#it’s simply this. four women and five men won’t meet.

[clwonking]

In Trousers (The Dream) is The song to ever song of all time.

[centerforhci]

5 Tips for Asking for What you Want in Today’s Workplace

CHCI is honored to have Anne Loehr, Executive Vice President, mentioned in this article on 5 Tips for Asking for What you Want in Today’s Workplace that was published on Financial Management. Thanks, Hannah Pitstick for the excellent interview questions!

You can’t always get what you want, but the odds are much higher if you ask for it. The economic uncertainty of the past year deterred many employees from asking for promotions and raises, according to an Indeed survey, with women 12.1% less likely to ask for a pay rise and men 8.6% less likely. At the same time, employees became more comfortable asking for increased flexibility at work.

As the world continues to adjust to the COVID-19 pandemic, there has perhaps been no better time to ask for what you want in the workplace, according to Anne Loehr, an author and leadership coach based in Reston, Virginia.

“I can’t overstate the importance of asking for what you want,” Loehr said. “There’s no shame in asking for it, and no shame in not getting it either.”

While it never hurts to ask, your request is more likely to be granted if you consider your manager’s point of view and approach the situation from a place of clarity and mindfulness. Here are some steps to assertively asking for what you want in the workplace:

Get clear about what you want. Before you approach your boss or manager, you should spend some time figuring out exactly what it is you want. You may think you want a promotion or the option to permanently work from home, but when your request is granted, you might realise it’s not what you wanted after all.

“If you want more time off, what exactly does that look like?” Loehr said. “Does it look like a flexible workday? Does it look like remote work? Does it mean you can leave at noon? Simply asking for ‘time off’ is a bit vague.”

Take a moment to get at the root of your request. For example, if you think you want to be placed into a management role, consider the number of people you want to manage, the type of people you want to manage, and what you hope your day-to-day tasks will include. Write it down and review your desired outcomes before talking to management.

“Use your five senses to dig down, meaning what would it look like, sound like, and feel like when you got whatever you wanted,” Loehr said.

Outline the benefits for your audience. When framing your request, it can be easy to get caught up in why you want something and forget about why it could also be great for your manager.

“Put some thought into what the benefits are to your manager or colleague if they let you work remotely or take on this assignment,” said Amy Vetter, CPA/CITP, CGMA, the CEO of The B3 Method Institute in the US. “Usually, it’s something like you will be more effective, more productive, or it will improve performance. That way it’s less of asking for a favour and more ‘I’m actually helping you out here.'”

If your manager tends to respond well to numbers, you could even calculate the benefits for them. For example, if your productivity increased by 25% while you worked from home over the past year, you could request to continue working from home four days a week in order to maintain a 20% increase in productivity for the remainder of the year.

Customise your approach to your manager. Not all managers are the same, and you might need to tailor your approach to suit their personality and leadership style.

“If you’re working with an introvert, you might want to tee up the conversation,” Loehr said. “Let them know you want to schedule a time to talk about your career development so at least they won’t feel completely ambushed.”

In most cases, you will want to have the conversation in person or at least over a video call so you can observe body language, tone, and facial expressions.

“You’re always going to interpret emails and written messages based on how you’re feeling, and not necessarily on what the other person intended, so meet with them in person or over video,” Vetter said.

Before scheduling the conversation, it can also help to figure out the time of day or week your manager is most relaxed and open to suggestion. Don’t try to approach them with a request when they seem overwhelmed or stressed, and try to determine whether they will respond better to an emotional, data-driven, or straightforward appeal.

“If you come in armed with a lot of numbers and research, you might just set someone on the defensive,” Vetter said. “Not that you shouldn’t know what’s standard for the industry, but you don’t want to come in with threats, and you don’t want to come in with assumptions thinking the worst.”

Be present during the conversation. Too often people walk into these conversations preoccupied with their own thoughts and worries, and fail to be truly present, according to Vetter.

“Just be in the present moment, accept the conversation as it is, ask a lot of questions, and show compassion for your boss,” Vetter said.

Vetter recommended taking a few minutes of silence without distractions before the conversation to get into a positive and relaxed mindset. And during the conversation, make a point of listening to what your manager is saying and then try to get underneath their answers to pinpoint their “why”. If their reasoning is unclear, try asking your question in different ways and use open-ended questions without revealing your opinion, to encourage them to be frank about their thought process.

Follow up after allowing time to process. It’s very possible that your request won’t be immediately granted during the initial meeting, and that’s OK.

“This is a conversation, not a one-off, and it’s probably going to be multiple conversations,” Loehr said.

If your manager or boss doesn’t give you an immediate yes, tell them you would like to schedule a time a few days, weeks, or months later to pick up the conversation after you both have had some time to think things over. If they immediately refuse your request, you could ask to schedule another meeting to discuss their reasons for that.

“Don’t necessarily expect a resolution in that moment, but set a time for when you will have that follow-up meeting, giving yourself time to decompress, think about the conversation, and maybe take some other people’s input before you come back with your answer,” Vetter said.

Hannah Pitstick is a freelance writer based in the US. To comment on this article or to suggest an idea for another article, contact Drew Adamek, an FM magazine senior editor, at Andrew.Adamek@aicpa-cima.com.

Let’s share experiences. Leave a comment below, send me an email, or find me on Twitter.

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[giorno-plays-piano]

Vicious

Part II

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, all characters are adults.

Words: 1891.

Part I

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

P.S. To avoid any confusion, I changed the name Savages -> Vicious.

________________________

The next day you spent doubting your own decisions. Was it really wise to leave everything to Steve? How could he find those students all by himself and deal with your problem? Could he really stop them from acting like that? You thought once again it would be so much easier to ask for a transfer, but you had already given him your word to meet him today at 5. It would be very inappropriate not to come when he was trying to help you.

When the time came, you were sneaking in the student council room as if you were some petty thief. You were afraid people would start talking: if everybody knew who stole your things, they would understand you came to Steve for help like a little girl. It was embarrassing - even in a situation like this. Besides, somebody could be following you since at 5 pm the academy was almost empty.

By the time you reached the right door, you heart was beating as if you had just run a marathon. You really, really hoped Steve found some solution, and you wouldn’t have to be humiliated by the student advisor for wanting to leave the school.

Opening the door, you saw a couple of students on the sofa and quickly stepped away, afraid the student council was still having a meeting, “Ugh, sorry!”

“Come in, please,” Steve said calmly behind the door, and you shyly got in again, watching four other guys staring at you with interest. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“What, they too?” You were so perplexed by his words you forgot your manners, speaking of others as if they weren’t in the same room. “I’m sorry, I mean, I didn’t know you were involved.”

Wait, were they the ones who stole your things? Did Steve bring them here for you?

“No need to be so nervous.” One of them, a guy with long, jet black hair forming waves around his shoulders told you, motioning you to come closer and sit in one of the chairs opposing the sofa where he sat. “We’re here to help you.”

You remembered his name was Loki. A mathematic genius, he was considered one of the top students of the academy.

“That’s right! Come, come!” Seeing Peter among others was surprising, but his smiling face made you calm down a little, and you smiled at him in return. 

No, they weren’t those guys who stole your underwear, for sure. Apparently, Steve asked them to join you because they knew something and could give you a hand in finding those bastards.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me.” Feeling a little self-conscious among five different men you'd barely known, you landed on one of the chairs and saw that the other two were Bucky and a captain of the academy’s basketball team, Thor. “Did you find out anything?”

“Yes,” Steve said with a loud sigh, “I know exactly who they are. I can hand them over to the school’s officials and get them expelled by tomorrow, but that’s not the real issue here.”

You felt the chills ran up your back. What did he mean by the real issue?

“Is there something else?”

When you saw Loki smirking at you, you suddenly realized you were among five strong men in the student council room on the fifth floor where most classrooms were already empty. If you screamed, nobody would even hear you.

“Stop it.” Bucky’s angry voice cut through the silence, and you saw him literally burning a hole in Loki’s face. “Don’t make her scared, freak.”

Obviously, he wanted to say something offensive to Barnes in return, but Steve silenced them both with his icy glare. Loki sent him an innocent smile while Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes in irritation. It felt like they were in the middle of some school play, and you bit down on your lower lip, having a feeling something was going horribly wrong.

“The thing is, even if we got those ones expelled, it probably won’t stop the others from doing something similar.” Steve leaned up against a desk with his arms crossed over his chest. “I feel terrible admitting it, but many of our students are completely wild. I’m afraid they might keep harassing you.”

“Oh.”

You averted your eyes, realizing your attempts to find a solution were futile. Obviously, Steve could do nothing - he wasn’t a knight in shining armor, ready to protect you day and night from those delinquents who followed you everywhere. As you thought before, the one thing that could help here was leaving the school for good.

Shit, you didn’t know how to explain it to your family, Even your friends thought it was too bizarre to be true and laughed at your worries, saying you probably lost your things yourself. You would have to find a better excuse for a transfer in the middle of the semester.

“Well, anyway, thank you for trying,” you nodded and smiled apologetically at him as if it were your fault, “tomorrow I will talk to the student advisor about my transfer. Sorry for the trouble!”

“I don’t think it’s real to get transferred by now. It’s passed all the deadlines.” Shaking his head, Bucky raised his voice, and you felt suffocating.

Apparently, you would really have to skip a whole year of school. Explaining everything to your family, looking for some garbage job to have enough money to rent a room and pay your bills... Fantastic.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ve found another way.” 

Immediately, you raised your head, your pupils dilating.

“You see, the reason they are doing that is because you have no one to protect you. They know the administration won’t take it seriously because they’re a bunch of old misogynists, and you also have no means of protecting yourself. It would be better if you started dating someone, someone strong enough to make these guys back down.”

Steve looked deadly serious for someone saying such nonsense. A boyfriend? Now? Was he for real? Did he think you'd be using someone like your personal shield? Besides, even if you chose the strongest guy at school, it didn’t mean he would be stronger if several people attacked him.

But when you shared your thoughts with Steve, you saw others smiling at you as if they knew you would say that, and you felt uneasy.

“That’s true. That’s why you need more than one boyfriend.”

“What do you mean? How can somebody have more than one boyfriend?" Puzzled, you stared at him wide-eyed as if he said something stupid.

What on Earth did he mean by that? Were you to have your own squad of bodyguards at all times while you were in the academy? This was so foolish you couldn't believe someone like Steve said it out loud.

But then you caught glances of five men in the room and forgot how to breathe for a second. They weren't serious, were they? Steve didn't assemble all these guys here to make them into your boyfriends. It was preposterous even thinking of that, right?

