent—but she has a feeling sex between them would be fantastic.

She changes her mind and takes her usual seat at the edge of his desk because she’s wearing heels and they’re killing her feet. He doesn’t seem to mind though as he discusses sales numbers and quarterly goals and other things she needs to know to lead the meeting tomorrow but honestly, she can’t focus on a word he’s saying because he’s so close to her and she’s watching those soft, sensual lips move as he speaks, watches the way his wet, sinful tongue sweeps across those lips as he flips to the next page. 

She’s imagining all the things he can do to her with that tongue, imagines how good it would feel between her thighs. Emma crosses her legs, feeling herself growing wet at the thought and tries to shake away those sinful thoughts. She really shouldn’t be thinking about her boss in this way, but she can’t help it. She wants to ride him in his chair and fuck him until he cums. She wants to call him Daddy and tell him to fuck her until she can’t walk straight.

“These are some sticky areas, so we must focus on ways we can improve and hit our numbers for the month. I want our sales to be a hundred and ten percent.”

Emma’s mind is too far in the gutter at this point because it’s the end of the day, she’s tired and apparently she’s a giddy school girl all over again. “Oh Daddy, please talk dirty to me some more,” Emma giggles. She’s not sure why she says it; at first, she thinks she only imagined it, but the way Killian lifts his head and the way his pupils dilate, she realizes her mistake. And she called him Daddy!  

Oh fuck. 

She gasps, her eyes wide with horror. She’s definitely getting fired. She wishes she could crawl into a hole right now and be buried with her humiliation.

As she opens her mouth to apologize and give her resignation, Killian cocks a brow, a slight smirk hinting on his lips. “You better watch it, love, or Daddy will have to bend you over his desk and spank you,” he teases back. 

Emma’s heartbeat shoots through the roof, her mouth parted as she gazes into those piercing blue eyes. So he’s in a playful mood today? Okay, that’s good. She can definitely work with this. Pressing her palms into the desk, she leans in closer to him and murmurs, “How do you know I don’t like being spanked?”

Killian’s mouth opens, his tongue flicking against the inside of his cheek. God, he’s sexy when he does that. Her panties are fucking soaked.

“I had a feeling what Ruby said that day in the break room was true,” he says cockily, tilting his head.

Emma’s brows climb her forehead, pure shock washing over her. “You heard that?”

He nods. “Aye.”

Her stomach drops. “I’m sorry about that. Ruby has no filter.”

Killian chuckles, breaking through Emma’s walls of embarrassment. The sound eases her nerves a bit. “I’m not mad about Ruby’s comments, more like intrigued actually.”

“What?” On one hand, Emma’s completely relieved he didn’t fire her or Ruby even though he overheard their conversation, but on the other hand, it’s still embarrassing having her boss overhear a private conversation she had with Ruby, especially since it involved him.

“I’m attracted to you, Emma, if you couldn’t already tell,” he admits sheepishly, his eyes locked with hers as he scratches behind his ear.

“Oh...” Emma’s not sure how to respond that. After all this time he felt as she did? She’d wanted to believe it was true but didn’t know if it were all in her head or if she had gauged the situation correctly. “I, um—”

“I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable, Emma, but if you want to—”

“Oh I want to,” Emma blurts out, cutting him off. 

“Thank Gods.” Killian throws the papers on the desk and reaches over, slides his hands into her hair and tugs her to him, his lips crashing against hers so suddenly and roughly, she’d fall over if he weren’t holding her so securely. Her fingers assault his hair, tugging fistfuls of dark locks in her hands. She climbs him like a tree and straddles his lap, grinding into him, feeling how hard he already is through his navy blue slacks. It’s so fucking hot, Emma works her hips faster into him, wanting so much more, her heels sliding off her feet and onto the floor with two clunks.

“If you wanted me, you just had to say so, baby,” he growls against her lips, his breath completely wrecked and ragged.

“Killian...” she whispers as her fingers untangle from his hair so she can work on unbuttoning his dress shirt. “I’ve had so many dreams about this, Daddy.” Emma’s fingers are trembling but moving quickly as she desperately undoes the last few buttons and presses a trail of kisses down his chest through his feather-soft chest hair he always hides underneath his shirt. 

Killian groans and she peels her mouth away from him so he can lift her silk blouse over her head and toss it to the floor, revealing her black-laced bra.

“Me too, baby.” He kisses down her neck and cups her breasts in his hands. “Every time I see you, I wonder how good your cunt would feel around my cock.” 

Emma moans as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her to him and kissing the tops of her breasts, his lips brushing over the soft fabric. She combs her hands through his hair and pays no mind when her bra straps fall from her shoulders, too focused on how warm and decadent Killian's lips and mouth feel as he marks her skin. 

“I always think about you fucking me, Daddy.” She tilts her head back as he kisses the valley of her breasts, burying his face there, the dark scruff on his chin scratching her smooth skin. God, he feels good right there, just worshipping her breasts like he's never seen a pair of boobs before. And she's still wearing a bra.

“Bloody hell, that’s the best thing I’ve heard in my entire life,” he groans and unclasps her bra. “You should write poetry, love.”

Emma laughs through her lust-fueled fog, her cheeks warm with blush as he pulls off her bra and adds it to the pile on the floor. 

His eyes darken with lust as he drinks in her bare breasts, pink nipples tightening under his hungry gaze. “You’re so perfect and beautiful,” he whispers against her skin before taking a hard nipple in his soft, warm mouth. 

She moans, pressing herself into him as he sucks and nips and licks her breasts and nipples to his heart’s content, telling her how good she tastes and how good she feels in his hands. Emma shudders and closes her eyes, relishing the treatment. She loves being in his hands. His hands make her feel like a freaking goddess.

When he releases her nipples, he captures her mouth with his and she rolls her hips into him, wanting his cock inside her. Bad. But her skirt is impeding their activities so she raises her hips inviting him to push the offending fabric above her waist. He does so quickly and moves her panties aside, feeling how incredibly soaked she is.

He groans and mutters a slew of dirty curses as he slides his fingers inside her slit. “Gods... you’re so fucking wet for me. If only you knew all the things I want to do to you, baby girl.”

“Next time, Daddy,” she rasps, unzipping his pants and pulling out his manhood, trying not to think too much about what her words imply. 

She whimpers as his thick, rock hard cock aches in her hand. He feels so fucking good in her palm; she can only imagine how incredible he’ll feel inside her.

“Aye,” he agrees with a throaty groan while she’s stroking him and rubbing the head of his dick against her wet folds. His eyes roll back into his head and he has to force his trembling hands to retrieve his wallet from the desk drawer. 

After he finds a condom, Emma rolls it over his pulsating cock, loving how every ridge of him feels in her palm.

“You still want to do this?” He asks, searching her eyes for approval.

She smirks, not a trace of doubt in her eyes. “A hundred and ten percent.”

He chuckles and wraps his hands around her hips.

She clutches onto his shoulders, sinking slowly onto his cock, watching Killian’s face contort in pleasure as she becomes wonderfully seated in his lap. He fills her up so perfectly. 

Tightening her grip on his shoulders, she lifts her hips up and down, up and down, up and down, falling into a steady rhythm. She can’t believe after all this time, she’s making love to her boss, in his office of all places. With all her colleagues outside the door. With the window big and wide, looking out over the sea. She wonders if anyone can hear them. 

“Bloody fuck, Emma...” Killian breathes as he peers down, watching as his cock slides in and out of her slick pussy. 

“You feel so good, Daddy,” she rasps, barely keeping herself together. 

“Not as good as you do, love. Your pussy is so tight and perfect. Even better than I imagined.”

“Fuck.” Moving one of her hands to his hair, she tugs his head back slightly so she can kiss him while she rides his cock, her nipples rubbing against his chest hair. She swallows the delicious groan he offers when their tongues connect so perfectly, she knows she won’t last much longer. “I’m close, Daddy,” she moans against his lips.

“Come, baby girl. I wanna feel you squeeze my cock.”

“Oh my God.” Her entire body spasms as her orgasm hits her like a tidal wave, her walls clamping around him. “Oh, Daddy,” she cries out as quietly as she can.

He holds her tight as his own orgasm rips through his entire body. He groans and sinks his teeth into her shoulder as he cums. After a few more thrusts, they still, and Emma slumps into him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, his heart pounding against hers. 

“That was amazing,” she mumbles against his skin.

“You’re so fucking incredible.”

Emma lifts her head, still trying to gather her wits and steady her breathing. His cheeks are all rose-colored and so incredibly adorable. “Just to be clear, this won’t affect my next permanence review, right? I want to do well, but not because I’m riding you in your office.”

He furrows his brows, regarding her with a serious expression. “Of course, not. That would be bad form, love. But you’re already my best agent so this won’t change a thing. You have my word.”

She flashes a weak smile. “Good.” 

“So, you want there to be a next time?” He asks with a hopeful glint in his eyes, bringing up her earlier statement.

She doesn’t answer him with words at first, but she’s hoping the smirk and the slow, tender kiss she offers him says it all. Before she peels herself off his lap, she whispers in his ear, just in case he didn’t get the message. “Oh Daddy, there will definitely be a next time.”

Tagging some lovelies who have shown interest in the sneak peek or previous Oh Daddy on-shots. Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed: 

@itsfabianadocarmo @onceuponaprincessworld @teamhook @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @artistic-writer @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @ilovemesomekillianjones @captainswan-shipper88 @cluttermind @hallway5 @swanlovato @xsajx @jamif @biefaless @kday426 @hails-paige @asiamarie5 @qualitycoffeethings @mikeythegeek @idristardis @have-a-little-faith

[lilacmoon83]

Lightning in a Bottle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 12: Unburdened

Emma gazed through the interrogation window at Jacob Taylor with scrutinizing eyes. Killian exited the room with his file and looked at her.

"He's definitely guilty of blackmail, extortion, and harassment...but not murder," he said. She blanched.

"Are you kidding? If his wife had gone public with all his dirty deeds, it would have ruined him. If that's not a motive for murder, then I don't know what is," Emma argued.

"He has an alibi, Emma. Tisbe's sister Clorinda says they were together when Tisbe was murdered and we have a suspect," he reminded her. But she shook her head. Her gut was telling her that Jacob Taylor was guilty as sin.

"I need to talk to Walsh," she said, referring to the suspect.

"Fine...I'll get you in, but you're on a short leash. The Captain wants this case closed," Killian urged. She looked at him suspiciously.

"No…I know Graham, better than you. He doesn't care how long it takes to close a case and taught me himself to follow your gut. No...the NSA wants this closed, right?" she asked. He sighed.

"Vance seems to have an interest in it," he mentioned. She shook her head.

"I'm sure...too much attention on the passengers. Makes it harder for them to spy on all of us," she scoffed.

