#it just. it feels like a mean reminder that were still only partway through month 2 of the anniversary and that theres another to come

[hearties-circus]

I!! Hate!! Random!! Hunger spikes!!!

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

Your writing is so wonderful! I love it so much 💕 If and only if you are feeling up to it, could you do headcanons for the Papas and how they would react to a reader struggling with finding the right antidepressants? I went through four different brands until I found what worked for me. But one made it so bad I would cry getting out of bed each morning, and of course I was too scared to talk to my doctor before my follow up appointment. So I barely left my room for nearly three months.

HI HELLO <3 I can definitely do this! As someone who had to change my antidepressants partway through my first year of university and having a nightmare getting used to them, I feel this to an extent. At one point the original ones I were on had me sleeping so little that I'd be struggling to focus and stay awake during lectures which kinda showed in my lower grades in one module compared to all the others. I cried a lot, my appetite was shite, and I was so experiencing such low points that I considered dropping out and not existing anymore. For anyone reading this and needs to hear this: don't be afraid to talk to your doctor about your medication. If you need to change what you're on, don't keep it to yourself and suffer. Please please PLEASE talk to a doctor, be open with your support network, don't go through it on your own. Mental health and changing medications can feel scary and daunting, but if it's what you need to improve your mental health and your wellbeing then please talk to your doctor and get them to try you out on different ones until you find the ones that are right for you. Also issuing a content warning here!! There is discussion of depression, mental health, and related issues. As such, if these things are triggers or make you uncomfortable please read with caution or scroll away!

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐨

Being the eldest of the Emeritus brothers, Primo remembers before their mother left when the others were still babies and her mental health being awful

And he doesn't want you to suffer the way she did

So to him it's only right that he support you in finding the right antidepressants for you

He knows that it can time and that you may feel worse before you start to improve

He'll be there to comfort you any time you need him

Always makes you a refreshing cup of tea or coffee for you to wake up to every morning

Will gently coax you out of bed and encourage you, but he won't be mean and force you out or lose his patience

During times where you won't leave your room, he'll offer to stay with you or have one of his ghouls keep you company if you'd prefer that. He just doesn't want you to be alone or feel like you don't have a support network while you're going through this

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨

He's not on antidepressants, but there are many people Secondo's close with in the clergy who are and he's seen how much they can improve one's life

So he's more than happy to help you explore your options and trial different ones until you find the ones that suit you the most

He's a little unprepared for what you're like when you first start them. Primo has to remind him that because of how a lot of antidepressants work, such as SSRI's (self serotonin re-uptake inhibitors), you'll feel more low at the start before you get used to the medication

Once Secondo does more research, he feels more confident that he can support you through it

Will be a little more firm than Primo and try to get you out of bed, but will comfort you through it and soothe you when you start crying

Will get in the shower with you to help you wash if you don't have the energy for it

He's at every doctor's appointment you have with your doctor about changing the antidepressants you're on. Holds your hand through it, has helped you take notes, asks the doctor questions that you may be too afraid or reluctant to ask

Once you do find ones that suit you the best and you're settled with them, Secondo will apologise profusely for when he was stern with you. He feels guilty for making you cry when he made you get up every morning and he wants to reassure you that he was trying to help in his own way

𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐨

Terzo has been through a similar experience with Copia when he first started antidepressants and struggled to find the right ones for him

So trust me, he gets it

He understands very well that you don't have the energy or motivation to get out of bed and take care of yourself and he's prepared for that, especially when he knows that you'll feel worse before you feel better starting on new medications

He buys dry shampoo for when you don't have the spoons to get in the shower

Will help you wash and get dressed

Brings you food. Literally any food as long as you'll eat it and get some nutrition

Sits with you and holds you every time you need to cry or vent or talk

He reassures you each time you need to start a new antidepressant that you will find the right one for you. Copia did and you will too and he's gonna be with you every step of the way whether you like it or not

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚

I don't think there's anyone at the Ministry who understands what you're going through better than Copia

Terzo helped him through when he had to try antidepressant after antidepressant, feeling each time he had to change that there was something wrong with him and that nothing would work

So Copia is going to be there for you too. He'll tell you all about his experience with different medications, but also reminds you that just because something doesn't work for him doesn't mean it won't work for you either

Holds you tight and whispers soothing words into your ear whenever you need to cry

He still has his notes from way back when he was trying out different antidepressants, so he fishes them back out from his personal records and shares them with you to remind you that you're not alone and that you're not the only one who's had to change medications

Like Terzo, he'll bring you dry shampoo and help you to wash and dress on those days where it feels like too much but you need to get out of bed

Uses Imperator's soft spot for him to have you pardoned from chores and sibling of sin duties on days where you have no energy or motivation to get up whatsoever

To help you through it, he'll change what time he takes his meds so that you both take them at the same time. Sort of like a solidarity thing and to encourage you to look after yourself by seeing him look after himself too

𝐍𝐢𝐡𝐢𝐥

The thing about Nihil is people believe he's heartless, but he's not

He remembers everything his Prime Mover went through. He remembers how much her mental health deteriorated after having Secondo and Terzo and how the ritual to conceive and birth the latter took a massive toll on her already bad mental state

He wasn't there for her, instead preoccupying himself with the distraction that other women provided, and he buried his head in the sand until she fled the Ministry never to be seen again

That isn't a mistake he'll be making again. He's going to be with you every step of the way, even if Primo and his other sons have to teach him how to be there for you and remind him that you need his support and not just words of reassurance occasionally

He'll attend your appointments with you and will listen intently to everything that you and the doctor says

He is unfortunately quite stern and mean and will be very stubborn in getting you out of bed. He's not doing it to be intentionally cruel, he's just terrified that you'll get to the point his Prime Mover did and he'll do anything he can to stop that happening

He has his ghouls help you wash your hair, bathe, dress, prepare and eat food, bring you drinks, whatever you need

He takes a leaf out of Copia's book and will take his own various medications at the same time you take yours so that you're not doing it alone and you don't feel like you have no support. He's bad at expressing his feelings, but he tries to show you how he feels and that he's supporting you all the way with actions rather than words

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Grunge-Metal Geralt 3

its finally time 😂 after months of staring at an empty google doc i finally had a useful idea - also y’all, go listen to ‘Brighter Side of Grey’ by Five Finger Death Punch bc that’s the song i based this on and its fire and i love it also all of ffdp is one whole witchery mood

Warnging: vague discussion of a car crash where Geralt was severely injured, big emotionaly vulnerability, swearing?, listen to the song then you’ll get the vibes i promise

__________________

“Give them a break, guys,” Eskel sighed as he wrote down his coffee order, “They had a close call. It’s not like they’re always this…”

“Gross. Skel. The word you’re looking for is gross.” Lambert snatched the paper out of his brother’s hand and stalked out of the room with Aiden in tow. 

Jaskier scrunched his nose and called from where he was tucked under Geralt’s chin, “Did we drive them away? I can get up if it’s too much.” Even as he spoke, neither he nor Geralt so much as twitched to make good on the offer. 

“Doesn’t bother me,” Eskel shrugged. 

Lambert and Aiden, mainly Lambert, were getting fed up with Geralt and Jaskier cuddling and cooing and doing general new couple bullshit. Especially since they’d been together three years now. They were recording a collaboration song, meaning everyone had to be there, but it seemed the two vocalists only really cared about each other. Jaskier sat on Geralt’s lap, played with his hair, stole kisses whenever he could… at one point Lambert caught Geralt tracing Jaskier’s lips and forced a coughing fit to get his attention. He probably thought it was subtle, even if no one else did. So to take a break and get some of what he called ‘patience juice’ (coffee), Lambert ran to their favorite coffee shop while Eskel laid down his bass line. 

It’s not that they were intentionally this annoying, not all the time at least. After the car crash, especially once Geralt started doing well in his physical therapy, the couple just couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Not to say that was the only relationship Geralt was suddenly extra involved in, it was just the most noticeable. 

Finally, after tea and coffee was distributed to everyone it was time for Geralt and Jaskier to, well, do their jobs. Jaskier was fidgeting and humming little scales, doing anything to calm the sudden nerves he felt bubbling up in his stomach. 

“You alright?” Geralt purred, nudging him with his elbow as they stood side by side at their respective microphones. When Jaskier only shrugged he continued, “What's wrong?” 

“I’m just not used to so many people being here while I…” Jaskier motioned to the mic before glancing around him and taking a deep breath, “it’s a vulnerable song…” 

Geralt’s worry lines in his forehead melted as he pulled Jaskier into his arms, “I can kick them out if you want?” he whispered. 

Shaking his head and inhaling Geralt’s scent deeply, something Jaskier had learned not to take for granted, he steeled his nerves, “I’ll be fine. Maybe a little weepy, but fine.”

As they were about to start, listening to the instrumental track and humming their parts of the song, Lambert brought Jaskier a bottle of water and set it on his music stand. He gave him a quick side hug and kissed his hair, offering a small “sorry” for all his teasing. Jaskier just giggled in response, the kind that only bubbles over from too much anticipation. He missed it, but Geralt mouthed a small ‘thank you’ to Lambert as he sat back down on the other side of the glass. 

Jaskier hooked his pinky around Geralt’s as the guitar intro started, needing that little bit of contact for the first line. When they’d written it it felt perfect. The audience knew exactly what kind of song they were about  to hear and Geralt really hadn’t known if he would pull through. It took Jaskier right back to the dimly lit hospital room where he scrawled and scratched out lyrics to keep Geralt distracted from his upcoming surgery. The fear, the desperation, the little pockets of joy when they forgot where they were, the overwhelming love that Jaskier thought he’d never be able to fully give to Geralt all crept back up his throat as he took a breath for that stupid fucking first line. 

His voice cracked partway through as he sang, making him fully grip Geralt’s hand, “I’m writing this in case I’m gone tomorrow,” By some miracle, he found his support for the next line, “I’m writing this in case I’ve moved along,”

For a moment he thought he’d gotten over the worst of it. A couple lines passed in relative ease, emotional but not so much it interfered with his craft. If he focused on looking at his microphone and keeping his breath supported he might make it through. Then Geralt joined him for the chorus. 

“When the lights go down, Know that I am never far away. When the sun burns out, I’ll be waiting on the brighter side of grey.” 

His harmony faltered and he involuntarily heaved a broken gasp in the middle of a line, desperately trying to focus on the mic that was now warped by the tears in his eyes. 

Geralt broke off after the first word of his verse, turning to Jaskier and pulling him in again, “You alright, love?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry,” Jaskier groaned in embarrassment as he clung to Geralt’s frame, “I’m being a baby. I wasn’t even the one hurt.” 

“No you’re not,” Geralt argued, running his knuckles over Jaskier’s cheeks to wipe away his tears, “Here,” he moved their mics and stands close enough that they were shoulder to shoulder and their fingers could comfortably lace together. 

Jaskier squeezed his hand gently and gave him a brave smile, “From the top?” 

“From the top.”

This time Jaskier tried watching Geralt as they sang. He made it through the first chorus and got to just watch as Geralt sang his verse. The pang of emotion in his chest was still ever present, but it was manageable. Until he noticed Geralt having trouble. 

On “All you get to keep is what you’ve shared,” Geralt squeezed his eyes closed and his grip on Jaskier’s hand tightened. The folk singer prepared, relaxed, readied himself to take a breath in. He was expecting that one to hurt after how much Geralt insisted upon it. How he threatened to get out of that hospital bed and scribble the line himself if Jaskier didn’t put it in. He wasn’t expecting the last line of the stanza to hurt. It had been comforting to the both of them at the time.

Geralt’s lip quivered and his voice was almost pinched as he sang out, “Remember no one ever really dies.”

Even being the one to write the melody, Jaskier missed the first three notes of the chorus, “Fuck. Shit. I’m so sorry.”

“No, that was on me,” Geralt sniffed and chuckled, “I knew you’d lose it if I did.”

“How do you do this?!” Jaskier exclaimed, chugging half the water bottle to keep the breakdown at bay. 

Aiden’s voice came over their headphones, “Half our songs are his trauma and another quarter are group trauma. He’s got practice sweetheart.”

They tried a couple more times, even got through the whole song once with only minimal tears and one tasteful cracked note. But it was still a struggle for Jaskier to keep it together, and the more they sang, the more Geralt lost his iron grip on his composure. 

“Look at me,” Jaskier instructed, moving Geralt to face him and adjusting their mics so they could sing to each other, “Just like when we wrote it. Except a little less pain.” 

The joke earned a snort out of Geralt, exactly what Jaskier was aiming for, “This is supposed to be easier?”

“We can try?”

Jaskier did wonderfully for his verse, singing to Geralt was familiar and safe, even if the subject matter was terrifying. The chorus went well, but as soon as Geralt started to sing, Jaskier couldn’t exhale and it was all he could do not to sniff and ruin the take. 

“If you’re hearing this I know you’re probly scared,” had tears falling down his cheeks again and Geralt’s voice cracked as his eyes welled up, “Nope,” he choked, “that’s worse. Much worse.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier gave a watery giggle as he wrapped his arms around Geralt’s middle, “Why did we decide to do this again?”

Geralt pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s hair, sniffling and holding him tight, “I think we’re sadists.”

“Back to back,” Eskel’s voice crackled in their ears, “Try it back to back.” 

Leaning back to watch Jaskier’s reaction, Geralt hummed, “Do you want to? Or do you need a break?”

“Fuck it,” Jaskier shrugged, spinning Geralt around and following suit as he moved his equipment. 

As they stood waiting for the tech to start the audio, Jaskier felt like he could really inhale for the first time all day. Geralt was there, he could feel his ribs expand against his back and his fingers tapping like a metronome on Jaskier’s palms. This is what they were missing when they wrote the damn song. The comfort of knowing someone is always at your back, that they’ll be there when it’s hard and even when you’re separated. 

A warmth spread through Jaskier as the intro started and he felt ready. He still pressed back into Geralt on the harder lines, reminding himself he was still there, but they both made it through two full takes. 

On the final one, as the recording of the softly picked guitar faded out, Jaskier couldn’t help but repeat two more lines, “When the lights go down, Know that I am never far away.”

His voice hung in the air for a beat, the sense of finality reverberating through the studio and bringing everything else to a stand still. 

Geralt was the first to breathe, “Shit, we made it.”

“We fuckin made it,” Jaskier huffed, emotionally drained but immensely satisfied as he turned to hug Geralt from behind and press his cheek to his spine, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Let’s get a snack?”

“Yeah.”

When the sound tech played the potential mix for the first time, he tacked on an echoing, distant sounding recording of their conversation. Everyone looked at each other and nodded, goosebumps on their arms and that feral sparkle in their eyes that every artist gets when they’ve stumbled on something really exciting. They re-recorded some guitar and drums, but they kept the vocals exactly the same. 

For the album art they wrote “I love you” on the tattered hospital stationary that had the lyrics and chords written on it and took a picture. Jaskier had the original framed and hung in their house as a little reminder. 

[hoe-doroki]

ana’s bnha x reader masterlist

first updated 11.17.20 last updated 07.13.21 desktop version found here bkdk masterlist: desktop | mobile

fics [38] drabbles [13]

Thanks for dropping by! I want to note that I no longer write x reader and instead am writing bakudeku shipfic. So! By all means, read, like, comment on my fics here! But I can't recommend that you follow me unless you like bakudeku. Hope you enjoy your time here regardless! <3

legend:

character x character

Title w/ link | [rating] | word count | genre

Synopsis

ratings are bracketed: e.g. [g], [t], [m], [e]

[g] - appropriate for general audiences [t] - appropriate for audiences 13+ [m] - contains non-graphic adult themes [e] - explicit, 18+ readers only

🌸 = personal faves

characters x reader: no ship (1), aizawa (2), bakugou (12), endeavor (1), iida (2), kaminari (1), kirishima (4), midoriya (7), shinsou (2), todoroki (19)

Everything is in alphabetical order <3

no ship

2020 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.6k | hurt/comfort

The results are in and your class is all with you as you process the results

aizawa x reader

Stress Relief | [e] | 3k | smut

There's a new regulation that forces you to take an extra class before you can graduate college. When you learn that Eraserhead is teaching the class, you’re a little more interested.

2020 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.6k | hurt/comfort 

Aizawa reminds that you were prepared for this and, together, you can handle it.

bakugou x reader

Can’t Find My Breath | [e] | 4.2k | smut 🌸

At the beginning of the day, Ground Zero was just another hero you wrote articles about. Now it’s nighttime and you’ve just left a bar together. Companion to The Rest with No Sound

Christmas Cold | [g] | 1k | fluff

You and Katsuki manage to make it to your parents' house for the holidays, but you've come down with a little cold.

Doing Something Right | [e] | 1.8k | smut

You’re pregnant and happily enjoying domestic bliss when Katsuki comes in, unable to resist you.

Frustration | [e] | 3.1k | smut

request. After a long day of work, Katsuki comes home frustrated and you, suffering from a different kind of frustration yourself, know exactly what will help you both.

Gorgeous | [e] | 1.5k | smut, hurt/comfort

ask. When you have a negative response to Katsuki touching you in a moment of insecurity, he intends to do whatever he can to alleviate your fears.

version 1: petite reader

version 2: curvy reader

Magic | [e] | 2.2k | smut

request. Katsuki comes home early and catches you...taking care of yourself.

Miniskirts | [e] | 0.8k | smut 🌸

After a long day, Katsuki takes a shower and his thoughts turn to you.

On the Job | [e] | 4.5k | smut 🌸

Super human society has a secret. Aphrodisiac quirks aren’t just of porn and fantasy--they’re common and too often fall into the wrong hands. When heroes get hit, someone has to be able to activate the quirk’s release condition. If they’re single, who might that someone be?

You.

The Rest with No Sound | [t] | 8.5k | slow burn, fluff 🌸

Bakugou thinks that people who wake up not remembering where they are are idiots. This is confirmed when it happens to him, head aching from a night of drinking. Idiot. But when he looks over, and sees you there, he realizes he doesn’t remember anything. So he has to gather the scattered pieces from the day before to figure out exactly how he ended up with you. Companion to Can’t Find My Breath

Stay | [g] | 2.2k | hurt/comfort 🌸

ask. The last thing you want to do on a rough day is worry Bakugou with your problems. So you try to hide it. You should have known better.

Steamy | [e] | 2.7k | smut

request. You're a pro hero, rising in the ranks and, happy though he is for you, Katsuki's old jealousy begins to roil. After you've been paraded around all evening as one of Japan's finest, Katsuki finds himself feeling more than a little possessive, and can't help himself from taking you as his.

Steel and Lace | [e] | 3.8k | smut

The only one who manages to get Bakugou’s birthday right is you.

endeavor x reader

When the Smoke Clears | [e] | 17.4k | slow burn, smut

Soulmate AU. After his battle with Hawks against Hood, Endeavor wakes up in the hospital to find that a young doctor saved his life, their quirk being able to counteract the negative effects of his own. His first thought is that he has to talk to you–you might be able to fix the drawbacks of his quirk. His second thought is oh no, not again.

iida x reader

Broken Glass | [g] | 1.8k | fluff, mild comfort

request. In a quirk-related accident you find yourself surrounded by shattered glass. Worst of all, most of that glass is from every single pair of your boyfriend’s glasses.

Flotsam, Jetsam, Lagan, and Derelict | [g] | 1.5k | hurt/comfort

ask. Trying to hide a panic attack from your boyfriend isn’t easy when he’s right next to you. But you’re determined to suffer alone.

kaminari x reader

2020 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.4k | hurt/comfort

You share your unsteady hope with Kaminari.

kirishima x reader

Silhouette | [e] | 1.8k | smut, hurt/comfort

ask.  Before a gala, you’re stuck in the mirror, caught on all your old body insecurities. Kiri comes in and loves you regardless.

version 1: petite reader

version 2: curvy reader

We’ll See | [g] | 6.3k | gen, light romance 🌸

demisexual!Reader. After a fateful meeting, you and Kirishima keep running into each other. And although he’s so nice, you fear the fact that he might be interested in you. Even though all you want is, for once, to let yourself be happy and maybe fall in love, you can’t seem to be able to.

What We Look For | [t] | 15.5 | slow burn

Last time, you and Kirishima became friends—nothing more, nothing less. The idea of being something more sounds nice. But you can’t. You just can’t. So you won’t. Whatever happens will be on your own terms. Sequel to We'll See

2020 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.4k | hurt/comfort

Kirishima freaks out while you experience a numb calm. You meet in the middle.

midoriya x reader

Bad Days | [g] | 1.4k | hurt/comfort

Izuku helps you get out of bed.

Sunlight | [e] | 2.1k | smut 🌸

request. An early afternoon in bed with your husband, Izuku.

Surprised, Just Once | [e] | 5k | smut

request. You were planning on just another predictable night out with the girls. What you got was much, much more.

2020 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.3k | hurt/comfort

Izuku holds you close while you watch the results.

Multiple unrelated oneshots with Deku with an s/o with an eating disorder | ask

Gratitude | [t] | 1.4k | hurt/comfort

After having been with Izuku a while, you’re suffering a relapse and he helps you through with some gratitude practices on date night.

Picnic | [t] | 1.8k | hurt/comfort

Izuku surprises you with a picnic on your second date, much to your horror.

A Start | [t] | 1.2k | hurt/comfort 🌸

You ask Izuku for help when you realize you need it.

Trust Yourself | [t] | 2.3k | hurt/comfort

Shortly after moving in together, Izuku learns of your struggles and tries his best to comfort and encourage you.

shinsou x reader

Passing the Night Stars | [g] | 3.2k | hurt/comfort

The party was neon and you needed darkness.

2020 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.4k | hurt/comfort

Shinsou helps you prioritize yourself.

todoroki x reader

All Dressed Up | [e] | 4.6k | smut 🌸

quarantine fic. It’s been months since you’ve dressed up, felt pretty, and felt seen by anyone. Your husband’s birthday is a perfect excuse to get all dressed up. And then take it right off.

All the Wasted Time | [e] | 3.2k | smut, fluff

Three months ago, you’d been ripped from Shouto’s side with something less than a love confession, something more than a show of feelings. Now that you’re back, you’re eager to make up for lost time. Siberia sequel, First Snow prequel

Bad Days | [g] | 0.9k | hurt/comfort 🌸

Shouto comforts you when your demons arrive unexpectedly.

First Snow | [g] | 2.2k | fluff

A year after the events in Siberia, you and Shouto are happily together, and it’s the first snow of the year. Siberia and All the Wasted Time sequel

On the Job | [e] | 3.4k | smut 🌸

Super human society has a secret. Aphrodisiac quirks aren’t just of porn and fantasy--they’re common and too often fall into the wrong hands. When heroes get hit, someone has to be able to activate the quirk’s release condition. If they’re single, who might that someone be?

You. Sequel to On the Job (Bakugou); can be read alone

Siberia | [e] | 13.8k | pining/angst, smut, fluff 🌸

On the field, you and Todoroki are rising stars amongst hero pairings. Off the field…you’re kind of in love with him. After a successful capture, you’re boss brings you in to let you know you’re being sent on assignment in foreign country…alone. Before you leave, you have to act. You’re not partners anymore, after all. And with a little liquid courage you do. Then, the next morning, you still have to leave. All the Wasted Time and First Snow prequel.

Worth it | [t] | 0.3k | gen

The morning after with your boyfriend, Shouto.

2021 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.5k | hurt/comfort

The stress of election day comes back swiftly during the Georgia runoff and Todoroki’s quick to notice.

all works below are within the world of the a spare heart series:

A series about a fem, American reader who had to transfer to U.A. partway through second year. You’re there to become a hero, that much is obvious, but why else did you come? And, more importantly, what—or who—makes you stay?

timeline

may, year two:

- reader finishes junior year of American high school early

- reader transfers to u.a. from the united states

The Meeting | [g] | 0.1k | gen

Reader meets Tokoyami for the first time. Sequel to first impressions from my wip list

Hollow Victory | [g] | 9.6k | gen, action

chapter 1 | chapter 2

You transferred to U.A. from America two weeks ago. No one has found out your quirk yet. Today, they’re going be meeting it head on and you have the advantage: surprise.

june, year two:

Illiterate | [g] | 2.1k | fluff, comfort

Being unable to read Japanese makes you feel so stupid. And who comes into the common room after midnight just as you’re about to cry? The boy who hasn’t spoken to you in three weeks.

sequels

The Offering | [g] | 0.4k | fluff, gen.

The Mission (Shouto POV) | [g] | 0.3k | fluff, gen., silly

september, year two:

Impetus | [g] | 2.1k | friendship

Ever since Shinsou found out what your quirk was, the two of you have been each other’s best friends and confidantes. But when he turns a casual training session into a tease over your supposed crush on someone in your class, that trust might just break.

january, year two:

This Clock Never Seemed So Alive | [g] | 1.2k | fluff, comfort

You and your boyfriend, Shouto, always walk to class together, but today you haven’t yet left your dorm. When he checks on you, he finds you awake, but curled on your side, suffering from period cramps.

sequels

The Questions (drabble) | [g] | 0.1k | gen.

The Sweetness (double drabble) | [g] | 0.2k | fluff, comfort

february, year three:

Between Fear and Guilt | [t] | 2.5k | light angst, comfort

You and Shouto only started being intimate a couple months back, but you’re already experiencing a dry spell. Today you’re going to figure out what’s up with your boyfriend once and for all.

fifteen years after graduation

Something Perfect | [e] | 3.7k | smut, fluff

After years of questioning if Shouto would ever want children, he’s finally decided that he really does. Overjoyed, the two of you decide to get started.

[savagetrickster]

Smirk Upon Me.

Mirio Togata (NSFW) | BNHA

Request: Hi! I saw your bingo event and I would like to give you a suggestion for the prompt “Stolen kisses”. How about Pro Hero Deku, or Mirio, x Vigilante! Reader (NSFW possibly)

anime | character:  bnha   |   mirio togata 

word count: 1.3k+

prompt: stolen kisses

themes/warnings: 18+, Pro-Hero!Mirio x Vigilante!Reader, sex on the street,  public sex, wall sex, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex

a/n: I haven’t been writing nsfw pieces for a while so I’m a little nervous about this one. I’ve made it less explicit but still retained the spiciness (I think) ‘cause writing this made me quite…fired up. I hope reading would make you so too ;) pardon me for any errors i failed to catch; this is not beta-ed. 

special mentions: this idea concept was inspired by the many nsfw bnha fics that carried this ‘hit by libido quirk’ concept i.e. one of them was @/shoutodoki’s Libido

Taglist: the bottom of this post :D (if you’d like to be added, just drop me an ask.)

Mirio had never felt this aroused in his life before. 

Like any other man, “Lemillion” the Pro-hero had his own moment of needs, but this burst of lust right now was too much even for him. 

He won a victorious battle against that perverted villain but the libido quirk of hers still hadn’t let up one bit. 

Fortunately, he was lucky to be in a rather secluded resident area where most houses were already dark and quiet with slumber, and the streets still with occasional passing vehicles. 

The last thing he needed was civilians to see Lemillion struggling to tame the massive erection bulging through his skin-tight hero costume. 

The merciless ache to release the urge gripping him had crippled his ability to think straight.

It was apparent that all rationale thoughts had been wiped clean of his mind when he jumped at your offer.

Life as a vigilante was never boring. You’d dealt with many interesting cases. 

But nothing could be more amusing than bumping into the all-famous ‘Lemillion’ battling, no, more like struggling against his libido evident in the not-so-subtle tent stiff in his suit on your way home.

You’ve never liked Pro-Heroes; they’ve always come across to you as a bunch of narcissists who only did ‘hero’ work to validate their own existences and inflate their egos. That doesn’t mean you liked villains either, of course. Hence, you were a vigilante partly due to Stain’s idea of a hero. 

Lemillion was one of the Pro-Heroes who didn’t irked you, and honestly, you’ve been harboring an attraction toward this man ever since you ‘accidentally’ ended up fighting alongside him months ago in a villain attack.

So you had no qualms helping him with his problem.

Besides, you were familiar enough with this libido quirk to know that the victims of this quirk wouldn’t be able to muster thoughts properly until the libido effect faded off by itself, which could take hours. Or the victims released it with sexual intercourse.

And of course, you wouldn’t want to give the latter with Lemillion a miss. The sight of Lemillion and his erected cock bobbing at you in his tight suit was enough to make you soak through your panties.

You were reminded once again about the other effect the libido quirk had on its victim, or rather a related effect from not being able to muster proper thoughts when he urgently pushed you up against the wall right there and then, in the middle of the goddamn street. 

The sexual frustration pent up from trying to suppress his lust was enough to make Lemillion toss what remaining traces of reasoning he possessed out the window.