Right?

"Please tell me it's not what I think it is." You muttered, crossing your arms over your chest as if trying to protect yourself.

"Why are you being so nervous?" Baring his teeth, Loki smiled at you. "Some other girl would be happy if five men were to be her boyfriends."

"It's a joke, right? You're all joking."

You hoped to see any of them laughing and nodding their heads, saying they simply wanted to cheer you up, but all you saw was a guilty expression on the faces of Bucky and Thor and the excitement of others. They really gathered here to offer you this.

"All of us here," Steve looked upon others, becoming a little displeased when his gaze fell upon smiling Peter, "are perfectly capable of helping you. If each of us were to accompany you one day a week, others won't be so brave. I'm sure they will no longer be a nuisance to you if they know what we can do to them."

There was something very dark in the way Steve said that, and for a couple of seconds you weren't sure whether you have to be more scared of him rather than those who was stealing your things.

"But it would be very uncomfortable for everyone, wouldn't it? I mean, going with me everywhere, not using your own time as you'd like. And, well, surely, others will see that we won't act like a real couple, so they might still keep harassing me. I don't think it would work."

Apparently, Loki was bored with this talk, you thought as you heard him clicking his tongue in annoyance.

"Then don't pretend. Act like a real girlfriend. Kiss in public, hug, go to the cinema together, what else girls do?"

"Wait, you mean, with ALL of you?"

"Yeah? Do you think anyone gonna be against it?"

You very much hoped they would be. Being followed by someone like your bodyguard was one thing, but having a real boyfriend was very different. Did they really want to pretend to be lovey-dovey with you? Act like you were close to them?

Oh. Of course, they would. They belonged to the same kind of touch-starved barbaric men they were trying to protect you from. They would do all those things to you, too.

You realized you were crying only when Peter flew off his seat in a hurry and squatted down beside you, taking your shaking hands in warm his.

"Please, don't cry. Nobody's gonna force you into doing anything, I promise. You will only do things you're comfortable with, ok?" Handing you his pearly white handkerchief, he smiled to comfort you. "No one of us gonna say anything."

"And if she starts dating one of us for real? What's then?" It was Loki again, cocking his head to the side and obviously provoking Peter to yell at him.

"We'll be ok with that, too."

The silence felt heavy. As you opened your eyes, Peter's handkerchief in your hands, you realized it was Thor who spoke for the first time, and the way he looked at you softly made you feel a little better. Despite the fact you knew little of him, for some reason, it felt like you would be safe with him - certainly safer than with Loki.

"Naturally, if any of us will bring you discomfort or do something unacceptable, you need to let us all know, and we'll decide what to do with that person." Raising his voice, the head of the student council made everyone to turn their head to him. "We will be meeting here, in this room, if anything happens. Each of us will give you our phone numbers. We will also make a schedule who accompanies you every day of the week."

It seemed he no longer asked for your opinion if you even wanted it to happen.

__________

"Bucky will be with you on Mondays, Loki on Tuesdays. Wednesdays are Thor's, on Thursdays Peter will be following you, and on Fridays it will be me going with you. Of course, if you need any of us to watch over you on weekends, feel free to contact whoever of us you like more."

Part III

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @stupendouslovegarden

[luna-writes-stuff]

Chapter XXI

A Kili X OC fanfic

Previous chapter // Next chapter

Tw: Alcohol, drinking games, mentions of getting drunk and being tipsy. Alfrid, ew. More Raeli. Kili is insecure, dancing. Mentions of pain and fatigue. Fluff turned angst.

——————————————————————————

Swifties spot the Cowboy Like Me reference challenge

Loud talking and cheering was heard throughout the halls of the city hall of Laketown. Liquor and ale spilled over the floor as men and women were seen dancing and singing. Though many of the dwarves had managed to get themselves in quite the drinking games themselves, half of them sat in the distance, talking amongst themselves. Surprisingly, Raewyn was found at the table with Bofur, Nori, and Gloin, having some sort of drinking competition, empty cups thrown around them.

“Yer a good lass, Asha.” Gloin burped, after all four of them downed yet another ale.

“When we first met, I could have had your neck for what your father did, but yer not half as bad as they say.”

“You know she’s standing with us, right?” Nori asked, throwing a teasing side-eye to the red-haired dwarf.

“Aye, but she won’t remember it tomorrow morning.” He laughed off, slamming his fist on the table in humor. Both Bofur and Nori joined the laughter, shaking their heads as they wiped away their tears, as if it had been the joke of the century.

“I’m not drunk.” Raewyn smiled, gesturing towards the empty cups in front of her.

All laughter ceased immediately, looking at the woman in wonder.

“Part dwarf.” She shrugged off, standing up with a proud stance.

“I’m not drunk either.” Gloin proclaimed, standing up as well, though stumbling slightly.

“Me neither!” Bofur defended, rising to his feet as well.

“I’m not drunk!” Nori joined, though the dwarf fell over the second his figure left the chair.

Bofur looked down at the cups on the table, silencing doing the math in his head, though the gears in his head took longer to turn.

“Five pints!” He then exclaimed suddenly, another laugh ripping from his throat.

“Five!” Gloin repeated, looking down at the fallen dwarf, who was out cold. “I’m never going to let him live that down.”

Raewyn chuckled at his words, sitting down once more, now having made her point.

“Aren’t you even the tiniest bit…” Bofur trailed off, following the woman’s actions.

The ranger turned her head towards him, raising her shoulders lightly. “Perhaps a little tipsy, but I could still fight Smaug would the occasion arise.”

“Well, I couldn’t.” Bofur grinned, holding his hand up as he gestured for three more pints. “But I wouldn’t fight him when I was sober either.”

Once more, Gloin burst out laughing, falling down onto his seat. “Yer crazy for fighting him.” He choked out.

“No, she has to, remember?” Bofur chuckled, referring to their first meeting. “She has that list.”

“Oh, aye!” The fuller dwarf agreed, a smile still on his face. “What’s with that?”

“It’s something my father kept.” Raewyn spoke truthfully, nodding her head in thanks to the barmaid, who had given the dwarves three new cups.

“It was a list of everyone who was out there to hunt our family.”

Bofur furrowed his eyebrows together in confusion, simultaneously forcing himself to not look at the ale in front of him. “Did you not say Smaug was the last name on there?” He noted.

“Yes.”

“So, what happened to the rest?” He went on.

“You can’t be killed by that which doesn’t breathe anymore” She simply stated, taking the dwarf by surprise. In front of them, Gloin let out a gasp, already clutching his pint.

“You Ashas are relentless.” He acknowledged.

“It’s a good strategy.” The ranger shrugged off.

Both dwarves nodded at that statement, already raising their cups. Raewyn sighed in mocking annoyance, grabbing her pint too.

“One, two,” Bofur counted, before downing his drink. Gloin and Raewyn were quick to follow his lead, all three of them trying to get to that empty cup first.

The Asha threw her head back as she twisted the pint in her hand slightly, urging it to fall down quicker. Until, once more, she slammed down the empty cup, leaning back in her seat slightly as Gloin and Bofur were now drinking as if their lives depended on it, the ale spilling from their beard.

Both of them finished at the same time, letting out simultaneous burps, while staring at the woman, who smirked proudly.

“I don’t know how you do it.” Bofur gaped, shaking his head.

Gloin looked down at the floor beside her, trying to find any spills. “Don’t know where ye keep it.” He muttered.

“Right here.” She announced proudly, patting her stomach twice.

“Do you know where Kili is?” Fili suddenly interrupted, cutting the dwarves’ conversation short.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Raewyn spoke quietly, almost feeling guilty for uttering those words.

“You don’t? The two of you are practically attached to the hip.” Bofur joined in.

“Well, currently I am hiding from him.” The ranger explained, shooting Fili a guilty look.

“In plain sight?” Gloin asked, the alcohol already doing its work in his brain.

“It’s miraculous how often that works.” Raewyn explained, though the red-haired dwarf was the only one who laughed about it. But he had laughed the entire night, so perhaps it wasn’t even funny to begin with.

The blonde leaned over Raewyn’s seat, looking into her eyes intently. “Why are you hiding from him?”

“Long story,” She muttered, trying to keep the conversation between them. “He wants me to run away with him, but I wish to stay to defeat Smaug.”

“You rejected his proposal?” Fili gasped, taking a step back.

“His-his proposal?” She wondered, her face filled with confusion and wonder. When Fili’s hints finally connected in her head, she shook her head wildly, defending herself against his statement.

“N..No! He was concerned about the wound in my leg and told me we could run to Rivendell to fix it.”

“Is it that bad?” Bofur whispered, having heard the entire exchange between Fili and Raewyn.

“No!” She exclaimed, tired of the continuous concern. “It is a mere cut. It doesn’t even hurt that much, nor is it infected.”

Bofur let out a sigh of relief, gesturing for three other pints, which Fili quickly noticed. Once more, he leaned over her seat, trying to gain the woman’s attention.

“Will you help me look for him?” He pleaded, his eyes showing genuine concern. But Raewyn was too caught up in her game now.

“I’m in the middle of something.” She mumbled, trying to shoo him away without coming over as rude.

The dwarf took a glance at the six empty cups in front of her, forming his lips in a thin line.

“I think you’ve had enough.” He nodded through raised eyebrows.

“Oh, don’t worry, lad,” Gloin assured when finally heard Fili speak again. “She’s barely tipsy.”

“Never seen someone drink like that.” Bofur added, his lips twisting upwards at his words.

When Raewyn took a second look at Fili’s face, she could no longer deny his concerning face. He seemed to be truly worried for his brother, and why, Raewyn could not understand. But she could not deny him this.

So with a protesting groan she stood up, regaining her footing as she shifted her weight onto her left leg.

“It’s fine.” She decided. “I’ll come back later.”

“Alright,” Bofur smiled. “but we are going on without you.”

The ranger nodded at both dwarves, before throwing down a few coins, paying for her half of the ales. Fili stood behind her, waiting impatiently as he kept looking towards the crowd, trying to spot his missing brother.

When Raewyn walked towards him, his head snapped back to her, relief flooding his senses.

“They’re not going to be sitting here in a few minutes, are they?” He tried to joke.

“They will be sprawled out over the floor before I can even come back. Especially Bofur.” Raewyn agreed, laughing slightly as she walked with Fili towards the halls, where the crowd began to lessen.