"Just be quick," he said, as he led her to the holding cells where they were keeping Walsh Ozwald. He looked at her with reverence, as she entered and she sighed.

"You have returned," he said in awe.

"I hear that you refuse to talk to anyone, so I thought I'd give it a try," she replied. He smiled.

"You...you I'll talk to," he agreed.

"Did you kill Tisbe Taylor?" Emma asked. He looked almost offended by the question.

"No...she is one of the returned! Like you and your brother," he replied and she had to suppress an eye roll.

"I saw you there," he added.

"Yeah...and you had Tisbe's blood on your clothes. If you didn't kill her, then why were you covered in her blood?" Emma questioned.

"I came in after...I held her until she died," Walsh answered.

"And why haven't you told the arresting officers that? If you didn't kill her, then you need to tell us and mount a defense," she argued. But he shook his head.

"No...I must pay the penance of this life, so I can come back as pure as you," he said reverently.

"I am anything but pure, I assure you," Emma replied.

"Only because you haven't unburdened yourself from whatever fear or guilt is holding you back," he said and she glared at him, before stepping back.

"Whatever happened on that plane...none of us had any control over it. We're people, just like anyone else, so if I were you, I'd think again about getting a public defender," Emma advised.

"But you are! You are different now and you know it! You have returned from the brink of death! You have returned to save us all!" he ranted and she backed away, before hurrying out.

"Sounds like he'd have a good shot at an insanity defense if he wanted it," Killian mentioned.

"Yeah...no doubt," she said pensively.

"Emma...are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she snapped.

"I...I just need to go see someone," she replied, as she ran out and he looked on in concern.

~*~

David watched fondly from the door, as his wife tucked their son in. Olive had gone to bed already, promising not to stay up talking online with her friends for too long, and he missed the days where she needed tucked in as well. But he knew one thing for sure. His wife was absolutely the best mother on the face of the earth. She handled Olive and her teenage girl mood swings like a pro and satisfied their son's inquisitive nature and insatiable appetite for stories.

"Can you tell me another story, Mom?" Henry asked.

"I suppose we can do one more. Which comic book hero do you want to hear about this time?" she asked.

"I know all their stories. Can you tell me one about you and Dad?" he asked.

"What kind of story would you like to hear about us?" she asked.

"What about the time you met Aunt Emma's boss? Mr. Humbert," Henry replied. She and her husband shared a smile

"You love the adventures, don't you?" she said fondly, as she recalled that day very clearly.

~*~

Flashback

Senior Year - 1997

David parked the truck at school and they got out. Lily was waiting for Emma and she waved to them, as she headed into school, while they lingered back for a moment.

"You need to relax...everything is going to work out," he promised.

"What if we don't get into the same college and if we did get in, then what is taking so long with our acceptance letters?" she complained. He chuckled and kissed her tenderly.

"We're both going to get in together to one of our choices and whichever one that is...that's where we'll go, because we're going to college together," he promised, as he took her hands in his own and kissed her passionately again.

"You better hurry if you're going to make it to the gym before the first bell," she urged. He kissed her again and then headed off toward the gym in the opposite direction, while she headed toward the main building. As she passed through some other cars, a door opened though and blocked her path.

"Excuse me," she said, as a man stepped out. He wasn't much older than her, but definitely not in high school.

"Mary Margaret Blanchard?" he asked in an accented voice.

"Who are you?" she demanded to know.

"You need to come with me," he said.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going anywhere with you," she said, as she attempted to walk around him. But he blocked her path again.

"Your father has requested your presence at his home and since you will not come...he sent me to force the issue," he said. She scoffed.

"Typical. When my father doesn't get what he wants, he pays someone to force people to do what he wants instead," she replied.

"Well, not this time. My father can go to hell," she spat, but he refused to let her pass.

"Your father loves you and wants to make amends," he insisted.

"No he doesn't! He doesn't love me. He wants to control my life after he has ignored me all these years," she spat.

"But David does love me...more than anything and I will not let anyone, let alone my father, keep us apart," she said hotly, as she tried to walk away. He grabbed her arm though and she screamed as he shoved her against the car and handcuffed her, before tossing her into the backseat.

"Sorry...but I have my orders," he said, as he got in. She screamed, but he peeled away out of the parking lot.

~*~

David was about halfway to the gym when the feeling of dread filled him. He turned back and looked behind him. He turned back and kept walking, but couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He ran back toward the parking lot and just in time to see Margaret be shoved into a car.

"Margaret!" he cried, as the car peeled out of the parking lot. He ran at breakneck speed toward his truck and followed. When he saw the direction that the car was going, he immediately knew it was headed toward his girlfriend's old gated community and that meant her father was behind the whole thing. It wouldn't be easy to get past all the security, but he was determined to do so. He parked his truck a couple blocks away, in a less conspicuous neighborhood and then ran toward the Blanchard estate the rest of the way.

~*~

Margaret struggled and screamed, as her father's security team dragged her into the house. Graham, the man that had picked her up, trailed behind. She had learned in the drive that he was a private investigator that had been hired to keep tabs on her by her father. One of the men yelped in pain, as she stomped on his foot and the other doubled over, as she kneed him in the groin. Two bigger men descended upon her, but Leopold put his hand up to stop them.

"Mary Margaret, please calm down," he pleaded.

"Calm down? You had me kidnapped!" she shouted in outrage.

"Only because you refuse to come see me," he replied.

"You disowned me after I got emancipated! After you tried to rip me away from my family!" she cried.

"I am your family," he corrected, but she shook her head in vehemence.

"No...you have ignored me my entire life until now and that's because you don't want me with David," she refuted.

"He is beneath your station, Mary Margaret," he replied.

"I love him and he is twice the man you are!" she hissed, as she glared daggers at him.

"Well…I was hoping to have a civil conversation, but it appears that's not going to be possible," he replied.

"You're right...so I'll be going now," she said, as she started to walk out, but his security blocked her way.

"You can't keep me here against my will!" she shouted.

"I am a powerful man, my dear daughter and I assure you that I can," he replied.

"I am having a dinner party tonight and you are to be my guest of honor. Many of the richest and most influential people in my circle will be here, along with their own children," he said. She shook her head in dismay.

"You are unbelievable!" she shouted.

"Please Mary Margaret...I ask for one evening. One party and that you for once be my dutiful daughter. You never know...you might meet someone you like," he said.

"Your dutiful daughter...so this is about repairing your reputation in your circle. I've sullied it," she said, a bit smug at that.

"You have...and you're going to help me repair it," he replied.

"And if I don't?" she asked. He paused for a moment.

"Mr. Humbert...I want you to pay a visit to Mr. Nolan as he comes out of school later today and give him a small taste of what will happen to him if he continues to date my daughter," he replied, making her gasp.

"Wait...you said this was about bringing your daughter to see you. You never mentioned harming anyone," Graham protested.

"Oh look...the bounty hunter has a conscience, after all," she spat snidely.

"I hired you to do a job and the job isn't over until I have my daughter back," Leopold responded, as the window shattered when something was thrown through it. Leopold's security team quickly rushed outside to find the culprit. But once they were all gone, David climbed through the broken window.

"David!" Margaret cried, as a smile spread across her face.

"That worked better than I thought," he said, as she tackled him with a hug and kissed him passionately.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"I...was on my way to gym class when I got a bad feeling. I turned around and saw this guy shove you in a car so I followed," he replied.

"Always my hero…" she gushed, as she cuddled against him, just as Leopold's security returned.

"Security...toss this riff-raff out of my house!" he demanded.

"You don't want to do that," David warned and Leopold looked at him incredulously.

"Oh I don't?" he challenged.

"Sir…I love your daughter with every fiber of my being and I have since we were just children," he confessed.

"I know I don't measure up to your standards, but no one will ever love her the way I do," he added.

"He's right, father...no one could ever make me happy the way he does," she confirmed.

"Love is not something that is afforded in this world if you expect to get anywhere and if Margaret does not marry within our circle, it may cost me many lucrative business deals," Leopold refuted.

"You make me sick...she's your daughter and you'd rather sell her off to the highest bidder than let her be happy," David spat.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand this world, boy," Leopold retorted.

"And I never want to understand this world...we're leaving," David said, as he took her hand and led her to the door, despite the security guards blocking their way.

"Let us go, father!" Margaret demanded.

"You need to let us go or everyone in the world is going to know that you just kidnapped your own daughter," David warned.

"What are you talking about?" Leopold demanded to know, as a man walked through the door.

"My name is Jefferson and I work for someone that represents these two. A financial adviser, among other things," Jefferson said.

"Other things?" Leopold questioned. Jefferson smirked.

"Like me...he wears many hats. You've probably heard of him," Jefferson said, as he handed a card to Leopold.

"You work for…" Leopold started to say, but then stopped, as Jefferson raised his hand.

"Don't say his name...that won't bode well for you," he warned.

"Why are you here?" Leopold questioned.

"Let's just say my employer is...invested in their future. A future that doesn't include the likes of you. Now...you've disowned your daughter and you'll keep it that way or he is prepared to destroy you," Jefferson warned.

"Not in the judicial court, as we know that you have enough money to buy your way out of that. But in the court of public opinion," he said.

"I only ever wanted what was best for her," he claimed.

"Then you'll let her go, because she is where she belongs," Jefferson replied.

"Stand down," Leopold said reluctantly. Graham sighed and turned to them.

"I'm sorry...I didn't know the full story or that he meant to harm anyone," he told them. They nodded in acceptance, as he tore Leopold's check up and tossed it away.

"Keep your filthy money," he said, as he turned to leave. Margaret gave her father one last cold stare, before leaving with David.

~*~

"And that's how we became friends with Graham and he decided to put his skills to better use by going to the police academy," David concluded.

"Yeah...and as always, your Daddy was my hero that day and still is," she said, looking at him fondly.

"Then how come we have to go to Leopold's house tomorrow night?" Henry asked. She smiled.

"Well...we're not really excited about it either, but…" she said.

"You and Dad think he's up to something, so we're going to go spy," Henry said knowingly, making David laugh.

"He knows us well," he replied, as he leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

"Well...this family does love its adventures. Goodnight sweetheart," Margaret said, as she leaned down and kissed his forehead too, before joining hands with her husband and gently closing his door.

"I love him so much…" she said, as she put her hand on his door and David put his arms around her.

"Me too...and we're going to save him, my darling. The treatment is working," he said with hope in his voice.

"Do I dare hope? I haven't had hope since the plane disappeared and before that, I had very little when we were facing the reality that his cancer was terminal," she said sadly.

"I know...but the plane came back and now his cancer has a viable treatment. I know how hard it must be for you to hope now after all that you've been through...but whatever this is...I'd like to think it brought us back for a reason and that is reason is not just to have us lose our son anyway," he reasoned. She smiled.