He got naked fast, and the splatters of pre-cum flung into the cool night air brought your eyes down to watch his cock spring stiff before him. Slippery fluid of his pre-cum cascaded from its flushed head, coating the slightly curled, generous length in dribbles.  It should not be surprising to find a cock of such thickness and length on a man like Mirio Togata, but nevertheless it took you by surprise.

Theorizing about this man’s girth from the way it bulged under his suit and seeing it in flesh was worlds apart. 

Shoving your dress up and yanking down your soaked panties, a satisfied groan escaped Mirio the moment he pushed his aching cock into your drenched fold in a needy haste. The guttural groan dragging through his throat ended with a strained comment of how tight you felt around him as your velvet walls stretched to wrap around his sheathing cock. 

You couldn’t help chorusing after him at how well he stretched you, fitting between your heated walls perfectly. He was so big and hard; you could feel every bit of his arousal pulsing in the stiffness of his cock.

The man didn’t spend a second more to think about the possibility of being caught thrusting himself into you by any peeking eyes from the windows nearby. 

Going at it with the Lemillion on the street was far too thrilling for you to care either. 

Legs spread apart by the crooks of his elbows, you bit into your bottom lips as you watched him hammer himself into you like a starved man. 

Your moans mingled with his as you savored the pleasure scrunching up his face and the feral way he pistoned his thrusts between your legs. 

Every thrust left a blazing trail of pleasure in your clenching wall. The ruts he plummeted into you were with fervor and deep — deep enough for his swollen tip to graze your womb every single time.

Your hands draped over his broad shoulders slid down his back, clutching onto him like he was your lifeline as white, hot flashes began to blind you in the building heat between your intermingling fluid. 

The tight, clenching muscles ridged across his back as his cock delved desperately into you, its bulging girth pushing apart your sopping folds in a frenzied speed. The wet, squelches slapped violently in the silence of the quiet street as he arched his back with his hips in a emphasizing angle, as if dedicating all his willpower and absolute strength into his thrusts. 

Like he was a man on a mission as he pounded his cock into you.

Breathy groans from you were accompanied by low growls rumbling in his chest as you stared at the dark houses behind him between weakly fluttering eyelids and lips hanging open in a euphoric daze.

One particular brutal prod of his engorged cock against your womb hit the spot, prompting the heat curling in your core to snap.

A sinful moan slipped feverishly from your lips as a hot burst of pleasure surged through you, lighting every nerve in an electrifying euphoria. 

High on the orgasmic thrill convulsing inside you, you felt your clenching walls grip his cock in a choking hold and heard him drag a broken groan through his throat at the peak of his own orgasm.

Mirio couldn’t help the delirious sigh sifting giddily through his lips, relishing the relief he desperately sought earlier engulfing him as his twitching cock released its bulging load in spurts of white, thick ropes onto your walls.

The moan from your high withered to a whimper as he rocked his pelvis languorously against yours, jutting his cock into you over and over until there was nothing left to ejaculate. 

You were surprised no one woke up despite how vocal and raunchy you two sounded.

The carnal heat between was quickly dissipating in the cool air as quivering, ragged breathing heaved and fell with your joined bodies.

“…Did I say you could cum inside me, Mr. Lemillion?” You teased between your harsh pants. You could feel his seeds pouring between your legs, leaving you in warm trails of trickles down your thighs.

Amusement tugged a side of your lips, carving a playful smirk as you felt his body stiffen under you. You heard him curse just as you were leaning away from his shoulders.

“M-My bad, I’ll take responsibility if anything happens. I swear I will—” 

You pressed your lips into his and your tongue slyly darted into his opened mouth mid-sentence, sensually sucking on his. 

Your lips quirked into a smirk once more against his as you drank in the delicious moan you felt rumble from the depth of his chest.

The brush of his hand against your cheek made you break away before he could do anything more. 

The smirk never left you as you gazed down at his flustered face.

“Just kidding, I’m on the pill.” You tilted your head haughtily at him.

You laughed and pushed yourself off him, walking away in the direction of your house, but paused partway.

“Oh yeah, feel free to steal back a kiss anytime, Mr. Lemillion.” 

You threw him a wink over your shoulder.

”You know where to find me.” A curt gesture at a certain house ahead, you turned to go.

“The name’s Mirio Togata!”

You heard him call after you, and your lips curled. 

tags:@shoutodoki​, @princessbunnie666, @glaringlights​, @platinumbelle​, @shamelessyouthqueen​, @lowermoons​, @xaki​, @shippingangel​, @itachianddazai, @khemz1312​, @kageybee​, @toothirsty4main​

[refinedbuffoonery]

Quarantine Moments (14)

Soooooo this started as me vibing to a Halsey song and then it turned into angst. Oops. Sorry. 

Also, in case you missed the announcement earlier this week, this is the last QM. I’ve had so much fun writing these, but it’s time to move on to new things. :)

*****

It’s a quiet night in the MacGyver household. 

Mac lays on the couch, practicing the ukulele. Bozer and Riley are in their respective rooms, doing their own thing. As much as he loves them, Mac has to admit it’s nice having some alone time. 

His fingers land on the wrong strings, and the resulting chord grates on his ears. 

Progress is coming slowly, to say the least. 

Riley shuffles into the kitchen and fills a glass of water for herself. Using her presence as an excuse to pause his increasingly frustrating playing, Mac studies Riley’s posture. Her shoulders cave inward, and she shifts her weight back and forth, from one leg to the other. When Riley turns around, Mac notices the heavy expression in her eyes. 

Something is wrong. 

They hold eye contact for a few seconds, saying nothing. It’s almost as if Riley is trying to convey her thoughts without actually speaking. 

Mac wishes he could understand her. Usually he can. But this look...he can’t pinpoint what it means. 

“C’mon,” Riley beckons. “Let’s go for a drive.” 

Mac frowns, checking the time. “Now? It’s almost ten.” 

“Let’s go,” she repeats. Crossing the distance to the couch, Riley lowers her voice. “Bozer needs some space. I accidentally walked in on him while he was on the phone.” The heavy look in her eyes suddenly makes sense. 

“His mom?” 

“Mac—” Riley lowers her gaze. “She’s...she’s not doing well.” 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, sitting up. Bozer’s mom is the closest thing Mac has to a mother. She certainly raised him like he was her own. 

Riley squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll drive. Does your truck have gas? Mine’s almost out.” 

Still thinking about Bozer’s mom, Mac almost doesn’t hear her. “Yeah,” he belatedly stutters. Closing his eyes and taking a few deep, steadying breaths, Mac pulls on a pair of sneakers and follows Riley out the door. 

It feels good to leave the house.

Riley winds her way through the city streets, turning periodically but generally heading west. Mac’s beach playlist plays softly through the speakers. The roads are empty, which still shocks Mac even after two months of lockdown. Even late at night, there’s usually people on the road. The eerie stillness of his city is unnerving. It’s usually pulsing with life, not...whatever this is. 

A ghost-town, perhaps. Haunted by the memory of the diverse, vibrant beings that once inhabited it. 

“Did you hear anything else?” he asks, referring to Bozer’s phone call. 

Regret flashes in Riley’s eyes. “No. I left as soon as I realized who he was talking to.” 

After a few more turns, they’re in a part of town Mac isn’t familiar with, and he can’t stop himself from asking, “Where are you taking me?” He knows the difference between Riley aimlessly driving and when she has a destination in mind, and this is definitely the latter. 

“My spot.” 

.

They end up at the beach. 

Riley rolls down her window partway, and the smell of saltwater and seaweed wafts in on the gentle breeze. The lights of a ship glimmer in the distance; it’s big, maybe a cargo ship or an aircraft carrier. 

There’s something soothing about being near the ocean, Mac thinks, like all his troubles will be washed out to sea with the receding tide. 

There’s a lot he’d like to wash away.

Mac exhales with each wave's retreat, letting his thoughts and emotions go with it, one by one. After a few minutes, Mac feels lighter than he has in days. "Thanks for getting me out of the house," he says. "I know it wasn't your intention, but I needed this."

"You're welcome." Riley glances at him and looks away, biting her lip. Something flickers in her eyes, just for a second, but it’s gone before Mac can figure out what it is. 

“So, I heard a good joke today,” Mac says. 

“Oh really? Where’d you hear it?” 

“On my run. The teenage boys on the corner were practicing their stand-up comedy routine in the front yard again.” 

Riley smiles. “Let’s hear it.” 

Mac takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself so he doesn’t start laughing before he lands the punchline. “What did the fish say when it hit the wall?” 

Riley makes a show of thinking for a second. “I don’t know. What?” 

“Dam.” 

Riley tips her head back and laughs, the sound loud and full of life. Tendrils of warmth curl in Mac’s insides, taking up residence in the shadowed corners of his soul. He’s been thinking about that joke all day, waiting for the right moment to tell her. 

Because Riley is the first person he wanted to tell, not Bozer or Desi or anyone else. 

Just Riley. 

She’s still laughing as her gaze catches his, and her raw, unguarded expression sends a chill down Mac’s spine. 

Sometimes Mac lets himself think about what it could be like if that wall between them wasn’t there. 

She’d consume him, in every way possible. And he’d gladly let her. 

But that wall is there. It’s been there since the day they met, and Mac respects her too much to poke holes in it. Maybe it’s a good thing. With the wall there to block sparks and fireworks, they developed a quiet rhythm of love and care, and Mac wouldn’t trade that for the world. 

If he let himself love her, really love her, there would be no going back from that, no returning to the way things are now. Either they’d be it for each other—be the one—or they’d wreck each other too thoroughly to ever be just friends again. So even if the wall came down, in a future where Desi is out of the picture, Mac would think twice before crossing that line with Riley. 

And he knows she would too. 

But that wall is there, Mac reminds himself again, and he and Desi are trying to make their relationship work. And as for Riley...

Riley will always be the “what if” he never got the chance to answer. 

Mac can live with that. He doesn’t have a choice, really. 

*****

Riley didn’t think about where was going. She just let her hands and feet take her where she needed to go, and it’s only in the comfortable quiet after Mac tells his stupid joke that Riley realizes what she’s done. 

“I’ve never taken anyone here before,” she confesses suddenly. Riley found this lesser-known beach access point in high school, not long after getting her driver’s license. Her spot has always been a quiet place she could escape to when she needed to avoid the real world for a while. It has always been there for her—when Riley was mad or sad or frustrated, or when she just needed some alone time to think. 

Mac snaps his head up in surprise. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Riley looks away. She wants to tell him, but she can’t bring herself to do it while he’s looking at her like that. “Though, I almost took Aubrey here once.” 

“What stopped you?” 

“I chickened-out at the last minute. I thought I was ready to share it with him, but there was this little voice in my head telling me to keep this place to myself. So I kept driving. I parked in the lot a couple miles south and said that was my spot.” Riley avoids thinking about what it might mean that she didn’t think twice about bringing Mac.

There’s a long pause, and then Mac says, “Thank you for sharing this with me. You didn’t have to. And for the record, even if you had told me about your spot, I never would’ve asked you to bring me here if you didn’t want to.” 

It takes a couple tries to swallow the lump in her throat. “I think Aubrey knew I was lying,” Riley deflects. “So I made out with him long enough for him to forget, and he never brought it up later.” She picks at her nails. The dark gray polish is chipping; she’ll have to repaint them soon. “That was the only thing I ever lied to him about. Besides work stuff, of course. And we know how that turned out.” 

The stench of seaweed and decay fills her nostrils. Riley focuses on it—anything to distract her from the scent of Mac’s laundry detergent. It’s plagued her ever since moving in with him after breaking up with Aubrey. The scent she’s long associated with safety and her friend—and now the person she has unrequited feelings for—follows her everywhere, since her clothes smell like it too. Most days Riley can ignore it, but sometimes....sometimes it feels like torture. 

And right now, at her special spot, in his truck, wearing clothes that smell like him, it all feels like a mockery of what Riley wants and can never have. 

Once, just this once, she lets herself imagine it anyway. 

They’re on another drive, just like this one. It starts with stolen glances, then she switches to driving with one hand so the other can rest innocently on the center console, and soon enough, Mac’s fingers slip between hers. 

Then they’re parked at Riley’s spot, and his lips are on her neck, trailing light kisses across her throat. They get a little carried away, marking skin and untucking shirts, and a murmured Let’s get out of here has Riley speeding home so they can continue this in private. 

Riley shivers. Taking a deep breath, she tucks the fantasy into the far corner of her mind for safe keeping. Riley knows she should just let it go. There’s only so long she can sit in the silence, waiting for a sign and wondering if kissing him would really ruin everything they already have. 

Riley finally dares to glance at Mac again. He’s already looking at her, still wearing that soft expression from before. It’s enough to make her wonder, what if? 

What if he’s everything she ever wanted? 

But what if she loses everything instead? 

[tuanhood]

hypnotic | part one

paring: vampire!im jaebeom x reader

genre: angst, eventual smut (part two), vampire au

warnings: language, cringey vampire cliches i’m sure

word count: 9,800+

summary: jaebeom has been waiting 200 years to find his mate - the one who can break his trance and isn’t affected by his hypnotic abilities. You don’t seem to be that person, but he just can’t seem to get you out of his mind… why? 

a/n: hello guys! so i originally had this planned to post tomorrow (the 30th) but it was so long i decided to split it up and post one part today and the other part on the 31st! This first part is mostly Jaebeom and not a lot of Y/N but SO BE IT. This is also my first time writing in the genre of vampire/fantasy loL so please forgive me because it’ll probably be cringe and not make sense. if that’s the case lol drop me a message!! also vampire jaebeom was requested FOREVER ago. so here it is practically 3 decades later. and i attempted to make a banner. if someone can make me a better one it’s v much WELCOME.

part two

Knock Knock Knock 

He wished he could just pretend like he was asleep. He wished he could use that as an excuse to not answer the door, but based on the very strong feeling he was getting from who was behind it – that wouldn’t work. 

“I know you’re in there! Just answer the damn door Jaebeom!”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes, leave it to Bambam to be at his front door before the day even had a chance to truly begin. Before letting him in, he went through all the possible things or excuses he could use to get out of whatever his younger friend had in mind.

“Is your vintage YSL here or is it still at the dry cleaners?” Bambam asked, pushing past Jaebeom as soon as he has the door partway open.

Gruffly, Jaebeom turned back into his apartment to Bambam already halfway to his bedroom – no doubt to look through his closet, “What are you doing here Bam?” 

“What does it look like? I’m here for the vintage YSL asshole!” 

He’s learned by now that it’s better to let him do his thing – whatever that may mean. So instead of following Bambam, he plopped down onto the same couch he’s had for nearly 15 years. “You know when I first bought that shirt it wasn’t considered vintage!”

Jaebeom waited for a response, but instead, he was met with silence. After a few moments – many of them thinking about how maybe it was time to replace the couch – he felt his “vintage” YSL button-down hit him in the face. 

He groaned; the impact was surely going to create wrinkles in the material he tried to keep in pristine condition. It was ironic since he was often heard making fun of how much Bambam cared about clothes, but Jaebeom liked to keep his things nice. “Bam I just got it back from getting cleaned a couple of days ago.”

“Put it on.” 

The tone of his friend’s voice seemed rather impatient. If he had closed his eyes, Jaebeom would have thought he was talking to Jinyoung or even himself. 

“Why do I need to put it on? It’s 8 in the morning; where are we going?”

“Um excuse me? Did you forget what day it was? Now come on, we’re meeting Jinyoung at that new café down the street in fifteen.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to picture the café on the mental map he keeps in his mind, “the one that used to be a video store in the 90s?”

Bambam made his way into the living room, picking up a few glasses that rested on the coffee table Jaebeom’s feet were on top of, and marched over to the small kitchen. Jaebeom has lived in this apartment more years than he’d like to admit, especially because enough time had passed that the neighbors he had were clearly aging and he just stayed 26. The thought of moving somewhere new often enters his mind, but with this place, he just can’t bring it in himself to go quite yet. It’s almost as though something is tying him to this city, this place – like he’s waiting for something.

“Yes, and a speakeasy in the 20s both of which are not important right now because we live in the 21st century Jaebeom. Now come on, Jinyoung’s waiting – that asshole is always early.” 

He heard Bambam mumble something along the lines of known him 100 years, would it kill him to just be on time for once, as he furiously dropped the glasses on the kitchen counter.

“Do I have to go?” 

Bambam paused his motions of putting Jaebeom’s dirty dishes into the sink to stare the older vampire down, “Jaebeom you only turn 200 once.” 

He scoffed in response, “Jesus don’t remind me.”

“We have to make a whole day of it! So please just put the shirt on, because I want you looking presentable,” he stopped in the middle of his sentence, suddenly wiggling his eyebrows, “you never know what could happen.” The final word is drawn out, almost sing-song like and it drives Jaebeom up the wall because he knows exactly what Bambam is referencing.

For Jaebeom and those like Jaebeom, they didn’t consider the day they were born as their birthday, but instead as the day they turned. There was no point in celebrating their birth anymore as they were no longer alive. However, at this point after 200 birthdays, – alive and dead combined - Jaebeom was beginning to believe that there was no point to those either. He always knew being immortal was a curse but day by day that idea was only solidifying itself in his mind.  

Jaebeom let out a gruff breath which only made Bambam look up from the fork he was scrubbing, “Bam I don’t know what you think is going to happen today… but it certainly isn’t that.” 

The “that” he was referencing was one of the main factors that as of late had made him feel like living forever was indeed a waste. It was the thing that was supposed to make him feel “complete.” According to old texts and traditional vampire folklore, he was now walking around half full, but once he met his mate, he would become whole. At first, he didn’t believe the tale. He had gotten by so far without a mate that the idea of him not being complete made him laugh. But watching both Bambam and Jinyoung find their mates – Bambam 70 years ago and Jinyoung 16 years ago – made him finally acknowledge and reflect on the piece of himself he was missing. 

And fuck he was lonely. 

Bambam chuckled at him as if being in on his own personal joke. His friend was strange like that sometimes, “just put the shirt on Jaebeom.” 

By the time he’s had the shirt on and Bambam has somehow convinced him to let him wear his Rolex he got as a gift from his friend Jackson in 1920, Jaebeom feels mentally prepared to leave the house and embark on this dreadful day. The reminder that he has now been around for 200 years and still is not whole.

“Finally,” Jinyoung sighed when Jaebeom and Bambam finally reached the café down the street, “I’ve been waiting 20 minutes.” 

A disgruntled Bambam checks his watch, “well if you don’t want to wait every single time, don’t be so fucking early,” he promptly turned to Jaebeom to share his grief regarding their friend, “you think he would learn after all this time.” 

“Let’s just go order,” Jaebeom shrugged, not caring to be in another disagreement between his longer than life friends.

“Be honest you’re early on purpose just so it gives you something to complain about and a reason to make us feel bad!” 

Jinyoung ignored Bambam’s theory, replying to the oldest, “no need. I already ordered for the three of us. It’s a special day, the birthday boy doesn’t need to pay,” he glanced at Bambam, “you on the other hand…” 

The two new arrivals, flop down into the sofa chairs on either side of Jinyoung, along of them situated to make a half-circle in front of a low coffee table. The three of them had somehow stuck into this… pattern. Years of friendship that contained years of Bambam/Jinyoung squabbles that Jaebeom would often have to mediate. Patterns were nice, but sometimes they would get old – especially after so long. 

As the two of them argue over whether or not Bambam should pay Jinyoung back for a simple iced Americano because Bam swears he got the drinks the last two times, Jaebeom looks over to the counter where the baristas work on – no doubt – the plethora of orders they have. The factor of the café being new has certainly been the cause of the popularity and amount of people in the shop. He can’t help but feel bad for the individuals working on the drinks – three years ago he had been one of them for roughly 18 months and knew that it wasn’t as easy as it appeared to be. 

In retrospect, Jaebeom didn’t have to work. He had so much time to learn and understand what it meant to be financially responsible. Not only that, but he’s literally had hundreds of years to save. Plus, his early investments in companies ended up landing him some pretty substantial and valuable shares. Jaebeom was sitting on quite the pretty penny. 

“Wow your portfolio is remarkable… I’ve never seen one like it,” his latest financial advisor had said to him in complete awe, “I mean an early investor in Amazon? Apple? Mastercard?” 

Jaebeom had laughed nervously, “What can I say? My grandpa had good intuition, I guess.” 

Money aside, he had wanted something to do with his time – hence his barista job. It was fun, but like most things, Jaebeom just grew tired of it and as he watched the girl working the espresso machine let out an exhausted breath, he realized that he wasn’t missing it. 

Jaebeom has become good at studying people. It was something he still wasn’t sure of whether it was a vampire thing or just something he had picked up over time. Watching the girl at the machine, her hair is in a low bun, a few strands falling in front of her face. It’s clear with the way the hair tie is situated, that the hairstyle was once a bit neater, tighter, and sat at the middle or even top of her head. However, the now fallen placement and slight disarray signal how busy she’s been working and how fried she must be feeling. 

He looks to the string bracelet on her wrist, visible from far away enough for Jaebeom to conclude that she must have someone in her life deemed important to wear one of those “friendship” bracelets. He never saw the point, but humans were strange creatures, despite him once being one. 

Jaebeom’s breath hitches when he catches sight of the delicately drawn tattoo on her wrist near the bracelet. It’s of lavender and it immediately reminds him of his mother who had loved exploring the lavender field that had been near his home when he was a child. Despite all the time that has passed since he lost his mother, the pain that aches inside of Jaebeom when he thinks of her isn’t any less. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the call at the coffee bar, “Order for Jinyoung.” 

The call comes from the overworked girl he had been studying and Jaebeom wants more than anything to stand up and retrieve their orders. He finds a weird want to hear what her laugh sounds like. Maybe he could say something or strike up a conversation that would-

“What are you doing?” It takes Jaebeom a moment to notice that he has partially stood up from his chair as if he’s about to go somewhere. Cluelessly, he replied, “going to get the drinks.”

The youngest shook his head, “No way! Birthday boys don’t get their drinks, they don’t lift a finger.” 

He knew Bambam was one to take birthdays seriously, but this was beginning to feel like it was going the extra mile too many. 

“I’ll get it.” 

Jaebeom watched Bambam get up to retrieve the drinks. He expects him to just grab the drinks and return to the table, but instead, Bambam says something to the girl. Arching his neck to the side, he tries to make a clear path to eavesdrop on what’s being said, hearing being one of the benefits of turning. Unfortunately, the café is too loud for him to focus on the conversation and he’s defeated by the fact that he’ll have to stay in the dark.

The girl laughs loudly at something Bambam said and Jaebeom can’t help but feel mixed about it. On one hand, he got his wish – hearing her laugh – but on the other hand, he wasn’t the cause of it. For some reason it makes him bring his clench and unclench his fists which rest on the arms of the sofa chair. Jinyoung takes notice.

Jaebeom quickly looks down at his lap when he senses that Bambam is returning to where they’re sat, not wanting to give away that he had been staring. First, he places Jinyoung’s and his drink on the table, soon turning back around to go back and fetch the last drink – Jaebeom’s. 

When he comes back, Jaebeom looks up to see a large grin spread across the youngest’s face. He has that look again – the one as if he knows a joke Jaebeom doesn’t. 

The latter nodded his head in thanks for getting the drinks as he inspects his green tea on the table. Just as he’s about to pick up the mug, he’s stopped in his tracks by an announcement coming from the coffee bar. 

“Hello everyone! Sorry for the interruption, but I’ve been told that we have a birthday here today,” you said. Giving announcements wasn’t your strong suit, but you figured now that you were an actual owner of something, you were going to get over your shyness. But you didn’t think it was going to be that often that a tall, skinny and pale boy with a Rolex on his wrist would be asking you to get your coffee shop to sing happy birthday for his friend. Even when you were a barista working for someone else no one had made such a request. This was a café after all, not an Applebee’s.

Jaebeom wished more than anything that he could sink into his seat and just disappear. If only that cliché that vampires turned into bats were true, then he could just fly away at a moment’s notice. Leave it to Bambam to torture him like this. It wasn’t intentional of course, but it certainly felt like it to Jaebeom. 

It was especially tragic to him because the girl he had been studying was the one leading the entire café in singing “Happy Birthday.” He did his best to avoid looking at her, feeling like his entire body was heating up in embarrassment even though he couldn't heat up. 

You on the other hand felt a little insulted by the birthday boy’s lack of eye contact. You hadn’t even managed to get a good look at him before you started singing and now it was not possible with the way that he was looking down at the ground, his long hair falling in front of his face, concealing itself to you. It wasn’t difficult to conclude that he felt awkward about a bunch of strangers he had never met singing him happy birthday, you had felt the same whenever your friends tried to ambush you on your birthday… but you at least looked up and acknowledged the presence of the people singing. A tight smile from this guy would even be happily accepted. 

When the song is over and the claps that follow finally subside, he looks up to see the café back at its previous state of normalcy, not a single person looking at him anymore. Jaebeom lets out a sigh of relief. 

“You could at least act like you liked it,” Bambam huffed in annoyance. He wished Jaebeom could appreciate the idea of birthdays like he did. 

“I really didn’t need to be the center of attention today Bam.” 

“But it’s your bir-” Bambam begins to explain, but Jaebeom abruptly cuts him off, not wanting to hear his reasoning for today’s antics, yet again. The day hadn’t even started.

“My birthday, I know. Thanks for reminding me.” 

Jinyoung clears his throat and plays with the spoon that came with his Flat White. Just as Jaebeom is the mediator for Bambam and Jinyoung, sometimes Jinyoung has to be the mediator for Jaebeom and Bambam. Essentially the commonality in the disagreements of their trio friendship is Bambam and currently, Jinyoung feels as though he should route the conversation elsewhere.

“What else is in the cards for tonight then boys?” 

It’s then based on the look on Jaebeom’s face, that Jinyoung thinks that maybe talking about the plans for tonight – on Jaebeom’s birthday – isn’t re-routing the conversation. Especially since it’s Bambam’s whose eyes light up and is the one to reply to him.

“Obviously we’re going out tonight,” Bambam paused and turned to Jaebeom, wagging his finger in the latter’s face, “there’s no way you’re getting out of this. I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes and didn’t respond as he knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He had rejected Bambam’s invitations to go out consistently for the last 6 months and on his birthday of all days, Bam was going to force him out of the house just as he had done this morning to come to the café.

He looks back to the front counter, his eyes searching for the barista who has now suddenly disappeared. A frown begins to make itself known on his face, feeling a bit disappointed by the fact that she may have left already or gone elsewhere, but soon she’s popping up from behind the counter, no doubt getting something from the cabinets below. Jaebeom feels relief. 

“What did you say to her?” he asked suddenly looking back at Bambam.

He cocked his head to the side, confused, “What did I say to who?” 

“The barista behind the counter.” 

His friend nodded his head slowly, suddenly realizing what Jaebeom means. A smirk appears on his face, “nothing much… Just how it was your birthday and it would be really good if we could all embarrass you by singing about it. She’s not a barista, by the way, she owns the place. Kinda backward thinking there Jae. It’s the 21st century, women can own things now, they can vote.” 

“I know that,” Jaebeom hissed. 

Bambam puts up his hands in defeat, “I’m just making sure.” 

“Don’t you know her?” Jinyoung asked, “isn’t that why we came here?” 

Jaebeom’s interests are perked. It’s not often that the three of them meet new people. It’s not like there’s a huge point to it. The last new person the three of them met was Mark – also a vampire – a bartender at their favorite club in the city, but that was in 2007. 

He waits for Bambam’s explanation as to how he knows this girl and why they came here specifically beside it just being near Jaebeom’s apartment. 

Waving his hand nonchalantly, the Thai boy gives his answer, “I don’t really know her. Minji does. Met her in some kind of class, I think. SoulCycle? Pilates? Zumba? I don’t know. I can’t keep up with her and her activities these days.” 

Minji is Bambam’s mate. He had turned her only a month after they met. 

Jaebeom’s not sure what he would do if he met his mate. He doesn’t know if he would want to subject them to turning and living the same kind of life as him, but he also doesn’t know if he could continue life alone after meeting his mate. If he ever meets them.

“Why the curiosity?” Jinyoung asked, for once finding it hard to remain stone-faced. Even his usual chill, non-revealing demeanor seems to fade away when it appears that his older friend might be attracted to someone. 

Jaebeom simply shrugged, “it’s nothing…” 

“What do you think? Could she be the one?” Bambam asked teasingly, pointing to the girl behind the counter. 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes almost immediately at the younger boy, “if you’re going to keep bothering him about it, don’t make it so obvious idiot.” 

Jaebeom had been alive – or more like undead – for 200 years and more than half of that time he had to listen to this same conversation from his friends over and over again. His patience was wearing thin and 180 years later, he was tired of their pestering. 