“I will check upstairs, will you stay in the main hall?” Fili proposed

“I will. I’ll come and find you if he’s here.” The Asha agreed, nodding at the blonde as she turned around to leave. Yet, just before she could walk, she faced Fili again.

“What happened with him?”

“I have no idea,” Fili confessed. “Last I saw him, he looked all sad and down. Usually, he’ll come towards me to talk about it, but I haven’t seen him since.”

Anxieties began to take over his mind as his eyes widened slightly, suddenly looking out of the windows. “What if he ran off?”

Gently, Raewyn placed her hands on Fili’s shoulders, trying to calm him down. “Fili, he will be fine.” She promised. “He couldn’t have gotten far. And even if he has, he is no longer a clueless child. He’ll know what he’s doing.”

“I know.” The dwarf answered, looking down at his feet. “But he’s still my little brother.”

“We’ll find him.” The ranger encouraged, giving his shoulders a slight squeeze before letting go of him, showing him a tiny smile.

She nodded her head towards the stairs, urging him to look for Kili. Fili nodded gratefully as he spun around, already flying up the stairs.

——

It did not take long for Raewyn to find the missing dwarf. She had only wandered the main hall for a couple of minutes, before she laid eyes on a familiar figure on the other side of the window. She took a quick look behind, hoping Fili would run down the stairs any given moment, but alas; it was just her.

“Sorry,” She mumbled quietly as she pushed through the crowds, occasionally bumping into men and women twirling around the floor. Multiple shouts and protests were heard against the ranger, but she made no move to interact with them.

“Running off, are we?” That same slimy voice from earlier spoke. The greasy figure of Alfrid stood in front of the Asha, looking down at her with a grin that should not have been there.

“Do you not have behinds to kiss?” Raewyn shot back unbothered, pushing the man aside as she stormed outside, now picking up her pace, hoping he would not catch up with her.

She slammed the door closed with much force, startling Kili, who seemed to drown in his thoughts. Raewyn shuddered slightly at the thought of the man she encountered earlier, stumbling over to the dwarf.

“Something is up with that Alfrid, mark my words.” She announced, her voice filled with disgust.

Kili merely smiled at her words, though it did not take a fool to recognize it as a fake one.

With a heavy sigh, the woman sat down on the terrace next to him, her feet dangling down from between the fence. However, as she felt the blood rush to her leg, pressure suddenly building on her wound, she raised her leg, moving herself sidewards. She propped her leg up, resting her arm against it as her other leg continued to dangle.

“I’ll bite.” She spoke up, looking at Kili, who was staring towards the square intently. “What are you doing out here?”

“Getting some air.” He replied, not missing a beat.

A scoff escaped Raewyn’s mouth, causing Kili to finally look at her.

“You never do that.” She observed. “What’s going on?”

The dwarf next to her allowed a frown to pass his face, followed by a laugh that sounded too much as a coverup. “Nothing. Nothing is going on.” He argued gently.

“Did we not promise no more lies?” Raewyn asked through raised eyebrows. “Besides, I can tell when you are dishonest. You fumble with your sleeves.”

The ranger gestured towards Kili’s hands, who immediately stopped moving at her words. He looked down at them, forming them into fists.

“Amad always says that.” He revealed.

“Because it’s true.” Raewyn mused, patting his hand lightly before returning hers. Hesitantly, she placed her head on his shoulder, looking at Laketown with him. “What’s wrong, Ki?”

Nothing followed her question for a moment. Silence and frozen figures are what she was left with for a short minute. Kili was weighing his options in his head, but he figured Raewyn would know when he was lying. And he had forced her to be honest to him. So he would return his promise.

With a sharp inhale, he gestured to his chin, making Raewyn raise her head in confusion.

“Your face?”

“My beard.” Kili motioned. “Or lack thereof. You were so cheerful around Gloin and Bofur, it makes me look ridiculous.”

The ranger dared to risk a smile at him, resting her head back on his shoulder. “You think I care about how someone looks when I talk with them?”

Once more, Kili remained silent at her words, letting everything sink in. Thus far, only his brother knew about his troubles, and though Raewyn did make him feel safe and endeared, he felt defeated at having to voice his insecurities again. He hated being reminded of them.

“I don’t think I’ll ever have a beard.” He whispered, letting his head fall against her in a slow motion.

“Oh, Kili,” She sympathized. “It’s not the end of the world, right? I understand that dwarven norms nearly force you to have a beard, but it is something that has to grow naturally. You can’t beat yourself up about something you can’t influence. I don’t have a beard either.”

“You’re an Asha.” The dwarf tried to justify. “You have a human gene pool.”

“The only human about my genes is the fact that I look like a shrunken version of one.” Raewyn joked, her hand now trailing back to his, squeezing it in reassurance, knowing she was not the best with words.

“You have the nose and the ears of a dwarf.” Kili debated, taking hold of her hand as his free one pushed up the sleeve of her dress. “Plus the hair on your arms and legs.”

The ranger chuckled at him, pulling her sleeve back down, the icy cold of Laketown already biting through.

“Would I be crazy if I told you I am proud of them?” She joked.

Kili finally let out a low chuckle, humming in response as he stared at the snowflakes falling down from the sky. For a short moment, everything had felt just right. The chatter and music in the background were like a song of free birds to him. The weight on his shoulder nearly felt natural as he dared not to let go of her hand, which he had assumed she forgot was touching his. He did not want to say or do anything that could possibly ruin the moment. He wanted to stay there for as long as he could. Like a book he could read forever. One that he could return to when he needed to.

“I understand how you feel, Kili,” Raewyn whispered out, almost frightened to break that beautiful moment of peace. “My mother had a beard, as did my aunt. Beautifully full, with the most gorgeous beads and gems braided into them.”

A short laugh tore from her throat as she recalled old memories. Those which she had not remembered in a long time. “My mother used to have these little chains worked from her hair to her beard in a giant braid. I always thought it was funny. Looking back on it now, it might have been the coolest thing I have ever seen.”

Kili smiled at the mental image, forgetting about the fact that he was hearing this from the same woman who refused to share her name with him only months prior.

“You don’t talk a lot about your mother.” He noted silently.

“I barely remember her,” Raewyn admitted, rolling her lips momentarily. “She died during the birth of my sister.”

“Oh,” The dwarf muttered, not having expected that answer. “I did not know you had a sister.” He resumed, hoping that he did not just bring up a sensitive subject.

“Stillborn.” The Asha continued.

“Oh.”

It was a sensitive subject.

Kili looked down at shame, feeling a new kind of guilt rush through him.

“Don’t look so glum about it.” Raewyn brushed off, her voice kinder than it had been before. “I was twenty-three, I barely remember it.”

For the last time, she squeezed his hand, gaining his attention again.

“You are a marvelous sight to behold, Kili. Beard or no beard.” She confessed with a smile, lifting her head.

“You think I’m attractive?” He smirked, his confidence slowly resurfacing.

Raewyn scoffed at him, shaking her head as a taunting laugh left her lips.

“Anyone with a good set of eyes would. Don’t flatter yourself.” The ranger warned.

“Regardless; you think I’m attractive.” He teased, now shooting her a wink. “Just admit it.”

Raewyn stood up with the shake of her head, holding onto the fence for extra support. “You are very attractive, Kili.” She sighed, smiling at him as she neared the great door.

“Men glus alfan kaglem menu lyvv tess glus.” The dwarf sputtered out, shooting to his feet as well.

In response, the ranger turned around to face him, a bright smile on her face.

“Dolzekh menu.” She grinned. “That was very poetic of you.”

From the door, she could hear the loud music and laughter from the city hall, its noise echoing over the waters. She was supposed to get Fili. He was so worried for his brother, but something forced her to stay there. A few minutes longer would not hurt, right?

“Dance with me.” Raewyn proposed, holding her hand out for Kili to take.

“What?” The dwarf wondered, shocked by her words.

“You heard me,” She urged, walking up to the dwarf. “Dance with me, or I will regret it for the rest of my life.”

Kili nodded enthusiastically, taking Raewyn’s hand as he pulled her closer to him. “What about your leg?”

“If it was that terrible, I wouldn’t have asked you to dance.” She promised, already nodding her head to the rhythm of the upbeat music inside.

And only now, Kili began to realize what was happening. He observed your face shortly, before inhaling strongly.

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” Raewyn denied, slowly letting her grip falter from his hand. “Tipsy at most. Listen, if you don’t want to dance, we don’t have-”

Before she could even finish her sentence, Kili pulled her into his arms, twirling her around halfway, as he let his feet walk with the beat.

“I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.” He confessed as he held onto Raewyn’s waist lightly, excitedly dancing around the terrace with her as her skirt followed their movements.

“We’re only dancing.” The ranger spoke through a chuckle, resting both her hands on Kili’s shoulders as she tried to keep her footing up with his.

“Dancing is a dangerous game.” He claimed with a breathy laugh, twirling both of them around again.

With every step the dwarf took, the Asha followed him, letting out occasional laughs and exclaims of surprise. As the music continued to play, and the people inside kept their conversations, the two outside relished with the time they still had. Tomorrow, they would leave for the mountain, and they would face Smaug. Now might be the only chance they’d get for happiness and peace.

So, even as people began to leave the building slowly, the two of them stood outside, making up for the time they had wasted talking. It wasn’t until both of them were out of breath that they finally parted. The music was still playing and the hall was still relatively crowded, but outside, there were none but them.

“I spoke with Thorin.” Kili broke their silence, still huffing and panting, though he got out what he had been holding back all night.

“When the company leaves for Erebor tomorrow, we leave for Rivendell.”

Raewyn looked at the dwarf, still out of breath, though she grew conflicted at his speech.

“I cannot leave Bilbo. And I still have to face Smaug.” She protested, letting out a heavy breath.

“I know,” The dwarf muttered. “But you cannot do either when you are no longer here. And I will not sit by while you waste your last few days in denial.”

His hand raised slightly, pushing the damp hair from her face, his hand lingering for a short moment.

“You are burning up.” He mumbled, checking her forehead again.

“Well, we did just dance for a while.” She justified, wiping the rest of her hair away.

“No,” Kili decided, now reaching for his own forehead. “No, this is different. How are you feeling? And do not lie to me.”

“I did have six pints. That is quite a lot. I might just be drunk.” The Asha shoved off.

“Raewyn, please.” The dwarf pleaded, his facial expression turning into that of pure worry. And though she had seen him concerned before, this look made her blood run cold. As if something was genuinely wrong. As if only now her state really got through to her.

“I’m tired.” She admitted quietly, shaking her head in distress. “So tired. And my leg is burning. Has been for the entire night.”