"You're right...and it feels so good to have hope again," she said. He smiled and kissed her passionately.

"Come on...let's go to bed," she said, giving him a look that told him that sleep was not on her mind and she took his hand, leading him to their bedroom.

~*~

Emma got out of the cab in front of Lily's parents house and rushed up to the door, prepared to unburden her soul to Lily's mother with all her truth and guilt she still had about the night Lily died. But she saw Mal come out onto the porch urgently with a frantic look on her face.

"He's gone…" she said.

"What?" Emma asked.

"Zoran...he's missing. He must have wandered off. He gets so confused…" Mal fretted, as she handed Emma her car keys.

"I can't leave, in case he comes back. Please...help me find him," she said desperately. Emma looked at the car keys, but couldn't refuse. She owed this to Mal and got into the car. At that moment, the memories of that fateful night flooded her.

~*~

Lily stumbled out of the bar and cheered into the night air.

"Whoa...happy birthday to me!" she slurred, as she almost fell over, but caught herself on the car, with keys in hand.

"Whoa...no way, you're way too drunk to drive. I've got this," Emma replied.

"Whatever you say…" Lily said, as they got into the car and Emma proceeded to drive them home. Except five minutes later, they had crashed and Lily lay dead against the dashboard.

~*~

Emma burst into tears at the memories, before quickly getting her bearings and starting the vehicle. She had to find Mal's husband...she couldn't let her lose him too. She faced her fear of driving and put the car in gear, before driving off. It was only a few blocks later that she found Zoran in the middle of traffic, looking scared and confused. She saw a car trying to swerve to avoid hitting him and without thinking, she blocked the car with her own, saving him. She jumped out of the car and ran to Zoran, who recognized her.

"Emma...I can't find Lily. I have to find Lily…" he said in confusion.

"It's okay...I'm going to take you home. We'll find Lily together," she promised, as she put him in her car, before going over to see if the other driver was okay.

"Hey…" she said, as the words died on her lips. It was Clorinda Taylor, Tisbe's sister, and spied a golden necklace in the passenger seat. She met Clorinda's eyes and before the other woman could move, Emma pulled her gun.

"Hands on the wheel," she ordered.

~*~

"Dr. Mills?" a lab assistant called, as he poked his head into her lab.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Here are your test results," he said, as he delivered the envelope to her. She smiled her gratitude.

"Thank you," she said, as he left and she tore the envelope open. They were results of her MRI and the blood test results from David.

"David has the protein too…" she said, as she then examined the results of her MRI brain scan and a bit of dread filled her. The protein had been identified and it only raised more questions, as well as fears.

"Ischemic stroke…" she muttered, as millions of things began to run through her mind.

[dontenchantme]

garden of eden - part one

Rated E, Satan x MC - eventual smut and mature themes.

[no rad au] he was the serpent who had lured her out of paradise. she ought to hate him, but she didn't.

fics masterlist

It had been a long day at work, and she was exhausted.

Her boss had dumped a new project on her today. With very little context and a teammate notorious for delivering haphazard work, she had no idea how she was going to meet the two-week deadline, and honestly, she was stressing out.

It didn’t help that HR sent an email about their performance bonuses, and despite the long hours and the hard work she put in the past year, her bonus was laughable. Meanwhile, the aforementioned teammate got a promotion and a pay raise even though he hadn’t done anything of importance. He didn’t even lead a project!

She was pretty sure it was because he was fucking around with their boss’ superior. Men sucked. The company sucked. She should just resign from her damn job.

Her head was pounding as she leant against the wall, waiting for the lift to reach her floor. She hoped her boyfriend had remembered to heat last night’s leftovers. If he couldn’t even get that right, she might have a meltdown.

There was a ding and the doors slid open. She stepped out of the lift, reaching up to knead her shoulder – she could feel the tension underneath her fingers, and she thought it might be a good idea to schedule a massage. She’d have to take a look at her budget for this month. There was a really good place down the street…

Her thoughts trailed away when she noticed an unfamiliar pair of heels outside her apartment. Immediately suspicious, she took out her phone and checked her texts – nothing from her friends, nothing from her boyfriend either. But…maybe she was wrong? Maybe she was overthinking? Her heart thudded in her chest as she took out her key, slowly unlocking the front door. Luckily, she had just oiled the hinges, and the door opened without a sound.

The first thing she heard when she stepped inside the apartment was the sound of a woman moaning, and she froze on the threshold, unable to move, unable to think. She could barely even breathe. A second later, the moan became a breathless cry, and then she heard the woman call her boyfriend’s name.

Suddenly seized by blinding, overwhelming rage, she stormed in the direction of the master bedroom, where she shared a bed with her good-for-nothing boyfriend and threw open the door to see him pounding into a woman wearing her favourite silk robe. Both of them turned to look at her, their eyes wide.

She didn’t say a word. She just reached for the nearest object, which happened to be a hairbrush, and threw it at her boyfriend. He yelped, jumping away from the bed, just barely missing the brush. She took her bag off her shoulder and began swinging it wildly, trying her best to hit him while the woman screamed and crawled back against the pillows, attempting to cover herself with the blanket.

“You’re crazy!” he shouted, scrambling away from her as she aimed the bag at his head. She saw his limp dick flopping around and she would very much like to cut it off, but luckily for him, there was nothing sharp in the vicinity. “You’re fucking insane!”

“You were the one cheating on me with her!” she screamed, opening her bag and throwing the items inside at him – he narrowly dodged a black binder and a tube of lip balm. “You’re a useless piece of shit, you can’t even hold down a job and now you decide to go around sticking your dick in whatever hole you can find? I should just kill you!”

“Oi! Murder is illegal!” he yelled back, but she was beyond reasoning at this point – she couldn’t even direct her anger at the other woman, she was so sick and tired of giving all the time and never getting anything in return. This was the last straw.

“I am going to kill you.” She shot the woman a look. “Take that off and get the fuck out of here.” The woman hastily disrobed and gathered up her clothes, running out of the room – when her boyfriend tried to slip past her while she was distracted, she reached out and grabbed his wrist, filled with a sudden strength she didn’t even know she possessed. “Who said you’re allowed to leave?” she snapped.

“Babe, it was a mistake, I swear it didn’t even mean anything.” He tried to explain, but she was in no mood for his excuses today. It had been a shitty, tiring day and all she wanted after work was a nice warm meal and maybe some time to unwind and catch up with her favourite shows. But of course, this day had to get even worse.

“You thought I was coming home late tonight and decided to fuck someone else in our bed,” she said, her fingers tightening around him. He tried to pull away, but she was so angry that she didn’t even notice him struggling. “You know, I heard when cats and dogs get neutered, they lose their sex drive. Maybe I should neuter you too.”

“H-hey, don’t get any funny ideas. I’m sorry, okay? I know I fucked up!” He sounded panicky, but she just smiled, marching out of the room with him in tow. The woman was already gone from the living room – thankfully for her because she didn’t know what she might have done if she was still around. “Oi! Stop! This isn’t a fucking joke!”

She stopped and turned to stare at him. “So, our relationship is a joke, then?” she asked, keeping her voice as cool and neutral as possible. The rage still boiled within her, and it took everything she had to not lunge forward and wrap her hands around his scrawny throat. Asshole. “The allowance I give you, the meals I cook for you, the time I try to spend with you even though you know how busy I am – all this is a joke?”

“No, I appreciate you, babe, I do. But you’re taking things way too seriously,” he babbled, seemingly convinced that he could talk his way out of this. “You know what it’s like being an artist! You need to get inspiration from all kinds of sources!”

“Oh, right! Inspiration! From cheating on your loyal girlfriend of eight years!”

She tried to drag him to the kitchen where all the knives were so she could make good on her promise to neuter him, but he latched onto the couch and refused to budge, so in the end, they just ended up screaming at each other and she told him to get the hell out of the apartment and never come back.

He grabbed a towel hanging off the back of a chair and wrapped it around his waist, running out without a second glance. She glared at his back and slammed the door, then leant against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose. What a shitty day. Now that he was gone, the anger felt so…hollow.

She was still angry. Not just at him, but at herself for being so trusting. For giving in all the time. Her friends told her that he was an asshole, and she always defended him because…well, they’d been together since high school and it just felt like the right thing to do. She loved him, and he loved her. Or at least she thought he did.

If she had to be honest, she knew their relationship was a complete mess. Ever since he graduated from college, he kept telling her that he would find his big break, that his art would be displayed in museums all over the world someday. But all she saw him do was laze around at home; once in a while he’d work on some project that he would then abandon in the living room. His only saving grace was that he did help with the rent, though usually, his contributions didn’t make up even a third of the amount they needed.

But it was so much easier to just stay in a lousy relationship than to be single. It was nice to come home to someone, and anyway, she never had the time to put up an ad for another roommate. Not that she had a choice now, anyway. There was no way she could afford to pay the rent on her own.

Opening her eyes, she walked to the kitchen, deciding to heat the leftovers from last night’s dinner. She was pretty sure that asshole didn’t listen to her request this morning, but whatever. She was used to men letting her down anyway.

But before she stepped into the kitchen, she heard the sound of glass breaking and she froze – was there someone inside? Did that woman not leave the apartment? She just wanted to have a meal and some alone time. It wasn’t a complicated wish, so why did life keep testing her? She was about this close to snapping.

“If you’re still here, I recommend you get the fuck out –” Her tongue stopped working when she entered the kitchen and saw, instead of the asshole’s side chick or whatever the hell she was, a blond man with bright green eyes that almost glowed. He was leaning against the countertop, watching her expectantly, almost as though he knew she would come into the kitchen. As though he was waiting for her.

“Who are you?” Her mouth felt disconnected from her brain. Her mind was going at a million miles per hour – should I call the police? How did he get in here? Is he the asshole’s friend? No, I don’t think I’ve seen him before. Is he a robber? I don’t even own anything of value. Then one final thought – he’s too beautiful to be human.

The stranger tilted his head, smiling at her – it was a warm, pleasant smile, but there was something off about it, and she felt a shiver run down her back. He took a step away from the counter, and suddenly everything within her was screaming at her to get out, to get away from him, but she was rooted to the spot. He approached her with all the feline grace of a big cat cornering its prey, and unbidden thoughts of her family sprang to mind. She wondered if she would ever get to see them again.

He was dangerous. “You don’t know who I am?” he asked, shaking his head a little. “You were the one who summoned me, though. With that delicious rage of yours. It would be so very, very nice,” he whispered, “if you could take this knife and just run it through him, wouldn’t it?” The man held out a hand and she watched, amazed as an ornate dagger materialised on his palm, its hilt encrusted with sparkling jewels.