He leaned forward slowly and grabbed his green tea off the table, making sure to visibly flinch at the heat of the drink, Bambam, and Jinyoung chuckling at his reaction. Out of the three of them, Jaebeom certainly had the most practice when it came to “putting on a show” for the humans and “acting” the most human. Taking a sip, he looked back at the girl behind the counter. 

The youngest vampire had spent many of their outings and conversations hypothesizing who Jaebeom’s mate could be. Despite being the oldest of the three, Jaebeom was the only one left who still hadn’t found his mate and he was beginning to feel hopeless. Typically, Bambam pointed out any human girl as a candidate – all of them of course ended up not being his mate. Therefore, Jaebeom didn’t pay attention to his picks anymore, but he had to admit… He did get a strange feeling from the girl behind the counter. 

Jaebeom looked to you, hoping to catch your gaze as you quickly made the coffee orders for the few people waiting to the side of the cash register. Just when he was about to give up and focus his attention back on his friends, you tore your concentration away from the drink in your hand and looked up at him from across the cafe. 

Jaebeom focused his gaze deep onto you with his eyes – testing, checking, and trialing your focus. You didn’t look away, instead, you trained your eyes deeply into his and stared at him until finally, it was Jaebeom who broke the contact. 

He shook his head at his friends, disappointed by your inability to break the trance and ultimately confused at the feeling he still got from you despite that. 

Jaebeom took another sip of the tea, “it’s not her.” 

“Did you have to debate that Uber driver on the Twilight franchise?” Jinyoung groaned at Bambam as soon as they’re out of the car. 

The entire twenty-minute ride, he had got into a heated discussion with their driver on how Twilight was not “true” or realistic to most actual vampire folklore. It had been an excruciating thing to listen to. 

“Got to stand up for our kind dude.” 

“Okay, but what happens when she starts asking how you know all these things or why you’re so interested in vampire stuff?” Jinyoung tended to always be right. This wasn’t an exception.

Brushing off his pants, Bambam gives him a nonchalant wave, “chill out man. Everyone loves vampire stuff.” 

“Maybe in 2008,” Jaebeom said just barely loud enough for his friends to hear them. The two of them laughed, Bambam shoving him playfully on the shoulder, “Birthday boy getting funny on us.” 

“I was always funny,” Jaebeom deadpanned. 

“Funny and looking good tonight. Let’s get you laid, shall we?” 

After a day that was jampacked full of various activities planned by his youngest friend, the last thing Jaebeom wanted to do was spend extra energy on trying to get some girl to come home with him tonight. Besides, he wasn’t that guy anymore. 

Jinyoung scoffed, “he doesn’t need to get laid tonight.”

“Yes, he does! Jaebeom how long has it been?” 

This time it’s Jinyoung that shoves Bambam’s shoulder – except it’s not all that playful. 

“Fine don’t answer that, but I’m just saying there will be quite a few girls here that you can have your pick of, despite your plain outfit.” 

Jaebeom looked at the clothes he had changed into when Bambam spared him a sliver of time to go back home to digress and feed his cats. The latter had wanted him to borrow clothes of his, but instead, Jaebeom decided on pulling pieces from his closet that felt more like him, less like Bambam. A plain pair of ripped jeans, an oversized black shirt that he had bought at a shop from his trip to London last year, and his mother’s necklace that often wasn’t missing from its spot around his neck.

Bambam’s earlier critique was that he was dressed too basic and that no girls would bat an eye at him. Girls don’t like plain guys, he had said. The comment makes Jaebeom wonder about you and whether you’d fall under the category of not liking “plain” guys. 

He bites the inside of his cheek. It was probably the eighth time he had made himself do it today. Jaebeom had found his mind often drifting to you throughout the day for some unexplainable reason. During their walk in the park, he wondered if you would take strolls during your breaks from the café or when Bambam forced him to go paint pottery for an hour and a half he thought about what you would paint. It frustrated him because he hadn’t even spoken to you – not a word and yet you were clearly on his mind for one reason or another. It wasn’t even like you were his mate. He had tried to see if you were unaffected by his trance, his hypnotic capabilities, but you had just stared at him completely fixated just as everyone else was. 

Jaebeom was not going to think about you any longer. He was already planning on avoiding your café. 

“We’re on the list,” Bambam tells the bouncer when they arrive at the entrance of the club. He scans the list and motions his head towards the direction of the door to signal to the three of them to go on ahead. There’s a bit of a whine coming from the people waiting in line which admittedly so makes Jaebeom feel a little guilty, but Bambam ensures him it’s fine, “why have a friend who works at a club if we can’t use him for the perks?” 

“Why does he keep bartending again?” As soon as the question is out of Jaebeom’s mouth he realizes it was a stupid thing to ask since the answer is apparent. 

Bambam laughed at him, giving his long – irreplaceable he’d like to remind everyone – leather coat to the person at the front of the club. Jaebeom swears he hears him tell the coat check guy the “proper” way to put it on a hanger. 

“Obviously for the girls Jaebeom.” 

Mark’s mate – Hana had passed on a long time ago. Jaebeom had never got the chance to meet her, only hears about her in passing from some stories that Mark has told the three of them. He hadn’t turned her. Jaebeom’s never asked why. 

“Girls… of course.” 

He can’t help but think about how Mark must feel inside. Although Jaebeom doesn’t know him as well as he knows Bambam and Jinyoung, whenever he’s with the older boy he’s always got a smile on his face. Often quiet, but he’s always got certain energy bouncing off of him that would indeed make him popular with women. However, if what they say about mates is true, would that mean that a piece of Mark was now missing? Did he feel like he was less of a person? Jaebeom felt like that sometimes and he hadn’t even met his mate yet. Mark had his, but now he didn’t. 

“Drinks?” Jinyoung asked the two of them and Jaebeom is partly surprised. Out of the three of them, Bambam was the one who was the most comfortable in a club or even bar setting. He figures that Jinyoung must be using his birthday as an excuse to cut loose and become someone else for the night.

Bambam instantly nodded his head at Jinyoung’s suggestion and Jaebeom finds himself trailing behind the two of them as they make their way over to Mark at the bar who is throwing his head back at something the girl across the bar is saying. Judging on Jaebeom’s intuition – it’s a bit fake and overplayed, but you got to do what you got to do.

“My man!” Bambam yelled over the music, leaning against the counter in a way to make sure he doesn’t get the elbows of his long sleeve turtleneck wet. Mark in response, turned to them and smiled, then routing his attention back to the girl, giving her an apologetic smile. Her half-smile says everything Jaebeom could need to know – this girl would not be going home with Mark after his shift tonight. 

“What can I get you guys tonight,” Mark turned to Jaebeom and the latter can barely make out his sharp canines in the dark club, “birthday boy you want anything special?” 

Before Jaebeom can reply that he wants to be at home, Bambam answers for him.

“Could we maybe get something that’s off the menu?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Mark who gave him a shit-eating grin, knowing immediately what he was talking about. 

“Off the menu” meant Mark’s secret stash of O negative underneath the counter. While alcohol had the same effect on them that it had on the average humans, adding a bit of blood just made a little bit better. Okay… it made it a lot better. 

“Three negronis coming right up,” Mark winked to give a little signal that these would most likely not be as well composed or put together as a negroni, but due to them being in public, he couldn’t necessarily announce a shit ton of alcohol mixed with human blood was going to be served up to them. 

“How has your birthday been Jae?” Mark asked as he was in the middle of placing three glasses onto the countertop in between them.

It was difficult to explain since to Jaebeom it had just been another day except for a little bit more excruciating. The celebration of another year “older” filled him with thoughts of how much time has passed, whether he’s done anything truly important and why he still hasn’t found the person who is meant to complete him… but like he said only a little more excruciating than any other day. 

Jaebeom shrugged in response, “Bam planned a lot and for the most part, it was…” he paused for a moment, wondering if he should say how he felt – numb, lost, and wishing the day would come to an end as if tomorrow won’t bring the same thoughts or problems. But as he looked at his friends who had tried so hard today to make him happy and celebrate, he decided to guard them against the ultimate truth, “for the most part it was fun – really good. I mean besides the singing at the café of course.” He throws in the last part to at least have some kind of believability to his story. 

He notices Mark’s eyebrows lift out of curiosity as his concentration focuses on measuring out each part of the drinks, “An entire café sang you happy birthday? Damn, I don’t think I could ever get through that, so I can only imagine how you feel.” 

“That was Bam’s idea,” Jinyoung muttered. 

Once again, Bambam does his nonchalant waving of the hand, “it wasn’t that bad. I mean okay, maybe it was… But Jaebeom was obsessed with the girl who led it.” 

Jaebeom suddenly feels like he wants to put duct tape over his friend’s mouth. 

“I was not obsessed with her! I don’t even know her!” Jaebeom for some reason felt the need to defend himself, which was probably the worst option. Him getting defensive was usually a tell-tale sign for his friends being right on whatever they were confronting him with. 

Bambam scoffed, bringing gliding his drink across the bar to be directly in front of him once Mark has poured it neatly into the short glass, “I noticed you staring at her before I went to get the drinks. That’s why I asked her to do it in the first place.” 

“So, she doesn’t know Minji?” Jinyoung questioned. 

The youngest takes his first sip and immediately lets out a hissing noise, signaling to Mark that it’s both strong and good. “No, she does, but Jaebeom’s weird staring only made it that much better.” 

Mark pushed the other two glasses towards Jinyoung and Jaebeom, “Was she your…” he drifted off, almost as though he was finding it physically difficult to get the word out. Jaebeom can’t help but feel the want to reach his hand out towards Mark and place it comfortingly on his shoulder, but his group of friends don’t do that. Instead, he saves him the trouble by answering back right away, not forcing him to say it.

“No, she wasn’t.” 

The bartender nodded slowly, suddenly avoiding his gaze from the three familiar boys across the bar from him, “That’s uh… too bad that she wasn’t able to break the trance. Sorry, Jaebeom.” 

He knows that Mark is just trying to be nice, especially when they’re on a subject that he clearly can’t and doesn’t want to talk about, but the attempt to be comforting makes Jaebeom nauseous. 

“Well maybe he’ll find her here tonight,” Jinyoung quipped, placing a hand on Jaebeom’s back. Sometimes the latter swore that his friends treated him he had just found out he had a terminal illness. 

“I sincerely doubt it,” Jaebeom commented gruffly. 

There’s a sound from the other side of the bar from a customer who seems fed up with the conversation being had between the four of them – distracting Mark from serving anyone else. He gives a signal to them to notify them that he’ll be there in a second. “Well… come to me if you guys need more drinks.  It’s on me tonight.” 

“Thanks, man,” Jaebeom tells him honestly because he might need a couple more drinks before he gets to the state of wanting to be in this room.

Mark said a final word of “see you guys later” and heads to the other end of the bar to help customers who have been waiting. Grabbing their drinks, Jaebeom, Jinyoung, and Bambam turn around to depart the bar, to find somewhere to sit for a bit before the drinks truly begin to hit them.  

With his drink in hand, Jaebeom took a sip and reveled in the perfect balance of alcohol to burn his throat and blood to soothe it. The drink was probably the most relaxing part of his day thus far and as he looked out at the crowd, he could already tell that maybe the mixture was going to his head due to his sudden thinking that this place wasn’t all that bad.

Despite not being a club guy, if he were to go out, Jaebeom would always choose this club that Mark works out. To put it simply – it was vampire friendly. With Mark behind the counter and his “secret” supply free-flowing, it became a notoriously known place for vampires in town. If he had to guess, the attendance on an average night was probably evenly split 50/50, humans and vampires.

The humans weren’t aware of the vampires of course – for the most part.

Jaebeom cleared his throat once they’ve found a booth to sit in, “so… Bam what do you know about that girl?” 

Both Jinyoung and Bambam exchange glances before looking back at the birthday boy. The latter tried his best to conceal the smile on his face, “not much… just that she owns the café, knows Minji, and is very single.” 

For some reason, Jaebeom’s stomach does a little flip, but he wishes it wouldn’t. “S-So?” Through his stutter, he tries to remain as confident as possible, but his friends see right through his façade.

Jinyoung leaned forward until his elbows rest on the top of his thighs, “Jaebeom you can be honest with us… Why the sudden fascination with this girl? Are you sure she didn’t break the trance? Just with the way that you’re acting…” Jinyoung drifted off, not bothering to finish his final sentence, but once again looking at Bambam. It makes Jaebeom lean forward in his seat as well. 

“With the way, I’m acting? I’m completely normal. I’m fine. She didn’t break the trance and now I’m just curious about her as curious as anyone would be about someone they meet.” 

There’s the silence between the three of them until Bambam speaks up, “You didn’t meet her though.” 

It dawns on Jaebeom that he didn’t even speak to you and he wonders why does it feel like he did. Why did it feel like he knew you but didn’t at the same time? Why haven’t his mind and body been cooperating with him since this morning at the café? 

Just with the way that you’re acting…

The way he was acting? What did that mean? Was the way he was acting mean something specific? 

He feels like he blinks and thirty minutes go by. And in that past thirty minutes, Jaebeom had somehow managed to drink 6 of Mark’s “negronis.” He felt like his head was beginning to get dizzy. It wasn’t often that Jaebeom found himself drunk on the verge of drunkenness due to alcohol not affecting him as much as humans. To even remotely get to that state, he had to drink a lot and it had to be strong. 

“You feeling it Jaebeom?” Through the darkness and the haze of the alcohol, Jaebeom could barely make out the hint of the smile playing on Jinyoung’s face. He had switched to a glass of wine at some point while Jaebeom was binge drinking which had to be the most Jinyoung thing ever. Who drinks a glass of wine in a dark, sweaty club? 

He’s afraid to answer him verbally which would give his friend an obvious sign of how he was feeling. So instead he just shrugged – as usual. 

“Dude let’s get out there!” The youngest shouted, motioning his hands to the middle of the club, “dance… maybe find you a girl?” 

Jaebeom watched the people pressing up against each other on the dancefloor, moving their bodies, and drinking like their lives depended on it. He wondered if he wanted to be a part of that. Everyone out there was so full of life and vigor… he just wasn’t. He also didn’t know if he was that drunk, but bless Bambam because he didn’t need alcohol to be out there. 

For what feels like the millionth time, his mind drifted to you. Was this your kind of place? Would you come here? If you did would you come alone? With friends? Someone else? You didn’t seem like the type of person who would like this place. You seemed more like him – the observant, calm, inquisitive type who would much rather be at home with a book than at a party. 

Then for a moment, he can picture it. It’s almost like he’s in a trance – an image of you curled up on a couch – his couch – under a large white cable knit blanket fills his mind. Rather than reading, your painting with watercolors – the kind that seems to be in every elementary school classroom – and he hears a voice out of view. His voice.

“Painting really?”  

Jaebeom sees you glance up from your painting to look at him, smiling.

“Looks like I’m gonna have a lot of time on my hands so… might as well get good at something.” 

Jaebeom hears himself laugh, “Okay but watercolors?” 

He feels like he’s going to pass out when he finally hears it – your laugh. 

“Let the artist work Im Jaebeom! She needs to get good enough to live off auction house money once her paintings get sold! Shh!” Despite your words, you smiled and suddenly moved the tools away from you onto the coffee table. You lifted half the blanket off of you and patted the space of the couch beside you, “you know I can’t say no when you give me that face. Come here.”

And just like that, the vision is gone. Jaebeom feels confused because it didn’t feel like a dream or fantasy, but it felt real… it felt like a memory. 

“Hello, Earth to Jaebeom?” 

Right… dancing. Maybe dancing would help him forget whatever game his mind was playing on him.

“Yeah let’s fucking go.” 

Another instance occurs where Jaebeom blinks and everything moves so fast. Suddenly he’s no longer sat at the table with Bambam and Jinyoung, but instead in the middle of that mess on the dancefloor with everyone else. He almost feels like one of them. He almost feels human again. But as soon as that feeling washes over him, it quickly dissipates. 

He knows it must be the drinks doing all the work, because otherwise, he would have never found himself in the middle of all these people, thinking that dancing is a good idea. Dancing had never done anything remotely good for him before, so why now? To help forget? Was it going to help him do that? 

“I swear it’s like he’s not even here.” 

Jaebeom tuned back into the moment, and it’s when he realizes that Jinyoung and Bambam have been trying to get his attention this entire time.

“Sorry I was just- the alcohol you know…” He says it so quietly that he knows his friends won’t be able to hear him over the music and the millions of conversations happening around them. But he thinks that maybe it’s better that way and that it truly doesn’t matter what he says.

Jinyoung comes closer to Jaebeom, until his mouth is right next to his ear, “we were just asking if there’s anyone that you’re interested in.” 

They’re still on this idea? Jaebeom asked himself. 

Even in his drunken state, he didn’t think that finding some random girl to fuck was going to help with the emptiness he’s been feeling lately, but for the first time since getting up and onto the dance floor he takes in the people around him. As depressing as it was to observe, most people were here with someone else. 

It’s then his gaze falls onto a couple that stands far on the left side of the floor, behind where Jinyoung is standing. The two of them have their fronts pressed up against each other, dancing so closely with arms exploring one another’s bodies. The female has her head resting on the male’s shoulder as if she’s too exhausted to keep going, but can’t dare to part with him. It’s like they’re part of each other and any distance would cause them to lose all sense of themselves.

The girl lifts her head off the male’s shoulder and gives him this look that makes Jaebeom’s heart – if it was still beating – ache. She says something to him and he nodded happily in response. Even through the dim lights and large crowd, Jaebeom could see the sharp teeth inside her mouth.

She placed her head back against his shoulder, this time, however, the male had his head angled back, stretching out his neck. The girl moves in closer until her mouth just ghosts over the skin, breathing on it until the boy shuts his eyes awaiting the sting and pleasure that will come next.

Biting down against his flesh, breaking skin, the girl drinks from her partner. Even though he’s at a distance from them, Jaebeom can tell by the look on the man’s face that he’s enjoying being fed on and that it certainly isn’t his first time. 

He feels like his eyes are frozen on the couple. It’s been so long since he fed off someone instead of the stuff that he gets from his connection at the hospital. Jaebeom tries not to think about the way his fingertips tingle and his throat dries up at the thought of drinking from a warm body. The alcohol has only dehydrated him and made him feel even more thirsty – he’s afraid that going back to the bar and asking Mark for a glass of O negative exclusively isn’t going to make that go away. 

After a moment or two, the girl removes her mouth from the boy’s neck and drags her tongue over the spot where she had drawn blood from, ultimately covering the wound and signaling that she was done drinking. 

He thinks of how risky it is to do that at a place like this. Although half of the people around them also take part in the activity of drinking blooding and granted most of them aren’t paying attention to those around them – there are still unsuspecting humans everywhere. If one wrong person were to see then that could be it for this club being a haven for the vampire community in the city and that would probably be… it for vampires in this city in general. 

But who was he kidding? He was being a hypocrite because he’s for sure done the same thing. 

You’ve once again entered his mind. However, this time it isn’t an image, picture, or vision that occupies his thoughts, but instead just the idea of how you would react to who he is, what he really is. Throughout his time that he’s been undead he’s only done the “reveal” to a handful of people and even then, it took him a long time to get there. Well except for one person who ultimately was a mistake and his friends hadn’t hesitated to let him know.

With you, Jaebeom felt that you wouldn’t be the kind of person to judge him instantly based on what he was. You would be shocked of course, maybe even scared, but you wouldn’t let that cloud your judgment. You wouldn’t let yourself reject something just because it was unfamiliar. 

What the fuck was he on about? 

It must be the alcohol doing this to him. He would have to thank Mark for making them strong this time around, but also make a mental note to never let this happen again. Jaebeom was already a deeper thinker, but this was getting out of hand.

There’s a sudden grasp of Jaebeom’s elbow and he feels himself jump at the sudden touch. His eyebrows furrowed when he realized it wasn’t one of his friends considering Bambam and Jinyoung were both dancing over to his right side. 

When he turned around to greet the person who had grabbed him, he was disappointed, surprised, and annoyed all in one. It was the last person he had expected to see her, except not really because it made perfect sense. 

“Jaebeom… hi.” Ara smiled shyly at him, tucking a string of hair behind her ear and slightly looking down at the ground. He wants to groan because he knows she’s doing this because he had once mentioned that he thought it was hot when she looked innocent. He shouldn’t have ever said that.

He’s not sure what to say, because what are you supposed to say to someone you’ve been trying to avoid for the past year and a half? Jaebeom had said everything he had wanted to say to her. 

At one point in his life, he had been stupid. He had been stupid and he had abused the power that had been bestowed upon him since the day he had been turned. Perhaps one would assume that he’d been foolish with his ability just at the start – 100, maybe even 150 years ago. Instead, Jaebeom had gone through a rough patch about a year or two ago. 

The overwhelming pressure of finding his mate had started to get to him again. All he needed was someone, anyone to break the hypnotic trance and that was it. A task that seemed so simple, yet never came. So, Jaebeom had used hypnotism to his advantage, getting as many girls as he could in his bed in the shortest amount of time possible. He wasn’t proud of it and it was something he would constantly regret as long as he was ali- around. 

One of those girls… had been Ara. 

Jaebeom felt relieved when she didn’t wait for him to answer back at her greeting, “How are you? I-It’s your birthday, right? How old are you turning again? 27?” She winked immediately after her question and he wants to roll his eyes.

She was the mistake by the way. The mistake that knew about who he was. 

He doesn’t even remember how it happened, how his secret slipped, or what the circumstances of her finding out was. Part of him thinks he was just horny, thirsty, and weak, but she found out and she… loved it. 

Weirdly enough, Ara loved the idea of him being a vampire and his “lifestyle” which at first Jaebeom didn’t think too much about. He thought okay she’s taking this extremely well… better than anyone else I’ve ever told, but whatever, but then it became strange. 

She was what those in the vampire community call a “vampire fetishizer.”

He coughed awkwardly, his gaze wandering over to Jinyoung and Bambam, hoping they would catch sight of him stuck with Ara and come rescue him. Jaebeom wasn’t that lucky though, not even on his birthday, “Yeah… 27.” 

Jaebeom can’t help but look at her neck. It’s fully on display and it was clear that Ara had come here to find someone to feed on her. He had been the one to show Ara this place before he had been clued into her little… vampire obsession. 

“Well did the birthday boy get everything he wants today?” She smiled and gave Jaebeom those eyes. He feels his cock twitch in his pants and he realizes he has to keep himself in check because he’s not that weak tonight… right? 

His eyes flash to her neck again and Jaebeom feels his throat get even drier. He was so thirsty and he knows Ara would be so willing. 

No Jaebeom… No. 

“I-I uh yeah… you know got- yeah today’s been good,” he stuttered awkwardly, bringing his tongue out to wet his dry lips. Judging on the look on Ara’s face, she’s taken the action the wrong way. 

“You look thirsty Jaebeom… do you want a drink?” 

He knows what she means and Jaebeom swallows hard in an attempt to distract himself, to remind himself that he’s not that thirsty. He doesn’t need it that bad.

“I-I think I am.” 

The words come out faster than his brain can process to stop them and the part of Jaebeom that’s coherent, sharp, and aware wants to punch the weak and drunk Jaebeom in the face. 

Without a word, Ara turned from Jaebeom and began walking to one of the exits at the side of the club. He feels like he’s the one in a trance, mindlessly following her through the people, not even hearing Jinyoung and Bambam calling out to him. The only thing that Jaebeom makes note of as he follows her is Mark’s face behind the bar, giving him a tight smile. It almost stops Jaebeom. Almost. 

When they finally get outside through the exit door, they find themselves in a small alley between the club and a dry cleaner. 

Jaebeom doesn’t even get a moment to think before Ara is pushing him against the wall of the dry cleaner, her hands roaming up and down his body, her lips going to his own. They’re pressed up against each other so closely that he recalls the couple he had watched earlier. He feels sick comparing this moment now to the two of them. 

“Fuck I missed you so much,” Ara sighed seductively into this ear, making Jaebeom’s stomach churn further at her clear longing for him. Well not him, but the vampire part of him.

“Please, I need it,” she mewled. At her words, he almost puts a stop to this whole thing and has to question whether this is the right thing to do. Jaebeom wonders if this is old Jaebeom behavior – the one that just used women and threw them away later like toys, but then he remembers that this is Ara. She’s using him as well. 

It’s almost as though that old, cocky, snide Jaebeom appears out of nowhere as he says his next words and brings himself closer to her neck, “do you really need it?” 

“Yes, Jaebeom I do, please.” Ara already sounds so desperate and he’s barely done anything. He can’t help but smirk at her reaction.

“Then I guess I better give it to you then.” 

He’s about to do it. He’s about to bite down and finally relieve his thirst, his craving, but then he looks to the side of the alley – towards the street. He feels like he’s seeing things again like he’s in the middle of a hallucination or mirage. That thought is pushed away when he locks eyes with you. 

“Don’t mind me,” you placed your hands up in front of yourself, to show him you’re not eavesdropping. Your action frustrated you because it would have been much better to say nothing, but you felt yourself panic. The prolonged eye contact with him while he’s just seconds away from pressing down – bitting down? – on the girl’s next for some reason pushed you into defensive mode. Not to mention his eyes… his eyes were – red? 

The girl hadn’t noticed you; you aren’t even sure if she heard you, but she certainly noticed Jaebeom’s stare fixated on you. When she faces you, she wears an unpleasant sneer, clearly annoyed by your interruption of whatever this was. 

“Can you go?” She said, the agitation in her voice more than apparent. 

Rather than immediately leave the scene, you continued to stare at Jaebeom. It’s difficult to say why you decided to walk this specific way home despite it being so late and dark out, but for some reason, you couldn’t help but be pulled in this direction. You weren’t someone who believed in signs or fate, but it felt so wrong to go any other way tonight. That was another thing, you felt this kink in your neck that practically forced you or taunted you into looking down the alley between this dry cleaners and club. It was yet another thing about today that felt unexplainable to you as you certainly weren’t expecting the birthday boy from the café today to be in a compromising position with some girl. 

After a moment of more uncomfortable staring – something else that had happened at the café today with him – Jaebeom breaks your gaze and looks down at his feet. The eye roll and acrid look on the girl’s face don’t go unnoticed by you. 

You shouldn’t be here. 

“S-Sorry. I’ll just get going then,” you concluded, unsure why you felt an uncomfortable sickness spread throughout the entirety of your body. 

You barely knew this guy – all you really knew was that today was his birthday and that he was friends with Minji’s boyfriend. Basically nothing. Yet now and even earlier back at the café you had felt this weird sensation within yourself. Not even when you looked at him, but just being in the same presence. It had been so hard to focus on making coffee today when he was seated across the room. Every part of your body just wanted to get closer, gravitate towards him. It was fucking weird… and scary. 

The girl nodded as if to signal “yeah about time,” at the announcement of your departure. Jaebeom on the other hand, still had his eyes glued to the ground as if looking at you once again will cause him some kind of pain.

Just as you’re about to continue your trip back home, you stop yourself and look back at the couple in the alley. 

“Happy birthday by the way…” you paused wondering if it would be weird to say his name considering he doesn’t even know yours, but you shove the thought out of your mind, “Jaebeom…”    

Hearing you say his name causes that tingling feeling in his fingertips to come back and his entire mind is sent into a frenzy. He feels too awkward, too shy to look at you again, but a sudden thought washed over him. What if earlier was a mistake? What if you are his mate? With the way he was currently feeling just at you saying his name, the visions he had in the club and the nonstop place you know had in his mind, it was difficult to believe that you weren’t his mate. 

Bambam and Jinyoung had found it difficult to explain to him what it felt like to find your mate, but surely what he felt right now wasn’t normal behavior or feelings. Unless he was a psychopath. 

Tightly shutting his eyes and drawing together all his strength, Jaebeom aims to try once again to see if you can break the hypnotic trance, unaffected by his abilities. However, as soon as he’s finally ready, head turned up to face you – you’re gone. You didn’t wait for him to respond to the happy birthday message. Instead, you simply left not wanting to be a burden or troublesome to whatever it was those two were doing in that alley. 

“Thank fucking god, let’s get back to it,” Ara concluded with a final roll of her eyes, gripping Jaebeom’s shoulders to get him close to her once again. He stares at her neck, but this time he doesn’t feel anything. He no longer feels thirsty and his appetite is gone. 

Jaebeom shrugs her off slightly. The encounter with you has caused him to wake up and realize what a bad idea it would be to do this right now. He hopes that Ara won’t put up a fight – he doesn’t want to have to hypnotize her if he doesn’t need to. 

At his actions, Ara takes a step away in disbelief, as if she actually can’t believe that Jaebeom is changing his mind and no longer wants her, “are you serious?” 

He doesn’t say anything but instead avoids eye contact with her just as he had done for you. 

Snorting, she glared at him, “Fine. Whatever. I don’t fucking care. I can find someone else to feed off of me. Yours never felt that good anyway. Asshole.”