Her eyes shifted between concern and guilt, now becoming uncertain with herself. “What if the Kingsfoil didn’t work?”

“Ssh, no, it worked. I’m positive.” Kili urged, walking up towards the ranger swiftly as he wrapped one arm around her waist.

“How about you get some sleep? You should be well-rested for tomorrow.” He proposed, already leading her back inside. “Maybe all you need is a good amount of rest. It has been a pressing few days.”

He pushed the two of them through the crowds, ignoring the calls from the company, half of which were drunk off their asses. Shifting her weight onto him, Raewyn stumbled up the stairs, holding onto both the railing and Kili tightly, afraid that she’d fall down if she let go.

The entire night had gone so well, and she was able to shake it off so well. Why would everything change suddenly? Raewyn could beat herself up over it, incapable of resisting the huge amount of the feeling of being a liability washing over her.

Kili led her to one of the rooms assigned to the company, setting her down on the bed gently, making sure to not touch her leg. Raewyn clumsily threw a blanket over her body, relishing under the sudden warmth as she forced herself to get comfortable. Kili leaned over her for a moment, pulling the blanket correctly so it was covering her entire body.

“I will wake you up tomorrow.” He promised. “And if you need anything, I’m in the room next door.”

“What if I won’t wake up?” Raewyn wondered anxiously, her earlier confidence completely faded, now worrying for herself more than Kili might have had.

“Don’t say those things.” The dwarf scolded, walking back towards the bed as he looked down at her. “If it makes you feel any better, I can stay here for the night to make sure you keep breathing.”

Instead of the usual scoffing she would have gone for, Raewyn could only nod. She could not even tell whether he had been joking or not, and in truth; neither could Kili. So, with her decision, the dwarf grabbed the chair from the corner of the room, sliding it over until it was next to her bed. And the chair was anything but comfortable, but he could not bring himself to tell her that.

And just like that, he sat beside her the entire night, making sure Raewyn’s body was not pulling any tricks on them. He would sit there until the sun decided to rise, and the company left the hall.

—

Men glus alfan kaglem menu lyvv tess glus: You’re the morning rain that brings me to life every morning in Khuzdul (Dwarvish)

Dolzekh menu: Thank you in Khuzdul (Dwarvish)

Taglist: @errruvande @justnerdystuffs @spidergirla5 @chaoticpaintsplatter @fallenangeloflight @radbarbariancupcake @writingawaymylife @the-cranck-hobbit @deathofafangirl01

[hermannsthumb]

As per our convo, Newt getting set up with Hermann via Hermann’s father’s binder full of pre-approved suitors for his son...

(from @k-sci-janitor 👀) easily one of our funniest concepts yet. I was going to end on newt coming over for dinner scenario but I like the ominous open ending. I'm not actually sure when kaiju attacks fall in the PR timeline so excuse my handwaveyness, LOL

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermann’s relationship with his father is what one would call strenuous at best, but—Hermann must admit, to the man’s credit, and in spite of his many flaws—he took the news of Hermann’s sexual orientation as unflinchingly as if Hermann had told him the day’s weather. It was a bit annoying, in fact. Hermann had agonized over the proper way to breach the subject for months, certain it spoke to some sort of personal ruin (whether ostracization from the Gottliebs or being forbade following through on any attraction he may feel whilst still living under the family roof, he wasn't sure), before finally simply announcing it one day at the breakfast table on a whim.

It had been a long-standing tradition that Hermann’s parents compile a binder—effectively of dossiers—on all the most eligible bachelors (for their daughter) and bachelorettes (for their sons) to aid in the choice of the latest Gottlieb mate. It was easiest this way, or so Hermann and his siblings were told. Parental approval was already secured. The histories of each were already secured, which bypassed any nasty shocks that might emerge in the courtship stage. Most of them were children of his father's colleagues or bright minds in their own rights: surgeons, and dentists, and mathematicians. Poets were strictly forbidden.

The occasion of Hermann’s breakfast table announcement had also been the day Hermann’s father presented him with his very first binder of prospective mates—a few days after his eighteenth birthday, and shortly before he was to go off to begin work on his PhD. His father had slid him a hand-written binder of names, no more than a dozen, and all with accompanying photographs. “All are accomplished young women,” he assured Hermann. “We can arrange any meetings of your choice over your winter holidays.”

Hermann glared down at the row of frozen smiles. He stabbed his fork into his cooked tomato wedge. “I don’t want to marry any of these women,” he said, and turned his glare on his father. He still had a rebellious streak in him at that point, something nurtured by a charismatic young man he used to trail after in boarding school, who pierced Hermann’s ear with a sewing needle in the boys’ toilets and listened to songs about setting things on fire. In late this streak had manifested itself in Hermann in nicking packets of cigarettes from his father’s study, one of which was in his pocket now. The weight of it made Hermann feel bolder. “I don’t want to marry any woman,” he continued. “I like men.”

The binder was drawn away in silence, and Hermann was free to eat his toast and tomatoes. The next morning a binder of young men was in its place.

(In a way the acceptance infuriated Hermann. It meant he could not blame his father’s obvious dislike for him on an unfounded, homophobic prejudice; rather, it was a result of Hermann’s own personal failings.)

The binder was placed at Hermann’s breakfast plate every day until he left for his studies. It was placed at his plate when he returned from them five years later. Not even the emergence of the kaiju from the bottom of the ocean shortly after Hermann turned twenty-four dampened his father’s hopes, nor turning all their scientific efforts towards the new jaeger program: some names were removed from the binder (the reasoning Hermann shudders to think at), more still were added, though Hermann is expected only to consider it once a week now on account of his busy schedule. This was one of such days.

“Your brother is very happy with his wife,” Hermann’s father reminds him. “She was one of my first suggestions for him, in fact.”

Hermann is not fond of his sister-in-law. Too rude—too cold. Though perhaps that makes her perfect for Hermann’s brother. “Haven’t we got bigger things to worry about these days than whether or not I’m going to marry?” Hermann says. He adds milk to his tea. “I’m sure they’re all, er, marvelous selections, only—”

“Your sister, too, with her husband,” father says.

Hermann sighs. He hasn’t got much of the rebellious streak he used to in him anymore—too stressed. Not fancying a fight before they’ve even begun today’s coding work, he picks up the binder and begins flipping through it. Sons of engineers working on the jaeger program with them, prominent young chemists, many of whom Hermann has been presented with since he was eighteen. Plenty of them are even handsome. Half of Hermann wonders if he should just pick the least-unappealing one of the bunch and be done with it already. He turns the page over and freezes. “Oh,” he says. “This one is—new.”

“Hm?” father says.

Hermann holds up the binder, tapping at a new entry. “Newton Geiszler.”

“Dr. Geiszler,” father says, nodding. “A child prodigy from Berlin—he’s made tremendous strides in kaiju science in such little time. And,” he adds, “three PhDs. Two of them before he even turned twenty.” The unspoken implication was that Dr. Geiszler far surpassed Hermann in intelligence and Hermann should feel ashamed for not skipping as many grades as Dr. Geiszler.

Hermann feels he ought to resent Dr. Geiszler for it, but he's finding it difficult to summon up any animosity towards him. It's likely because Hermann finds Dr. Geiszler to be strikingly handsome in his photograph: cheeks which haven’t quite lost their baby fat (giving him the appearance of being a scruffy hamster), large, thick glasses, tousled hair, an easy grin. Three PhDs, and German at that. And a child prodigy? “I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned him to me before,” Hermann says. He seems precisely the sort father would. Geiszler’s photograph is black-and-white and a bit grainy, but Hermann swears he could make out the lightest bit of freckles across his cheeks.

“I’d not heard of him until he published an article last week on kaiju biology,” father says. “Besides—he’s moved to America.”

Geiszler has three piercings up the side of his left ear. “I am going to write to him,” Hermann declares.

Father nods, and picks up his newspaper, clearly already disinterested. They speak no more of it that day.

It is not hard to find Dr. Geiszler online (his name is not the most common, and his field of study certainly isn’t), nor is it hard to match his photograph to his faculty page on MIT’s website. From there, Hermann retrieves Dr. Geiszler’s email address. He takes the evening to read over Geiszler’s publications spanning back to 2003 before he gathers up the courage to type out an actual email.

Dear Dr. Geiszler,

You do not know me, but I have recently been made acquaintance with your work and find it—Hermann pauses—scintillating. My father and I are—Hermann backspaces this—I am currently working on the development of the jaeger program…

There’s a response waiting for him the next morning. It’s as enthusiastic as it is brief. Dr. Gottlieb- That’s so awesome!! Believe it or not I’ve been following your work too. I have a million questions for you about the jaegers. If it’s classified info I promise I won’t tell. -Newt

It makes Hermann smile like nothing ever has before.

Hermann’s correspondence with Dr. Geiszler does not transgress beyond the professional until the following January. By that time, Hermann and his father have successfully completed the coding for their first jaeger prototype, and Hermann has been offered his fair share of tenured university positions to pick from as he likes. He finds himself oddly disappointed that none of them are in America with Dr. Geiezler. This, which leads to the realization that he’s grown rather fond of Dr. Geiszler, is perhaps what drives Hermann to uncharacteristic sentimental extremes on January 19th: he orders Dr. Geiszler a birthday present. The first email Dr. Geiszler sends him after that addresses him as Hermann. The first email Hermann sends Dr. Geiszler after that addresses him as Newton. Things move rapidly after that.

“Are you still writing to that young biologist?” Hermann’s father asks him in March. Hermann has spent the last two months devouring every bit of information Newton has seen fit to divulge about his personal life: his dexterity with no less than three different instruments, his favorite loud monster movies, how he’d love to get a kaiju tattooed on him one day. Hermann suspects he might be falling in love with Newton. In hardly five months! These are war times, Hermann supposes, so it would make sense. People are meant to do such extreme things.

“I am,” Hermann says.

“I’ve asked around about him,” Hermann’s father says. His expression is stern—unimpressed. “About his character. I’m not sure it’s wise to continue your correspondence.”

The reasons are this. Dr. Geiszler’s methods are unorthodox. Dr. Geiszler is loud and uncouth, and has little respect for his intellectual superiors. Dr. Geiszler was thrown out of a convention once for storming up on stage and stealing a microphone from an engineer to shout about the destruction coral reefs. Dr. Geiszler was in a distasteful band for several years. Dr. Geiszler was once arrested for egging a politician’s house. Dr. Geiszler has gone on record as describing the kaiju as “kinda cool”. Almost none of this is news to Hermann; in fact, that which is only causes Hermann’s affection for Newton to grow. “I will consider your advice,” Hermann says, knowing he won’t. Besides, it's not as if his father really has Hermann's interests at heart—Hermann knows he merely wishes to preempt any scandal Newton Geiszler could possibly bring upon the Gottlieb name.