“It’s a cursed dagger,” he explained, noticing her interest. “It grants one true death by disintegrating both the body and the soul, thus ensuring its victims cannot go to either Heaven or Hell. It’s the loneliest, most cruel of punishments. But he deserves it, doesn’t he?” His voice softened into a croon, almost melodious. “You were far too good for him. He didn’t understand what he had, couldn’t appreciate the effort you put into supporting him and his career. Instead, the moment your back was turned, he found another woman and took her in your bed. The shame.”

He had an enchanting voice. So mesmerising, just like him. His green eyes glittered, and her feet moved of their own accord, bringing her closer to the beautiful man – her hand reached for the dagger, its sharp blade singing to her. “The shame,” she echoed, the rage and resentment she had bottled up for so long bubbling within her. “He deserves it. He does. After everything I’ve done for him.”

She didn’t know if she was agreeing with the man or if she was trying to convince herself. The man looked at her steadily, silently daring her to take the blade from his palm. She hesitated over the hilt, her fingers trembling. It was a stunning thing, deadly but gorgeous. Much like its owner, who held it out to her with a placid smile on his face. It would be ridiculously simple to just reach out and grab it. But she was shaking.

“What do you want in return?” she asked. It was too strange, too good to be true. He was too perfect, and she reminded herself that men couldn’t be trusted.

He chuckled. “You’re perceptive, aren’t you?” Then he paused. “I don’t blame you for being cautious. But you know perfectly well who I am. You’ve simply forgotten.”

He sounded so disappointed. She shouldn’t feel guilty – she truly had never seen this man before – but for some reason, she felt terrible about not recognising him. “Just close your eyes and think,” he whispered, stepping so close that he filled up her vision – she tipped her head back and stared at him, her breath frozen in her lungs. “If you pray hard enough, the answer might come back to you.”

If she prayed. Was he an angel? No, probably not – he looked like one, but there was a distinct aura of danger around him, one that didn’t seem angelic at all. Yet she felt compelled to listen to him, and she closed her eyes, wondering what to pray for. His distinctive scent wafted around her. Smoky, like burning wood, but there was something sensual too, a musky kind of smell that made her toes curl. Something stirred within her, something mysterious and foreign and exciting.

She felt slender fingers rest gently on her cheek. “That’s right. You’re an obedient girl, aren’t you?” he murmured. She could feel his cool breath against her ear, and she shivered, a sigh escaping her lips. “Your soul recognises me. Tell me, what is my name?”

“Satan.” A demon’s name. But saying it didn’t feel wrong at all. As his name left her mouth, she felt something lurch within her and she gasped. Her body felt like it was on fire – her eyes flew open and she reached forward, curling her fingers in his shirt. He watched her, amusement dancing in his piercing green eyes, and he didn’t resist in the slightest when she pulled his face down, forcing her lips against his.

She had to tiptoe and crane her neck just to reach him, but in return, his kiss was brutally punishing – his hand seized the back of her head and she moaned when he leant into her, his fingers pulling at her hair, forcing her to keep her head tilted. He was rough, alternating between deep, bruising kisses and actual biting, but there was something so freeing, so satisfying about how angry the kiss was. How it was nothing like the languid kisses she usually exchanged with her jerk of a boyfriend.

He brought her to life, and she could feel the rage that had been simmering all this time within her exploding, her fingers scrabbling underneath his shirt, her nails raking his back. He hissed and stopped pulling on her hair, and she was mildly disappointed for a moment, but the next thing she knew his fingers were wrapped around her throat and she was choking and struggling, her eyes rolling back in her head.

She couldn’t breathe, she was delirious, and maybe he might kill her, but she felt so alive. “Fuck you,” she managed to spit out, and she heard him laugh before he let go of her and she stepped back from him, wheezing. Her lips felt tender, and she could feel the imprint of his hand around her neck. But there was something within her that was drawn to him, something that told her to go back, to provoke him, to see how far he’d let her go next time. What would he look like when he was angry?

“You’re delightful.” His eyes gleamed, and she thought about how gorgeous they were, reflecting the fluorescent kitchen light. “Of all the sins you could have fallen into, you chose mine…I’m sure you’ll be a very entertaining human.”

He carefully placed the dagger on the counter – her gaze flitted to it, then back to him, waiting for him to say something. “Treat this as a favour, human. In exchange for that little kiss. You can think about whether or not you’d like to act on your urges – if you turn away, you still have a chance to save your soul. If not…” He shrugged, leaving the words unspoken. She understood what he meant.

“Why are you warning me?” she demanded. Her voice sounded choked still, almost breathless, and her fingers fluttered up to her throat. “Don’t you want to tempt me to sin? You’re a demon.” And demons tortured the souls of sinners in Hell.

Satan laughed. “You amuse me. No other reason. But if you would rather keep your precious soul safe…” He reached for the dagger, and she immediately lunged for it, wrapping her fingers around the hilt. It was strangely warm, and the jewels seemed to pulsate with a mysterious energy. He met her gaze, raising an eyebrow.

“No. I’ll keep it. Just in case. I need time to think about it.” She couldn’t let go of the soft, tempting whispers he baited her with, the promise that she could kill the ones who betrayed her, that she could give them a fate crueller than death itself – he had provided her with an extremely powerful weapon and she’d be an idiot to give it up just like that. “How long do I have to consider?” she asked.

“Take as long as you’d like.” Satan shrugged. “I’m in no hurry. And neither are you, I suspect.” He looked her square in the eyes and smiled – she shivered. She could sense the danger that lurked behind that genial expression. “But it’d be best not to wait for too long. Wrath is impatient, you see. Once you let those embers of rage fade away, the blade you hold now will be rendered useless. Keep that in mind.”

“Thank you for the advice.” She paused, and the man waited, as though he knew she wasn’t done speaking to him. She chewed her lip, then finally decided to raise the question on her mind. “What if I want to see you again?”

“That’s simple. Just get angry.” He reached for her, tilting her chin with one finger, and she shivered at his touch. “I’m the Avatar of Wrath, and I hide deep within the shadows of hatred. I appear to those consumed by their rage, to those who believed one time too many in unfulfilled promises. Call my name and perhaps I’ll come to you.”

He leant down and brushed his lips against hers, a brief kiss far gentler than the one that came before. Her eyes widened, and he pulled back – he whispered her name in a voice like honey and sin and at the very next moment, he was gone, leaving behind nothing but the smell of flames and the memory of his fingers on her skin.

Oh, and also the dagger. She glanced at the bejewelled blade, wondering what to do with it. The jewels twinkled under the kitchen light, and she studied the polished metal – it was pitch-black, and it seemed to shimmer as she moved it around.

Maybe this was a dream. After a long day filled with bad news, she finally snapped and dreamt up this entire scenario featuring a weirdly hot demon with a voice that made her want to sin, and eyes that seemed to draw out her very soul…yeah, she had to be dreaming. Weren’t demons supposed to be ugly creatures with wings and tails and pitchforks? He looked like a regular human. Albeit a really hot one.

The dagger felt uncomfortably solid, though. Carefully grasping the hilt, she took it out of the kitchen, heading back to her bedroom. She placed the dagger in one of her drawers and kept it away. Out of sight, out of mind. Maybe it’d be gone when she woke up. Her stomach growled then, and she winced. Right. She had forgotten about the leftovers.

She prepared to leave the room, but she walked past the dresser on her way out and she couldn’t help but pause. She glanced into the mirror, wanting to reassure herself that everything was fine, that nothing had changed. But then she blinked and stared at her reflection.

Her reflection looked back at her, and she slowly reached for it, tracing the purplish marks that blossomed across her neck. They were shaped just like fingerprints.

[jaggedheartstrings]

Meet Me at the Gallows

When they were six and best friends, Bucky promised Tony that he’d take him on a date when they were old enough. Tony leaves for boarding school three days later.

Thirty years later they meet again.

-

 The swings creaked when they both sat down. The swings were old. Had stood there for fifteen years, never completely breaking apart, only rusting and losing time as the world did everything to destroy them. Bucky thought it was quite poetic. Tony didn’t understand it. He’d never been that much interested in poetry. He preferred logic over pretty words.

Though, the smaller boy had always enjoyed Bucky reciting poems. Bucky had been doing it since he learned how to read. His mother had always been a fan of poetry, thus making him a fan, too. Bucky pushed his swing backwards as far as he could with his legs.

“It's unbranded and unclaimed, elusive and in vain. It ebbs and it flows, wishing away as it goes.” Bucky recited from memory. It’s one of his favorite poems. He glanced at Tony to notice him glancing at the ground with a wishful smile, looking older than he actually is. Bucky frowned; he spent almost every day with Tony, but he’d never seen this look on his face. Pausing his poem reciting, he asked, “everythin’ alright?”

“Yeah, always,” Tony answered with a small smile. He wrung his hands together in a gesture of nervousness. He sighed and rubbed his small face (a habit he’d possess for the rest of his life). Tony extended his hand towards Bucky, who immediately grabbed a hold of it. “What if someone tries to separate us? What if we can’t stay together?”

“My ma said that it’s a possibility. Life doesn’t usually favor the ones who live it.” Bucky felt Tony clutch his hand tighter in a move of fear or desperation, he wasn’t sure. “But even if life separates us, we’ll find our way back to each other. We always do.”

Tony smiled like he was in pain but neither of them commented on it.

It was the last he saw of him.

 (continue reading or read on AO3)

 Thirty years later and Bucky still hadn’t met Tony again. He knew of all the achievements the man had made (Steve said his stalking of Tony was insane and frankly psychopathic, Bucky didn’t agree. He just wanted to know where his childhood best friend was and what he was doing. Not that he’d told Steve he had actually known Tony Stark). He knew how the once scared of his own shadow little boy had grown into this larger than life persona, who influenced the world in a never before seen way.

So, now he was here. In the middle of Manhattan, sitting in the black car he had borrowed from Steve (who’s spy work had given them both enough money to rise out of the depths of poverty. Which Bucky also really shouldn’t know about), stalking the massive building in front of him. The so-called ‘Stark Tower’. Where Tony lived.

Bucky had been sitting there for three hours, and Steve was losing his cool. He’d called thirteen times and texted at least a billion messages (in reality it was only like 200). Bucky had left at seven in the morning, without telling Steve, took his car and parked himself in front of the large building with a cup of coffee. He’d been watching the door for ages and Tony hadn’t even come outside.

Steve was spamming his phone again. With a growl he turned it on and started slowly typing with his thumb. Steve was yelling now about how dangerous it was for Bucky to take the car because “you don’t even have two arms!” Which had pissed Bucky off. His wishful mood had gone from good to I-wanna-kill-you-right-now. Honestly? If Steve had been near him, he’d probably stabbed him.