Just like that, she’s out of his life once again and Jaebeom can’t help but feel thankful. He should have never been weak enough to be dragged out by here anyway. He had just been consumed by thoughts of you, alcohol, and the couple on the dancefloor. Then again, not coming out here would have robbed him of the opportunity of seeing you again and finding out that you actually knew his name. 

That’s when it dawned on him. 

Fuck… how much had you seen? What did you see? 

Jaebeom realized that he might have some explaining to do

[thecrownrp]

hello, everyone!! we’re already partway through our third week since opening which means SECOND MUSES WILL SOON BE ALLOWED! we’ll be talking more about those, how to reserve/apply for one, etc below the cut but first we’d like to touch on our ACTIVITY RULES & REQUIREMENTS.

ACTIVITY

as stated in our GUIDELINES, “if there has been 7 days of no eligible IC posts (a reply, solo, or meme answer of at least 150 words) at the time of an activity check, you will be included in the weekly post and cleared” and this is the guideline we will usually follow for activity checks.

however as mentioned in our opening post for our first activity check on september 9th, everyone who was accepted between september 1st (when we opened) and the 9th would only be required to post an intro in order to not be cleared (then after that, an IC post each week was required to pass activity checks going forward).

in anticipation of our second activity check on the 16th, we reminded everyone in this notice about it, as well as what we would be using as a guideline to determine activity which was that “ANYONE WHO JOINED BEFORE SEPTEMBER 9TH is required to have at least one (1) in character post (since september 9th) in order to pass this week’s activity check. ANYONE WHO JOINED ON/AFTER is required to have just an intro up!”

as such, we cleared any members who had not made a new IC post between the 9th and 16th but did say in the tags (of the activity check post) that anyone who felt they were wrongly cleared could contact us to remain in the group and be re-added to the master list without needing to reapply. anyone who was cleared is also free to reapply at any time!

that being said, as admins, it is not our responsibility to (nor does it say anywhere that we will) chase down and message every member who might be in danger of being cleared for inactivity - especially in cases like this past activity check where a third of our roleplay was cleared. not only would it be a lot of people to keep track of in terms of who replies or doesn’t reply to us if we did, we still have our own lives and other commitments and hobbies which means we aren’t always hanging around the main or have the time and energy to do that (although we do try to reply to any messages/asks we receive as soon as possible and in a timely manner).

if you know you will not be able to post within the coming week(s) but want to remain in the roleplay, PLEASE message us to ask for a hiatus! you do not need to give us a reason or explain why you need one and if you don’t give us an expected return date, we will give you the maximum time allowed for a hiatus which is 1 month. however, we cannot know if something is going on in your life that is preventing you from being active if you do not let us know!

additionally, we wanted to add that THOSE WHO RETURN FROM A HIATUS may or may not be required to have an IC post up based on when they return:

if you are returning 3 DAYS OR LESS BEFORE AN ACTIVITY CHECK, you will NOT be expected to have an IC post up (but feel free to)!

if you are returning 4 DAYS OR MORE BEFORE AN ACTIVITY CHECK, you WILL be expected to have an IC post up!

this is because we believe four days allows enough time to write reply, starter, or solo and while three days is doable, we are willing to provide some leniency in that regards. we’ve also removed the rule about no posts made on the day of an activity check counting as activity to make things easier for everyone but if we notice anyone consistently only posting the bare minimum each week to not be cleared, you will be warned and/or cleared!

SECOND MUSES

now! this is probably the part many of you will care about more--and i don’t blame anyone who does--but please do give the activity section a read! 😭

starting this wednesday september 22nd, ANYONE WHO WAS ACCEPTED ON SEP. 1ST CAN APPLY FOR A 2ND MUSE! as such, we are now accepting reserves for your 2nd. however, you MUST RESERVE ON YOUR 1ST MUSE’S ACCOUNT so we can verify that you meet all the requirements to take on a 2nd!

in addition, the following information should be taken into account when reserving/applying for your 2nd muse:

your muses can be from the same kingdom if you choose but please respect any caps currently in place (such as there being a cap on muses from the hearts kingdom right now, until we reach a more even ratio of muses in the clover & spades kingdoms)

members can have up to 2 muses based off a premade, provided there are still a decent amount available at the time of reserving/applying (we say “up to 2″ in case we ever allow members a 3rd muse in the future)

while we’re allowing reservations for 2nd muses now, you CANNOT APPLY FOR IT UNTIL THE 22ND (for those who were accepted on the 1st)! if you were accepted on the 2nd, you can start applying on the 23rd, and so on - just count 3 weeks from the day you were accepted if you’re not sure what date you’re allowed. reserves will also only be allowed within 5 days of when you’re allowed to apply for a 2nd muse, as anything before then will expire before you will be eligible for it!

lastly, a big thank you to everyone who read through this and all of our members for keeping the dash so active already! it really warms our hearts to see many of you posting so frequently, and we’ve been enjoying all the ROYAL REPORTS that have been posted so far too - don’t forget those are due by SEPTEMBER 22ND as well if you want to claim points from it!!

[calligraphist-artemisia]

The Butterfly Dome

Written for Kidgeweek 2021!

I won’t be doing all of Kidgeweek this year (though I am writing something for each day of the Kidge Spring Event), but I do have three one-shots written, including this one. (The others will be on the 19th and 22nd.)

This one is the prompt for April 17 - Botanical Gardens/Lake Time. I chose to go with Botanical Gardens.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

The Butterfly Dome

As part of a deal with her mom, Pidge agreed to work at the Plaht Botanical Garden for one month in their volunteer program. In return, she would be allowed to spend her final month before college on a lengthy road trip with her friends. She thought it was a pretty great deal.

Pidge would be primarily working in the greenhouse to help care for seedlings and saplings alike, as well as to help quarantine everything new that came in until they were sure they weren't carrying unwanted pests or disease. It was hot and humid and Pidge didn't really care for that, but she didn't hate working in the greenhouse and that was all that mattered.

At the end of her first week, she was given a new task: deliver flowering plants to the caretakers of the Butterfly Dome, which was basically an even bigger greenhouse meant to do exactly as it sounded.

“Ask for Keith,” her mother advised as she finished loading up the cart. “He's in charge of accepting new arrivals. And also make sure he reads this-” (Colleen held up a folded letter) “-and don't go anywhere until he does.”

Pidge took the letter and stuck it into the pocket of her apron. “Is it a list of all the plants?”

Colleen shook her head. “No, it's instructions to take you under his wing for the day. We don't have much going on in here this weekend, but the Dome could use the extra hand and I promised them one of our volunteers.”

“Does this happen a lot? Just moving people around without asking if they're okay with it?” Pidge asked, disgruntled by the sudden shift in her routine.

“On occasion,” Colleen replied. “Most of our volunteers are here because they want to do a little bit of everything. I wouldn't send you to the Dome if I thought you would hate it. And just think of how good your experiences will look on your resume!”

“Yeah, I'm sure tech companies will be super impressed with my knowledge of flowers and butterflies,” Pidge said dryly.

Colleen gave her daughter a look. “You know what I mean, Katie.”

She did but she wasn't about to get into that conversation with her mom again. Instead, Pidge just sort of shrugged and grabbed onto the handle of the cart, waiting for the go-ahead to leave. She took it easy as she pushed the cart out of the greenhouse. It seemed pretty sturdy, but she didn't want to go too fast and end up with all of the plants on the floor.

Pidge passed a few people in the halls and offered up simple greetings to most of them until she finally arrived at the Dome. She carefully rolled the cart into the entry chamber and had to wait until the door shut behind her before she was able to enter the main room. Standing near that entrance was the Head of the Department, Takashi Shirogane. He had been a friend of the family for many years and was affectionately nicknamed “Shiro” because of all of the times he started to introduce himself by his surname first, only to correct himself partway through.

“Ah, those are the flowers Colleen was telling me about!” he said, smiling at her.

“I'm supposed to take them to Keith,” Pidge said. “Except, uh, who's Keith?”

Shiro gestured farther into the Dome at another man with black hair who was crouched over one of the flower beds with a hand pruner, carefully removing dead branches or flowers. “My Assistant Head, over there. I'm surprised the two of you haven't met yet. Do you want me to introduce you?”

Pidge shrugged. “Mom sent me with a note. And I'm a big girl, Shiro. I can handle talking to strangers.”

Shiro looked amused by that for some reason, but he nodded and told her that he'd be around if she needed anything before moving aside so she could roll the cart along the path. She made enough noise as she approached for Keith to hear and he stood up when he noticed her coming his way.

And it was then that Pidge wondered if she was in trouble.

Keith was far younger than she expected. She imagined someone a little older – closer to Shiro's age. (Not that Shiro was old.) If she had to guess, Keith was near her own age and also happened to be rather attractive.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“I'm Pidge from the Greenhouse,” she said, startled into an introduction. “I, um, have your plants? And a note from Director Holt.”

Keith held out his hand and Pidge placed the note into it. She continued to stand by the cart while he read the message just like her mother instructed, waiting for him to finish and tell her what she would be doing to help out. (And if she happened to take a moment to check him out, then that was her little secret.)

“Looks like you'll be with me for the day,” he said, tucking the note into his back pocket. “I assume you already know the rules around here, but I'll remind you anyway: watch your step and don't touch the butterflies. They'll probably come pretty close to us while we're doing our planting, so keep that in mind.”

Pidge nodded.

Keith regarded her for a moment, his intense blue-gray eyes meeting her own. “We're replanting the Main Feature bed today. The pipes sprang a leak and ruined everything last month before we could get in and replace them, but that's all fixed now and we just got in the new soil. The locations for the plants have been marked with stakes, however, we will consult the planner before we do any digging. Sound simple enough?”

“So, basically don't do anything until you tell me to,” Pidge summarized, earning herself what was likely a rare smile. It was gone quickly as Keith nodded and gestured for her to follow. She pushed the cart along behind him and, as she promised, kept an eye out for any errant butterflies in her path.

It wasn't hard to tell when they arrived at the Main Feature bed. Not only was the soil smoothed out on top and staked with plant labels, but there was also a magnificent metal butterfly sculpture in the very center. A closer look showed that there were also tiny hoses winding their way throughout the bed, which she assumed was the sprinkler system. Pidge parked her cart where Keith indicated and then walked over to his side to view the planner he picked up from a nearby portable work table. She listened intently as he explained that they would start in the center near the sculpture and work their way out, carefully measuring the width and depth of each hole before placing any plants.

“All of the tools you need are here,” Keith said, gesturing to the top of the table, where there were several trowels, gloves, and measuring devices. “I recommend picking an apron so you can keep everything together. If you want a kneeling pad, we have those too.”

Pidge picked one of the green aprons and slid it over her head before tying it around her waist. She quickly grabbed a pair of matching green gloves and put those on, before sticking one of the trowels and two of the rulers (one wooden and one flexible) into the pockets on the apron. She didn't figure she needed a kneeling pad, though it was nice to know they had them on hand.

Keith briefly quizzed her on everything he'd just said and then they got to work.

It was pleasant to work alongside Keith. He didn't feel the need to constantly talk about whatever came to mind, saving his words for checking in on how her digging was coming along. It allowed plenty of time for Pidge's mind to wander without interruption.

All things considered, she enjoyed her time in the Dome and found herself disappointed when they finished planting everything on the cart.

“Not bad,” Keith remarked as he checked the time. “Really good, actually. We're ahead of schedule for once.” He lifted his gaze to eye her for a long moment. “Director Holt should have the next batch loaded up for us by now.”

“There's more?” Pidge blurted out.

Keith raised an eyebrow. “We'll keep going until the bed is full. Unless you hate being here that much.”

Pidge quickly shook her head. “No! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I've only been here for a week but it seems like everyone else tries to take things slow, so I was surprised that we're going to keep going.”

“Ah,” was all Keith said as he turned his back to her and began removing his apron and tools, setting them all back onto the counter.

Pidge followed suit, hoping he wasn't disappointed in her. Neither of them spoke as Keith grabbed the cart and began to wheel it back to the Greenhouse and it was only when she heard her mother's voice that Pidge realized she'd let her slip into despairing thoughts.

“You're back sooner than I thought,” laughed Colleen, a pleased smile gracing her lips. “I have your next two carts loaded up and ready if you want to take them. At the pace you two are going, we'll have it all cleared out by the end of the day.”

“That's my hope,” Keith said, turning the empty cart over to her. “Thanks for sending Pidge to help, Director Holt. It would take me more than double the amount of time on my own.”

Pidge couldn't stop herself from jerking her head to look at him in surprise.

And there it was again – that soft, fleeting smile, and it was directed towards her. She could feel her cheeks heating up, but she didn't, couldn't, look away. Instead, she offered a small smile of her own and allowed herself to hope that once her weekend in the Dome was over, she would still get to spend time with him.

[taiblogcomics]

All Out of Outlaws

Hey there, that live service you paid for but only used once. I hope you liked last week's anniversary review as much as I liked writing it. Now we're back to the usual stack. We're on a streak with Red Hood junk, so let's get back into it~

Here's the cover:

Since it's an anniversary issue of its own, the cover is way glossier and higher quality than usual. I don't object to homaging most of Jason's old teammates in the sky, but why the fuck is Crux there? Like, why would you remind us of Crux? Nobody liked Crux, nobody even remembers Crux. At least he's partially covered by the logo, but not nearly enough. Like, Isabel's worth way more of a cover appearance than Crux. Anyway, other than Crux, this cover's pretty good. Very movie poster-esque.

So this book takes place "one month ago". That somehow means it takes place after issue 48, AKA the unnecessary tie-in issue, and that other story arc that ended last issue. You got that? One month ago is after the tie-in story, but before the story that just ended. You can tell all this because Bizarro is still here instead of trapped in hell, and Jason Todd's narrating to himself about how Punchline tricked him regarding Duela Dent. Yeah, there's no moment showing how he realised this, even though that'd make good story in itself. No, he's just here because he's already pissed at the Duela deception.

After the flashback, we return to the present. This is after issue 49, just so you know where we stand. It's pretty clear Artemis and Jason have just slept together. That... seems odd to me. It's odd to them as well, so that's forgivable. Jason acknowledges that really he just needed some human contact. Because, like, Roy is dead, Bizarro is in hell, and Starfire is in space. Thankfully, he mentions Crux not at all. Jason thinking Crux is a friend worth missing would be more disbelief than I can willingly suspend. Anyways, they're interrupted by a welcome sight.

The loud yelling returns us to seeing Monsieur Mallah yell like a drill sergeant at the Outlaws of Tomorrow, or whatever those kids were called. You remember them: Devour, Doomed, Cloud 9, DNA, Babe in Arms and Mombie (which I swear I came up with before it was ever written in an issue), and Vessel. Anyways, they were my favourite part of the last dozen issues or whenever they first appeared. Jason points a gun at Mallah to try and get him to stop yelling at the kids, and Ma Gunn calls him out on it. Basically, she's hired Mallah and the Brain to train these kids, since Jason keeps skipping out on it. If he disapproves of her methods, then he should train them himself. He concedes the point, and opts to leave the kids in her care.

Jason leaves, heading up to Dr. Veritas' lab. This is where Duela's ended up after they rescued her from the flashback. She's alive, but part of her recovery has been reconstructive surgery. Her repaired face has basically left her non-verbal and mostly unresponsive. Jason has a plan, though. It's probably supposed to be his pocket, but I swear it looks like he's taking this out of the fly of his jeans. That's extremely worrying, almost as worrying as what actually happens: Jason hands her a rubber Joker mask, and she puts it on. With her "face" restored, she starts laughing--and doesn't stop. Jason wonders if this was a good idea after all. I'm gonna go ahead and venture "no"~

Following that, we advance three weeks, where Duela has been doing physical therapy in Suzie Su's private gym. She's been struggling, and is still mostly non-verbal, but at least communicates in laughs and animal noises. Jason decides the best way to get her to improve is to taunt her. Surprisingly, it works: when he dumps enough insults, she's able to stagger to her feet well enough to attack him. He says he knew she could do it with the right motivation, and she's pleased with herself. Pleased enough that when the time skips ahead again, she's perfectly verbal once more.

This scene takes place in a graveyard. Not just any, but the very grave that Jason once upon a time clawed his way out of. Naturally, she thinks that's cool. This is Jason's "don't make the same mistakes I did" lecture, but Duela doesn't want to hear it. She's too mad at Punchline and Joker for treating her like shit. Jason understands, but he says he'll be there for her when she decides to change her mind about being a crazy psychopath. They both return home to Ma Gunn's, but while Jason laments some thoughts to Artemis, Duela decides to escape. Just like the teen she is.

Partway off the grounds, she actually encounters Pup-Pup. Yeah, the talking Superman plush doll is still somehow hanging around. I might pick on this series a bit, and rightly so sometimes, but how many other comics do you know where a sapient talking plush toy of one of the world's greatest heroes is a recurring character? That's fantastic. That's exactly why I read comic books. Anyway, she stops to chat with Pup-Pup, because when life throws that much weirdness at you, you stop and interact. She relays an exaggerated version of her backstory to him, talking about how her father beat her while her mother laughed, and she killed them both in the end. Pup-Pup sees right through it, and the pair of them end up hanging out all night until Jason finds them both asleep in the yard the next morning.

So it's a bit later, and they're in New York. A bank's been broken into by... Agent Smith from The Matrix?? It's a group of guys in shades and suits who are all identical and refer to themselves as sharing a single collective mind. I don't care that they call themselves "The Chairmen", that sounds like Agent Smith to me. Fortunately, the Outlaws are here to beat them up. Joker's Daughter and her pal Pup-Pup have joined as the pre-requisite third member(s), but partway through the fight, the strain of the fight causes Duela to have some sort of mental break.

Very suddenly, it's no longer funny for Duela. She's not into the violence or death. She is just a teen, after all, and I guess it built up over time. The rest of the Agent Smiths are dealt with while Jason comforts Duela and removes the Joker mask from her. No doubt he's going to store it back in his trousers. And so, after the fight, Duela gets cleaned up, dresses like a normal person, and returns home to her parents. Artemis imparts the wisdom that it doesn't matter how you live, as long as you're living the way you want, it's the greatest act of defiance there is. Jason also allows Pup-Pup to stow away in her backpack, just to keep an eye on her.

After returning Duela to her home, Jason and Artemis ride on for a while. Then, abruptly, Artemis pulls over. It's as far as she's going, at least with Jason. But they both agree: he doesn't need her around anymore. He's a capable guy who can stand on his own two feet. And so Artemis also departs, she taking one road, and Jason driving down the other. And that road Jason's on? Why, it's the road home. The road back to Gotham. Jason muses that he was an okay sidekick, a crap supervillain, and a great outlaw. But what he was most of all... was a good friend.

I’m gonna say to start out with that I think this is a good issue. Heck, I think this is a great issue. It’s very character-driven, which is kind of what I always want in these things. Would much rather read something that develops the characters than just another fight scene.

I guess the issue, then, is A) does the character development make sense, and 2) do we care? And honestly... I don’t really care that Joker’s Daughter got a happy ending. Nor do I really feel it was earned. We’ve followed the character’s entire history on this blog, after all. Honestly, it probably would have made a lot more sense if she’d stayed on as part of Generation Outlaw. I just don’t think there was any build-up to her sudden realisation that “oh crap, everything I do sucks”, and thus her sudden retirement/redemption doesn’t feel earned.

But hey, at least Crux wasn’t in it~

Next issue, Jason finally goes solo!

[illfoandillfie]

5 Simple Rules For A Successful Fake Relationship: Picture Perfect

5 SIMPLE RULES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Summery:  A whole day with Ben's family and no way to escape. How will you survive? And will any rules be left intact by the end of the night?

Warnings: SMUT (finally lmao), nothing like super kinky but it is explicit, plus the usual stuff,  drinking, mention of smoking.

Words: 6284

A/N: ARE YA'LL READY FOR THIS? smut scene is marked with a *** so you can skip it if you like.

Taglist:  @laedymoon  @dtfrogertaylor  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor  @hannafuckingsucks  @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie @tenement-funstah @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @thefairyfellersmasterstroke @queenlover05

@coni-martina @hardforbenhardy @cubedtriangle @vicouscirce @arianabrashierstuff @pattieboydwannabe @maggieroseevans @theprettyandthereckless @im-an-adult-ish​

A week later you were in the passenger seat of Ben’s car, your bags in the back, watching the scenery pass by. You found your eyes drawn to him more often than usual but he didn’t seem to notice. Maybe it was that he was so focused on the road and the traffic around you or maybe it was because you were playing I spy and a few glances from the person who’d spied the object were expected. I spy was a good game. Distracting enough to focus your mind on something other than wanting Ben. For the most part at least. “And we can definitely still see it?” “Yuuuuuuup,” you popped the ‘p’ and glanced over at Ben again. “And it starts with ‘M’ but isn’t ‘Mazda’ like what’s driving behind us, or Mars Bar like what I was just eating?”” “Nope,” you popped the p again and laughed, “d’you want a clue?” “Go on then, otherwise we’ll be stuck like this all day,” “We’ve been following them since we got on the motorway,” Ben’s forehead creased as he thought about your clue, “Truck doesn’t start with ‘M’,” “Clever boy. You deserve a gold star for that one,” “Bite me,” You laughed and gave in to the temptation to look at him again, noting the crease of his forehead as he thought about your clue, “Should I just tell you?” “Fine, I’m never going to get it at this rate,” “I spy with my little eye a mudflap girl. Two of them actually,” “What the fuck is a mudflap girl?” You pointed at the silhouette on the tuck’s mudflaps, “Her. The chick with the stupidly pinched in waist and big knockers.” “Is that what they’re called?” “What knockers?” “No, I’m perfectly familiar with those,” Ben laughed and you whistled teasingly, willing your mind to stop picturing what it was picturing “Shush, I meant the mudflap girls, is that what they’re called?” “Yeah. You didn’t know?” He shook his head slightly, “Never really came up.” “Sorry, would have picked something else if I’d realised,” “‘s fine. Just means I won’t hold back with the next one.” You’d been a little nervous at the prospect of driving hours with just Ben for company, still coming to grips with the fact you wanted to knock boots with him. You couldn’t even think about it in direct language, just roundabout phrases your mum used to use. But, thankfully, all your concerns had disappeared the moment you got into the car, infected by Ben’s bright smile and insistence that he’d make it fun. His definition of fun was a lot of classic driving games, hence the I Spy, plenty of road trip snacks, and a healthy dose of a specially curated driving playlist. You’d made fun of him for including I’m In Love With My Car on it but he just turned it up louder and sang it at you which only made you laugh more. It stopped any awkwardness or uncomfortable silences in their tracks. But all the laughter and playful teasing was just another reminder of how close you were and that made you think about how badly you wanted to do the dirty with him, hear him whining your name, feel his hands all over you, cuddle up with him and doze as he read to you. You shook your head as the third image sprang to the forefront of your mind. That wasn’t right. Bumping uglies was one thing but dozing was out of the question. Unless it was in a post-coital come down of course. Not that any of it mattered since you weren’t going to act on it. Joe had made it very clear that something actually happening was a bad idea. Although, looking at Ben now he didn’t seem to be that bad off. Certainly not white knuckling it as Joe had said. He was happy and bubbly and you couldn’t see a single sign of him falling apart. What did Joe know anyway? He lived so far away, how could he possibly know what was good for Ben or, for that matter, you.

Halfway there you found a place to pull up so you could stretch your legs and refresh your snacks but then it was back into the car for the second leg of the trip, winding through the traffic until it thinned out and you pulled up outside a nice white house with a tidy yard. “This is it?” you asked, the nerves back in full force. “Yeah, you good?” You just nodded your head but Ben gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, “Remember the plan, yeah? Hold hands as much as we can, look as loved up as possible, just like what we do for the cameras. What’s our story?” “Met at the audition for Edith since you’d already been cast. Hung out a lot as prep for the movie. You asked me out a couple of days before filming began and we dated secretly for a while but then, partway through filming, we were caught by paparazzi and decided to be open about it.” “Very good. What el- shit, no time for the rest of the pop quiz, the front door just opened.” “It’s okay, I’m good. We’ve been doing this for months now, it’s just more of the same.” Ben nodded and then let your hand go so he could get out of the car. You opened your door and stepped out, smoothing out your skirt, your hand cold outside of Ben’s grasp. But he fixed the problem, taking your hand again as he led you towards the front door and the person who’d come out onto the driveway. He squeezed your hand again. “Hi mum. This is Y/N,” “Well it’s about time,” his mum said, already stepping forward to hug you, forcing you to drop Ben’s hand “lovely to meet you, darling.” “Pleasure to meet you too Mrs Jones,” you smiled politely as she stepped back. “Oh, Angela, please,” her hands were still on your shoulders as she examined your appearance, “Gosh aren’t you pretty.” You managed to stutter out a thank you, suddenly feeling much more shy than you normally would have. “Oh c’mon mum, let her go.” “I’m just saying she’s beautiful, what’s wrong with that?” but her hands fell from you as she turned her attention to Ben, “I still think you’re very handsome too Ben. Need a bit of a haircut though.” He rolled his eyes but hugged her all the same. “Mikey’s already there setting up with your father and I expect you’ll be giving him a hand soon?” “Can I not have five minutes out of the car before I get piled up with chores?” Ben whined as you both followed her inside.

She led you on a brief tour of the house, pointing out where the bathrooms were and coming to an end at Ben’s old room where you’d be staying. She promised you enough time to grab your bags and freshen up before you’d be asked to help and then she headed back towards the front of the house. You peeked inside the bedroom door hoping to see what teenage Ben’s sense of style was but it had since been redecorated. “Don’t look so disappointed,” Ben laughed, “Mum had the whole house redone a few years ago and it didn’t make sense to keep my room how it was.” “Please tell me there’s photos here somewhere,” “Probably but you’re not seeing them,” “You have to tell me something, I’m your girlfriend and I need to know.” “Fuck off, you do not,” “Please?” you extended the word in a childish whine, pouting at him until he broke. “What d’you want to know then?” “What’d you have on your walls? Band posters?” Ben laughed, “Uhhh, a few sports things – my favourite teams and that. Some girls with big tits leaning all over cars…Couple of theatre posters too,” “Nerd,” “Shut up,” he laughed again, pushing against your shoulder, “Sorry about Mum by the way,” “It’s totally fine,” “I promise it’ll all be over soon,” You were taken aback as he wrapped you up in a tight hug but very happily relaxed against him. Carefully, so as not to break the moment you looked up at him only to find him looking back at you. It was the closest you’d been since the almost-kiss in the hotel. Sure, you’d been close, even hugged before, but not in this long, lingering way and even then, it was mostly just in public. A sharp knock at the door made you break apart. “Sorry to rush you but Mikey’s just called asking after you. Better get a move on,” “Who’s Mikey?” you asked, refusing to acknowledge the tension in the air. “My brother, Michael. S’pose we should crack on. You’ve got about twelve bags to pull from the car.” “Fuck off, it’s only two and one of them’s a hand bag. Plus, it’s you’re fault for not being more specific about dress code.” You hadn’t known exactly what to pack and got no clear answer when you’d asked, so you’d packed a few different outfit options, from casual jeans and a nice blouse to a slightly more fancy little black dress, the clutch you’d taken to the French restaurant packed with it in case you needed a stylish purse. “You’re such a drama queen. Just help me with them yeah?”

You would have known he was Ben’s brother even before you’d heard about him. His face was thinner and his shoulders less broad but they had the same smile, same eyes. He was lovely too, jumped down off a chair and dropped the coil of fairy lights he’d been holding so he could shake your hand and introduce himself. Then came their dad, maybe not quite as warm as their mum but just as welcoming. Both you and Ben were handed lengths of lights and sent off to find places to hang them. Inside it wasn’t necessary since the restaurant was already lit up, staff busting about making sure everything was ready for that afternoon. So Ben led you away from the big open door, into the beer garden. It was mostly paved, small shoots of grass sprouting up through the bricks, though there was also a large strip of grass at the very end of the yard. Ben’s brother and dad were on one side of the yard, securing their lights to the fence so you and Ben headed straight for the grassy end where the light of the restaurant wouldn’t quite reach. “Wait here a sec,” Ben said, handing you his coil of lights and turning back towards the paved area. You watched as he dragged on of the sturdy wooden tables over to you. At the first scrape of the wood on the brick he looked inside to see if anyone was going to go mad at him but, aside from his family members, no one noticed. When he finally got it in position, he climbed up onto the table and held out his hand for the lights. You kept lookout as he wound the wire around a tree branch and then jumped down again, handing the end of the lights to you so you could wrap it around the tree trunk and secure the battery pack out of harm’s way, as he pushed the table back into place. It wasn’t long before the yard was covered with lights extending from the doorway all the way to the fence that blocked the yard from the road. Of course, all that work meant you deserved a drink so, by the time Ben’s mum and other family members began arriving in the late afternoon, you were already halfway through your first glass. Ben gave you a running commentary of everyone who walked into the restaurant. “That’s my cousin and her daughter. And the couple behind her are my,” he thought for a moment, “Well let’s call them cousin’s too because I don’t know how seconds and removals work. The bald guy over there talking to Mum is my great uncle. And the woman who just waved is an Aunt. Whatever you do, don’t mention her son. He’s had a run in with the law and it’s a touchy subject.” “Noted. But shit, when you said family get together you really meant it,” “Yeah,” Ben laughed, “The Jones’ don’t do things by halves. ‘Specially not when there’s drinking involved.”