In April Newton goes on television and declares that he’s sure the kaiju are extraterrestrial in origin, on account of their great size and his brief examination of a sample from the second kaiju to make landfall. He’s laughed off by his older peers before he can get another word out. The email he writes to Hermann afterwards is furious, capslock-heavy, and expresses that Hermann is the only one who takes him seriously in the whole world. It leaves Hermann certain that he is in love with Newton.

“Dr. Geiszler was interviewed on some American television program,” Hermann’s father says a few days later.

“I know,” Hermann says, proudly. Newton was on television. “I watched it.”

“He made some extraordinary claims,” Hermann’s father says.

But Hermann is thinking only of the outfit Newton wore (skinny jeans and an oversized leather jacket, so out of place compared to the suited other scientists sitting around him), the shade of his eyes (hazel), his short stature (hardly taller than Hermann), and the cadence of his voice (high, but not unappealing). He’d been so confident, and carried himself with a self-assurance that was foreign to Hermann. It was marvelously attractive. “I’m sure they're correct,” Hermann says. "Every single one. Newton is a terribly brilliant scientist." All bold claims are met with derision at first, are they not?

Newton’s theory is proven correct after the next kaiju attack, when experts other than him get their hands on kaiju samples and validate his claims. The general consensus after that is that the kaiju are not of this world. And Newton was the first to propose the theory! Hermann sends Newton an email full of congratulations, and Newton responds with a heart emoticon in his sign-off. Newton isn't just a brilliant scientist. “Newton is a genius,” Hermann tells his father, dreamily.

The binder reappears on Hermann’s work desk a few months later, Newton’s page torn conspicuously from it. Hermann tips the whole thing straight into his trash can. He has more important things to worry about—arranging a meeting with Newton, perhaps. Hermann ought to have him over for dinner.

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

Universe Jump

Marinette, Adrien, and Chloe travel to the DC universe and create lives for themselves as a family. A little side info Marinette is a certified genius with an IQ of 187, Adrien has eidetic memory, and Chloe has Hyperthymesia.

Eidetic memory is when you can remember an image with high precision after seeing it once.

Hyperthymesia is where you remember a vast majority of your life with no problems.

A little background first. At 16 and 15, Adrien and Marinette have their final battle with Hawkmoth and Mayura, after they are defeated Chat and Ladybug hurry away from the scene both about to de-transform. When they find a hiding place Chat Noir breaks down finally de-transforming into Adrien. Marinette drops her transformation pulling Adrien into a tight hug. Neither letting go for over half an hour. They slowly make their way back to Marinette's house, Adrien crying on Mari's shoulder the whole way both unaware of the glares being sent at Adrien.

Since it was confirmed that it was Gabriel Agreste, many were speculating that Adrien was in on it. Some just wanted to take their anger out on Gabriel for torturing them by going after his son. Neither noticed the hatefully eyes following them as they entered the bakery. Tom and Sabine automatically hugged Adrien who was crying so hard he couldn't see or speak. After their hugs Marinette led him upstairs and they simply sat on the couch cuddling, not wanting to leave each other's side.

It wasn't until an hour later that the police arrived to question and inform Adrien on what they found in his house. Adrien tells them he had no idea that his father always talked about the heros with high regards whenever he saw them. When the police tell him about Emilie in the underground Garden, Adrien breaks down sobbing into Marinette's shoulder mumbling about how she'd been underneath him dead the entire time.

The police come to the conclusion that Adrien was not a part of it at all. And is grieving the loss of both his parents now, they agree to come back in the morning to talk with Tom and Sabine about where Adrien will be staying. However the morning never comes for Tom and Sabine, a group of people break into the bakery and set it on fire determined to get back at Gabriel by taking his son's life.

Marinette and Adrien only escape with the Miraculous box, Tom and Sabine had already been caught and it was too late for them. That night all four were pronounced dead. Adrien takes Marinette to Le Grand Paris, knowing Chloe would hide them for as long as they needed. They hide at Chloe's for a week while she pulls strings getting Gabriel's, The Dupain-Cheng's and Fu's bank accounts completely emptied and into her own without anyone knowing. During this time the three talk with the Kwamis on what they should do. It's Orikko that suggests the Kwami's move the money into their own dimension and take the three to a different universe. At first they are reluctant but Xuppu points out that they have no real reason to stay and their Kwamis agree. Pollen points out that Chloe's parents still aren't around. While Tikki and Plagg point out that their chosen are considered dead.

It gets Marinette thinking and she quickly goes over the ups and downs.

"Alright so here's what to know about us leaving this universe. It's a completely new start, no one knows who we are and according to Tikki the last time the Miraculous Box was there was when Hippolyta was Ladybug. So only the Amazonians will know of them. We'll be safer than we are here, not having to worry about people coming after us thanks to Gabriel. We'll have plenty of money and I know enough to be able to fake us having a 'parent' and buy a place for us as well as use it to our advantage. However based on where we end up it may be harder for me to get us IDs, and definitely hard to get us faked birth certificates. Not to mention, I'd have to teach myself an insane amount of hacking to successfully make it look like we've had previous education in that universe."

Together they decide that leaving is the best option even if they are slightly afraid. Plagg and Trixx snag all the money from Chloe's account and transfer it to their home dimension. Then together all the Kwami surround their three holders and transport them to an abandoned warehouse in Gotham with all their bags including the extravagant dollhouse Chloe had made for them. Once there the Kwami quickly swarm the house laying down in their respective beds as Adrien gives each one their favorites to eat before sleeping. Marinette explores the warehouse plotting out everything that must be done in construction while also making sure that no one else was there.

Once it's clear she returns to Chole and Adrien and they begin planning their first moves. Tomorrow Adrien and Chloe will go to a cafe that has free wifi with Tikki and Pollen. And using Marinette's USB they'll insert the 'parent' into the world from there they will create a bank account online, have Pollen transfer some money in, and then buy the warehouse. Meanwhile Marinette will be walking the town during the day with Plagg. As he points out places that give off the most sketchy energy, although they all can feel the destruction energy surrounding the city. He'll be able to find where the worse off people are staying. When meeting back up at the warehouse Marinette will confirm that their transaction went through. Then go from place to place with Plagg radiating as much dangerous energy around her as he can until she finds a bar where the bartender has what she needs.

Marinette meets with the bartender and a contractor the next day when the bar is closed. She tells the contractor she wants everything under the table and is willing to pay in cash half up front and half when the work is done.

"I want it done within a timely manner, bring in those you can trust not to squeal and are good workers, ten of them. I don't want any cut corners. If it'll cost more to do something safer, I'll pay it. And if none of you squeal within five months of it being done I'll give each other you an extra seven thousand and five hundred. These are the plans I have drawn up and this is the location. You'll start in two days. Do we have a deal?" 

The Contractor nods promising Marinette the best he has to offer and everything under the table with workers that are capable and wont speak of it. She simply smiles politely nodding and picks up the briefcase sliding it across the table to him. She then tosses a thousand to the bartender telling him to remember her because she'd definitely come back for more and will pay him.

Once back at the warehouse Marinette drops the tough girl persona exhausted from the day. She collapses on one of the three beds Tikki created for them and grins softly. Telling them that construction starts in two days.

When two days pass Marinette is a little surprised at how respectful the workers are and when she questions the contractor, lets call him Doug. Doug tells her that these aren't actually his workers, their friends of his that were contractors as well before they lost their jobs. Told her that he knew they needed the money, and that they wouldn't say anything once they realized they were working for a young girl and not a mob boss.

When Marinette here's that she is much nicer to the men and begins to bond with them Adrien and Chloe join in. Chloe sells a story of their parents being killed in Paris when they were still young and how they were basically sold to slavery. Claiming that they recently escaped after their 'owner' was killed. When asked on how they got the money Chloe immediately turns on Marinette.

"That easy! Mari here is really smart I mean seriously if we hadn't been-well you know- she'd already be in college! She was able to transfer his money into another account and then use one of his fake IDs to get us away!"

Construction lasts for four months and in that time the workers and the teens become closer. The workers even begin helping them with getting furniture, a few of them offering their trucks free of charge and willing to go pick up anything they can't have delivered. Doug even brings in a friend to install a top of the line security system for them. Once construction is over they have a solid bond between them and Marinette promises to call them anytime they need construction done.

At this point the warehouse has been turned into a home for them. With all the necessities and furniture. And in the basement of the warehouse Marinette has a parkour funland put in. They have also had time to research their new city and its heroes. Marinette deems it best that they do not transform or go parkoring in Gotham.

"Something about Batman tells me that if he sees us he won't stop until he knows everything about us. If you feel the need to run transformed or not, go to the basement."

Soon almost every night is spent in the basement for at least an hour and a half. The same time patrol lasted in Paris.

Marinette begins making all of their clothes, bored and missing designing. Soon they have donated all their old clothes and only wear Marinette's designs. It's Chloe that gets the clientele rolling in when a few women ask where she got her shirt. She gives them Marinette's information and soon Marinette is making clothes for others back in her element. She is slowly making a name for herself in Gotham taking up the name MDC.

Marinette also returns to the Bartender asking for help once again. Let's call the Bartender Chasen. She has him get in contact with someone that could fake documents for schooling. She explains to him that while she already has her profession, Adrien loves science and Chloe lives for business. Chasen calls her the next day informing her that he'd found the perfect person.

Chasen-For the right price all of you will be considered legal immigrants in America. He will get you all the paperwork you need within a week's time.

Marinette- And you trust him?

Chasen- Yes, with my life.

Marinette- Very well, what is his price?

Chasen- He wants to know why two 17 year olds and a 16 year old are in need of this paperwork.

Marinette- What is his name?

Chasen- John Constantine.

Marinette-Very well give him my address.

Marinette gives him two thousand dollars before leaving the bar.

A few hours later the trio is relaxing together in the living room. Adrien is excitedly talking about what they could do once they get the paperwork. When a portal opens up in their kitchen, and a blonde man steps out introducing himself.

John- Hello there, I'm John Constantine. Now please tell me why multiple gods have returned to this universe with three teenagers?