Just as Bucky had gotten ready to call Steve a knock on the passenger side window startled him. He turned towards the window and just about had a heart attack. There was Tony Stark with his fancy suit and a pair of sunglasses. It did nothing to conceal his identity (his goatee was impossible to not recognize), but Bucky suspected that wasn’t the point. Tony pointed at the window and Bucky pressed the button on the console to open the window.

“Is there a reason you’ve been sitting here since seven am?” Tony asked and Bucky closed his eyes. Tony had changed so much, but for some ridiculous reason Bucky had hoped his voice hadn’t (which honestly was impossible). “Hey.”

“Uh, yeah there is,” Bucky grumbled out, his voice deep and hoarse. Tony frowned at him, like he was a stubborn piece of a puzzle, unwilling to go where he was supposed to. “I was waiting for you to come out,” which sounded a lot better in Bucky’s head. He couldn’t hide the grimace that was mirrored on Tony’s face. “That was not meant to sound so creepy.”

“I’m not sure I believe you,” Tony was looking at him kind of like he was deranged. Bucky supposed that was what it looked like.

“How about I start again?” Bucky smiled hesitantly. Tony gestured at him, all the while he was leaning on Steve’s car. “I- uh, so I have been meaning to talk to you for like forever, but then a lot of stuff happened and I kinda only had the courage to do this when I woke up today. And I left without telling my roommate and kinda stole his car, too.”

Tony stared at him like he’d lost it. “I’m sorry, but you seriously sound like you are mental.”

Bucky winced and tried again, “I don’t know how to phrase it, so it doesn’t sound insane, but I am so happy to see you again, Tony.”

Tony muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like ‘crazy psycho stalkers’, “I seriously have no clue what is going on, which usually doesn’t happen. Listen here, I have no clue who you are and if you don’t leave right now, I am going to call security.”

“What? No. Wait a minute. What do you mean you don’t know who I am?” What did Tony mean he didn’t know who he was? Had he forgotten…?

“Exactly that! I have never met you before in my life!”

“What do you mean? We were childhood best friends.” Bucky can’t help but look at Tony strangely.

“My childhood best friend didn’t have only one arm and I don’t even know your name.” Tony pointed out and suddenly it was so clear to Bucky what he meant. Of course Tony didn’t have any clue who he was. They hadn’t talked since they were six.

“I lost my arm when I was on my second tour.” Bucky watched Tony slightly lean back at his harsh tone. He still wasn’t okay with people discussing his arm. It had been years, but pain like that never really leaves. “And, my name is James Buchanan Barnes, but you always called me Bucky.”

Tony swallowed harshly and looked down. Then he recited from memory, “It's unbranded and unclaimed, elusive and in vain. It ebbs and it flows, wishing away as it goes.” He glanced at Bucky with eyes filled with years of memories and longing.

“Present and past, fleeting and fast. It whispers in the wind, to the oceans and back again.” Bucky recited, his words almost locking in his throat. The poem had only brought sadness as the years had gone by, but now the words felt like a whisper of promise.

“It echoes of battle cries where the red rivers once rose. Under moonlit skies, it witnessed the first breath and ashes' last cast.” Tony continued, his eyes shimmering as the sun casted around his face, caressing it.

“It heals the broken and bruised, has been abused and misused. Infinite and untamed, only time will remain.” Bucky finished the poem and opened his door. He stepped out and walked towards Tony. Suddenly his arms filled with a genius he hadn’t seen in thirty years; he couldn’t help the wet sob that escaped past his lips. Tony chuckled wetly; Bucky could feel the wetness of his tears on his shoulder. “Hi, doll. I told you we’d meet again.”

“Oh,” Tony whispered, his voice a fragile thing. “I had already lost hope.”

“We have a lot to talk about.” Bucky whispered in Tony’s ear, “but we have all the time in the world.”

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @tmialec!

Happy holidays, darling, and enjoy!

*****

set your heart to a distant countdown

Isabelle was running late, as per usual.

With a dangerously annoyed sigh, Alec looked around at his options. There was an ice cream shop across from him, a clothing store boosting lingerie, a shockingly filthy looking drugstore and a bar where the music was so loud he could hear it from across the street.

No good choices, as per usual. Alec resisted the urge to sink down onto the curb and scream in frustration. His job was killing him, his sister couldn’t keep a schedule if it was the end of the world, and he was tired enough to want to close his eyes and never open them again.

It had been a bad day, a bad week, a bad year—just another time in life where he had drawn the short straw.

Subconsciously, Alec’s eyes drifted to the glowing sign advertising ‘Bane’s Brewery.’ He rarely drank, unless forced into a night out with his siblings, but today, a stiff drink sounded amazing.

Mind made up, Alec moved towards the open door.

...

The bar’s music was oddly satisfying today.

Magnus tilted his head, enjoy the way the glowing lights made the streaks in his hair glow and the glitter on his cheek shine. Beside him, Catarina snorted.

“Vain,” she sing-songed mockingly, kissing his cheek and leaving a bright red lipstick print. “What a coincidence it rhymes with your last name.”

Magnus rolled his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. “Don’t be jealous, dearest Catarina. It doesn’t look good on you.”

“Stop insulting my lady,” Ragnor called from behind the bar.

“Defending my honour, honey?” Catarina batted her eyelashes, swooning dramatically. “Oh, I am a slave to you, my white knight.”

Magnus snorted. “I don’t quite imagine you as a fair maiden, Catarina.”

Catarina pretended to stumble, clutching her heart as if stabbed, and sank to the floor. The patrons of the bar were staring now and Magnus rolled his eyes.

“A little over dramatic,” he commented and grinned when Ragnor rolled his eyes at the hypocrisy. “The people are staring.”

“Let them stare.” Catarina had stood up while he had been distracted by Ragnor and was now leaning on his shoulder, blowing kisses at anyone she made eye contact with. “You, however, don’t quite have my appeal—how is your love life going, sweetie?”

Magnus’s good mood faded almost instantly. “Fine,” he said, his voice guarded.

Catarina’s face softened. “Magnus, it’s been so long since Camille.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Magnus said, taking deep breaths to try to stop himself from snapping at Catarina, or worse. He had thoughts all the wounds from Camille’s betrayal had all closed, but talking about it was rubbing salt in a wound best left in the past and it still stung.

“You need a distraction.” Catarina put her hands on her hips, surveying the bar with an impatient judgement.

“Fuck yes he does,” Ragnor mumbled, taking a swing of his flask. Magnus decided not to comment on how utterly ridiculous it was to have a flask in a bar—Ragnor had his own quirks.

Plus, Magnus had bigger problems to worry about. “I do not need a distraction!”

“Too late,” Catarina said back instantly, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

Magnus turned to look in the direction and promptly felt his mouth drop because the most attractive boy he had ever seen was sitting in a corner, looking miserable and drinking whiskey.

“Go give him a lap dance,” Catarina screamed teasingly over the music, wiggling her eyebrows at him, but he wasn’t listening.

The boy had looked up at Catarina’s scream and was now staring at the three of them with a look of horrified amusement.

“I think I’m in love,” Magnus said.

...

Alec had come in for his drink, but was starting to think that the drink was the least important part, compared to the three crazy bartenders.

It has started off just plainly loud—the music, the DJ, the screaming teenagers—and slowly had increased to screaming, flirting so familiar it seemed platonic, and then the girl had pointed straight at Alec.

His face burned. Alec looked down at his phone where another apologetic message from Izzy was flashing:

Sorry Alec, but there’s no way I can get there anytime soon with this traffic :( don’t wait for me.

Alec looked up tiredly and almost fell of his stool in shock. The attractive bartender he had watched just seconds before was standing in front of him, holding two drinks with a cheeky smile.

“Hello there,” the man said smoothly, and Alec felt his mouth go dry at the cheekbones he saw. This man was gorgeous like the models Isabelle worked with, like how a god would look like in the form of a man.

Alec gapped. Words had long since failed him and the silence stretched on to the point where Alec wished the ground could just swallow him.

“H...hi,” Alec sputtered out and the man's face lit up like sunshine.

“I’m Magnus Bane,” he said.

Alec rolled the name on his lips. It felt like heaven and Alec smiled back, trying to keep his racing heart calm.

“Alexander Lightwood.”

Magus was still smiling and he gestured to the chair across from Alec. “I was looking at your drink. Not a fan of anything more interesting?”

Alec was about to shake his head, but Magnus’s eyes seemed cat-like and golden at the moment, boring into his, and he couldn’t say no. “Well, I’ve never really tried anything. But if you do…”

Magnus winked. “I’m just a pretty face usually, but I wouldn’t be opposed to making you something. Ragnor doesn’t appreciate me being behind his bar, but nobody needs to know.”

Alec took a deep breath in a pathetic attempt to calm his racing heart. “Are you not a bartender?” He asked, trying to make his voice flirty instead of squeaky.

“Oh, I am.” Magnus chuckled and Alex felt the sound all the way down to his bones. “But I much prefer entertaining the crowd with Catarina.”

Alec was about to respond, but Magnus grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bar. Ragnor looked up as they approached and started to say something, but was interrupted by Catarina elbowing him in the ribs and winking at Alec, who promptly felt himself blush at her lewdness.

“Ignore them.” Alec turned to look at Magnus who was expertly pouring two drinks with an ease that hinted at him having done this millions of times before. “I love my friends but they can be a little… extra.”

Alec laughed, thinking of Jace, Isabelle, Clary and Lydia. “Trust me, I know all about that. My friends are insane—Jace once tried to fight his school principal at age six, Isabelle would flirt her way out of death, Clary spends more time drawing then breathing and Lydia… well.”

“They sound incredible.” Magnus’s face softened, his golden-green eyes fond. “It’s so rare someone understands what it’s like to have such mad people in your life. However, I am sensing I’m missing a quite delightful story with you and Ms. Lydia.”

Alec shifted uncomfortably. He liked Magnus, liked his kind eyes and loud personality, but he had never meant to mention Lydia. That story was still a scandal, their friendship strong, but reputations ruined.

“It’s not a fun story,” Alec warned.

Magnus shrugged, before passing Alec the drink he had made. It was a duller shade of orange, reminding him of a muted sunset. Alec took one more apprehensive look at the drink before clicking his drink against Magnus’s and swallowing it. The drink tastes fruity until he swallowed and felt a hint of a burn in his stomach.

“I don’t mind,” Magnus said, smiling up at him. “Did you enjoy the drink? I thought it might give you some courage.”

“I loved it.” Alec smiled despite the flush of his cheeks. “Well… Lydia’s and my parents arranged our marriage. Neither of us wanted it—we were barely friends then, and she wanted a career and I… I realized I wasn’t straight then. We were both depressed and when it was asked if there was objections… I spoke. I couldn’t do that to either of us. Her parents wanted her to become a stay-home wife and she didn’t deserve that.”