As the place began to fill Ben took you around to meet people. You felt a little like the ball in a pinball machine, bouncing from one person to another, introducing yourself and then moving on to someone else, almost immediately forgetting any names you’d just been told. It was almost like doing interviews again except with more movement and more alcohol. Ben kept a hold of you, either interlocking his fingers with yours or else wrapping his arm around your waist, keeping you close to his side, only letting you go to grab you another drink or light up a cigarette. At one point you had a small crowd gathered beside you, all pointing out things they’d seen in magazines or on the internet about you, all wanting to hear about how you met. Thankfully you’d become quite practiced at telling the story. “We met at the audition actually,” Ben said, “I had the part but they wanted to try me with different actresses to find someone that would work well on screen. I’d met, I don’t know, eight or nine women and then Y/N came into the room. She looked kinda nervous,” You shook your head in disagreement but Ben ignored you. “but we got a chance to say hi before we had to read the lines and we just clicked.” “Our director really liked us together so I got a call back and we did another scene,” “So they could, y’know, see us kiss, make sure the chemistry was there.” “They must have liked it because I got the part. We did a couple of weeks of all this, um, like, bonding stuff. The rest of the main cast was there too but me and Ben had a few one on one things because we were playing a couple that was already engaged so they wanted us to look really connected.” “Anyway, I wanted to ask her out after day one but I wasn’t sure if I should because we’d be working together,” “I took a little longer to see him in that light but he was so sweet and charming and fun to be around, and by the end of the week I was thinking the same thing. Only neither of us wanted to make the first move because if it wasn’t mutual then it could make the next few months of work really awkward.” “Eventually one of the other actors pointed out how into me she was so I asked her out for a coffee and it went from there.” He returned your smile and then pulled you closer into his side, dropping a kiss to the top of your head as you leaned against his chest. “Well your casting director knew what they were doing because you two are adorable together.” A few more questions followed but eventually Ben was able to extract you from the crowd with the excuse you needed more drinks. “Actually, I gotta run to the loo, I’ll bring some food back with me though, okay?” “Okay, I’m gonna grab another cocktail, you want anything?” “Beer’d be great,” “Sure thing, babe,” He smiled again as he left you but you were smiling too. There was something fun about the act. Even with everything that had happened and how mixed up and hard it had been at times, an evening like this was fun. He made you laugh and made sure you felt comfortable in what could have easily been an extremely uncomfortable situation. Plus, it meant you got to indulge the part of you that was still fantasising about being with him. You were allowed to kiss him and touch him because you were acting. There was no confusion about why, no worries about if you were crossing the line you’d put down, nothing to stop you from enjoying it. So what if occasionally your fantasies extended beyond just doing the horizontal tango? It wasn’t so bad to think about cuddling up in front of the TV with him.

Drinks in hand you headed back to where Ben had disappeared, trying to spot him in the crowd. “Y/N!,” You spun round to see who was talking, finding yourself face to face with Ben’s mum again. Angela, you reminded yourself. “Come join us over here,” she said leading you to a table where a few others sat, “You’ve met my husband Keith already, yes? And this is Doug and Katherine. This is Y/N, Ben’s girlfriend.” You took a seat and chatted with them, glancing around for Ben every so often. Eventually Doug and Katherine got up to talk to someone else and Keith went off in search of more food, leaving you and Angela alone. “Now, darling, Ben tells me you’ve got a work thing to get back home for tomorrow so you’ll be leaving a bit earlier than originally planned.” Angela said, patting your hand. “Yeah, um, it’s an audition,” you lied. It was a cover Ben had come up with so you didn’t get guilted into staying an extra day. “Well that does sound important. I’m sad we won’t have longer to get to know you though. I must admit, I saw a photo of you and Ben a while ago and I was hoping he’d bring you up because you just looked so lovely. And you obviously make him very happy, which is of course what every mother hopes for. So you have to come back soon so we can have a proper chat. Make a weekend of it or something.” You were a little taken aback, stunned to hear how much of an impact you’d had without meaning to. It made you feel a bit guilty. This was Ben’s family and you weren’t part of it, you shouldn’t be there. But you swallowed the doubts, tried to ignore how much you wanted it all to be real, and smiled back at her, “I’d love that. Just say when.” “Oh now don’t tempt me or I’ll have the date picked out before the end of the night. I don’t want to jump the gun or seem too forward but just seeing how you two are together…I hope you know you’re welcome in our family. Ben loves you a lot, I can tell.” “I know. And it’s very kind of you,” “I mean it darling. And if the next family get together was your wedding, well….but of course that’s neither here nor there.” You laughed it off but your insides were churning. “So this is where you got to,” Ben’s voice interrupted as he dropped into the seat beside you and lay his hand on your knee. You hadn’t realised your leg had been bouncing but you stopped it the moment he touched you. “I was just telling Y/N that you should come back again soon, when there’s no auditions to interrupt your stay.” “Sure, Mum,” Ben said, still touching your leg. You chatted for a bit longer until she got distracted enough for Ben to lean into your ear and softly ask, “You okay? Or do you want to get out of here?” “Please,” you whispered back. “Okay, follow me,” He took your hand and told his mum he wanted to introduce you to someone but you barely heard it, your head buzzing as you made a polite exit and let Ben lead you outside, making excuses to anyone who tried to stop you. As soon as you were clear of the venue he pulled out his phone to find a car, one hand on your lower back, rubbing soft circles over your shirt until you felt you could breathe easy again. “Better?” “Thank you. How’d you know?” He shrugged, “I just know you. I saw your leg bouncing and figured Mum had said something,” “She mentioned us getting married,” “What? Why the fuck would that have come up?” “It was just a passing comment but I….” You half shrugged, trying to find the right words. “It’s okay, c’mon, let’s go home you can tell me everything.” You nodded and let him hug you as you waited for the car.  

Once you were inside Ben grabbed a couple of glasses from the kitchen and then headed into the dining room. “Thank you dad,” he mumbled as he pulled a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label out of a cupboard and turned to show you, “He’s kept a stash of this stuff in here since I was a kid. Got in trouble for stealing some a couple of times.” “Better not let him find out about this then,” you laughed, feeling more relaxed now that it was just you and Ben, a sizeable distance from the rest of the party. Ben chuckled along as he poured a little into each glass and carefully replaced the bottle, “So what happened back there?” “I don’t know,” you accepted your glass and took a sip, leaning against the corner of the table. Ben didn’t cut in, he just took his own drink and waited until you could say more. “I guess it was just harder to be around your family than I was expecting. It wasn’t the same as sitting in a restaurant on a date,” you drew the quotation marks in the air with your fingers, “That was a room full of people who care about you and they were all so lovely and welcoming and your mum said she’d been hoping you’d bring me here since she saw a photo of us and invited me back so she could get to know me and I said I’d love to because what else could I say and she seemed so happy about it and so pleased that you’re so happy and I feel so guilty about lying to them all. What if they find out? Your mum’ll be so disappointed.” “Don’t worry about lying to them, I’ve done it plenty before,” when you didn’t laugh he put his glass down beside you and took you free hand in his, “Seriously, Y/N, there’s nothing to feel guilty about. The premiere is coming up in a couple of weeks and then pretty soon after that we’ll break up and I’ll tell them it just wasn’t working, and they’ll accept it and never have to know the truth. And then we can forget this whole thing and move on.” You weren’t so sure that was what you wanted anymore, but you weren’t sure enough to say it. Instead you put your glass down as well and said, “but it must be hard for you too. Having me here and everything.” It was only when you looked at him that you realised how close you were standing. He was still holding your hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your fingers. “I’m a big boy, I can handle it.” You weren’t sure what compelled you to do it, the drink maybe, or just pent up sexual tension, but he was so close and he was looking at you with those eyes and before you could stop yourself you leaned in to kiss him. He seemed a bit shocked, taking half a step back, and you were sure he was going to tell you it wasn’t a good idea and then leave you standing there alone. But then his hand was on your jaw as he kissed you back, all hesitancy gone. You felt him sigh against you as if he’d been holding his breath, waiting for this to happen again, and pulled him in closer.

***

Maybe it was the months without sex, or maybe it was how often your mind had conjured similar scenes, or maybe it was just how good it felt to have him press you against the table to kiss you again, but whatever the reason it wasn’t long until you were pushing the hem of his shirt up over his stomach. He took the hint and stopped kissing you just long enough to pull it over his head, quickly finding your lips again as his fingers worked on the buttons of your shirt. He got about halfway through and then stopped, instead dropping his hands to your arse so he could lift you up and carry you up the hall towards his room. He kicked the door shut once he was through it and pressed you against it, kissing you as if to make up for lost time. It was a heady experience, being pinned to the door, your legs wrapped around him as you kissed messily. Too much and not enough all at once. You needed him closer still and clutched at his shoulders to try and make him understand. Either he really could read you well or he wanted the same thing because a moment later there was no longer a door behind you, Ben taking the few steps towards the bed and letting himself drop to the mattress. He pushed your shirt from your shoulders, no longer needing to hold you up, and ran his hands over your sides as if trying to map out he lines of your body. A whine escaped you as your need to remove layers grew and you dropped your hands to his belt, fumbling blindly with the buckle. A voice in your head told you it was a bad idea. You still weren’t certain of your feelings, weren’t sure doing this would cure you of them or if it’d just make everything messier than it already was. But the voice got quieter with every shift of your hips and every stroke of his fingers. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” he mumbled against your neck. All you could manage was a small whimper of agreement as he kissed you again, and traced his fingers up to the clasp of your bra. It was on the floor in seconds, his hands replacing the material, only making you want more. You arched your back into his touch, panted against his lips. He smiled, circled a nipple with his thumb, delighted in your response.

Suddenly he flipped you over so you were sitting on the bed, kissed you again and then stood up. “Ben?” you were worried he was going to put an end to things before they got too far. Thankfully he didn’t, just shucked off his pants. You almost laughed in relief as he leaned over you again, making quick work of the fastening of your skirt so it too could join the clothing on the floor. The voice in your head was gone, silenced by the pure desperate need to have him touch you more, and he was making no moves to stop it either as you shuffled further up the bed, pulling him along with you. You let out a choked off moan as he kissed a trail down your neck, tilted your head to the side so he could reach all the spots that made you gasp. But it still wasn’t enough. You were going to go crazy with need if you didn’t get something more soon, so you let your hand fall between you, rubbed your palm over the front of his boxers, felt him rock his hips against your hand, already hard. He sat back on his knees so he could slip your underwear down your legs. “Fuck,” he groaned as soon as he realised how wet you were. You grabbed his wrist and put his hand between your legs, hoping he’d take the hint. He did, trailing his fingers between your lips, over your clit. Your breath caught as he slipped a lone digit into you, slowly, easing you into it before he added a second. He watched you closely, eyes half lidded and soft, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his teeth like he was concentrating on memorizing every inch of you, inside and out. Even in that moment, when your breaths were coming shaky and uneven, and your skin was burning under his gaze, even then all you could think was how hot he looked, hair ruffled, lips kiss swollen, completely enraptured by you. He shifted his finger slightly and your eyes fluttered shut. “There, babe, fuck, right there,” you sighed. “Like that?” he asked softly, twitching his fingers against you again. You nodded though he drew a more vocal response from you a few seconds later when he added a third finger and leaned down to suck your nipple between his lips. He hummed when he heard you say his name and repeated the same motion in the same place, so you said his name again, louder, and then again and again as he kept going, hitting you exactly where you needed him. You were almost surprised by how quickly he managed to pull you over the edge. Almost. But it had been a while and he’d always promised he was good. He worked you through it before he carefully withdrew his fingers and kissed you again, stealing what little breath you had left.

And then he stopped. Sat back again. You blinked your eyes open and reached for him as he leaned over the edge of the bed, opened the draw of the beside cabinet and swore. Pulling himself back towards you he took your outstretch hand and kissed the back of it, “I don’t have any condom’s here,” he sounded apologetic. “I have some, wait,” you kissed him quickly before you stood, a little unsteady, and opened the wardrobe door, thankful Felicity had given you the handful of them and that you’d brought the bag with you. He looked like he was about to ask why but the sight of you climbing onto the bed, straddling him, with one hand on his chest to lay him down, made the question die in his throat. He let his head fall back onto the pillow as you pulled his underwear off and rolled the condom on as quick as you could manage. And then you sank down onto him, trying to take your time. “Fuck,” you whined, pausing to give you both a moment to adjust. His hand grabbed onto your waist, fingertips pressing into you, encouraging you to move. It was soft but not quite, both of you panting and groaning as you raised and lowered yourself on him, building up to a steady rhythm. His hands roamed over you, grabbing your arse the way he had done on his couch, moving over your breasts, squeezing your hips, gentle but firm pulling you to speed up each time. You needed to be closer though, so you leaned down to kiss him again, grunting at the change of position. But it interrupted your flow, made you stutter out of time, so Ben propped himself up on his elbows, and then when that wasn’t enough, sat up fully, his knees rising behind you. One hand was braced on your back to keep you steady as you circled your hips, the other cupped your cheek as his forehead leaned against yours, every uneven breath audible, able to feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest under your palm. “I love you,” he sighed, his nose bumping against yours as he searched for your lips again. You were on the verge of repeating his words back to him when he dropped his hand from your cheek, let it fall between you and brush against your clit, the confession lost in your moan. “You gonna c-cum for me?” You nodded, leaning into his neck as you did your best to keep riding him, legs shaking with the effort and your approaching release. He didn’t let up until you were crying out into his shoulder, following close behind you with his own moan.

***

You lost track of how long you sat there, leaning against each other as you came down, lost track of where you were, lost track of the reality of your relationship. Your instinct was to keep clinging to Ben, keep kissing along his jaw and nose as you pulled yourselves back together. But it was too much for him. He let go of you suddenly, as if just touching you was painful. “I’ve gotta…” he said with a half hearted nod in the direction of the doorway. “Oh. Right, yeah,” you climbed off him, trying not to react to the sudden emptiness, the sudden cool of the air outside of his embrace. Ben moved to the edge of the bed, glanced at you, ran his hand through his hair. “I wasn’t expecting that to happen,” you offered somewhat lamely, not sure how to explain everything you were feeling. “Neither. Are you okay?” “Yeah. I, um, it was really good and I-I think I kind of needed it.” This was it. There was no more running from what you were feeling. No more pretending it was platonic or just physical. You had to come clean, to yourself as much as to Ben. Ben smiled but it was a pained kind of smile, “It was good for me too. Really good. But it can’t ever happen again.” He stood up before you could say anything else, tied off the condom and put his boxers back on, making a hasty retreat. Something stirred in your memory and you had the sudden urge to tell him he couldn’t leave you because he owed you a third orgasm, but it was too late. He was gone and you were left sitting there, naked and alone, waiting for him to come back so you could explain. When enough time had passed without his return you got up, put your pyjamas on and went to the bathroom, running on autopilot as you considered everything that had just happened. Maybe Ben was right to walk away. Maybe it had been a mistake. He probably wouldn’t believe you if you told him how you really felt. You’d taken too long to work it out, been too vocal about not feeling it. And it would be poor timing to say it right after you’d slept together. He’d think you were saying what he wanted to hear so he wouldn’t be embarrassed about saying it himself. And maybe it was down to all the tension between you. You’d spent all day pretending to be the loving girlfriend after all, maybe it had influenced you a bit, made you think you felt things you didn’t actually feel. But something that good, that tender, didn’t just happen with anyone, surely. It certainly hadn’t been like that with anyone else you’d been with casually. And you’d assumed that having sex with Ben would be the solution, that you’d finish and be fixed. No more thinking about him, no more wanting to be with him. But all you really wanted was to cuddle up beside him. Fall asleep in his arms. That wasn’t something you usually wanted from one night stands. Normally you’d want to get out as fast as possible not sit in their bedroom and wait for them. And the thought of everything else that could happen if he just knew it was what you wanted – waking up beside him, making him coffee, listening to him play stupid love songs on his stupid guitar, comforting him on bad days, being his actual fucking girlfriend and not just his pretend one – all of that sounded so fucking wonderful. It couldn’t just be endorphins making you feel like that. There had to be something of substance behind it all. Afterall they’d been there for a while now, those feelings. It wasn’t like the sex had conjured them. You’d been pretending not to notice them but they’d been there for months. So the only way forward was to tell him.

When you got back to the bedroom Ben was there, curled away from you on a makeshift bed on the floor. He could have been sleeping except his shoulder’s were too rigid, holding too much tension. “Ben?” He didn’t respond, just kept feigning sleep. So you switched out the light and tiptoed to the bed, crawling under the covers. The sheets still smelt like him and it made your heart ache. What if you just said it? You sat up, turned your head in his direction. “Ben?” it came out as more of a whisper than you’d have like so you tried again, “Ben, I-I-” If you said it now would he join you? Or would he pretend he hadn’t heard? You fell silent again at that thought, not sure you could cope with it. Maybe you’d just hold off for a bit. Wait until the premiere. Give yourself time to find the exact right words to explain your apparent change of heart. He couldn’t write you off as trying to spare him some embarrassment if you said it weeks after he’d let it slip in the throws of passion. He’d have to take you seriously then. “Goodnight,” you sighed, and lay down again, though try as you might, you couldn’t sleep. You lay there in the dark, sure Ben was just as awake as you were, with only one thought in your head. You loved Ben. And you didn’t know what to do about it.

[theawkwardterrier]

Taking Care

Steggy Week 2k20, day 2 Prompt: Tropes, cliches, and symbols

Summary: Peggy gets sick. Steve shows up to help.

AO3 link here. Thanks to @steggyfanevents​ for organizing!

Peggy’s immune system is notably strong and she’s far more likely to be the one nursing others than to need nursing herself. But this means that when she actually does start feeling under the weather, she ignores it, certain that it will simply pass or that she can overcome it by sheer force of will.

She’s actually able to pull it off for a few days, but once her eyes start watering so much that it takes her three times as long as usual to read anything and her coughs and sniffles become the soundtrack of headquarters, Phillips tells her that the war isn’t going to be lost if she takes a few days off to get well and sends her home.

“Perhaps I am a bit under the weather, but I can still—” she begins in protest but when she needs to take out her handkerchief partway through the sentence, Phillips simply points her toward the door and she actually complies.

She manages to fall asleep for several hours before waking jerkily, somehow less rested, her head muddled. The thought of food appeals not at all, but she is absolutely parched; she lies for much longer than she would ever admit trying to convince her body to stand and go to the tap.

Tea sounds absolutely wonderful at the moment but she can’t guarantee that she won’t fall asleep at the tiny table while the water comes to a boil, so she contents herself with several glasses of water. She is turning to return to bed when there’s a knock at the door.

Peggy doesn’t typically receive visitors here - in fact, she barely receives herself in the tiny efficiency she’s been renting for the past months. There’s a war on, after all, and she essentially uses this as somewhere to catch a few hours’ sleep before returning to headquarters. She isn’t even certain that anyone knows this address. Then again, it would be just typical of today to have someone coming to inform her of a fire or a gas leak while she’s in this state.

But to her surprise, when she calls a polite if stuffed-up, “Who is it?” through the door, the response is, “Steve Rogers.”

“I thought you were in Amsterdam,” she says, opening up and stepping back (it comes out as “Absterdam;” Phillips really was probably right to send her home.)

“We were until this morning,” he responds, following her inside and closing the door behind himself. “Only got back a couple of hours ago, but when I went to track you down with some documents, they said that you’d gone home sick so I—” Fully inside now, he peers at her more closely, and she thinks she should probably be embarrassed, but she barely has the energy to hold her dressing gown closed around her body so more complex emotion will have to wait.

“Right,” he says, his tone changing to a decisive firmness. “Okay. Back to bed.”

“But I—” she protests, mostly out of habit. The thought of even the thin single bed that came with the flat is so tempting that it should be featured in a Greek myth.

“I don’t think so.” He reaches over and gently touches her shoulders with both enormous hands, turning her around and directing her over to sleep.

“You aren’t meant to boss me around,” she tries, but it comes out around a yawn.

“I’ll keep it in mind for the future,” he says, and even through her muzzy head, she thinks there’s affection in his voice. “But maybe just listen for now, huh? I’m kind of the expert.”

The memory of that very lengthy file of his from boot camp comes into her head, but she can’t hold the thought there. Before she even has time to pull up the blanket, she’s crumpled into sleep.

When she wakes up again she isn’t certain of the time, though she feels much more clear-headed overall. A glass of water sits beside the bed, and she manages to sit up (the blanket slides off as she does; apparently someone put it on her) and drink it down without much dizziness.

“I can get you another,” comes Steve’s voice. “Or I can try my hand at a cup of tea.”

She looks around and finds him sitting at the table - the only place to sit, really - with a newspaper in front of himself. She clears her throat. “Do you have any experience with that?” The words come out clearly, which she considers a fairly good sign.

“Not really. It’ll probably be a good thing that you can’t taste much.”

“I’m actually—” she considers, realizing it with surprise for the first time herself. “I actually feel a bit peckish.”

“Good sign,” he says, standing. “Just a minute.”

“I don’t have very much here at the moment,” she points out, and then feels compelled by some lesson of hospitality or politeness or normalcy which her mother tried to impart to her to add, “I’m not about often. I usually end up in the mess back at headquarters or finding a bit to eat on the way between here and there.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not as if I could cook you up anything edible even if you had a full fridge,” he says easily teasing, as he comes over to her with a bowl of consomme and a saucer with a bread roll sliced thin and slightly charred from toasting it over the open flame of the stove. He hands her the bowl, places the roll beside the clock on the nightstand.

She studies him more carefully as he brings one of the kitchen chairs closer to her bedside. He had arrived in full uniform, but now his jacket hangs on the back of the chair he had been occupying, his sleeves are rolled to the elbow and he has his tie loosened. His hair is a bit disheveled. He looks wonderful, and she tries to forget how wrecked she must come off just now.

“Where did this come from, then?” she asks, taking a careful spoonful of the broth. It is a touch salty, noticeably warm but no longer steaming, and feels wonderful moving down her throat. She takes another sip.

“I ran over to the place around the corner. Told them I had a sick friend, and they threw in the roll for free.”

A sick friend. She rolls the words around in her head as she bites gingerly and thoughtfully into one of the small rounds of toast. Thinking of herself as sick is unfamiliar but it’s currently true and she can accept it as fact. Friend, though…

She and Steve have been courteous to each other since the incident with Private Lorraine, but don’t spend extra time together. Sometimes, though, their eyes will meet across the table during a strategy session, or they’ll each choose to deliver something to the other that isn’t strictly their responsibility. Just in those occasional moments, when she allows it, she remembers how determined he is, how quietly funny, how sharp and kind.

She thinks it might actually be nice to become real friends with Steve, but she doesn’t know that she’ll be able to forget the time when she thought that they might become something more, doesn’t know that she can stop herself from still hoping for the future.

“You must be a bit of an expert in the sickbed experience,” she says, eager to change the topic, only realizing once she has that it might be rude or bring up painful memories. Thankfully, however, Steve only laughs.

“It’s a little strange to have nearly gotten through winter with nothing happening. I keep expecting the flu or a nice case of pneumonia to sneak up on me.” His face twists into a slight sadness. “I was lucky, though, back then. My mother took really good care of me. Made sure I always had books and pencils, someone to call if she had to work, soup and crackers when I needed them...A couple of times, when things had been really bad, she got me an orange. We couldn’t afford it and I know that she missed dinners because of it, but she insisted on it so that—so that when I could taste again, that would be the flavor waking me up.”

The soup glides over the tenderness growing in her throat. Here, again, is the reminder of why Erskine was drawn to him, why she’s been drawn to him: because without considering otherwise, he uses the protection given by the serum to help those who need it, because he won’t ever forget the way it felt to eat an orange gifted by someone who scrimped and hurt for it but did it anyway because she loved him.

“I don’t expect you were the most compliant patient, if you’re being truthful,” she comments once she’s swallowed.

“What tipped you?” he says, mouth curling up into a grin. He spreads his hands. “I would have been an angel and stayed in bed, but when one person works twelve hour days, it's up to the other person to make sure the house is clean. Plus, Bucky's team really needed a second baseman."

She laughs too, though it turns into a bit of a cough at the end. As she catches her breath, she looks into the dwindling depths of her bowl. "I'm reminded just now," she says, "of how hard it can be to ask for the help you need, to give up control and let someone take care of you on occasion."

There's a quiet in the room with them, a ticking clock silence. Then Steve says slowly, "That's always been pretty hard for me too. But I think it's something I could get good at if I had the chance. If I came across the right person."

When she looks up, he's already there waiting for her with a steady gaze. An understanding passes between them, but after what's happened before, she needs more than that.

"I think it's something I could learn as well. Leaning on someone." She reaches over, covers his hand with hers. "I hope we both have the chance for it."

"So do I," he says softly, holding on until she yawns again. "Okay," he says. "Time to sleep again, I think. Doctor's orders, probably."

She screws up her face, but is actually tired enough to comply, lying down and letting him clear away her dishes to wash.

"I'll stay around until you wake up," is the last thing she registers before she drifts off. And even though she knows he must have a thousand things to do over at headquarters, when she wakes once again, he is still there, just as he is each time after.

[aquilamage]

I finally finished my Sebastian birthday fic!!!!! a little behind schedule but who’s counting? Special shoutout to @unnecessarygayfeelings for all the conversations we have had about this concept and other Seb-Kay friendship stuff, she really inspired and encouraged me to actually write this whole thing

Also on ao3 and ff.n

When Kay finds out Sebastian's never had a proper birthday before, she knows that something must be done about it.

It had become something of a ritual for the two of them: spending their weekend evenings at Mr. Edgeworth’s house, usually with Kay bringing something over to further her quest of catching Sebastian up on all of the stuff he’d never seen before. Tonight was Pink Princess (admittedly in part as an appeasement tactic, since last time she’d gotten them into a lively roasting of the Steel Samurai franchise before Sebastian realized Mr. Edgeworth been in the adjoining room for a while).

They were partway through a filler arc – the one involving the non-powered secondary characters having to defend the town by themselves – and the episode’s ending credits just started to roll when Sebastian slumped forward with a huff.

“Yeah, I know. This isn’t the best writing in the series,” she said, using the break in action to check her phone.

Another little sound. “It’s not that. It’s… they’re the same age as me, and they’re doing all this important saving the world stuff.” When she glanced over at him, he’d wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his head on them.

She shook her head. “Well yeah. But it’s made up, right? Besides, I think the cases we’ve been helping with lately have been pretty cool and important too.” Seeing him still looking downcast, she slid the popcorn closer to him.

That cheered him up, at least enough to be watching with some interest as the opener for the next episode started.

As the theme song started, Kay processed something else about what he had said. Oh. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh. When he gave her a look, she waved a hand. “Sorry. You just said you were the same age as these characters, so, you know...”

He only kept staring, tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Uh. Just that they’re eighteen, actually. Which is fine,” she added quickly, seeing him frown, “it gets mentioned like once, so it makes sense you might mess it up, especially when it’s that close anyway.”

A long silence. “But…I am eighteen.”

The smile dropped right off her face. “What?” she breathed, then “I’m serious; it’s fine.”

Mouth quivering slightly, he brought his hands up to his collar. “I am too.” The very beginnings of tears formed.

“…that you’re eighteen?” She huffed, flopping herself back against the couch. “Since when? Because I seem to remember you saying you were seventeen before.”

“Since…my birthday? Last month?”

She stiffened. “Wait, your birthday was last month and you didn’t even tell me?” An exaggerated pout. “I thought we were friends.”

He ducked his head. “It’s not like it’s important.”

Kay opened her mouth, then closed it. Looked down, frowning, hand on her chin. Tilted her head back up. Only managed an “uch-” sort of sound before giving up again. Finally, after a series of very expressive eyebrow and nose wrinklings, constantly shifting back and forth: “what do you mean it’s not important?!” When he jumped at the force and volume, she immediately backed up. “Sorry,” she whispered. “But really, it’s your birthday. Your eighteenth! That’s a big thing!”

With an uneasy frown, Sebastian half-shrugged.

“Aw, come on.” She softened a bit. “Look, I know it wouldn’t have been the same, but I know we all would’ve done something to celebrate if we’d known.”