The trio is shocked into silence that this man knows they're from another universe. John sighs muttering out a few curses before turning around and opening their fridge pulling out a drink. He sits down at their breakfast table taking a long sip before leveling eye contact with Marinette.

John- Alright pigtails sit down and talk, you're the one Chasen told me to talk to.

Marinette huffs at the name glaring at him before sitting down and telling him their story. Plagg sits on her shoulder facing away from Constantine. Pretending to eat cheese while he is ready to jump to Marinette's defense if needed.

By the end of the night the trio has a foul mouth yet compassionate new friend. John agrees to get them all the documentation that makes it seem like they've lived in the universe since birth.

John- The only people that will be able to tell something is unusual is superheros. My friend is going to tie you all together as siblings with the same father, me. Though you'll all be emancipated and the only time I'll come into play is if one of you gets hurt. Chloe and Adrien will pass as fraternal twins with the same mother, Marinette due to your differing appearance will have a different mother. The only thing that will give you away to heros is my name, they know I do not have kids. Unusually I have enough time to find others to pose as you parents but you're stuck with me.

The trio agrees to the conditions and John smiles gently surprising them. He ruffles Marinette's hair telling them he'll be back periodically before he gets the paperwork. He tells Marinette his phone number and before he leaves Marinette grips his hand tightly.

Marinette- That is really all you wanted? Just our story?

John turns to her squeezing her hand gently before nodding.

John- I'm not one of the best people in the universe, that much your little Gods and Goddesses can tell you. But I would never not help a child or children when I can, and while your eyes are older than they should be you're still children. Now enough of the soft bull, I have a reputation to keep! If you need me, call me!

John leaves the same way he came, not seeing Marinette smiling gently at his back. Chloe and Adrien share a grin behind her teasing each other on who the cuter twin is. Marinette rolls her eyes as Plagg and Pollen start arguing for their chosen. 

A week later they are now the Constantine siblings.

A few weeks later both Chloe and Adrien have taken their SATs and their ACT, skying some of the highest scores in Gotham. Marinette decided not to take the test knowing that it would be suspicious if they discover she is a genius. People will be asking why it wasn't documented in Paris, instead she uses their week of studying to teach herself hacking, much to John's amusement when he visits.

His amusement fled when he made a snarky comment and Marinette turned to him smirking.

Marinette- At least I didn't sleep with a humanoid shark.

John-....ya f*ckin got me there pigtails!

He then turned and disappeared through a portal unable to look any of his self proclaimed kids in the eyes. Once gone Marinette and Plagg start laughing hysterically together causing Tikki to roll her eyes and start complaining about Plagg trying to steal her Chosen. Plagg sticks his tongue out at her before floating over and resting himself in Adrien's hair.

A few weeks later Marinette is dragging John to a car dealership ignoring his whining. She simply signs and tells him that she needs her parental figures help with buying a car.

John sighs before agreeing to help her get a car, in the end he is glad he is there when the dealer attempts to push Marinette into buying a terrible car.

He immediately gets in between them glaring the man down before telling him that he is shopping for a car for his daughter. The man nodded before stuttering out that he'll get the keys for their safest cars, before rushing back inside.

John huffs not looking Marinette in the eye as she smirks at him.

Marinette- Watch out Dad, keep this up and people might think you care about us!

John-Shut it Pigtails, or I'll leave right now.

Marinette- No you won't. 

John doesn't respond because he knows she is right, he got attached to these sassy brats. His only hope is that his enemies don't find out about them. That night he stays for dinner and when the kids fall asleep he places magical sigils on each of their souls. Protecting them from attacks from both Heaven and hell. When confronted by the Kawami he just huffs telling them the brats wormed their way into his heart. Tikki simply smiles patting his cheek before telling him to use the guest room.

The next day John is grumbling sitting at the breakfast bar dressed in only his boxers as Marinette makes breakfast. Adrien sits next to him laughing at the dark look on his face, while Chloe rolls her eyes at both of them sipping her coffee.

He sighs softly thinking about how Bats would kill him for being in his city this long. However when he hears the three burst into laughter together. He can't find it in himself to actually care.

Two months later Chloe and Adrien are attending college classes and Marinette is getting ready to open her own boutique with John's help. They bought a shop in the nice parts of Gotham and with Doug's help they were practically ready to open. They had a large floor room. The right floor of the store was designated for specially designed clothing, a doortalong the wall opened to a fitting room. The left side was for her clothing manufactured in bulk, and the changing areas were located on that side. She also had the walls set for clothing designed by the designers she hired. Above each rack was a whiteboard that each designer was allowed to specially decorate and have their name displayed. Their clothes were being sold under her name in return for only 25 percent while they got the other 75 percent. The back room housed a designing area for Marinette and her designers with extra sewing machines along with racks and shelves for finished clothing. John was helping her set up signs for the day unknown to the both of them they were being spied on.

Bruce Wayne had spotted John Constantine in Gotham over three weeks ago. He didn't confront him because at the time he'd been walking out of Gotham University with two blonds, before getting in a car that a black haired girl with sunglasses was driving. He proceeded to investigate even deeper, finding two new students with the last name Constantine and an upcoming designer sharing the name as well. His first thought was that John had relocated some of his allies into Gotham, which pissed the Bat off greatly. 

However it had been Dick that pointed out to him that the kids we're Tim's age and they didn't have any history beyond what John had created for them. Instead of confronting the man and kicking them out he had the entire family taking turns watching the three.

They saw a family that found itself the three obviously weren't actually siblings but that didn't matter to them. They also saw John get closer and closer to the kids slowly starting to spend more time with them. When Marinette began setting up her shop Bruce and Dick watched John smile gently at the girl when she began to ramble on and on. It was that moment that made Dick turn on Bruce telling him that if he even threatened to kick them out Dick would be upset.

Meanwhile Jason was continuously joking and making comments that Bruce was only mad because John managed to adopt a black hair blue eyed child before he could. Bruce got out of his car walking into the unfinished boutique, his eyes zeroing in on the recently named Marinette Constantine. She greeted him politely telling him the store wasn't open yet and only tenseed slightly when John froze at the sight of him. She played it off and quickly turned to John.

Marinette- Hey Dad can you take those extra racks to the back for me, while I give this nice man our opening dates.

John looked like he wanted to argue but instead he nodded picking up a couple racks and taking them to the back. Marinette's eyes were immediately back on him calculating him in seconds. Which surprised him greatly, the only people able to pick him apart like this were his kids.

Marinette-Bruce Wayne and by Dad's reaction you're either a hero or a villain. It's easy to tell you're not a villain though so that only leaves the hero. In Gotham very few heroes are allowed. Based on your age and when heros first appeared I'm assuming you Batman. This means Richard Grayson was the first Robin, going through assumptions once again. This would place your family as the heroes of Gotham. You're Batman, and I know that you know damn well that John isn't our actual father. Probably suspicious of why he has three kids relocated into your city as well. You have a no meta policy in Gotham and I understand why. However John is not a meta, he is a mage and he is our guardian. I fear that the foul mouthed a**hat got attached to us though so he stays. You want answers, that's why you decided to confront us in public, everyone is wondering what Bruce Wayne is doing here, so we wouldn't dare make a move to run. What you didn't account for was going up against someone who could pick you apart in seconds and learn your weaknesses. For instance you've had your back broken, you've healed incredibly however to the right trained eye you can see that you wear back supports. Not only that you still get pains from the injury, pains that you're experiencing right now as shown by the tension in your back. Pain medication not kicked in yet Brucie?

She finished the polite smile never leaving her face even when both heard John laughing hysterically in the back room.

Bruce- You're good.

Marinette-I would hope so in my universe I was one of the best heros and a certified genius.

Bruce- Your universe?

Marinette- Yes my universe. I think we both know talking about this in public is stupid Brucie. Find the warehouse that belongs to Margie Willkins, and you will find us.

Bruce-Margie Willkins, very well. Will she be there as well.

Marinette- Not likely considering she only exists on the internet. You won't find her anywhere else. Now Brucie it is time for you to go.

Bruce- Don't call me that.

He finally growled out, Marinette's smile didn't waver but he could see the glee light up in her eyes at his annoyance. Reminding him of the gleam his kids would get for the same task.

Marinette-Oh but Brucie, I think it's just the perfect nickname! Show me you deserve my respect Brucie, you maybe Batman but you came in here to intimidate one of my family members. I believe you can understand I am very protective of my family. After all I've already had two murdered and I won't lose anymore. Now turn and leave my store with a smile on your face Bruce, or I'll start crying.

John- She will  the girl had me running around to get her favorite snacks until Chloe pointed out she was faking.

Marinette pouted looking at John behind her stating that Chloe had to ruin her fun. She turned to Bruce staring him down once more. Bruce nodded confirming that he'd be there.

That night the three were relaxing when Batman jumped down into their living room in front of them. Neither teen flinched Chloe scoffed going back to her nails while Adrien threw popcorn at him complaining that he was blocking the tv. Much to his kids amusement over the coms. Marinette simply sighed before flipping herself over the back of the couch. Gesturing him to follow her, she stopped however and looked him dead in the eye.

Marinette- Oh, and you're seven backups are doing a terrible job of hiding. Might as well tell them to just join us.

This left the entire family stunned as Marinette simply turned back walking into the kitchen and sitting down. Soon she was joined by eight members of the Batfamily. She took in their appearance quickly determining who was who with ease. She smirked when she felt Plagg settle into her jacket pocket. Him being there instead of Tikki meant Marinette wasn't representing Ladybug. She could be as sassy or rude as she wanted.

Marinette- So I get to talk to Batman now and not Brucie. Interesting, nice to see you finally drop your mask around me. Now I can see the real person, oops I wasn't supposed to say that was I?

Batman's glare hardened especially as Red Hood and Nightwing began to silently laugh.

Batman-Get to the point of why we're here.

Marinette-So serious maybe you should try getting a spa treatment, it does wonders. But I digress. Do you want the short version or the long version?

Batman simply stared at her causing Marinette to roll her eyes, before telling the trio's story. Shortly after explaining everything Chloe and Adrien joined them with all the Kwami flying in around, Plagg leaving Marinette's pocket heading back to Adrien.

Nightwing immediately gushes about the Kwami being cute cause Marinette to giggle softly. Each sibling begins to check the Kwami out as well as talk to the three fromer heroes. While Bruce was studying Marinette watching her switch from a mischievous and sassy persona to her actual personality. He watched the kids all talking and getting to know each other. At some point the Batfamily save Bruce had taken their masks off.