“Oh Alexander.” Magnus reached over the bar and wrapped his arms around Alec’s neck. The hug was warm and tight and Alec relaxed, soaking up the moment until Magnus pulled back. “What happened?”

For that moment, he felt breathless, like somebody had stole all the air from his lungs and left him falling. Here was Magnus, getting his life story and not laughing, not mocking, not giving that polite and empty smile. This… this was real. There was something there.

“Lydia’s living with my sister and Clary now. She’s happy and she’s working to become a lawyer—to help kids get out of abusive households.” Alec smiled, lost in the memories. Last time he had seen Lydia, she had been spinning around the house with Clary as they sang, loud and offbeat. She had looked so free. “I’m okay too. I don’t talk to my father anymore but mom and I have fixed things.”

“You do seem happy,” Magnus offered, his hand still resting on Alec’s shoulders. “When you talked about the past, you seemed miserable.”

At that moment, Alec felt exposed, like somebody had taken him apart and was waiting for him to put up a wall. But he didn’t want to. He had wanted freedom and love and comfort. He wanted more moments like this, where everything seemed to disappear but him and Magnus.

“Can I have your number?” Alec blurted out and promptly felt like dying. Magnus’s eyebrows had shot up and Alec watched him like a hawk.

“Of course, Alexander.” Magnus beamed up ya him. “Honestly, you look so nervous. I can assure you I am not the type to make everyone I met a sex on the beach.”

Alec yelped, almost falling of his chair as he stared at the drink. “A sex on the beach,” he repeated faintly.

Magnus laughed, opening up his hand. Alec placed his phone inside it and watched as Magnus typed in his number with an easy grace. The time on his phone flashed and Alec sighed. He had to leave. “I’ll call you,” he promised.

“You better,” Magnus said, and pulled down Alec’s head, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. Alec felt it everywhere, tingles of electricity that set every part of his body aflame. When Magnus pulled back, he felt like he was missing a part of himself.

“I will,” he promised again and walked away, waving to the other two bartenders. The entire way, he could feel Magnus’s glance on him and when he turned back, Magnus grinned.

He would call, Alec repeated to himself. Despite everything—his past, his history, his life—this was worth a try.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Countless Roads - Chapter 11

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 11 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

A/N:It's my birthday, so everyone gets an extra chapter of the deadfic. Enjoy!

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It’s been about a week since they dropped off the escaping metas, and they’ve had no luck at all in finding out who's after Len.

Lisa, safely far away, reports that New York is charming as always, but that the nearby Gothamites have started swinging by to see if the rumors of her newfound powers are true. That's mildly terrifying – Gotham residents are insane, and Len’s not being metaphorical about that – but Lisa assures him that her current ghost crew, which now includes a very cheerful Clyde Mardon, are quite capable of holding off the worst of the Gotham lot.

Mark Mardon has apparently found his way to New York, too, since technically Len had only kicked him out of Central, but it turns out that Clyde had enough power left over from the escape attempt that he was able to talk with his brother.

In their last call, Lisa said something about them going to some much-needed therapy.

Mick approves.

Len is just not going to touch any of it with a ten-foot pole.

He has other matters to concern himself with.

Mick’s sent some of the ghosts around to all the regular Santini haunts – then he punched Len for starting to laugh at the terrible pun, but Len can’t help his sense of humor – but unfortunately, it turns out that they’re either much cleverer than they used to be (unlikely) or they really don’t have any designs on Len. No, they’re much more concerned with the usual gamut of Family politics, especially with their currently ongoing succession crisis following the death of some of the older Dons – Don Giovanni got himself shot in a bad deal with the Darbyinians, Don Tomio died of some wasting illness, and Don Cesare and his sons, the most likely candidates for power, had all gotten themselves murdered by Nimbus, leaving a bunch of middle-level men, distaff family lines, and incompetents to fight over power. They didn’t have either time nor interest in trying to kill Len.

That raised the possibility of someone trying to pin it on the Santinis, of course, but the ghosts reported that none of the other Families seemed all that interested, either, and no one else would bother trying to frame a Family – it’s bad for business, so to speak, since the Families take impersonation quite personally and have a tendency to get back at anyone who tries with excessive violence.

“What’s the plan for the day?” Len asks Mick as they head into Central City proper, accompanied by Len’s now-usual entourage of ghosts and his equally now-usual supervillain suit, parka and cold gun and all. Discretion is for dummies – or cities a little less accustomed to crime and corruption than Central. “More Santinis?”

“I still think it’s someone from them, you know,” Mick says. “Too many characteristics point to them. But I figure we’ll give them another few weeks before we start pressing on them again.”

“Reasonable,” Len agrees. “What’s on today’s agenda, then?”

“Well, see, I was figuring - there’s a chance it might be someone who works with the Families,” Mick says, scowling at the thought. “A freelancer, like us, but unlike us, someone who’s worked closely enough with the Family over time to know what they’re like, to know how they function.”

“The Families hate copycats,” Len objects. "And any freelancer that works with them would know that."

“Yeah, I was thinking the same,” Mick says. “But the Santinis are all busy with their succession crisis, remember? The same reason we think they don’t have time to deal with us. My thought was, maybe someone else was thinking that the same crisis means that they won’t have time to deal with a copycat and is using it to distract us.”

“Good point,” Len says. He doesn't like the sound of it - it sounds clever - but it's a possibility they have to consider.

“So I figured we’d go to the city center and push on a few buttons,” Mick continues, expression lightening at the thought of some productive violence. “Some of the law firms have connections with the Families – we could take a look at some of their books, figure out who their major freelancers are.”

Len’s already nodding. “The lawyers would know,” he agrees. “They’re the ones that process the money.”

That’s certainly how Len’s father always got paid when he was working with the Families – if the amount is more than can be safely stuffed into an envelope and passed under the table, then it goes through the lawyers. Len is familiar with the process.

“Got it in one.”

“Good plan,” Len says as they pull up to the financial downtown and get out of the car. He smiles at a group of tourists that immediately snap photos of him in his parka before running away. Yeah, Len’s not going to lie - he's really enjoying this whole supervillain thing. Luckily, the majority of Central City citizens are nowhere near as easily fazed by yet another criminal wandering through and just ignore him. “Say, any word about the speedster fight?”

“Nothing yet,” Mick says. “Team Flash –”

“Tell me they ain’t actually calling themselves that.”

“They’re actually calling themselves that,” Mick confirms, shaking his head. “Anyway, last I heard, they’d manage to capture evil Wells – that’s Eobard Thawne, by the way, that’s why he went after Eddie Thawne –”

“Do I know him?” Len asks.

“Nah, he’s a pig,” Mick says. “Dating Detective West’s daughter.”

“Which is part of Team Flash?”

“Well, now she is – don’t worry, I’ll tell you the whole story later, it’s awful, Nora told me everything –”

“But they’ve caught him?” Len presses. “No big boss fight?”

That seemed oddly anti-climactic.

“Dunno,” Mick says. “Nora’s been unresponsive the last few days – something’s up, I think, something that’s keeping her busy back at STAR Labs. Everyone’s as tense as a piano wire. But I don’t know what it is.”

“We should probably check in,” Len says. “But not today. Worrying about them is no reason to delay on the important things in life.”

“Like figuring out who’s trying to off you,” Mick says darkly.

“I was thinking a nice smash-and-grab,” Len says dryly, waving to another set of tourists. “But yes, that too.”

“It’s important,” Mick insists. “The fact that they’ve missed so far –”

“Is a sign of how incompetent the people who’ve been sent up against me have been.”

“They just need to succeed once, Lenny, and you’re dead,” Mick says. “Speaking as someone who knows the state a bit better than you, it’d be nice if you’d take this investigation seriously.”

“I will, I will,” Len promises, even though he doesn’t really mean it. He gestures around him as they stroll down the sidewalk. “Besides, today's a great day to nose around investigating and finding some actual intel, rather than the red herring leads we’ve been running down so far.”

“See, this is why I don’t believe you,” Mick says, rolling his eyes. “You’re still not taking this seriously.”

“Oh, come on,” Len complains, smiling. He can’t help it; he’s in a good mood. “Look – beautiful sunny day, barely any clouds in the sky, warm but with a lovely breeze. Perfect for beating people up for information.”

Naturally, the second Len says that, the sky opens up.

Not with rain.

The sky literally opens up, a gaping black maw of darkness just ripping itself free of the sky in a point right above STAR Labs, starting as the smallest pinprick and growing rapidly even as the air and clouds around it begin to furiously swirl into it like an incipient hurricane draining away.

"Holy crap," Len says, staring up as the world above him begins to shake. Detached items are starting to rip their way off tall buildings and drifting upwards towards the sky, flags and loose chairs and vent covers. He can’t feel the pull yet, being on ground level, but he sees people in viewing points on high buildings running back inside their buildings, seeking cover even as their scarves and cameras are yanked violently away from them and towards the darkness. "Is that a black hole?"

"What the fuck is a black hole?" Mick asks, staring up at it.

"No, it can’t be, we'd all be dead," Len says, more to himself than to Mick, eyes still firmly fixed upwards. "The time distortion involved would - a black hole's a gravity well. If we can see it with the naked eye, we're close enough to be ripped apart within seconds. It's a sci-fi thing."

"Oh, okay," Mick, who prefers superhero comics and ninja movies, says, sounding a bit blank. "I mean, I don't think we're being ripped apart?"

The fact that they’re not being ripped apart is a very small consolation when the blackness in the sky keeps spreading menacingly.

Worse, even as they talk, the earth around them begins to shake. The tops of buildings are being pulled apart, little by little, but now the force of the black hole is coming further down - things closer to the ground start lifting up, pulled by a stronger gravity than the earth’s into the gaping hole in the sky.

It’s just little things so far - people’s books and magazines and menus are being ripped out of their hands, their hats off their heads, café umbrellas are lifting up, and it looks like small animals not smart enough to run for cover are going next – soon to be followed by small humans, no doubt.

"No, but all this ain't much better," Len says grimly. He’s seen enough science fiction films to know that this is not good, and it’s probably only going to get worse.

He aims his cold gun up, freeze level on, and starts icing roofs over people's heads, hoping to block them from the gravitational pull for a few extra seconds, giving them time to run to safety.

The people around him are running, panicking, heading inside –

Len sees a small child standing some distance from him in the middle of the street, crying, separated from her parents and starting, ever so slowly, to lift off the ground. He turns the gun towards her, creating a roof above her.

It doesn’t help as much as he’d been hoping, the ice cracking as his roofs shatter in the pull, and now neither of the child’s feet are on the ground.

A young man dashes out of the panicking crowd and grabs her around the waist, pulling her towards him; she stops crying as he runs off with her, so he’s probably a relative or at least someone she knows.