There was a long silence. Then, slowly, he relaxed his shoulders and his arms wrapped around himself, a bit at least. “Can we not- not talk about this anymore?” His voice was thick and strained.

“Uh- Okay.” Much as she was suddenly curious and a little concerned, Kay knew she shouldn’t push. The number of times she’d actually seen Sebastian assert boundaries could be counted on one hand, and they were supposed to be encouraging him about that. She held up the remote. “You…wanna keep watching?”

After a steadying breath, he nodded once, sharply.

---

It was about an episode and a half after Mr. Edgeworth had gone to bed, tone suggesting that he thought they should too (although the droop of his eyes betrayed he wasn’t expecting that of Kay, nor did he see it as being worth his energy to try very hard to convince them), when Sebastian spoke again.

“I’ve never ca- celebrated it before.” The admission almost got lost in the onscreen dialogue, not helped by the fact that he didn’t give any real indication that he was doing anything but watching the tv.

Kay turned. “What do you- oh. Oh.” With only the flickering screen as lighting, it was hard to make out any expression. “What, like, ever?”

That habitual little half-flinch of arms to his chest. “Not that I can remember.”

She stared at him. In her mind flashed memories of every birthday event she’d ever had: family, school, friends – especially the ones when her dad had still been alive. She tried to picture all that, gone. Her brain couldn’t even grapple the concept, it was so foreign.

How did she respond to that? She’s noticed over the past few months, how much Sebastian had going on in his life that she couldn’t even imagine, but still. “…that sucks.”

He shrugged, but even in the darkness it was very obvious how hard he was struggling to keep his face neutral. “It’s fine. I- …I’m used to it.” Another deep breath, and then he broke down crying.

Cursing under her breath, Kay pushed herself up, but then stopped herself immediately. Too abrupt. Right, she’d messed this up last time and they’d talked it over after. Do that instead. She pulled the blanket off the top of the couch. “Can I, uh…?” She held it up.

He nodded. When she draped it over him, he kept still, but when she sat back down (a bit closer than before but still giving plenty of space), he pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Not quite relaxed, but free of tension.

As that happened, she shuffled around for the remote and switched off the tv. She didn’t know what else to say, so she sat there bouncing her leg, hands on her knees. It felt awkward, though she couldn’t say why until she finally realized that Sebastian’s crying was awfully quiet.

Which was why she immediately perked up when he moved.

“Do you ra- r- …where are the tissues?” He had one hand keeping the blanket on, the other on the arm of the couch propping himself up, and his face was a mess.

“I’ll go get them!” Because if nothing else it gave her something to do, and the situation did nothing to curb her usual fidgety tendencies. She found the box quickly, bringing it back over to him.

He practically cradled it in his lap. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

They resumed their positions. This time, Kay’s thoughts went back to the crux of the situation: Sebastian’s lack of proper birthdays. It was a smaller cruelty than many of the others he’d suffered, she knew that. But that didn’t make it not awful. Besides, unlike some of the ‘bigger’ stuff, this seemed – unlike some of the others, as she started to think it over – like one she could do something concrete about.

But first, she needed some information.

---

A stream of people poured into the lobby as the trial let out. Kay stood against the wall at just the right angle to keep out of their way, watching the crowd intently. The place practically cleared out, but then she spotted her. “Judge Courtney!” she said, rushing over.

“Ah, Kay. What brings you here?”

She crossed her arms. “Some questions. You’ve known Sebastian the longest out of anyone I know. What does he like?”

A pause, barely noticeable except for a blink and a slight tilt of the head. “May I ask what this is for?”

“Sebastian’s birthday.”

“Oh. Kay,” she held up a hand, “perhaps we should sit somewhere more comfortable.”

Hoo boy, that was code for ‘Serious Adult Conversation ahead’ if she ever heard it. “Alright.” Kay shrugged. Then as they started walking, she dropped her voice. “I already know it was last month.” She didn’t know Courtney knew that part about him, but considering how things were going, she figured it was a pretty good guess.

Courtney didn’t respond until they reached one of the benches outside, draped over with trees. As she sat, she smoothed out her dress. “I certainly trust that you have the kindest of intentions. However, I have to question if…whatever it is you have planned...is for the best.”

“I just want to throw him a party! He deserves to have one for once in his life.” Really, she’d thought Courtney would be more chill about this.

That gave her pause. “I don’t know what your understanding of the situation is, but,” she sighed, then put a finger to her lips. “I mentioned it to him before the date, and he simply told me not to bother about it.” As she spoke, she traced patterns on her gavel, face downcast. “It’s wonderful that you want to do something for him, but this might simply be too close to everything that’s happened for him not to be reminded how much things have changed.”

Kay frowned. “I guess.” That tracked, even if she would’ve thought that Sebastian dismissed his birthday because he didn’t think it was worth Courtney bothering. From what she could tell, though, it seemed like she wasn’t aware of the whole ‘hadn’t actually had a birthday before’ part, and honestly Kay wasn’t sure if it was her place to mention it now. She slid one foot off the edge of the chair and onto the ground. “But I can’t just not do anything. It doesn’t feel right.”

A car started up in the nearby lot, and the wind rustled through the trees, brushing Kay’s hair against her face and ruffling her scarf.

Courtney sighed. “I’m not going to be able to stop you.” She bowed her head, slightly, slowly, then looked back up at her. “Perhaps, then, I can at least convince you that whatever you choose to do, to remember to keep his best interests at heart.”

Of course she was doing this for Sebastian’s interests! That was kind of the whole point. Kay frowned.

“Including not pushing him further than he would be comfortable.” Folding her arms in her lap, she sat with an even more proper posture, a presence wholly focused on her, waiting expectantly to appraise her response.

Despite herself, she shrunk back a little. What Sebastian would be comfortable…hm. She supposed she hadn’t thought of that, at least not in the details of the situation which, yeah. Might be a bit much. Kay cleared her throat, and said, meekly, “yeah. I can do that.”

---

“Alright, so we’re gonna have to make some adjustments.” Sprawled out on her bed, she regarded her open notebook. The page was absolutely covered in notes of different ink colors, some highlighted, with little drawings in the margins and white spaces. On a post-it note, she scribbled “save for next year?”, stuck it on top. She flipped to a blank page. “Let’s try this again,” she muttered.

For a long time after, the room was quiet but for the light scratch of paper rustling and a lot of pen clicking. Finally, she sat up. This page had a short bullet-point list, made seemingly longer by the lines she’d crossed out.

Kay smiled. “Now we’re talking.”

---

Mid-knock, the door was yanked open. “I have a flight to catch in half an hour, so this had better be-” Franziska paused. “Kay Faraday. How can I help you?”

She grinned. “You can sign something for me.” With a flourish, she produced a blue-and-pink envelope.

A huff. “Well, let me see what…” Holding the paper stiffly, she looked at Kay with narrowed eyes. “Kay Faraday. Are you sure this is an appropriate thing to be doing?” In a lower voice, “I’m not sure I am the best person for this.”

“Aw, don’t be like that!” Kay sidled around next to her. “I just hit you up first because I had a deadline. You don’t have to do anything besides sign your name. Ok?” Seeing Franziska still waver, she leaned in further with the last line, tilting her head.

“…Very well.” Moving to her desk, she scribbled something down. For a second, she paused, pen hovering over the paper. But then she shrugged and resumed like it was nothing. “Here you are.”

Oh, she was going to have to resist real hard not to immediately read whatever was on there. Then again, if other people would be seeing it anyway, maybe… She plucked it out of her hands. “Awesome, thanks! Good luck on your investigation!”

Franziska crossed her arms. As the door shut, she sighed. “You might need it more, if you are doing anything like I might think,” she murmured to herself lightly.

---

“..and that’s when they switched over notation styles. Well, except for- Uh, Kay?”

Her train of thought flew away like the bird on the windowsill. “Hmm?” She looked back at Sebastian.

He still had his hands out in front of him from talking, his eyebrows slightly raised now. The lack of his voice in the air hung in the silence like an afterimage on the back of her mind. As that quiet went on, the line of his mouth gathered into a slight pout.

Kay’s thoughts felt like they were swimming through honey as she tried to process herself back to what was happening. The whole thing started from Sebastian getting antsy about Mr. Edgeworth’s meeting taking so long, she recalled, the stiffness from sitting in the rigid waiting room chair settling back into her awareness. He’d started fidgeting with his baton. So she’d asked him about it. Sebastian had immediately been distracted talking about the few concerts he’d been to- Oh, right. She had been listening intently, but after a while of having nothing else to do but listen, she’d found herself staring through the window behind him and that had been the end of her attention.

Seeing him start to tense, she cursed herself about it. “Sorry,” she rubbed the back of her neck. “I kind of spaced out for a bit. What were you saying?”

For a terrifying moment, his face went blank. Then, he blinked, and smiled. “Oh, that’s ok! I get disgruntled a lot when Justine’s explaining things, so I get it.”

“You mean distracted?”

“...Yeah! That.” He hummed something under his breath. When Kay didn’t say anything else, he stared down at his feet. “Do you actually want me to keep talking?”

Well, she had mostly been trying to occupy him, but there had been some curiosity there too. Besides, it was fun to see him so excited about something. Kay stood, stretching. “Give me a second, but yeah.” As she pulled her arm behind her head, “but, maybe a little more beginner level, if you can?”

---

“Wow pal, I can’t believe you’re asking me for help with this.”

“Of course I am!” Kay threw an arm around Gumshoe. She meant it too: he was the most friendly, enthusiastic person she’d ever met. Yeah, he didn’t know Sebastian as well, so it might be a little more difficult to- and he was already writing, brow furrowed in concentration. Huh. Cool.

With a thoughtful noise, he held it up to reread, chewing lightly on the end of his pen. Then, with a nod, he handed it over. “How about this?”

It was only a quick scan, but she could tell “Perfect. Thanks, Gummy.”

---

A spoon clattered to the table.

“Yeah!” Kay threw her arms in the air, sending her spoon skittering across the floor. “Oohf, I got it.” Ducking under the table, she picked it up.

Across from her, Sebastian watched with his eyebrows raised, putting his own spoon back where it belonged.

She flung herself back up. “So! If you really want to make it stay, the secret is to-”

“How was everything tonight?”

Immediately she put her hands down, smiling politely. “Great, thanks!”

The server nodded. “Great. And are we having dessert today?”

“Yeah!” Kay said, at the same time Sebastian dipped his head with a “no, thank you.” They looked at each other.

Kay spoke first. “Can we get a menu?”

“Sure thing!”

When they’d left, she leaned over. “Aw, come on, you should get something.”

“Eh.” Half-shrugging, with an uneasy frown, he looked away. “No, it’s fine.”

Hmm. She let him be for the moment. Scanning the menu, she made her own decision, then continued staring, counting to a minute(ish) before she moved. The laminated paper slid across the table. “I’ll pay if that’s the issue, but seriously. We’ve been working so much, we deserve something nice.”

Sebastian looked at her, briefly at the menu, then back to her. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

“…What, to order dessert? Yeah. That’s why it’s there.” She rested her chin in her hands. “You could show up and just get desserts, if you really wanted.” She paused. “Huh.” Then, she shook her head. File that in future developing plans.

“Okay.” Not sounding entirely convinced, he started examining the options anyway.

To give herself something to do, Kay pulled out her phone. She bounced between a couple game apps, refreshing the same website three times, replying to a conversation thread she’d been having with someone about Steel Samurai, checking a different site…

“Ready to order?”

About to answer for herself, she noticed Sebastian frowning, the menu making wobbling noises from him bending it in his hands. “Uh, can we get another minute?” Then, she picked up her chair from under her and dragged it over to sit next to him. “What’s up?”

Seemingly reflexively, he clutched the menu to his chest. “Sorry.” He relaxed slowly. “I don’t know…”

“Well,” she tapped one of the items, “they’ve got a sampler tray. How about we get that?”

An uncertain nod. But then, a tiny smile.

Kay insisted on handing each of the desserts to him individually, putting on her most exaggerated game show host voice to ask ‘the celebrity judge’s opinion on the contestant’s dishes.’ It took him a moment to warm up to it, but soon enough they were trading remarks and dishes back and forth with ease.

It made her feel energized and light to see Sebastian enjoying himself so much, and even more grateful to herself for this idea. Even so, she didn’t let that distract her from keeping notes about the whole thing in her head.

---

“Hey, Mr. Edgeworth.” Her usual singsong greeting had a little extra touch of sweet to it, in the cadence that led up to something rather than being a sentence on its own.

“Kay. What food have I run out of this time.” Sure, he did sound a little tired at that, but the sarcasm weighed that pretty lightly.

She leaned on his desk, taking a tone of false indignation. “No.” She paused. “I mean, you might want to pick up more cereal next time you go shopping, but that’s just my thief’s intuition.” Wagging a finger, she leaned forward just enough to push some of his papers askew. “I came here to ask a favor.”

Now, he finally looked up at her. All he did was raise an eyebrow (and narrow his eyes a little, but this instance felt more like squinting – because she was pretty sure at this point that he needed glasses), but it was pretty obviously leading up to a ‘Kay, what kind of trouble do you expect me to help you with now?’

“Kay, what trouble do you expect me to get you out of now?”

She laughed. “Hey! It’s not like that this time, and besides, it’s not even for me.” In one motion she pulled the envelope out of her bag and dropped it so it fell perfectly in front of him.

Still with a bit of trepidation, Mr. Edgeworth looked inside. He frowned, until he got to actually examine the contents properly. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Sliding off the desk, Kay wandered over towards the bookshelf. She started poking at files randomly, mostly as an excuse to not look at him without just pointedly not looking at him. Although she did peek over her shoulder. Just for a second.

All she saw was him glaring down intently, anyway.

Several minutes later, he cleared his throat. “Here you are.” When she stepped back over to take it, there was a moment of hesitation from him. The hand holding the envelope faltered. “Kay. What else do you have planned?”

“Why, are you offering to help?”

“Ngh. No, I simply…wished to be forewarned.” He looked off to the side. “Rather than being thrown headlong into who knows what.”

Surprise party for Mr. Edgeworth: no, but it might be funny to let him think you’re planning one. She grinned. “You’re such a stick in the mud.” Before he could react, she snatched the envelope “but thanks for the help anyway!” and bounded off.

“Kay!”

She stuck her head back in the door. “What?”

“Do you have something else planned?”

“Yeah,” she said, drawing out the pause. “But nothing involving you, unless you really want.” This time was sincere, rather than teasing.

He relaxed, slowly sitting down. “I…think I will pass this time.”

“Alright, suit yourself.” That made things easier, since she hadn’t planned for him saying yes anyway. And then she was off again.

---

“Hey!”

Sebastian froze, head darting from side to side.

“Up here.”

He gazed up the stairwell to where Kay was, leaning over the railing to wave at him. “Uh, hi. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I-” With a shake of her head, she jogged down to his level, skipping a few steps as she went to land next to him. “So,” she huffed, “I was wondering. Instead of going to Mr. Edgeworth’s Friday, can we do my place?”

For a moment, he wrung his hands together, expression mostly empty with a tinge of confusion. But then, he nodded. “Sure.” He breathed in through his nose. “Uh, where is that?”

She blinked. “Right. Here, get your phone out.” And she dictated the address for him. “Good?”

“I...think so.” Furrowing his brow, he clutched his phone in a way worryingly like he would his baton if his grip were any tighter. “Is there anything I have to do?”

“No? Just show up.” She did her best to smile reassuringly. Sebastian had never been over to her apartment before, but it wasn’t that big of a thing. Well, for her at least, she supposed. “It’s not as fancy as Mr. Edgeworth’s, but I’m not going to get as uptight about things either. Actually, let me know if you want me to pick up any specific kind of snacks, but otherwise yeah. Same time and everything. Trust me, it’ll be great.”

---

“Was there something else?” It had been a while since their last conversation, but considering that one had been about Sebastian, and that those were the only times Kay had approached her on her own before, she supposed it was fair for Courtney to assume so. Besides, she was right.

Kay held out the envelope. “I had an idea. If you could get that back to me by the end of the day.” With a playful salute, she turned to go. “Drop it with Mr. Edgeworth, if you need to.”

She raised an eyebrow, but slowly opened the envelope. As she scanned the contents, her expression warmed into a soft smile. “I see.”

---

The door to Kay’s apartment swung open. “Hey! Come in.”

Shoulders tight, Sebastian stepped inside. “Uh, hi.”

She smiled. “Make yourself at home, okay. What do you want to drink?”

There was a bit of a pause before he said “water’s fine,” leaning over to take off his shoes.

Well, that was something at least. In the kitchen, she filled up both glasses – she’d get him to drink something else later. It was pretty quiet, Kay noted as she opened a cupboard. But then again, it made sense that Sebastian wouldn’t be a ‘having conversations from different rooms’ kind of person. Balancing the drinks and as many snacks as she could fit in her arms, she reentered the living room to find him standing in the middle of the floor. “Sit down, stay a while.” She dumped everything on the coffee table. Then she collapsed on the couch, patting the other cushion.

He followed her lead, tucking his legs under him. The glass of water was accepted, and as Kay started up the tv, he even reached for the bag of grapes.

“So. Do you want to start off where we were watching or do you want to play a game first?”

---

Three episodes of Jammin’ Ninja, a pizza, several rounds of Mario Kart, and five Guitar Hero losses in a row later, Kay dropped her controller in her lap. “I think I’m done with this one,” she said, flopping back.

“Hey, you are pretty good at this.” Sebastian leaned forward with his fork to slide another piece of pizza onto his plate (Kay was tempted to poke fun at him for that – it felt like such a Mr. Edgeworth thing, and she definitely would’ve gotten at him for it – but dropped it, considering). He smirked. “I guess I just happen to be better.”

Kay opened her mouth, but failed to find a smart remark that wouldn’t end up unnecessarily mean. Instead, she stuck her tongue out.

He stuck his tongue out back at her, and when she repeated the action, but more exaggerated, he burst out laughing. As he calmed, he simply sat watching her. Then, with a yawn like a cat, he stretched, arms over his head and back arching. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

“Alright.” Kay stayed slumped against the couch until she heard the door shut, at which point she dashed to the linen closet. She had just enough time to throw herself into approximately the same position before Sebastian returned. “So, I have something for you.”

He tilted his head. “What?”

Grinning broadly, she lifted the gift bag from behind the couch. “I know it’s a little late, but,” she plopped it in the spot between them. “Your birthday present.”

In the background, the game’s menu music looped through again. Right, she’d meant to turn that off before. Not that Sebastian seemed to care or notice, with the way he stared wide-eyed at the multicolor balloon print. Finally, he started to lean forward. “Are you sure?” His voice was very small, a scared hesitancy that nearly broke her heart.

“Yup.” She nudged it closer to him.

Still cautious, he picked up the bag into his lap, and just…held it there, for a moment. His hands were still curled around it, but loosely, and he watched Kay over the top of it, as if waiting for her to…do something, she didn’t know.

“There should be a card on top; start with that.” She wasn’t sure prompting was exactly what he needed, but…

“Oh,” he said softly. “Oh, right.” He pulled it closer to himself then. With a delicacy that she hadn’t started showing until- wait, no, she still tore into presents like an excited three-year-old. Anyway the point was that Sebastian was very careful in opening the envelope flap and taking out the card. It was a rather generic design, but only on the outside. Sebastian looked at her, and she motioned for him to open it. When he did so, he let out a tiny gasp.

Kay tried not to stare at him as he read, but every time she tried to turn her attention away it kept skittering back. It was impossible to tell exactly what part he was reading when, but she already knew the contents. The card had only come with a simple “Happy Birthday” on the inside, but that was fine. They’d done plenty to fill the rest of the space

In the top left corner, written in smooth black ink and typographical quality cursive, was Franziska’s. It simply read, “All good wishes on your birthday. -Franziska von Karma”

While not much more in content, Gumshoe’s big round handwriting took up a lot bigger of a space, occasionally spilling across the fold line. “Happiest of birthdays, pal! Have a great day – you deserve it!”

Mr. Edgeworth’s looked as though he had lined up a ruler as a guide for writing it (honestly, she would bet money he had), and the actual lettering, while angular, was equally neat and consistent across the bottom right side. “We’ve only been working together for a short time, but even in that I have witnessed your great strength and dedication. It is an honor to continue to be a part of your journey.” There was just the tiniest dot of extra ink at the end of the sentence, the closest thing to an imperfection in the writing. “Happy Birthday, Sebastian.”

When she’d taken a peek at the card this afternoon after Mr. Edgeworth had handed it back to her, she’d been surprised to see that Courtney’s handwriting was somewhat jumbled. Then again, the fact that she’d had to make do with working around the space of everyone else’s notes probably didn’t help. She’d written, in pen that looked like some very dark color that was just off from black, “Sebastian. When we spoke about your birthday previously, I hope that my misunderstanding did not seem like a lack of care. If it did, I can only offer my deepest apologies, and the promise to try harder in the future to become the kind of person you would be more comfortable being open around. I wish you the best belated birthday possible, with love. Justine.”

And taking up a good third-bordering-on-half of the bottom right side (helped by the fact that she’d put a sticky note reservation there before handing it out), was Kay’s cursive-print hybrid, alternating sparkly gel pen colors every phrase or so. “Hey. I hope this isn’t overstepping, but you’re someone important to all of us, so I had to find some way to include everyone. You deserve to have your birthday celebrated, okay? This isn’t enough to make up for past stuff, but it’s still something, right? Happy Birthday. -Kay” In the space under the words, she’d doodled a little picture of herself making a heart with her hands.

Sebastian started crying very early into his reading. The first couple tears steadily developed until the paper shook and had to be in danger of getting wet (if it wasn’t already). Taking a big, shaky breath, he put the card on his lap.

At this point, Kay reached behind her for the box of tissues on the lower shelf of the side table, and held it out.

With a nod, he took it. He hadn’t stopped crying, so it was more damage control at the moment as he blotted at his face.

While he was busy with that, Kay took the opportunity to gradually turn down the tv volume. That didn’t take very long, though, leaving her to sit and wait. At least it was less awkward than last time.

Finally, he got his breathing and the tears mostly under control. Although when he sat up and looked at her he quickly ducked his head again, eyes watering. “I- uh… He sniffled. “…thank you,” he whispered, voice thick.

Oh, now her eyes were starting to sting. “It’s no problem at all.”

Sebastian smiled weakly, although his mouth still trembled.

They sat there for some time. Kay held in her impulse to say something, wanting to give him time to finish processing and let him move on at his own pace.

And eventually he did. Very carefully, he set the card on the top of the back of the couch and opened the bag. A few sheets of tissue paper, pulled out and scattered across the couch later, he held up a small box. He looked at Kay just long enough for her to give him a ‘go on’ nod, then opened it. “Huh,” he whispered upon seeing the contents. His mouth pressed together, clearly trying to keep steady as he examined a pair of dark blue socks patterned with tiny orange cats. “I love it.”

She grinned, leaning on the back cushion. “Yeah. That one made me think of you.”

A heavy breath, although the tears were framing a smile. It took him a minute, but he managed to steady himself again without fully crying this time.

“Hey,” she fake-whispered. “There’s more in there.”

He carefully lifted the socks, only to squint at finding just paper. The moment he saw what was on it, though, his hand flew to his mouth in a gasp. “Oh, this is…”

“That’s the right one, right?”

With a soft noise of agreement, he started studying it further. “I’ve never gotten to hear them, but I’ve heard the orchestra performance is- Wait, why are there two tickets?”

“So you can take someone with you,” she murmured.

The smile wavered just a little. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Carefully, he repacked the box. Still not looking at her, he said, “do you- would you want to go?”

Kay had figured it would come up, and she picked her words carefully. “If you want. But you know I don’t know a thing about your fancy music stuff.” It wasn’t that she wouldn’t go and at least have a decent time, probably. But for Sebastian’s sake, if he just wanted someone to talk at, it wouldn’t make much of a difference if Kay had actually been there or not. “You gotta know someone who would get more out of it than me.”

Chewing on his lip, he stared down at the cushions. “Well, there’s-” he paused, the little flinch of frustration that usually popped up when he started talking about some part of his life only to remember that, since the mess with his father, it wasn’t the same anymore. “...Uh. I’ll have to see,” he said, barely audible.

“Or you can go by yourself. It’s meant to be something nice for you, so if dealing with that part’s a problem, don’t bother. I can handle returning it and I’ll buy you lunch or something instead, alright? Focus on the cool music stuff.”

He mimicked her pose, hands on his hips. “Yeah!” The smile returned as he closed his eyes, arms drifting until he was doing tiny little conducting motions, probably not even aware.

When he’d calmed a bit to merely bouncing a little, she leaned forward, chin resting on her head. “You’ve still got one thing left.”

“Oh!” Again, he put the box to the side and shuffled through the paper, this time retrieving a much larger translucent plastic container. Sliding the bag out of the way on the floor, he pried off the lid. And stared at the contents.

The look on his face was so blank… “I picked cupcakes because I thought they’d be more fun.” Plus, a couple of them were much easier to fit in a gift bag than a whole cake. “The rest are in the kitchen, but I put one of each flavor… What?”

As she talked, he’d bowed his head, and his shoulders were shaking, breaths coming fast and unsteady.

“Uh, Seb?”

Then he looked up. Sure enough, there were tears at the corners of his eyes, but the light in them…

Kay stared. “What is so funny?”

“You-” He covered his mouth with a hand. “They’re, uh,” laughter tripping up his words, he tilted the box so she could see.

Nothing about it seemed out of the ordinary to her- three medium size cupcakes of different flavors (carrot, spice, chocolate: not Sebastian’s top three, but she’d gone with what he seemed to like and then whatever other likes that let her use the same frosting), although you couldn’t tell from this angle due to the teal frosting she’d painstakingly decorated with sugarwork music notes. “What are you talking about?”

“No, it’s-” he shrunk back slightly. “It’s really nice, but” his voice got quieter “you did write this all wrong.”

She crossed her arms. “But I looked at references and everything!”

“Well, you got the notes right, but if you actually look at the way the measures are laid out across these, none of them have a combination of notes that gives them the same amount of beats as the other ones, so it’s…” He trailed off as it was Kay’s turn to start giggling.

“I’m not laughing at you,” she said as she scooted next to him. “I did really mess those up, though, huh?”

At that, he relaxed. “Yeah. A lot.”

“I’ll get it right next year.”

There was a moment of silence. Then, he reached up to wipe away a single tear. “You better,” he said, smiling.

[musicanddancingthroughlife]

Shklance - Necromancer Pt2

Sorry about last week, guys, I totally got caught up with my husband’s family reunion, and then I meant to post on Monday, but I misread the requirements for two of my three term papers and got the page count off so they’re longer than I thought they would be and I’ve been freaking out about them all week. And I will continue to do that for this next week because f my life I guess. Just two more weeks of school (and then like half a week where I have just two finals), and then I’m done for summer break, so just know that I’m trying guys haha. But hey, if anyone wants some original stories, I’m editing those all week for class :P

So, I know that I post most of my series in parts, and someone has asked me about that, since my stories tend to time-skip a lot. I do apologize for that, my brain doesn’t like to give me the between to each stories, just little scenes from each, and since I actually write fanfic mostly so I can practice my writing, I don’t push too much for those between scenes. However, this is something I need to work on if I ever want to improve, so I’m working on a longer version of my demon au, if anyone wants to yell at me about that. Anyway, I’m still trying to explore the plot and world to this story, so I hope you guys enjoy this. EDIT: Here is part 1!!!!

-------------------------------------------------------

        “Come on, Lance, you have to admit that this is getting out hand!” Keith was yelling at him, but Lance knew better than to let it get to him. Oh, sure, it hurt, because it was definitely a reminder that Keith probably thought he was an idiot. Because let’s face it, he was an idiot. But Lance also knew that whatever anger Keith felt towards him, it was much stronger and directed towards Lotor, not him.

              The school’s only other necromancer had been making Lance’s life miserable ever since they started their classes. It was like it wasn’t enough that Lotor was better than Lance was at the magic itself, or that Professor Haggar definitely preferred Lotor to Lance, or that during all of their stupid dinners with Professor Zarkon (and really, how the hell did they always wind up having dinner with him, when Lance knew for a fact the other classes had dined with multiple teachers by this point) resulted in Lance being ignored on a good day, and verbally abused on a bad day. No, Lotor had resulted to using magics on Lance in the hallways and on the field. And Lance. Couldn’t. Catch. A Fucking. Break.

              Honestly, it was a wonder that Lance had lasted this long without anyone finding out.

              Well, anyone except for his stupidly observant roommates. And seriously? Fuck them.

              “Shut up, Keith, I get it, okay? We all know that I’m too weak and stupid to be able to defend myself against someone as talented and powerful as Lotor.”