That's when both he and Tim noticed Marinette pull out a laptop and start typing. Tim decided to approach asking her what she was doing, Marinette rolled her eyes telling him that she is deleting all of tonight's security footage. Stating that he needs to leave her alone because she only recently started learning how to hack and getting into a company known for their security. Tim makes a noise before pulling her computer away and hacking into the company within five minutes. Marinette stared at her computer for a minute before grabbing his hands and getting closer to his face causing everyone to stare.

Marinette-Teach me, and I will make you my famous caffeine death coffee everyday for a month.

Tim blushed at her closeness until the words coffee hit his ears. He raised his eyebrow before questioning how good it was. Marinette simply released his hand and stood up walking over to the coffee machine and making the coffee in under five minutes. Everyone noticed Adrien and Chloe eyeing the coffee like it was poison when Marinette placed it in front of him. Tim stared at it for a while Marinette sighed picking it back up taking a big gulp swallowing it for them all before placing it in front of him again. Tim finally picked it up and took a sip only to freeze then down it in down gulp. He placed the cup down before grabbing both of Marinette's hands while looking her in the eye dead serious.

Tim- Marry me.

Everyone stared at him in shock especially when he didn't laugh saying he was joking.

Marinette blushed brightly, sputtering out a few unrecognizable sentences before taking a deep breath looking away from him.

Marinette- Honestly, I'm not a girl that marries before the first date. We barely even know each other.

Tim- Your right, what are you doing tomorrow night at six?

Marinette- Uh well I was going to be at my shop until five thirty, after that nothing really.

Tim- Perfect, I'll pick you up from your boutique at five thirty. We'll go on our first date and as many dates as it'll take me to convince you to marry me.

Marinette just sputters out a confirmation unable to look Tim in the eye.

Tim is the last of the family to leave before going he grabs Marinette's hand again. Letting a gentle smile cover his face.

Tim-I am not asking you out just because of your coffee skills Marinette. I had the task of researching you and your siblings. I found you rather fascinating, and we also have quite a bit in common. Your amazing coffee was just a plus. I will see you tomorrow at five thirty?

Marinette- Five thirty. I'll be waiting.

Tim-I won't be late.

He kisses her hand before releasing it and grappling away. He was not ready to deal with his family's teasing. Marinette refused to meet Adrien or Chloe's gaze as she walked to her room, her face bright red.

@abrx2002

@chocolateherringtacofan

@blackmagicforever

@mythogaychic

[hana-bean]

Close to you (3/7)

I will always be by your side Though I can do nothing else

---

His eyes fluttered open, hearing the faint sounds of chatter from outside his closed bedroom door—all female. Seiya stayed still for a few moments to process his incapacitating physical pain and his surroundings, the decor reminding him of the meeting room from the previous night. After a few more seconds of waiting for the rest of his body to wake up, he also recognized more than one of the voices; Serenity stayed true to her promise by releasing Yaten and Taiki from the detention center.

Seiya staggeringly readied himself for company, taking advantage of the unused toothbrush before dressing in the previous night’s clothes. He grabbed his cane and hobbled out and down the hallway until he happened upon a bright dining room, the chattering voices no longer muffled.

He was met with the scene of a transformed Yaten and Taiki, as Sailor Star Healer and Sailor Star Maker respectively, standing while surrounded by five women including Serenity. She was clothed in a flowy white robe while holding an ornate teacup in one hand as she poked at the purple band on Maker’s arm with the other. The four other women asked questions as they more or less kept their hands to themselves.

“So what happens when you get all sweaty? Does the leather not stick to you?” One woman with long dark hair inquired, rubbing her hips while imagining the discomfort of leather adhering to skin.

“No, actually it kind of expands when we get hot.” Healer answered, mimicking her movements. “The gold part in the middle is actually a separate pair of shorts.”

The gaggle of gals looked at each other with a synced resounding of, “oh” and steady nodding. However, the sight of Seiya was caught by one of them, and a woman with half of her long golden hair tied up in a red bow pointed at him as he leaned on the doorframe.

“Hey, there’s the other one!”

As all eyes were directed his way, Serenity’s gaze was warm and welcoming, paired with a smile emitting breathy laughter. The sweet sound serenaded Seiya’s heart into continuous drumming.

Healer and Maker then immediately charged him, taking him in tight embraces from both sides around his neck and waist, ignoring his grimace.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Maker whispered with a sigh of relief.

“What?” Seiya wrapped his free arm around her waist. “Of course I am.”

“These chicks are weird.” Healer’s voice cracked in his other ear, also at a whisper. “I can’t tell if they’re gonna eat us or become our best friends.”

Seiya snorted. “Probably neither. You barely suffice as an appetizer, and you’re mean.”

Healer growled before she pulled away to dead-leg Seiya. While Maker and his cane saved him from completely wiping out on the floor, his wobble was hard to miss.

“Seiya, are you okay?” Serenity approached the trio, a worried expression hovering over her teacup.

“Yes, your highness.” Seiya straightened up as he shot a glare toward Healer, who stuck her tongue out back at him. He softened his face with a smile as he looked at Serenity. “Trying to get used to bowing with one leg.”

“No need to do that! Please sit down!” She shuffled toward a chair at the table and pulled it out.

“You’re too kind, your highness.” Seiya began to make his way over to the offered seat, taking the opportunity to press his cane on top of Healer’s foot using all of his weight. The Starlight’s breath caught in her throat as she let out a quiet squawk, hiding her tears and yelp in Maker’s shoulder.

Once Seiya was seated, the rest of the women huddled behind Serenity to get a better look at the third alien guardian in his male civilian form, all the while blushing at his telepathically agreed-upon handsomeness. However, the queen found herself staring and smiling a bit too long herself and had to be elbowed by a green-eyed brunette to come out of her daze.

“So uh, um... these are my friends and our fellow guardians—Ami Mizuno, Rei Hino, Makoto Kino, and Minako Aino!”

Each woman perked and waved at him when their respective names were said as Seiya smiled and tilted his head forward as a greeting.

“Ooh, Ami, tell them about what you're doing!” Serenity got excited and patted Ami’s arm repeatedly and eagerly, then turned around to wave Healer and Maker back over. While both obliged, Healer seemed to have picked up Seiya’s limp suddenly.

Ami nodded and took out her crystal cell phone from her back pocket, swiping and tapping around a few times before addressing the three foreigners.

“As of five AM this morning, we’ve been scanning a database of alien artifacts and antiques registered with the CTDAAA. Anything considered to have royal, historic, or scientific significance from another planet that is brought to Earth must be registered in this database by law. So if the incense burner you’re looking for is in fact here, theoretically we should find it from this scan.”

Maker cocked her head. “Theoretically?”

“Yes, well, the merchant would have had to register it themselves. Of course, many things are smuggled, especially if it’s illegal or has been reported stolen. Or perhaps they simply don’t want to deal with the paperwork and waiting periods.”

Healer crossed her arms. “So how far along is the scan?”

“A whole point-three percent!” Ami’s voice and expression held sarcastic enthusiasm. “This database does span the whole planet.”

Serenity sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Well then, I guess the only thing we can do now is eat!”

The rest of the women erupted in agreement and dispersed to find their seats at the table. As Seiya watched Serenity head for the chair next to his, something within him said it was okay to grab for the royal hand. And to his surprise, he was faced with her kind and curious cerulean eyes.

He tried to gulp down his blush and excitement, but the feeling of warmth on his ears told him that did nothing.

“Thank you… your highness… for all your help. And happy birthday.”

She wrinkled her nose as she grinned, squeezing his hand in appreciation.

---

Waiting in the queen’s chambers, Ami, Rei, Makoto, and Minako each gasped and held their breath as Serenity emerged from the bathroom.

“So?” Minako widened her eyes, expecting good news.

Serenity couldn’t bring herself to share in the shared anticipation and shook her head to relieve them of their happy mood. The four women groaned.

“I’m so sorry.” Makoto took the queen in an embrace.

Serenity released a sound between a sigh and a sob, sinking into Makoto’s chest. “What is wrong with me?”

The rest of the group took that as their cue to join in on the hug.

“Nothing is wrong with you.” Rei stroked her back. “You still have plenty of time.”

“But how long will that take? Another four years… four-hundred years?”

“When it’s meant to happen.” Ami rested her forehead on one of Serenity’s buns. “You know Chibi-Usa will be here. You need to trust destiny.”

Serenity sniffled. “Yes, that’s true. But it’s just… I don’t understand why it’s taking so long.”

“It'll happen, Serenity. But on the bright side: at least you can drink today.” Makoto’s mouth twisted in a smile as she pulled back from the group hug.

The others let up as well, allowing Serenity to dab her eyes with the sleeve of her robe and nod in agreement. “Sure. I just wish Mamo was here.”

“Is he still in LA?” Ami furrowed her brow.

“Yes. He was supposed to come back yesterday but there’s been a series of bad storms over there and he’s been stuck. They’re saying flights won’t open up until the end of the week. Then he has to go straight to Canberra.”

Rei scoffed. “That sucks. I’m sorry that happened.”

“Don’t be.” Serenity hugged herself and shook her head. “I’ll have an eternity of birthdays for him to attend.”

“At least we got cute men to hang out with this year.” Minako raised her eyebrows to indicate her impish thoughts. “I call dibs on the short one.”

“Dibs on Seiya!” Rei clapped and raised her hands.

Serenity dropped her jaw in disapproval. “Rei, you can’t call dibs on him.”

“What?” Rei’s jaw also dropped. “Mina just called dibs on Yaten!”

“Yes… but… Seiya’s injured. That’s a little messed up, don’t you think?”

“The man has a limp, he’s not braindead.”

“Okay, but his whole body is still healing! You saw how he almost collapsed this morning—”

“If he’s horizontal, it won’t matter—!”

“Okay-okay-okay!” Makoto, unable to contain her smile, walked in between the bickering duo as she held her palms out on each side of her. She then turned her attention to the fiery guardian, speaking through laughter.

“Rei, it would seem that our queen has already called dibs on Sailor Bar Fighter—”

“What? No!” Serenity tried to sound as offended as possible, but her blush betrayed her.

Ami gasped. “Serenity! How could you?”

“Ami, it’s not like that!”

“You know he does look a lot like Endymion…” Minako tapped her pointer finger to her chin.

“Mina! Don’t!”

Rei rolled her eyes with a smirk, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Well, I guess since it’s your birthday, you can have him—”

“Rei, stop it!” Serenity threw her hands up before rubbing them down her face in distress and then defeat. “Fine, have at him, and have fun doing all the work!”