One problem solved.

But the other roofs he’d created aren’t doing any better than the one for the kid, so Len turns off the gun and shoves it back into the thigh holster he’d gotten for it.

Time for alternative means.

"Grab the kids first," he calls to his ghosts, but he finds his voice going echo-y again, and unlike the previous times, this time he feels the strangeness of it.

He feels it: the swell of power, the life rushing through him and out of him, flowing out to all the ghosts around him - not just the ones he's chosen for his entourage, not just the ones in sight, but all of them. Every ghost he can, everyone he can reach with his power, everyone – blocks and blocks pf them, a city neighborhood or two or more.

The financial district, the nearest housing districts…and the slums, filled with regrets.

Filled with ghosts.

"Grab the kids first,” Len orders, his voice echoing, his power flowing through him far stronger than ever before. “They're the lightest. Get them indoors, then go forth and save who you can. Save lives first – worry about property later."

And the ghosts stream forth through the streets of Central City at his command, waves upon waves of them, all of them without discrimination: criminals and businessmen, ladies who lunch and prostitutes, rich men, poor women, lovers, fighters, friendly or not. It doesn’t matter who they were or what they are.

They all heed his call and they all go to do his bidding.

The power is intoxicating. He commands the dead – him, and him alone, and soon his power will grow still more, the teeming masses of the dead at his fingertips, an army that dwarfs that of the largest of nations – and then no one will be able to stand before him or defy his will –

"Lenny?" Mick says, sounding worried. “Lenny, you okay?”

Len crashes back into his body with a sudden start.

That – hurts.

Fuck, he's light-headed like he hasn't been in years, hungry to the point of starvation, his muscles aching like he's been running for hours, and he has the most bizarre feeling he was having a bit of an out-of-body megalomania moment there, which isn’t really like him.

"Yeah, you definitely overdid it," Mick says, and puts a hand on Len's shoulder, pushing a bit of life back. It doesn't really work that way, the life not really helping Len feel better, but Len appreciates the gesture.

"Didn't mean to," Len says, or at least tries to; he’s gasping for air. His lungs are burning. "Got carried away."

"I could tell," Mick says, crowding closer. He's clearly worried, more about Len than about the still-present black hole growing steadily larger above their heads, but he's still there - there to help Len, to help shoulder the weight of commanding so many ghosts, and not running out there to obey Len's orders like the rest of them.

Len loves Mick so much it hurts, sometimes.

He doesn't know what he'd do without him.

Die, probably.

"Think I know why my family dies around this age," Len says instead. "It's – different. My power. It’s been different for a while, I just hadn’t entirely noticed it."

"You mean it's gotten harder?"

"No, I mean – it's gotten easier. Easier to use, easier to abuse, easier to overdo it. I always thought you died 'cause you ran out of life, but it ain’t that, I think, it’s that you do it to yourself..."

"Let's get you inside," Mick says, carefully laying hands on Len, which is how Len knows he's babbling.

Can't seem to stop, either.

He sees lightning out of the corner of his eye, the Flash running around the edges of the black hole, but it doesn't seem to be working. Len has no idea why Barry thinks it would. The fire-guy superhero is helping him. Maybe that'll do it.

Mick always did like fire-guy superhero. They haven’t had a chance to fight him – them? Someone said something about it being a them, he thinks – but that seems like something they might enjoy.

Assuming Len survives his little moment of overdoing it today, that is.

"I think it's gotta do with emotions, maybe?" Len continues. He can’t seem to stop talking, even though he really should. He doesn’t have the breath to spare for it. "I've been pretty happy recently, and I've seen a lot more friendlies. And when I'm upset, it's more unquiets - or even savage friendlies. Dunno. Dunno what killed mom, then, she was only thirty. I'm older than she was – always thought it was dad, y’know, draining her till she didn’t have energy enough to..."

That's when the bullets come, tearing up the earth around them.

Bullets.

Len’d almost forgotten about the assassination attempts, but they hadn't forgotten him.

"No!" Mick yells, twisting himself to put him in front of Len, trying to block them, but he's not faster than a bullet.

Len screams as one digs its way into his leg.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck –" Mick chants, dropping to his knees to grab Len’s leg and start bandaging it up, his broad back between Len and any more bullets, should they come. Mick always carries a first aid kit with him these days. "Get a ghost – you need them to call the hospital – get an ambulance –"

"Can't," Len moans. He doesn’t remember falling, but he’s on the ground. Mick is shielding him. The bullets have stopped, despite the fact that they’re still out in the open – someone must have fired and then immediately ran off, just like all the other times before.

“You get a ghost right now, Len, or so help me –”

“I can’t.”

"What?!"

"No ghosts – don't – I don't got the juice, Mick – you saw me, I nearly killed myself sending them out and away – you're the only one left – " Len can feel them, all of them, all the ghosts out there still doing his bidding all over the city, saving men and women and children and pets, getting them indoors where they could hide from the black hole. He can feel them.

Mick's eyes are wild. "I'm getting you inside," he says, and scoops Len up, carrying him to the nearest building and kicking the door open.

"It's not so bad," Len pants. He's lying and Mick knows it. Leg's not a great place for a bullet, insofar as anything ever is. Not the worst place, but not great.

"You're not gonna die," Mick says. "You're not."

"We're all gonna die, Mick," Len says, his head falling back. "Nothing's gonna stop that black hole. We're all gonna be ripped apart."

He's tired.

He's so tired.

"Len! Len! Damnit, it's not your time!"

"Think my name was in the wrong book this year, Mick," Len says. He's so tired, his leg hurts, and he's just spent his reserves. He feels Mick lay him down somewhere: they must be inside, now.

"Pull some back, damnit!"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?!"

"Won't," Len sighs. "Not till the black hole's gone...s'my city, Mick...love it...n’ you too..."

He distantly hears Mick scream in rage as his head tips over.

Mick's hands disappear from his.

He doesn't know why, he just knows he's fading –

Someone waves something that smells awful under his nose.

Len blinks back awake, gagging in horror.

It's some middle-aged woman, crouching next to him; half a dozen other people, men and women and kids, also there.

"What?" he says groggily.

"Smelling salts," she says.

"Really?"

She grins shakily. "Well, no, it’s just some really bad perfume, but I figured it'd work. We don’t have any actual smelling salts; this is only a convenience store. Bobby's mixing up some electrolytes for you. Gatorade and extra salt. I heard people who are hurt shouldn't fall asleep."

"You know nothing of first aid except what you've seen on TV," Len guesses.

"I watch a lot of hospital dramas," she says, shrugging, but Len doesn’t really care; a guy – Bobby, he presumes – brings him the Gatorade and he takes a few gulps; it does seem to help. He also swallows a few pain pills they offer, nothing serious, and even though he knows it’s just the placebo effect, he starts feeling better almost immediately.

"Great,” he finally says to her. “What's – where's Mick? What’s happening?"

"The guy who was with you? He ran outside just now."

"Outside?"

After a bit of frantic gesturing, Len gets helped over to the window.

Mick is – not Mick.

Len doesn’t know if people can see what he sees, because that doesn’t look a thing like Mick, what’s out there.

What Len usually calls Mick is floating a meter above the earth, his eyes blazing crackling white light, teeth bared in savage fury, his form stretched out to superhuman size, pulled like taffy and flimsy like a translucent sheet fraying apart at the ends, buffeted by clouds, his still-visible hands stretched out to the black hole is if he can will it together by strength alone –

And the thing is, he can.

The city itself is shaking, being torn up by the strength of the gravitational pull, but things are suddenly pulling back down to the earth, flinging themselves down back into place with vehemence, hurtling downwards like they’re being thrown by invisible hands –

Poltergeist.

That’s what this is.

Lisa’s described what they look like to regular people at that stage, and that’s what Len’s seeing now: a poltergeist in full fury, matching the will and strength of the angry dead against the forces of nature. And it isn’t just any poltergeist, either; it’s Mick, pouring out all the years and years of life and love that Len’s given him in a gout of raw emotion, roaring against the thing destroying them all, and, God above, it’s actually working.

The black hole itself is shrieking and shrinking and closing, nature itself flinching back at the sheer force of Mick’s rage.

The Flash has started up his spinning run again, pushing against the edges of the hole, spinning it shut, shouting encouragement that Len can’t hear the words of from his position inside the store. The ghosts swarm up at Mick’s command, helping him, helping the Flash, pulling and tugging at the edges of the black hole, bringing it close until the darkness is no larger than a field – a yard – a house –

And then, just as they’re struggling with it, the darkness lashing out at the dead in return, the man on fire, the flaming superhero, shoots up to the very center of the black hole and splits apart, separating into two people with a blast of immense power, and Len’s ghosts catch them both on the way down – the way down, that last effort cutting off the black hole entirely, the whole thing collapsing in on itself until it’s nothing more than a fading pinprick in the air.

Ghosts catch the Flash, too, pulling him down and dropping him gently on the earth.

Mick’s still raging, though, and Len can see clouds coming from the horizon, summoned the way he summoned ghosts, and the ground is still shaking with the unsuppressed rage of a poltergeist with the target of its rage gone missing.

A very, very powerful poltergeist.

“I need to go to the hospital,” Len says.

“Now?” the guy, Bobby, asks. “No offense, but uh, not sure if you’ve somehow gone blind and missed this, but ghost-man out there is still ripping shit up.”

“He just closed the black hole,” Len says. “You’ve got nothing to fear. Now get me to a hospital. Stat. As publicly as possible, too; he needs to know that I’m all right.”

“There’s an ambulance not far out back,” a kid – teenager, really – says hesitantly. “But I think the guys who drive it aren’t there anymore?”

“That gonna be a problem?”

“Nah, I do some auto repair; I can swing it.”

“Good kid.”

Len gets carted out, arms slung over his helpful new friends, and he shouts, “Mick!” as he’s being helped into the ambulance.

Mick turns – his eyes are still blazing white fire, the pupil entirely gone, the lower half of his face not entirely there – and this time Len gets to see Mick crash back into his own body, forgetting everything except the need to rush over to Len’s side. He goes back to looking normal, too, which is probably all for the best for everyone involved.

“Shit, Lenny, you okay?”

“Going to the hospital,” Len says.

“Good,” Mick says, then adds, “Won’t they arrest you?”

“Somehow,” Len says dryly, glancing around the mess around them, all ripped up streets blown over like a hurricane’s just gone by, “I think they’ll be too busy. Good job on the black hole.”

“On the…oh.” Mick flushes red. “I didn’t mean to do that, exactly.”

Len rolls his eyes and reaches out a hand to Mick. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Oops. Whatever. There’s stuff I didn’t mean to do, neither. Get over here.”