              Keith snarled at Lance, lunging forward, but Shiro caught him by the back of his neck and kept him in place. Lance felt a brief surge of triumph and relief, even gratitude toward the older vampire, but then he turned his head to glare at Lance, too, and Lance realized that he was laying on the couch, only half dressed because the other two had insisted on “treating his wounds”, and he was exhausted. As a necromancer, Lance was able to suck up energy and use it as his own, but as is, he used up all of his own sucking up Lotor’s, and the entire endeavor had left him weak as a kitten.

              If Keith really wanted to attack him, he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop them.

              “How long?”

              Lance squirmed, wincing as it tugged on the slashes and cuts littering his entire upper body. Yeah, no, he wasn’t going anywhere.

              “Lance,” Shiro said again, “how long?”

              Lance remained silent, valiantly trying to keep quiet. Keith snarled again. “Don’t you get it, you idiot? This isn’t okay! We need to tell someone, which means you have to tell someone something. Even… even if it’s not us. Please.” It was the way Keith’s voice faded by the end of his sentence, as if the idea that Lance wouldn’t trust them with something like this was a very real fear that he had. It made Lance look up at him, curious as to why his friend sounded so emotional.

              Fuck. Was he crying? Lance was pretty sure those were tears shining in Keith’s eyes, and fuck, he wasn’t at all prepared for this. Shiro, maybe. Lance, definitely. But Keith? Keith never cried, what the hell was he supposed to do with that???

              Run away, obviously.

              “Look, you guys have been awesome. Seriously. I mean, I could’ve totally taken care of this mess,” he gestured down his body, gesturing at the ugly mess of bruises and cuts and trying to ignore the way Keith’s tears had slowed and both of the vampires were now glaring at him, “but your help is definitely appreciated. But I have class, you guys have class, we all need some sleep. So let’s try and get on that, yeah?” He swung his legs of the edge of the couch, satisfied that he had found a viable reason to cut this awkward and uncomfortable talk short.

              Yet the instant he swung his body around on the couch – hissing at the pain that lit up at the movement – he found himself blocked by Shiro’s body. He’d stepped forward, trapping Lance on the couch, bracketing him in with his legs. He was so close that Lance was forced to lean back on his hands, just to avoid getting a faceful. Leaning back wasn’t much better, though, as he found himself almost immediately trapped there by Keith, who was leaning over the back of the couch, presumably to make sure Lance couldn’t scramble away from them.

              Like he could do anything of the sort with the way his body was aching. Seriously, fuck Lotor.

              “Lance.” At least Shiro was quieter than Keith. Even if the anger was still obvious. “You can’t keep doing this. We want to help you. Please let us help you.”

              Lance snorted, unable to help himself. “Like you guys could. Don’t you know what Haggar teaches us in those stupid classes of hers?” Shiro inched impossibly closer, even as Keith leaned down, placed his hands on Lance’s shoulders gingerly, but firmly enough that Lance was really started to feel surrounded by them.

              “There have only been rumors,” Shiro admitted, “but Lance, we don’t care. We just want to help you.”

              “Please,” Keith added.

              Lance looked at them, really looked at them. They were genuine, he knew, but would they still accept him after learning the truth? That Haggar had really been training himself and Lotor so they could overpower the other kinds of supernaturals, that she was determined to use them to create some kind of army so that they could take over the world (or something stupid like that, Lance honestly tried not to listen to her shit), that she had challenged both Lotor and Lance to use their new spells and abilities on their vampire roommates, and that’s how Lotor was so easily taken in by the rest of the vampires in the building while simultaneously turning them against Lance (and Shiro and Keith, but they tried not to show how much it bothered them. It didn’t work. Lance knew they were hurting)? Would they still want him around? Would they even still like him? Then again, this wasn’t working, either. So it was just a matter of time before they got sick of him and decided that he was too much work and not worth the effort.

              Well, in that case. Better sooner than later, right?

              “Some of the spells she teaches us are how to control the undead.”

              Keith blinked. “Like, zombies?”

              Lance gaped up at him. “Like vampires, you moron! She wants us both to use the spells she teaches us on our roommates – on you – in order to show how ‘committed’ we are to our education, and so she can decide if we’re ready to progress, and—”

              “You refused,” Shiro stated. “Shit, Lance, don’t tell me that some of this is from her?”

              Lance stared at him, completely confused. “How did you—”

              “Oh, come on, Lance,” Keith rolled his eyes, “obviously you haven’t done anything to us, and that’s actually not one of the worst rumors we’ve heard about Haggar, it’s not a far stretch to think she would stoop to actually abusing a student.”

              “And then Lotor would take this as confirmation that you were weak or something, and of course that would lead to more attacks.” Shiro sounded confident, as if this all made sense and was very logical. “So the only real question would be…”

              “How long?” Keith trapped Lance’s head in his hands, gently tilting him backwards on the couch, forcing Lance to look at him and nothing else. Thankfully, Shiro had stretched forward to support his back at this awkward arch, otherwise the new position would get very painful very fast. As is, it was just uncomfortable, great for encouraging him to answer quickly, if only to regain mobility. “Lance, how long have they been doing this to you?”

              Lance had to blink away tears at the concern and care he heard in Keith’s voice. Between Shiro’s body and Keith’s head, he couldn’t quite reach up to wipe the tears away, so they started to slowly slip down his cheeks.

              “I progressed a lot faster than Lotor did, at first, I promise.” Fuck, he was getting choked up. He heard Shiro make an encouraging noise.

              “Of course you did, you’re ten times smarter than that fucker.” Keith sounded vicious, and it made Lance chuckle, though it sounded entirely too watery to be believable.

              “It took Lotor all semester to get to that point, Haggar didn’t really teach it to him until a couple weeks ago.” A little over four months, since they were partway through the fifth now, and then they would have a month off before the next semester started. Now his tears were really coming. “I got there after two weeks.”

              There was a long silence. When he spoke, his voice sounded dangerous, and Lance was reminded again of Shiro’s own fierce protectiveness towards his friends.

              Towards Lance.

              “That witch has been doing this to you for 4 months?” he hissed viciously. Lance struggled to right himself, but Keith wouldn’t release him, and instead had taken to rubbing his forehead against Lance’s, even as his thumbs smoothed his tears away.

              “No, no!” he managed to sputter, panicked. “She just thought it was too difficult for me to really master! So she’s been teaching me other spells in the meantime, but once Lotor achieved that level and then started to use that same spell on his own roommates and then other vampires, too, she realized I’d just been stalling and told her I couldn’t do the spell.”

              Lance finally managed to get his hands where he needed to, and he pushed insistently at Keith’s head. He growled at the gesture, but eventually moved out of the way. Shiro moved, too, allowing Lance to push himself off the couch – ouch stupid ribs – and walk towards the hallway to his own bedroom. Today had been exhausting and all he wanted was the chance to have some time to himself.

              “Wait, why doesn’t Lotor just do the spell on us? If he’s done it to everyone else in the building?” Shiro wanted to know.

              “Seriously, you think I would let him do that to you? Nobody deserves that.” Lance’s tears were finally starting to stop, but he knew it was going to take him a while to relax. “Plus, so long as you two aren’t spelled, it’s obvious to Haggar that I’m still refusing to do as she asks.” He kept walking, until Keith interrupted him.

              “Lance, if you got there first, why have you been saying all semester that Lotor is better at magic than you are?”

              Lance paused on his way to his bedroom and sighed. Seriously, he was hurting and knew he was going to have to do all of this over again tomorrow, couldn’t they just let him sleep? But he gave in, turning his head just enough to show that he was answering them and said, “Because even from the start, he was willing to do whatever she asked. Did you really think that she would get her hands dirty hurting me, when he was perfectly happy to do it for her?”

              And with that, he headed to bed.

[dantays-inferno]

All the homages to Tom Hiddleston in the ME! music video

This may seem outdated now that TS8 has arrived, but I’ve been working on this post for a long time, and after a listen to Folklore, I think it’s still a bit relevant ;) 

I wanted to share some Easter eggs we unearthed while doing an archaeological excavation of the ME! music video.

I know what you’re thinking...that video came out over a year ago! Aren’t those Easter eggs a little rotten from sitting out there this whole time?

Don’t fret, dear reader. The eggs were well preserved like bread baked in Pompeii just before Mt. Vesuvius blew. That is to say, these Easter eggs pointing to Taylor’s undying love for Tom (who can blame her!) are both deeply buried and in shockingly plain sight.

Our journey into the excavation all started with this:

I was watching this video and noticed the jaguar sculpture on the desk and just about died because I will always associate jaguars with Tom Hiddleston’s ad campaign for them. The ads contain three of Taylor’s favorite things: London, cats, and Tom Hiddleston. I’m not sure what her feelings are on luxury cars, though of course she referenced the commercial on reputation (jag-you-ars.) You can watch them here, but be forewarned--you may feel weak in the knees by the end. You may also be triggered by seeing a human interacting with a big cat (I can’t be the only one who feels scarred by Tiger King...)

After this, I watched the ME! video again and saw one reference to Tom after another.

The living room scenes remind me of a Gucci ad campaign Tom in...fall of 2016. Oh. Seems significant.

1. Why those shoes. 2. How does he not have dog hair on his suit. 3. This very ad hung on my fridge for a month. 4. The color scheme and mod feel of this photo shoot feel very similar to the ME! living room. Taylor even included her own two animals (who are somewhat similar in color to these glamorous pooches.

Here’s another image from the Gucci campaign:

The suit Brendon wears while watching out the window, to me, mimics the suit Tom is wearing above. Not incidentally, the jaguar statue is at Brendon’s elbow. And you’ll notice that the pinkish pillow behind Tom’s right shoulder is basically the same color and texture as the sofas in the ME! living room.

Let me also note that all of the rooms above featured shades of green associated with Loki.

Well, that was fun. Let’s do some more.

The hallway Grace Kelly Taylor walks through at the beginning of the video always puzzled me. It was one of those things that stuck out but I couldn’t say why. Well, I wondered if it represented a place TS had been. I guess so because here is an interior shot of part of the Vatican Museums in Rome:

I saw this and just about fainted. Taylor and Tom visited the Vatican while in Rome in summer 2016. They were heavily papped, unfortunately. I can’t imagine how miserable that would have been, but they also did look very happy together. I get little heart eyes and then cry for Taylor (and Tom), praying for her happiness while listening to New Year’s Day. I might also mention she wore blue kitten heels, remarkably like the pink ones in this portion of the video. 

Now this is a find I’m truly proud of...here’s an interesting tie Tom wore many moons ago. And I really mean many moons ago because there are only these sad tiny photos you get when someone cropped a VHS recording they took of that time your were on TV in 2010.

First, what a great tie, and can I get a sundress made out of it too because I just really love floral prints. But besides that, I mean, I’m just getting some deja vu...

And the color scheme shows pretty well (along with the silky texture) in Brendon’s most excellent costume at the Billboard awards (which I would also like a dress of):

And there’s that whole Mary Poppins reference with Brendon teetering down from the sky on an umbrella. I couldn’t help but be reminded of this odd but somewhat talked-about short film “Leading Lady Parts” that Tom had a role in. The basis of the plot being that he wins all the leading female roles in movies because other women can’t live up to Hollywood’s (or whatever the British equivalent of Hollywood is) standards. So at the end of the film, a character walks past a series of posters where Tom has been photoshopped into famous female roles, including...

Something you’ll never unsee, I know. 

Okay, the next part needs its own whole SECTION.

Thor Ragnarok References

So partway through Taylor and Tom’s midsummer’s night dream, Tom started filming for Thor Ragnarok, one of Marvel’s greatest gifts to mankind, in Australia. The finished film came out on Nov. 3, 2017, just seven days before reputation.

To start with, the color of Loki’s costume shows up quite a bit:

Beyond this, Thor: Ragnarok takes place on two alien planets: Asgard (Thor and Loki’s home) and Sakaar (a bizarre planet where intergalactic trash is dumped and Jeff Goldblum holds gladiator-style games.)

Sakaar looks a little like this:

An odd pastel palette splashed on a sea of grays. Detritus and occasionally people (notably, Thor) fall from holes in the sky. Also, notice the sky has a strange refracted nature to it that is seen in the ME! video. 

So we have another scene of people falling from nowhere down to a sea of pastels and gray with a pink refracted sky.

The sky behind His Lordship Jeff Goldblum in Ragnarok is the best pic I can find of Sakaar’s sky.

Let’s move on to a more exciting one:

One of the movie’s main characters, Valkyrie, rides a gray pegasus (unfortunately not a pegacorn)

The pegacorn Taylor sits on has a rather peculiar eye that evokes Thor’s when he’s in lightning mode:

Valkyrie also has a totally dope cape (so do a lot of characters, but we’ll focus on her):

Which reminds me of Taylor’s cape in the marching band scene:

And the rainbow leading up to the kaleidoscope where Taylor and To--er, Brendon dance? If you’ve watched any Thor movie, you probably remember the long almost-translucent rainbow bridge that stretches from the bifrost to Asgard. 

So as you see above, the bifrost leads to a room where Idris Elba controls the bifrost bridge. It look a bit like the kaleidoscope room Taylor and Brendon end up in:

To top things off, Taylor and Brendon’s suits really evoke that old school country feel that stars like, I don’t know....Hank Williams would wear (rest in peace.) 

Finally, the hotel lobby resembles the interior of the Asgard palace, but I can’t find good pictures and this has taken me hours. 

In conclusion, Taylor is brilliant, love is cruel, ME! is a fantasy fever dream, and Tom is worth the fight. Hopes, thoughts, prayers.

[heartofsnark]

This Is Love (Chapter Six):Burnt Offering

Notes: So, given that the last chapter was kind of short, at least by my standards. I decided to go ahead and post the next chapter this month. We're starting to near the point where what I post and where I'm at in writing are meeting up, I have chapter 7 done and am currently about halfway through writing 8,  so don't be shocked if we end up with a slowdown in chapters like what's had to happen with my other fic series. It just happens, such is life. 

Word Count: 9243

Chapter Warnings: Blood, Domestic Violence, Alcoholism, POV Switches, Talks of the Testicle Festival,

For chapter one and the warnings about this fics overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here!

The cruiser door shuts with a heavy thud, followed by Rook’s boots hitting the asphalt. Staci stifles a laugh, the newest addition to the Sheriff’s Department has a pea sized bladder and a penchant for guzzling energy drinks like an idiot. He’s had to pull into the Golden Valley Gas Station for her to run off to the bathroom, again.

His joints pop and crack as he gets out of the car, taking the chance to stretch his legs. The sun hangs high and bright in the great blue sky, warming his skin as rolls his shoulders to get out the kinks. It’s nearly noon and if he has to be here, he might as well find something to eat, the door of the gas station chiming as he walks in. He looks over the hot food options, garbage mostly, but tasty garbage. Hamburgers, pizza, hot dogs-

“You getting lunch?”

Staci jumps at the sudden question, a voice over his shoulder that he wasn’t ready for catches him off guard. A soft laugh as he turns to look at Rook who’s just scared him, sometimes she’s like a bull in a china shop and other times she’s silent as the grave. He can’t keep up and ends up glaring at the smirking woman. She finds way too much enjoyment in his misery, she’s the probie, he’s supposed to be giving her shit not the other way around.

“Someone needs to put a fuckin’ bell on you, I swear.”

“I thought you could ‘hear me coming a mile away’,” she says trying to imitate his voice when he mocked her earlier.

“That was then, this is now, and right now, you’re a sneaky bitch.”

He can’t resist the chance to wipe that dumb little smirk off her face and grabs her cheek between his fingers, stretching the soft tan skin. A small sharp pain in his wrist when she smacks him away, but it’s more than worth it to see her looking a little less cocky.

“Bite me.” She says and knocks against his side as she grabs a hamburger, nearly throwing him off balance.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Ew.” Rook grimaces at his little attempt at flirting, like an asshole. Then again, with her, she may not realize he was trying to flirt.

He grabs himself one and follows after her to the drinks, he watches her line of vision immediately go to the large sized slushie cups. They’re nearly the size of the short deputy’s head.

“No,” he tells her, voice low with warning, he already has to worry about pulling over  for her constantly.

“What?”

“You drink that and you’re gonna be needing twelve more bathroom trips before our shift ends.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You nearly pissed yourself, five minutes ago.”

“I’ll be fine.” Rook rolls her eyes as she fills up the giant cup with blue slush. No matter what he says, he swears she’d break her neck just to do the opposite.

They buy their lunches, if it can even be called that, and leave the gas station. The weather’s too nice to eat in the cruiser, a soft breeze and a clear sky to eat under instead.  Staci instead sits on the trunk of the car, balancing his drink on his thigh as he eats. Rook follows his lead, for once since she’s been here, and sits down on the car as well. She pulls one of her legs up onto the car and under her, keeping her drink in hand.

It’s quiet as they eat, but unlike the awkward still of when they first started patrolling together, this silence is surprisingly pleasant.  Staci has never liked quiet, making those first patrols painful to sit through, but their time spent in silence has grown more bearable with every shift.

Rook is weird, but not bad; he’s decided. She’s quiet and serious, especially so at the start. But, she never misses a chance to talk back or give him hell, which might be his own fault.  She’s dedicated to the job and never seems to shy away from what it entails, only ever seeming bothered by the work when she was stuck pushing papers.  Despite her constant scowling and resting bitch face, Rook is eager to help people.

He doesn’t know much about her, which is only natural with her short time with the department and her lackluster communicative skills. She likes her job, Hudson, animals, and giving him hell. She hates crowds, churches, and talking. That’s about all he’s got. And dress codes he guesses? Though since the Drubman incident she’s stuck with modest tanks and tees under her uniform, other than buttoning it up, it’s the same damn thing. Hell, even Hudson and him don’t button it up all the way. 

When she was first hired, the week separating her hire and her actual first day, he asked Whitehorse what he was thinking when he hired someone so young. The sheriff just laughed, saying she had a good heart. He supposes her jumping to help Mary May the day of her interview was proof of that.

There are a lot of reasons why people become cops, not all of them necessarily good or right. Staci himself is exhibit A of that. He’s always been honest with himself and others that he became a cop to get laid, it was nothing short of a whim. Something women are attracted to and didn’t require too much education, so he could avoid debt. No ideas of helping people or delusions of keeping the peace; he chose his career based entirely on the prospect of getting his dick wet.

Hudson is better than him in that regard, well, in many regards but that’s beside the point. But, her choice mostly stems from her family. Almost everyone in her family has had a career in either the military or law enforcement. Her mom is a veteran and her dad a veteran turned police officer, retiring early due to injury.  One of her brothers works as an officer in Billings and the other currently in basic training. It only seemed natural she’d follow one of those paths, becoming a cop because it’s what they do in her family. A fact she’s always taken pride in. 

Danny, not to speak ill of the dead, was probably a hall monitor in high school. He was a stickler for details and rules, he enjoyed being the one enforcing order. But Staci isn’t confident that Danny enjoyed it because he believed in what was best for the public so much as he liked rules for the sake of rules and being the one to crack the whip. It’s strange to say after so many years of butting heads, but Staci misses that asshole. It hit Joey hardest, Danny being her partner, but it hit him too. Danny was with the station since before him or Joey were hired on, for him to just be gone one day… Hope County is a sleepy little place, it can be easy to forget how dangerous this kind of job can be when speeding and hunting violations are the biggest crimes. Danny was a grim reminder and hopefully, the last one Staci will ever get.

“That’s gonna fall,” Rook’s voice cuts through the quiet, her finger pointed at the drink balanced on Staci’s thigh.

“It’s fine,” he dismisses her out of hand, and she rolls her eyes, sunlight making the brown look nearly gold. 

She’s cute, it’s something he’s had to admit, as much as he’d rather not. While he’s always been a bit of a womanizer, it still feels weird acknowledging he’s attracted to his newly acquired pain in the ass. But…Rook is real easy on the eyes. Even with her constant sourpuss of a face, she's cute. Though the rare times he’s seen her smile… It’s a good look on her.  Hell, it's a good enough look that he asked her out on an impromptu date to the F.A.N.G Center the moment he saw it. Though that ended up being botched; the Junior Deputy inviting Joey along and then abandoning them partway through the day.

He’s gotten to spend hardly any time with her outside of work, between that and her never tagging along to The Spread Eagle, a part of him has to wonder if she just doesn’t want to deal with him when she doesn’t have to. God knows, it’s not Hudson, he’s pretty sure Rook would break her neck to spend more time with Joey.

Staci’s mind is drawn back to Rook’s dismissal of his mild flirting, she seemed uncomfortable with Adelaide’s more…forward tendencies too. But there’s no denying she has a huge annoying crush on Joey. Her face going redder than a lobster anytime the two are near each other. He’s asking her on dates without even meaning to and he’s not even sure what way she swings.

“So, what’s your deal?” He decides to just ask, it might be a long shot, but no harm in seeing if he has a chance. Right?

“My deal with what?” She raises an eyebrow and takes another slurp of her drink.

“Well, I know you’re into women; so are you gay?” Rook chokes on her slushie, blue dribbling down her chin as he continues, “Bi? Pan?”  

“What the fuck, dude?!” She yells, scrubbing her slushie covered hand against her jeans, her blue stained tongue catching his eye as she freaks out.

“It’s just a question.”

“A real fuckin’ personal one.” Her face is a vivid red, making her blue chin and tongue stand out even brighter.

“What? You worried ‘cause, ya know, Montana?”

“No, I’m not worried because of that.”

“Good, because I promise you most people here don’t give a fuck.”

“No, it’s not, I just don’t like talking…”

“You can honestly stop that sentence right there.”

“Pff,” she lets out a soft laugh and the corner of her mouth curves up as she says in a gentler voice, “I don’t like talking.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” He gives her the out and she groans.

“Look, dude, not that it’s any of your business but I barely know what the fuck’s going on in my own head. If I can’t figure that shit out, how the hell am I supposed to explain it?”

“I know you like Hudson.”

“Yeah, I do… I can’t say I’m not attracted to men? I don’t think, I’ve thought men are attractive. I just, women catch my eye more,” she shrugs, face still red, “though I don’t know if that’s because of me or ‘cause of the….selection here.”

“What do you mean?”

She glares at him, dark eyebrows furrowed as if she’s trying to figure out if he’s serious while she slurps on her slushie. He can nearly see the gears in her head desperately trying to turn.

“Dude, seriously?” She asks raises an eyebrow when he doesn’t budge.

“Seriously, you make it sound like the men here are drooling apes.”

“Women in Hope County.”

Rook points out a woman stepping out of her car, long tanned legs and daisy duke shorts.

“Men in Hope County.”

She gestures towards a man at the gas pumps, bent over with his jeans half falling off his ass with plumber crack on display for the world.

It’s his turn to choke, pop catching in his windpipe as her sputters and gags on his laugh, leg jerking and sending his entire drink falling into his lap.

“Jesus fuck,” he manages to cough out as cola soaks his crotch.

“Told you it was gonna fall.”

“At least I don’t look like I blew a Smurf.”

“Fuck off.” She roughly shoves him as they both laugh.

“So, all us Hope County men are just too ugly for you?” He says with mock hurt in his voice as he stands from the trunk, walking around the cruiser.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“No, no, I get it, I mean, how could anyone stand to even look at me.”

“What do you want from me?” She’s glaring at him now from over the cruiser, each at their respective doors as they talk.

“Nah, it’s my cross to bear, I have to learn how to deal with being hideous.”

“I mean, we can always get you a paper bag.” Her face breaks into a smile and she starts laughing halfway through her own joke, blue tongue pressing against her canines.

“Wow, fuckin’ wow, just double down.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry,” she rolls her eyes, face still flushed from laughing, “for what it’s worth, you’re one of the more attractive guys in Hope County.”

“Thank you,” Staci can’t help but genuinely smile, between the compliment and her expression, something about the moment settles warm in his chest.

“Which is kinda like being a tall dwarf.”

“Fuck you,” his outburst makes her laugh and he can’t help but laugh right along with her, “you can’t let me have anything can you?”

“Nope.”

They’re still smiling, stomachs and cheeks aching as they climb into the cruiser. He turns the key and starts up the engine, pulling them out of the parking lot. The soft tapping of Rook’s finger against the door is the only sound as they drive through the valley. She’s always moving, he’s not sure he’s ever seen her completely still.

The cola on his jeans has barely started to dry by the time the radio starts to crackle, dispatch putting out a call.

“Units please respond, we have a domestic disturbance at the Ramsey Residence, neighbor reported yelling coming from the home and threats of violence.”

The Ramsey place is about fifteen or twenty minutes out from where Benjamin and Julie live. They’re familiar with the Sheriff’s department. He hates to sound so jaded and cynical, but they’ve done this song and dance so many times.  Benjamin has been an abusive drunk since as long as Staci’s lived in Hope County. No matter how many times they cuff and drag him away; Julie refuses to press charges, bails him out, and welcomes him back with open arms. It’s an endless cycle and Hope County doesn’t have the resources to break it. With that in mind, he grabs the receiver.

“Deputy Pratt and Hale responding, over.”

He flips on the sirens, lights flashing and the speaker squealing as they rush towards the Ramsey house. Tires spitting up gravel as he drives along the backroads, following them to the old farmhouse. It was once a beautiful house, he’s sure, but it’s started to fall apart over the years. The white paint peeling and the wood of the porch starting to rot away.

There’s a tension in the air as the deputies get out of the cruiser, grass crushing underfoot as they make their way to the home. Despite being Staci’s subordinate as far as standing in the department goes, Rook is in front of him and taking the lead. Not because he wants her too; she just does that.

The porch lets out a loud creak when the junior deputy takes a step, straining under her weight. That doesn’t bode well for him, while not a particularly heavy guy, he’s over a foot taller than Rook and fit. She may have muscle mass, but he’s sure he still weighs more at the end of the day. 

“You might wanna be careful,” she warns him, standing next to the door, clearly having gone through the same thought process as him.

“Yeah, this porch has seen better days.”

It strains and creaks, echoing a louder under him as he takes the steps up. Then his foot goes through the porch. He curses as he starts to fall through, broken rotted wood splintering into his jeans and boot. A hand wraps around his wrist, Rook steadying him as gets his bearings. He grips the railing as he his rips his foot back out of the wood; breaking and ripping apart boards with the force of it. The smell of mildew, rotted lumber, and muck getting kicked up from it.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

He has to shift back onto the steps that were able to hold him, he could step over or around the broken gap, but the chances of it just breaking through again are high. Rook lets go of his wrist once he’s on stable footing and turns back to the door. She knocks on the door three times, before calling out.

“Hope County Sheriff’s department, we got a call, just here to make sure everything’s okay.”

There’s no response, of course they’re in no rush to open the door for police. A beat of silence  and then something breaks from inside the home, like glass crashing to the ground.

“You ever deal with them before?” Rook asks as she tries to open the door, but it’s locked.

“Plenty, he always has to be taken kicking and screaming. ”  

“Is he dangerous?” She’s slid a pick into the door lock, twisting and turning it. Why the hell does she know how to pick locks?

“Only to his wife, every time I’ve dealt with him, he’s no worse than a drunk toddler.”

“Hmm,” she nods in understanding, “go around back and see if there’s a back door or something, we can’t take anyone out this way. I’ll head in.”

“Since when do you give the orders, probie?”

“Pratt,” she says his name like a warning, just as the door clicks open. She’s right and he Staci knows that, but that doesn’t mean he has to like being bossed around by the probie he’s supposed to be teaching the ropes.

He waves her off and goes walking around the house, all this trouble and splinters in his shin over some damn drunk who should have been locked away years ago. There’s a set of concrete stairs up to the backdoor, not attached, but sturdier than forty-year-old rotted wood. He shakes the backdoor and finds it’s locked, because of course it is.

Staci slams his shoulder against the door as he hard as he can, putting all of his weight into it. The lock and frame give out from the force, a boom and splintering sound ringing out.

“Fuck!”

It’s Rook’s voice, no mistaking it, a groan of pain punctuating the curse. Staci’s blood runs cold and he runs into the house; feet hitting the floor in heavy thuds as he runs to where he heard the sound. Nearly tripping over himself as he enters the living room.

Adrenaline coursing through him, Staci recognizes two figures instantly as he enters. Ben Ramsey standing over a curled up figure dressed in the familiar green of their uniform, blood is on the carpet, soaking it through.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! What’d he do? What did that son of bitch do to her?

From his angle, Ben’s back to him, Pratt can’t make out anything other than her fallen body. He can’t tell if she’s breathing, if she’s moving, where the blood is coming from, if she’s even alive.

Words stick in his throat and his mind only spins curses, his hand pauses, body frozen. Only a moment in reality, but in eternity to Staci; just enough time for the old drunk to pull his leg back and slam a boot into the young deputy on the ground. A sickening crack and curse from the young woman.

And for the first in his career, Staci pulls his gun out. It may be too quick of a move and maybe in the hours after he’ll think of how he should have gone for the baton or taser, but his hand is on his gun. Pointed at another human being. There’s a shake to his hands.

“Ben Ramsey, you’re under, under arrest! Put your hands up!” His words stall for a moment and he curses himself for the way fear seeps into his voice at the worst times.

“Fuck you-“

His words are cut off by a yell, Ben’s body convulsing for a second before he hits the ground with a heavy thud. Rook taser in hand moving as it happens, quickly cuffing him, and Staci can breathe again. He’s not going back to the station alone. The side of her head is stained with blood, hair matted in it, her left eye shut and that half of her face red. Her nose and lip are busted open, blood streaking down her chin.  She’s hurt, but she’s alive. His head is swimming, drops his grip on his weapon, his shoulder aching and making him realize just how tense he was. He’s not even certain his finger was on the trigger, he realizes as he holsters the thankfully unused gun.  Her lips move over and over again, but the words don’t cut through the fog of his brain until another moment passes.

“Pratt, radio backup, now!” Her hands are on the man’s cuffed wrists, keeping him in place on the ground, subdued for the moment as the man’s thankfully still dazed from the shock.

He’s hesitated, his delay to grab his radio no doubt wasting precious seconds. Why does he always fucking hesitate? He’s tripping over his words as he talks, because of course he is.

“Officer Pratt, we need backup and, and emergency services to the Ramsey house, immediately. Officer injured, suspect is belligra-belligerent and dangerous.”

“Suspect’s wife is injured as well.”

There’s more than three people in the room, Julie Ramsey curled up in a ball beside the couch, sobbing desperately at the entire scene. He didn’t even notice, fuck, he fucking hell.  He gives the exact address and gets confirmation that someone is coming.  Staci crouches down, closer to Rook’s level where she’s kneeling next to the suspect, he’s able to get a better look at Rook’s injury. He can smell beer, both from the suspect and from her head, shards of brown glass clinging to the blood-soaked skin. He bashed a beer bottle over her head, then kicked her in the face while she was down.

He needs to get something to hold against her head, to help stop the bleeding. Staci’s starts to move to get his overshirt off, thinking it’d be better than nothing, but then sirens screech at them. Police officers for the station and EMTS coming through the house. It’s going to be okay.

No thanks to him. He did nothing. He wants to pull his hair out, scream at himself, why the hell is he this fucking pathetic?

Ben Ramsey is arrested and charged, taken to one of the officer’s police car. Meanwhile Julie and Rook are assessed before being taken to the back of ambulance. Staci follows them, moving on instinct to follow and make sure Rook is okay.

He doesn’t speak the entire way, just grateful to be allowed in the ambulance, he listens as they access her. Lacerations, contusions, possible skull fracture; the words swim around his head as they look her over in the ambulance. He watches as the EMT forces Rook’s left eye open, seeing why it’s been shut, blood vessels damaged across part of the white, red irritation in the other half that goes into the brown, blurring the edge of the iris.

Ideas of her losing vision in that eye flood through his mind, how severe is the damage, could it impact her career? Is she going to be out of here before she’s even finished probationary hire? He was supposed to be looking out for her.

He sits outside her room at the Hope County Clinic, privacy or some sort of doctor crap, he can barely even remember the rest of the ride there. His back against the wall as he sits on the floor, ringing his hands, mind racing through a million possibilities. 

“What the hell happened?” Whitehorse’s voice is what ends the frenetic mess in his head, if only for a second. The presence of the sheriff easing some of his nerves, knowing the older man will be able to handle this, whatever the situation may be.

He scrambles to his feet and explains everything that happened; from the porch falling in, him pulling his weapon but not firing, and an injured Rook having to subdue the suspect. Each word of it making him feel just a bit more pathetic, a bit weaker, he really fucked this up.

Whitehorse squeezes his shoulder, a warm heavy hand to comfort him.

“It’s okay, Pratt. Everything is gonna be fine, Rook’s made of tougher stuff than this.”

He sighs, unsure of how he feels by the statement. It’s meant to comfort him, and it does some part of him. He wants Rook to be okay, fuck does he need her to be okay.  But, Whitehorse’s unwavering faith in her strength, makes him feel all the more pathetic in comparison.

The hospital room door opens, a doctor walking out, looking over at Whitehorse and Staci.

“You can come in now, if you’d like.”

Staci follows behind Whitehorse as they walk into the little clinic room, off white walls and floors greeting them. Rook’s sitting on the side of the white sheeted bed; seeing her cleaned up and moving is instant relief for Staci’s frayed nerves. Her face is bruised, her eye still messed up, but she’s no longer painted red with her own blood. His hands twitch, he realizes he wants to hug her, to pull her close and feel that she’s truly okay. But he can’t find the nerve to do it, unsure of how the young woman would react. 

“So, what’re you dealing with?” Whitehorse asks her and she sighs. 

“Needed some stitches, some glass scratched my cornea so vision in this eye is gonna be a little blurry, but it will heal. Minor skull fracture.” 

“Skull fracture?” Staci can’t help but blurt out, that’s  bad, isn’t it? Skulls are kind of important, being the thing that protects your brain. Why the hell is she just shrugging it off?

“It’s not bad, they don’t do anything for it. My head is gonna hurt like hell for a bit,” she shrugs, “if spinal fluid starts coming out my ears and nose, call 911, though I think that’s the rule for everyone.” 

“Alright,” Whitehorse speaks up, “there’s gonna be some paperwork to take care of with your injury and your time off.” 

“I’m not taking time off.” She’s emphatic, shaking her head like the sheriff is ridiculous to even suggest something like that. 

“I’m not sending you out like this, Rookie, you need to worry about healing up.” 

“You want me to take time off, during my probationary hire, that’s ridiculous.” 

“Don’t stress, it’s not going to affect anything, just take two weeks off-” 

“One week, max.” 

“Fine, one week," Whitehorse gives him with a hefty sigh, "just take it easy. And actually take it easy, not doing anything to hurt yourself in the meantime.” 

“Pfff,” she huffs out a breath and rolls her eyes, hopping up from the bed. 

“We’ll go back to the station and take care of the paperwork.” 

Whitehorse puts a hand on Staci’s back; the other on Rook’s as he walks them out the door. Staci feels exhausted as he gets into Whitehorse’s truck with them, someone having taken the cruiser back to the station for them. His body slackening into dead weight as he leans against the door; his nerves are shot to hell and back, he just wants to collapse after everything. She’s okay and that’s what matters most; his own insecurities be damned. 

They arrive at the station; since it’s regarding just her injury and leave, Staci isn’t needed for the paperwork on this one. He instead waits outside, he’s not sure why, but he doesn’t feel ready to just go home yet. It’s after shift and usually he’d be at The Spread Eagle by now, sipping cheap beer and shooting the shit with Joey. 

Speak of the devil, the older  deputy is coming down the hall, nearly jogging towards him. And he’s wondering if she’s felt the way he did when he heard something happened to Danny, before they told him about the former deputy’s death. That anxiety of knowing something is wrong but not knowing the details, fear building ideas of what could have happened. 

“What the hell is going on?” 

“Rook got hurt, she’s gonna be okay, but, uh, Whitehorse is giving her the week off.” 

“Thank god,” Joey lets out a sigh of relief, tension noticeably leaving her body, “I thought, jesus, I don’t know what I thought.” 

“Yeah, uh, been a rough day…” 

“How you holding up?” 

“I fucking choked, Joey. The asshole was trying to kick her damn brains in and I choked.” 

“You can’t blame yourself,” she tells him, a faraway look in her eye, “I get it, I do, but you can’t blame anyone but the asshole who hurt her.” 

“It's not just that…” He sighs; is he really going to have this conversation? It feels so damn pathetic. 

“So, what is it?” 

“I...don’t worry about it.” 

“Well, I’m certainly not gonna complain about skipping the feely talks. But, uh, for what it’s worth, hindsight is twenty-twenty. Beating yourself up over what you should have done, what you wish you’d have done, is pointless. You do your best in the moment and it’s all you can do.” 

“I guess…” 

“So...how this affect your little crush on Rook?” She asks after a beat of silence, trying to turn the conversation light-hearted.

“Ugh, don’t call it that. The only crush around here is Rook’s on you.” 

“Yeah, right. You got it bad and we both know it.”

“I might have asked her if she’s gay.”

“Seriously, Pratt?” 

“What,” he says halfway through a laugh, “she always follow you around like a puppy dog, I had to make sure I even had a chance.” 

“Well, do you?” 

“Maybe…if she stops crushing on you.” 

“Eh, that’s nothing, she’ll be over it before you know it.” 

“What makes you so sure?” 

“The only reason she’s like that with me is ‘cause she thinks I’m pretty, it’s completely superficial, like a little kid.”

“Well, do me a favor and stop being pretty?” 

“No can do, you just gotta sack up and ask her out.” 

“‘Cause the F.A.N.G Center went so well.” 

“Okay, so ask her out and this time, be specific and talk slow.” 

“She’s oblivious, not brain damaged.” 

“Ehhh, debatable.” 

He thinks for a moment, he likes Rook, he does. She’s cute and spending time with her is nice; being able to tease each other has made his job way less mind numbing. Relationships that go beyond the bedroom have never been his forte; it’s honestly been a while since he’s been on an actual date. But, he thinks it could be nice with her. There’s no telling if they’d actually click romantically, that’s not something you find out until you try it. It could be worth a shot. 

But he thinks about today and thinks about the future for a moment, something he’s not fond of doing. Rook is still on probationary hire; who’s to say she’ll be here after the six month period. He doubts Whitehorse will get rid of her, maybe due to her age, he handles her with kid gloves and he’s always been a bit soft as far as sheriffs go anyway. But,  it’s always a possibility if she crosses too big of a line or does something unforgivable. 

Hell, she might decide she wants to leave, might realize Hope County is just not the place for her and head back to Louisiana. 

 At the moment he just likes her, nothing intense, nothing he can’t deal with losing. If he found out tomorrow she was fired and leaving, he’d be bummed sure, but he’d recover relatively quickly. But if they started dating, if it worked out and one date led to another. If they hit it off, meshed as well as he thinks they could and that ‘like’ grew into something more and then she had to leave... 

“Once her probationary hire is over, I’ll do it,” he says out loud, committing himself to the action in front of Joey. Once that threshold has been crossed, once he has a little more reassurance that he can pursue Rook without fear of her leaving, he’ll go for it. 

“You sure you can hold out that long?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You tell me, Mister asked her out on the first day.” 

“Shut up.” 

Dahlia signs the last of the paperwork, her hand cramping, all of this fuss because someone hit her with a beer bottle. She’s still sick from the idea of having to take off a week, better than two, but she’d rather just do her job. So, her vision in one eye is a little blurry and her head hurts like crazy, big deal. 

“There’s something else to address.” 

“What’s that?” She raises an eyebrow at Whitehorse, let her out of paperwork hell, please. 

“It’s up to you if you want us to press charges against him for assaulting you.” 

“Oh.” 

“If it matters, we’ve dealt with Ben a lot, he’s been beating his wife black and blue for years. But, she’s never willing to press charges and nothing’s been severe enough to bring him up on charges from the state.”

“Let’s do it, then.” She’s not sure how much it will help, without counseling and after care, who knows if the cycle can break. But, if she can get the guy put away, it will at least give her a chance to get out without fear of repercussions. 

There’s some more paperwork associated with that, filling out a statement and the like. But, that’s more than worth it. She finishes it up and is massaging her hand to help alleviate the muscles that are cramping in distress. 

“Also-”

“If I have to sign one more piece of paper, I’m gonna kill you.” She cuts him off and earns a chuckle in response. 

“No, I just wanted to tell you, hell of a job, today.” 

“All I did was get beat up.” 

“You were in a high stress situation and you resolved it as best you could, you subdued him without deadly force, and showed you know how to handle yourself.”

“The standards are low, aren’t they?” 

“You did good, be proud of yourself for a moment,” he tells her, squeezing her shoulder as he passes by.  Her heart warms at the gesture, he thinks she did good. Despite being stuck taking a week off, he still thinks she did well. 

Hands in her pockets, she’s grinning as she leaves the office, Hudson and Pratt are just outside; talking about who knows what. They’re usually off drinking right now, but he seemed freaked out about her injury, maybe he’s trying to make sure she’s okay. She’d appreciate it if that were the case. 

“Hey, Rook,” Hudson greets her, bright smile, and Dahlia gives a small nod of her head. Unable to force words out of her throat. 

“Everything taken care of?” 

“Yeah...guess I’ll get to see you guys in a week,” she grumbles, still upset about it. 

“Hey,” Hudson stops her before she can leave, “why don’t you come out to The Spread Eagle with us?” 

“You know I can’t drink, right?” 

“They serve water and pop,” Hudson says, shrugging. 

“Um, okay…”  Dahlia scratches sheepishly at the back of her neck, she gets to go out with them, her heart is warm. Between Whitehorse’s praise and being invited out with the other deputies, this is a pretty good night. 

“Is that why you weren’t tagging along with us?” Pratt asks as they start to head towards the door. 

“I didn’t know you wanted me to tag along…” 

“Oh my god, you awkward little disaster.” Pratt ruffles her hair as he insults her and she playfully smacks his side, happy to see him joking around again. 

The neon sign of The Spread Eagle flickers above Dahlia’s head as they walk to the old bar. It’s cheesy and ridiculous the logo of a scantily clad woman with she assumes eagle wings.

 “So, I'm gonna live my life like it's my last damn night.”

“Cause when the clock strikes twelve, we're all gonna go to hell”

 The jukebox and lowlight greet them, people spread around drinking at the bar and cozied up over the wooden tables. A little stage in the corner for those nights when they have live music. Behind the bar, Mary May works away at getting people their drinks, honey blonde hair tied up in a bun and her flannel’s sleeves pushed up to her elbows. A window behind her shows a glimmer of the kitchen, an older man with dark hair slaving over the orders.

“You’re late,” Mary May teases Hudson and Pratt as the deputies all grab seats at the bar, Dahlia between the two of them.  

She’s never sat at a bar before and something about it feels decidedly mature to the young officer. That is until she can barely climb up there and unlike her two coworkers, her legs aren’t long enough for her feet to comfortable rest on the ground or even part of the stool. Her legs left to swing like a child’s.

“You can blame the probie for that one.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ll try not to get my ass kicked in the future.” 

“You finally gonna get your round of free drinks, hero?” Mary May asks her, a slight smile on her face and dear god, why must the women in this county be so pretty? The apples of Dahlia’s cheeks are growing warm. 

“‘Fraid I can’t, still got a year before that’s legal,” she says, never mind if it’s maybe a bit closer to a year and three months. 

“Well, a free meal it is then.” 

“No, no, I can’t do that,” She quickly dismisses the idea, local businesses tend to need every dime they can get, she’s not letting Mary May cut herself short just because Dahlia did her job. 

“Seriously, if it weren’t for you, I’d be shut down for the month, it is the least I can do.” 

“Give it up, Rook, she’s not gonna budge,” Pratt tells her. 

“She’s stubborn as a mule,” Hudson warns. 

“You heard them, cowboy, your money’s no good here.” The cowboy nickname is a new one, but Dahlia doesn’t mind it, or the way it makes her smile. 

“Fine, free meal, but I’m tipping.” 

“Okay, okay, I can work with that.” 

Hudson and Pratt get cheap weak beers and Dahlia gets a pop as they look over the food options. Everything makes her stomach growl; desperate for something more than convenience store food or microwave meals. There’s a sign below the window into the kitchen, saying they deliver, she wonders if the trailer park is too far away for it.

She decides to try something she’s never eaten before, a burger with huckleberry barbecue sauce, never having heard of the condiment before. Orders in, she can’t help but look around the room, taking in the decorations. Newspaper clippings beneath a neon blinking sign for Lease Lager, a little flag for Hope County Cougars, and a smaller flyer advertising something she’s seen billboards for all over; the Testicle Festival, advertised with a little screaming cartoon bull.

“The fuck is a Testicle Festival?”

“Pffff,” Pratt laughs and chokes on his beer, pulling it away and licking the beer away from his lips. Hudson cracks a big grin, pressing a hand to her mouth to hold back chuckles.

“I mean, it’s basically exactly what you sound like,” the older woman says, shrugging her shoulders.

“People get together and eat bull balls,” Pratt adds.

“Willingly?”

They both laugh as Dahlia looks at them wide eyed, that’s so fucking gross, why the fuck would someone eat that? She’s never been one to turn her nose up at any meal, but that so disgusting, her stomach churning at the very idea.

“Yeah, it’s a thing, I, don’t know what to tell you.”

“Montana is gross…”

“Oh, shut up, I’m sure they eat gross shit in Louisiana too.”

“Not really,” she shakes her head at Pratt, trying to think of the weirdest food she’s ate, well weird to them, “I mean, I’ve had alligator before.”

“You’ve ate alligator?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t think that’s weird?”

“I didn’t eat it’s balls!”

They cackle and laugh at her outburst, she’s joining along before she knows it, face flushing as she cracks up. She barely can remember the ache in her head or the blur in her vision, the more painful moments of the day forgotten as she loses herself in dumb banter and jokes. The burger is incredible, she’d lick the plate clean if she wasn’t in public. Hell, that fact is barely holding her back. She’s not sure how many colas she’s drank her way through, but at some point, her bladder is screaming at her.

“Let me guess, you gotta piss,” Pratt taunts her, reminding her of their little bickering match this evening, she’s an adult she’s allowed to piss.

“Fuck off.” She grabs a grimy fry off the ground andt she drops it down into his beer as she walks by.

She uses the bathroom and washes her hands, catching her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she does so. It’s the first time she’s got a proper look at herself since she was beat up. Stitches over the laceration under her eye, the skin bruised, the white of her eye purple with busted blood vessel with the brown of her eye blurring into it. An absolute mess and she grins.

There’s something fulfilling about getting in a fight, not starting but, making it through one.  Having the marks to show it, knowing she held her own. Whether it was fights in school or when she’d fight back against her step-father, no matter how it ended up, she’d feel proud of herself. Whether because she fought back or simply because she survived. The aftermath was nothing more than a badge of honor marking what she went through. She’d take a thousand more stitches and bruises over the week off, if she’s being completely honest. Dahlia leaves the bathroom once her hands dry, shoving them in her pocket as she goes.

Oooh, oooh, ooh~

If I told you a lie, you could smile, my love.

You’d never understand.

The jukebox hums and Dahlia finds her eyes looking around the room, taking in the faces of the patrons. A shift of a door and the step of boots draws her eyes towards the door. Her breath catches in her throat, what the hell is a Seed doing here?

John Seed, the youngest of the brothers, is walking through the door. All of the siblings make her uncomfortable in some fashion, largely to do with their religiosity, but then they each have their own unique brand of unsettling. John reminds her of a sleazy car salesman, too sharp smiles that don’t reach his eyes. Even when he shook her hand at the church, something about him felt off, like he’s wearing a mask but she can’t quite tell what’s under it.

If I told you a tale, you’d cry, my love.

You’d never hold my hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Mary May yells over the bar, when she sees him.

There’s a glimmer of something in his eyes when he looks at her, not unlike a cat finding a mouse to tear apart.  He strides to the bar with purposeful steps and he smirks, but unlike those salesman smiles, it reaches his eyes.

“I just thought I’d check in,” his eyes lazily scan the room, looking at the beer bottles and glasses of whiskey in patron’s hands, “do we really need to have this conversation again?”  

“It’s a bar, the hell you expect me to serve?”

“I expect,” John puts his hand on the bar with a sharp sound, “you to listen to reason and start to understand your position.”

“Is something wrong?” Dahlia’s question escapes her without another thought, everything about John’s body language putting her on edge. 

When it all bleeds out, you don’t know.”

When it all bleeds out.

John’s eyes leave Mary May and land on Dahlia, those piercing blue eyes cutting through to her core. He looks her up and down, as if she’s the mouse now. But she doesn’t shrink away or avoid his gaze, unwilling to show any signs of backing down in the face of his intensity. 

Wake up, little man.

Don’t you break her heart. 

“Dep-yoo-tee,” John speaks in a low drawn out way, emphasizing every syllable with the slow drag of his gaze on her.

“Stay out of it, Rook,” Pratt warns her as she walks past him and Hudson at the bar. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, why the fuck would she stay out of it? Supposedly, John already tried to get members of Eden’s Gate to steal Mary May’s alcohol shipment and now he’s showing up to push her around; fuck that shit.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Oh c’mon, little man.

Don’t you fall apart. 

“I was just trying to have a little talk with Mary May, though she’s never been one for civility. More importantly, what happened here?”

He reaches out towards her face and she flinches out of reflex, John’s fingers grazing her bruised cheek before she smacks his hand away. Not sharp enough to truly hurt, but enough to force him away.

When the devil’s got you, but only by the hand. 

“Hazard of the job and, please, don’t touch me.”

John’s eyebrows furrow, eyes growing dark and face scrunching for a moment in anger before he forces a soft smile. It doesn’t touch the stormy look in his eyes; another little mask hiding whatever’s lurking beneath the surface.

Let go, little man.

Let go, little man.

“Ah, you poor thing, you” his voice deepens with concern, but it feels more like pity. He fidgets with his sleeves and lets out a sigh, irritation seeping through the false concern. She has to resist the urge to smile, something satisfying in seeing his true emotions bubbling up.

“It is what it is, are you done with your ‘little talk’ now?”

His nostrils flare and he bites his lip, it feels like poking a bear, but she’s having fun with it. He gives another fake smile and she wants to wipe it off his face.

“With Mary May, yes, but I was hoping to speak with you more. Though,” he looks around, “this is hardly an ideal setting. Have you given any more thought to tomorrow?”

“Like, I said before, I have to work,” she says the white lie and dismisses him with a shrug, hopeful it will appease the Gucci wearing gremlin in front of her.

“You know, it’s not often The Father goes to the trouble of inviting someone himself,” he tells her, as if it’s meant to entice her. Instead the title ‘The Father’ just makes her skin crawl, not unlike the title her step-father took on with his own church. As if she needed more reasons to avoid these people.

“What are you talking about, Rook? You got a week off for your injury, remember?”  Pratt pipes up and Dahlia’s blood runs cold, why the fuck would he do that to her? Why would he do that? John’s eyes go bright and a sly smile stretches across his face.

“Wonderful, I’ll see you there, dep-yoo-ty, service begins at nine in the morning.” John gives her arm a hard squeeze before he leaves, Dahlia’s skin crawling beneath his touch. Empty air where he once was within the next moment.

Yeah, I vow to the moon, yeah, I howl at the wind.

I’m bleeding and I can’t stay clean.

 She’s expected to come to the service, dear god. The air is punched out of her lungs. Even being outside of a church put her nerves on edge, she’s not sure if she could step foot in one without getting sick.  She moves behind Pratt and puts her hand on his shoulders.

“Hey, Rook, what are you-uuck-” Pratt’s words cut off as she moves and wraps her hands on either side around his throat. Not hard enough to genuinely hurt him, but enough to feel it as she shakes him and pretends to wring his neck .

“Why the fuck would you do that?!”

“It was funny,” he defends himself when she lets go and throws herself onto her chair, bringing one foot up into the seat as she leans back. Her body going slack with exasperation, she’s seriously going to have to go church?

“I fucking hate you, I actually fucking hate you.”

“God, you’re dramatic. It’s church, not like I volunteered you for a root canal.”

“I’d rather have the root canal.” She tosses her head back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. Pratt doesn’t know her issue with religion, she knows that, so she can’t truly be angry at him. But, fuck, would it have killed him to keep his mouth shut?

“Well, I think I should probably get out of here before Rook kills me,” Pratt says as he pays for his meal and drink, standing up from his seat.

“I’m gonna head home too,” Hudson stands up and ruffles Dahlia’s hair, “cheer up, Rookie.”

Dahlia doesn’t even have the energy to get worked up about Hudson’s touch, peacefully letting the casual touch come and go with a mere blush. Then the two have left and Dahlia is trying to gather the energy to get up, with the looming reality that she’s expected to go to church in the morning, she no longer wants this night to end.

“Deputy,” Mary May says after a moment, baby blues watching Dahlia sigh and rub a hand down her face.

“Hmm?” Dahlia straightens her posture enough to look at Mary May properly, realizing how somber the bartender’s expression and posture really is. The blonde chews her lip, looking away, visibly searching for her words.

“Eden’s Gate has been in this county for a long time, hell, I was in high school when they moved in on us. They started buying places out left and right, they own half the damn county, now.”

“They have that much money?” Dahlia can’t help but ask, aren’t churches relatively low profit ventures, assuming you aren’t selling snake oil or asking people to donate money for Jesus.

“Got that much money, that much power, and they know how to twist the law to suit their needs. They want the entire county and everyone in it under their thumb…”

Her knuckles whiten as she grips the edge of the bar, a far away look in her soft blue eyes. Dahlia puts her hand over Mary May’s, hoping the warmth of her touch can help ease the sting, even if she’s not sure what’s hurting the blonde. It’s enough in the moment, it seems, Mary May looking up at her and giving a soft smile, speaking again after a beat of silence.

“You’re one of the few people around here who’s not rolling over and letting them do whatever the hell they want. I don’t wanna see that change. Just do me a favor, don’t drink the Kool-Aid.”

“Look at me,” Dahlia looks directly into Mary May’s eyes, “I’d rather play jump rope with my own intestines than join a church.”

“Good.”

Mary May is satisfied with that answer, smiling as she’s called away to get someone else a drink. Dahlia’s not sure what the history is there with her and John, but clearly something has happened. Other than the Eden’s Gate members stealing alcohol and Lonny’s asshole behavior, there’s not conclusive evidence that they’ve done anything more than petty theft. John’s opinion on Mary May selling alcohol, supporting that he might ask them to do that. Otherwise, anything else is just bad feelings and hearsay. She wants to trust they’re good people, just staunch in their beliefs and a little strange, always wanting the believe the best of people. But, she’s going to be sure to keep an ear to the ground and stay wary of them, knowing she’s apparently not the only one concerned about their shit.

Dahlia shakes her head and gets out her wallet, getting out enough for the meal and then some, calling it all a tip for the sake of getting past Mary May’s generosity. She puts it down on the bar under her plate, letting the bartender know she’s taking off for the night.

The night air chills her skin as she leaves the bar before she’s caught. She pulls a cigarette out as she loiters outside the bar, leaning back against the building’s porch. Dahlia takes a deep inhale looking off into the distance.

Even in the valley, the statue of Joseph Seed is looming in the distance, the tallest thing in the entire county. There must be light around it, setting the statue aglow at night. She lets out the smoke in her lungs as she’s reminded of the real man. It wasn’t long ago she could barely believe he was a real living person. The statue makes him seem too large, too imposing, too important to be tangible. Meeting him and his family still feels like a fever dream.

Faith is like a living fairy, floating along in a white dress with flowers in her hair. An ethereal being with long dirty blonde hair and bright green eyes. Dahlia’s dream or perhaps exhaustion induced hallucinations of chasing after her still making the woman feel like a specter.

John feels like someone pretending to be human or maybe it’s just how out of place he seems in the rustic little county.  Dark slicked back hair, designer shades always on top of his head, silk shirts, and tailored vests; he looks like a Ken doll someone drew tattoos on.

The brother who didn’t bother to offer his name cuts possibly the most intimidating figure of them. He seemed larger than life. At least six foot six and wider than a door, dressed in army attire with his ginger hair shaved at the sides. The man could snap her spine in half if he had a half a mind to.

Then there’s Joseph, The Father, goosebumps raise on her skin when she thinks of his title. It’s bias, projections of her trauma that bring up those gross feelings when in reality he’s done nothing to her. His statue is true to his likeness in some ways, dark hair pulled back in a small bun and the full beard that seems standard for all men in Eden’s Gate. But at the end of it all, the statue is a composed sterilized version of the intense man who stood in front of her. The concrete can’t capture the intensity of his blue eyes, the way they cut through her, the way his choice of sunglasses turn them green. His unblinking stare as he stood out in the cold of night, shirtless with ink and scars marring his skin, sweat still sticking to him and strands of hair falling into his face.

But despite the wild appearance, he spoke calmly, he spoke deliberately and with devotion. He’s intense and he’s all encompassing, everything about him is too much, from his stare to the way his touch lingered for a moment more than it should have. His presences like a raging fire that can’t be ignored. 

She has no real reason to dislike him, he’s done nothing cruel, he hasn’t wronged her. But every fiber of her being screams at her to stay away, that he’s everything she doesn’t want near her. A forest fire that her body is urging her to run away, lest she be burned to ashes.

It may be paranoia and experience perverting her feelings; and it may be gut instinct trying to save her.  

But regardless, it seems she’ll be burned alive come morning.