Mick comes closer, though he doesn’t take Len’s hand. “Are you sure you have enough life to –”

“Mick,” Len says firmly. “Gimme my goddamn husband’s hand, if it ain’t too much trouble.”

Mick laughs a little shakily and climbs into the back of the ambulance with Len, his fingers woven through Len’s.

“Are you a real ghost or some sort of ghost meta-human?” the middle-aged woman, who’s also come along, asks curiously.

“Real ghost,” Mick replies.

“Got it,” she says, clearly deciding that it’s not the weirdest thing she’s seen today. “Good save.”

“Definitely,” the teenager who’d been propping up Len’s other side and who’d gone around to start the ambulance says from the front seat. “Very cool.”

“Thanks, uh…”

“Joan Williams,” she says.

“Jax,” the teenager offers. “Jefferson Jackson, really, but everyone calls me Jax.”

“I like you two,” Len says, letting his head fall down on the pillow on the ambulance cart. “You handle surprises well.”

They both grin. “Well, Central City,” Joan says, as if it explains everything, and it really does.

“Central City,” Mick mutters, rolling his eyes. “Only here. Jax, you said? Good job on that hotwiring.”

“I work in a not-entirely-legal autoshop; s’practically the first thing they taught me.”

“Huh, really? Which one?”

“Ed’s.”

“Milligan Avenue?”

“That’s the one.”

“Not bad,” Mick says. “You do any work, or just auto shop stuff?”

“Just shop stuff,” Jax replies. “My mom’d kill me dead if I even thought about breaking the law.”

“Pity.”

“Mick, stop recruiting,” Len says. The pain in his leg is starting to be really painful. His brain is also clearly starting to not work. The placebo effect from the aspirin he took earlier is definitely starting to wear off. “I’m not starting a supervillain team-up gang.”

“I’d be a pretty shit supervillain anyway, between the mom and the torn ACL,” Jax says, though he sounds a bit regretful about it.

“I just got shot in the knee,” Len says to the ceiling of the ambulance. “Isn’t that from a video game?”

“That’s an arrow, dear,” Joan says.

“Maybe I can talk to your mom,” Mick says to Jax. “See if there’s some type of supervillainy she might approve of. She like the environment? Or whales?”

“Well, yeah, but, like, no more than most people, I think?”

“Damn. Well, I’ll think of something.”

“When you say ‘talk’, you mean talk, right? Not intimidating?”

“I look like the type of person who’d –”

“Yes,” Jax says dryly.

“You did just turn into a ghost-monster and nearly tear apart the city, dear,” Joan says, patting Mick’s arm.

“Damn,” Mick says. “Well, I’ll try to be nice. Len, you okay?”

“Amused at your antics, which I suspect is the point of ‘em.”

“Pain-wise, Len.”

“The endorphins have hit,” Len reports. “Also the pain. Hospital would be nice. Or drugs. I’ll settle for drugs. But not bad drugs.”

“Your brain is fried,” Mick translates.

“Pulling up at the hospital now,” Jax says.

Len lets himself get wheeled out and nearly cries when they give him some real painkillers. Finally.

“Hey, Mick,” he says, tugging at his IV.

“Don’t you dare say it.”

Len snickers.

“Don’t suppose you got the number of the bus that hit me?” he asks, lying back down at the encouragement of some very nice doctors. He knows they’re very nice, they just gave him painkillers. Very nice of them.

“No, since you sent all the ghosts out people-saving,” Mick says, making a face as he easily keeps pace alongside the cart that they're pushing him down the hall in. “And I needed to take care of you.”

“Me, and the city; that’s pretty important,” Len allows. “I’ll let it go this time. Also, I will give you that we really need to do something about this whole attempted murder thing.”

“Not murder, this time. I think they were shooting to subdue,” Mick says, slouching back in his chair. “You were out in the open, standing still, gibbering –”

“I was not gibbering.”

“You really were.”

“Blabbering, maybe. Rambling. Maybe yammering. Not gibbering.”

“Len.”

“Okay, fine. I take your point. I was out in the open, they had a good shot, they didn’t take it. They wouldn’t have hit my leg the way they did if they weren’t aiming to disable, not kill.”

“Right in the meat of it,” Mick says, nodding. “Hurts like hell, but you’ll be up on your feet again soon enough."

He glares at a doctor, who nods.

"Anyway, fact is, though, you coulda died because you were so low on life already – but they wouldn’t have known that.”

“Yeah,” Len says, letting his head fall back down on the pillow. Just a leg shot, not a bad one, but when he’s that short of life as is…he doesn’t want to end up like his mother, choking to death on the floor.

“You gonna take me seriously about the Santini thing now?” Mick asks.

“Oh, all right. I’ll be serious about it.”

“Good.”

“Say, you end up getting anywhere with that Jax kid?”

“I’m having coffee with his mom tomorrow,” Mick says.

“…what, really?”

“He’s a good driver who knows how to hotwire an ambulance,” Mick replies with a shrug.

“Doesn’t seem very supervillainy.”

“Neither do temperature-themed puns.”

“That’s classic supervillain, I’ll have you know. Larger than life.”

“Listen, boss, we’re not limiting our recruitment to people who can, I don’t know, literally light shit on fire, okay ?”

“Fine,” Len concedes.

Then – “Wait. Since when are we recruiting?”

[sending-the-message]

I accidentally took home a psychotic one night stand by thedamaged

Let me just say this, she’s absolutely fucking insane.

I’ll start from the beginning. It’s a Friday night, the work week was finally over and I was ready to get completely shit-faced with a few buddies. We meet at this bar downtown, not the nicest place, but if they have top shelf liquor then I couldn’t care less. We were breathing in more cigarette smoke than oxygen.

To summarize, we ordered a few rounds, ranted, Adam filled us in on his wife’s recent mood swings, then pissed himself on the way to the urinal. It doesn’t get weird up until I was approached by this girl, some slender blonde. She was cute, and I was drunk. I never noticed anything odd about her, nothing that led me to believe that it’d be a bad idea to take her home.

We fucked, she left, end of story. Or, at least that’s what I thought.

I woke up to an empty bed, thanked god that she didn’t sleep over, and got up to start a pot of coffee. I noticed on the counter, a ripped piece of paper with a handwritten note on the back. 'great time last night, talk soon?’ I sat the note back down, going about the rest of my morning and completely forgetting about it.

Then, I checked my phone, noticing an outgoing call to a number I didn’t recognize. The time was around two in the morning when the call was made, and considering I passed out after the drunken sex, I was sure I didn’t call anyone. I shook it off, convincing myself that it might’ve been an accident or a butt dial, and moved on.

Fast forward to a few hours later. I stopped by the grocery store to stock up on headache medicine, grabbing some snack foods and a case of soda. I got a text message, ‘Hey cutie, remember me?’

‘Who is this?’ I responded, and not even ten seconds later, my phone vibrates again.

‘Did you like the note I left you?’

I felt weirded out, tucking my phone into my back pocket. I was in the middle of checking out when I felt another vibration. ‘You taste really good. When can I taste you again?’

Let me tell you, the shiver that went down my spine was nothing like I’d ever felt before. I decided to wait until the groceries were loaded into my trunk and I was in the car before I responded. As politely as I could, I let her know that it was a great time, but I wasn’t interested in seeing her again. I didn’t receive another message after that.

Silly me, I thought that meant she was done, and had gotten the hint. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The rest of the day was relatively normal, I watched some Netflix and stayed in. At around midnight, I decided to try and get some sleep, knowing I’d planned to get up and meet some friends at the park for a run before it started to rain. As I was starting to get comfortable, my phone lights up from the nightstand.

‘When can I taste you again?’ the text message read. My blood ran cold. I shook my head, trying convince myself that I’d just hooked up with a girl who had some major attachment issues. More persistent this time, I told her that I wasn’t interested, and to stop contacting me.

It took me a few hours to fall asleep, even after I was sure she wasn’t going to respond to my message. I woke up around six to the sound of my alarm going off, drowsily sliding off my bed. I checked my phone, breathing out a sigh of relief when the only message was from one of my friends saying the rain was supposed to come earlier, and that it’d be best to just go running another day.

So, I went back to sleep until around noon. When I woke up, I had four new messages.

‘You weren’t at the park today?’

‘Are you avoiding me?’

‘I just want to taste you again. I will.’

‘Fine, ignore me.’

My whole body felt like it broke out in an immediate panic. My heart raced, and my apartment was too hot and small. I went out onto the back balcony, closing the sliding glass door behind me and sitting on the chair. I grabbed a pack of smokes from the floor, lighting one and trying to calm my nerves. I listened to the sound of rain fall as I inhaled the smoke, focusing on the burn as it filled my lungs.

One drip was out of sync with the rest. It was steady. I looked up, locating the source of the sound. It was coming from the balcony directly above mine. The balconies are made of wood, so from the gaps, a thick, red liquid was dripping onto mine. I fought back the bile rising, “Are you okay?” I yelled above me.

I heard nothing, and couldn’t help my urge to go up and make sure no one was hurt. I know for a fact that an elderly couple live up there, and I hoped one of them didn’t fall or hurt themselves.

I knocked on their door, and was met with the elderly wife. She was hysterical, crying. Apparently, someone had killed their cat earlier in the day while they were taking a nap, they found him impaled through the neck with a knife. No clue who it was or how they’d gotten onto their third floor balcony.

I gave them my condolences, went back to my apartment and reluctantly checked my cell phone. I wasn’t surprised to see one unread text message. ‘Now you know better than to ignore me.’

I tried to call the number, there was no answer. I angrily typed out a more hostile message, ‘You’re a fucking psycho. You really killed my neighbor’s cat? If you contact me again, I won’t hesitate to call the police.’

After a few minutes, I got another message. ‘They can’t protect you. Funny boy.’

All of this happened a few days ago. In the time since, I haven’t left my apartment. I’m scared to even go out onto my balcony. I’ve received numerous texts from this number, but now I’ve noticed that the number keeps changing, it’s never the same when a new message comes in. And now, the messages have been getting worse.

Here are just a few:

‘You taste really good.’

‘You won’t leave your home? Why? Don’t you want to see me?’

‘You never locked your backdoor before.’

‘Text me back.’

Then I got a picture message of my parents’ house, along with a message, ‘I wonder if they taste as good as you do.’

I called the police, luckily they understood the extent after I told them they’d found my parents' house. They have a patrol car outside of my apartment and outside of my parent’s place. Somehow, I feel like it’s not going to help.

This morning, there were footprints on my balcony. I haven’t been out there in days. On the glass door, there was a note written in the condensation, ‘You can’t hide in there forever.’

I’m scared and trapped, I don’t know what to do. Do you guys have any advice? I don’t know who this chick is, but I do know that she will never leave me alone.