“I need some exercise anyway.” She blew a kiss.

Minako looked over at the only two women who had yet to call dibs. “So who wants lanky legs?”

Makoto and Ami met each other’s gazes, their eyes squinted in opposition.

“How should we do this?”

“The old-fashioned way, of course.”

If an arm was covered with a sleeve, it was rolled up. Or if it was bare, it was being massaged in preparation. Both then slapped their right hands together and curled their fingers into each others’.

“One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war!”

While the rest of the group was distracted with the competition, Serenity walked over to her birthday bar cart stocked with cakes, pastries, and premade mimosas and poured herself a full flute of the orange drink. As she emptied the glass down her throat in only a few gulps, she secretly hoped Seiya wasn’t attracted to Rei.

---

---

Please note if you would like to follow this story, I will be updating the rest of the chapters under the tag: hana bean close to you and other iterations of the spacing. I love you all!

[octalove]

VII: By Invitation Only

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Reader and Jason go undercover in a Mafia den. Part one, two, three, four, five, and six.

My mind buzzed with the sights and sounds of Little Italy. Boots scuffing sidewalk, and the persistent hum of the moving parts within the heart of the city. Quiet, serious conversations mumbled low between men of business, and enthused gossip among thick-accented women at every café and park. The ever-present stream of conversation in the townhouses and shops was exciting. I fell in seamlessly to the strange mix of wealth among poverty, the stringent immigrant culture surpassing both.

The mission itself was straightforward- the kind of business I actually didn’t expect the Red Hood to bother with himself. He got some info from one of his contacts, Giuseppe Bianchi, whose job was to, according to Jason, “sing like a fuckin’ canary”. Bianchi informed him a week ago that one Adriano Cliffs was trying to strike a deal between two mafia families under Red Hood’s control. It was in the realm of real estate; ‘property’ investments that were actually investments into the nefarious affairs that would be taking place on said properties. According to Bianchi, moving chemicals. Red Hood didn’t care about chemicals; it was part of drug trade or domestic biowarfare or what have you, but it was the principle of them moving under his nose. Trying to grub up some deals he wasn’t a part of.

“With the mafia,” He said. “You give ‘em an inch, they take the whole fuckin’ county.” Thus, our job was to go to a dinner party, unassuming guests, and try to figure out who else was involved, so Red Hood could later pay them a visit.

I didn’t ask if he’d kill them.

I had the invitations in my clutch; beautiful little parchment cards with gold lettering. Thank you, Bianchi. There was a stark contrast between going on a mission in my Batgirl suit, and going on one in a green silk dress. I had no trouble dressing the part of the socialite- and apparently Jason didn’t either. He wore a red satin dress shirt, unbuttoned to feature a plunging neckline, paired with a black blazer that had an asymmetric stand collar. Frankly, I was impressed. It looked better than the suits Bruce used to put him in.

The location of the party was a quaint little townhouse nestled in upper Luskan Square. The building was all cream paint and red brick, with pretty green vines cascading from window planters. I could hear music from inside; raspy strings and jaunty horns in a dixieland, swinging tempo.

The two mafia families were Pellegrino and D’amici; two bloodlines that were previously in a feud so contentious that 1/4 of Gotham City Morgue was full of its casualties at any given time. All that until around four months ago when Kane Pellegrino married Penelope D’amici like something straight out of Romeo and Juliet, but with more guns, cocaine and happy endings.

Jason leaned over to me as we approached, whispering lowly in my ear, “The matriarch- Olivier D’amici- she’s a touch odd. Paranoid. Just keep her busy durin’ the party, and I’ll do the rest. Cliffs should be here, too.” I nodded, and flashed a blue-ribbon smile at the doorman.

“Invitations?” He asked. I gave him the cards, and after a brief inspection, he nodded. We entered the foyer, welcomed by the smell of warm food and laughter. The living room was lit by an elegant and tasteful chandelier. It had a more antique and eclectic charm than the manor’s modern refine. Able to attract less attention if we split up, Jason vanished into dining room while I stayed in the living area, mumbling the occasional polite “excuse me” as I tried to make it seem as though I were a frequent guest of mafia dens. I looked around for a woman matching Olivier D’amici’s description- old, blonde, haggish. I silently kicked myself for not asking Jason to be more specific, because as it turns out, old, blonde and haggish was the memo for tonight’s event.

“Oof-“ I smacked right into what felt like a brick wall in a Versace suit. At least, I was right about the suit. I looked up to see a man of about forty peering down at me. His hair was a rusted gold, and he sported magnificently manicured facial hair- it made him appear very leonine.

“My apologies, dear.”

“Oh, it was my fault. I should be the one apologizing.” I said, suddenly nervous with the idea of being roped into a conversation. I was a fighter, not a liar. He chuckled, took a drink of his undisturbed wine.

“That’s sweet of you. It’s refreshing to find someone around here that isn’t too stubborn for their own good.” He said. “You aren’t from one of the families, are you? I don’t know that I’ve seen you around before.”

“I’m a friend of Penelope’s.” I quickly supplied the lie. Something like surprise flashed in his blue eyes, before his face steeled back agreeably.

“I see.”

“I was actually just looking for her. You wouldn’t happen to know where...?” I trailed off as he nodded his head, gesturing to the opposite corner, where a beautiful olive-skinned brunette appeared to be object of adoration in a small circle of people. I’d never actually seen her before- anyone who entered to living room would’ve notice her immediately.

“Oh!” I laughed. “I don’t know how I missed her! Please, excuse me.”

I took my time inching through the crowd, stalling. But the man didn’t take his gaze off of me until I reached Penelope D’amici, and her pool of admirers. Damn. He was going to keep watching until I talked to her. It would be utterly obvious it was an introduction and not an anticipated reunion. I took a deep breath and dug in my heels.

If you’re going to lie, I could hear Bruce’s voice in my mind. Dedicate yourself to it.

“Penelope!” I called. She turned, planting her stunning, doey brown eyes on me. I pressed a couple friendly kisses to her cheeks.

“Hello!” She said, clearly inured in the art of greeting. I stole a glance to the man, who had moved along just as Penelope gave me a politely curious look.

“Have we- um,” She looked so apologetic, I almost felt bad.

“Louise Casteñes?” I said encouragingly, giving her my fake name. “We met at the wedding.” Penelope’s face went a shade of pink, and she gave me a bashful laugh.

“Oh- the wedding was quite the evening, I’m really sorry if I forgot. You must think I’m so rude.”

“Oh, it was months ago, no need to feel bad.” I offered.

“I saw you talking to Mr. Cliffs. Are you two familiar?” I blinked. Adriano Cliffs. The man trying to sabotage Red Hood- and now was suspicious of me within fifteen minutes of the party. Good fucking going.

“Not really, I just accidentally ran into him. I’m lucky he didn’t spill his wine.” I replied. Penelope laughed, the sound like wind chimes.

“If you asked my grandmother,“ She said. “She’d say he’d deserve it.”

“Olivier, right? Your grandmother?” Penelope nodded.

“Did you meet her at the wedding as well?”

“I didn’t get the chance, I’m afraid.”

Her face lit up and she looped her arm in mine. Together we waltzed through the bodies and expensive antique furniture into the dining room. Jason was nowhere to be seen; he must have begun his hunt for information.

“Oh, you have to meet her! She’s the host.” Once away from the crowd, she leaned close in cospiracy, and added. “And I need an excuse to get away from those people. Looks like you’re my savior tonight.” She winked, and I laughed as she pulled me into a small, secluded reading room.

Olivier D’amici was- well- old, blonde, and haggish. She had pale skin like worn leather and powdery makeup, but her fashionable ensemble of emerald green silk and sapphire jewelry was stylish and unconventionally attractive. She was like a peacock personified. She was indeed a touch odd, and more than a touch paranoid- though not of me. After thirty minutes cradled in scandalous conversation about everything from the horderves to Kane Pellegrino’s bedroom habits, I learned that Olivier stuck her poignantly upturned nose away from the likes of Adriano Cliffs and his slimy business deals. She made no mention of Red Hood, but complained in great detail that real estate competition between the Pellegrinos and D’amicis was a problem solved by the marriage and that was that. Cliffs had been pestering her for months, but she wouldn’t sign a thing. When thirty minutes turned into an hour, I finally caught Jason’s face amidst the party. I hadn’t expected the following relief that washed over me as I excused myself.

We reconvened, settling on a chaise in the lounge.

“I got everything I need.” He said simply, with no further indulgence as to what he’d been up to for the past two and a half hours. I lowered my voice as I updated him on my end.

“Olivier doesn’t want to work with Cliffs- she thinks he wants to break up the families again. Penelope’s marriage was bad for his business.”

Jason nodded thoughtfully. “Good work, little bird.”

“She’s nice.” I added.

“Hm?”

“Penelope. She’s nice. And innocent.”

A beat passed before Jason sighed lightly, and leaned close, eyes moving across the crowd.

“You see that woman over there?” I followed his gaze to a pudgy, but frail woman in a wheelchair who had to be in her late eighties. Her purple blouse was adorned with a matching silk bow on the neckline, as she smiled as she cupped the face of a young boy. A grandchild, perhaps.

“Pepper de LeShapelle.” Jason’s lips grazed my ear for the closeness of them. “If the D’amicis enlist the help of some third party goons- guys just tryin’ to whip up some extra cash, feed their families- and those guys wind up in Finger River afterward, de LeShapelle signed the order. She pays the legal team, too. Been doing it since the eighties.” My gaze fell away from her. “Nobody’s innocent here, dollface. If Penelope is now- which I doubt- she won’t be in a couple years. Maybe she won’t gun anyone down, but she’ll sure as hell be signing the orders for somebody else to do it. That’s D’amici tradition.” I didn’t respond, letting my silence speak for itself. I still couldn’t get the picture of Red Hood pointing a gun at Penelope out of my head.

“Andre! Come, come.” A voice interrupted my thoughts. Jason turned and gave a charming smile to a man with a thick accent in a monochrome black suit. “Pardon, my dear, but I must steal your companion for a moment.” He addressed me. I smiled agreeably.

“He’s all yours.”

Jason- Andre, as it were- left in a blur of suits and pocket watches, and I wandered around the townhouse for a while, busying myself with scones and inspecting baby pictures until ten minutes passed, and the air began to dizzy me.

Nights in Gotham were always pretty; the shadows filled all the cracks and made the flaws too dark to see. In Little Italy, the view from the balcony was particularly breathtaking, with colors like oil paints against a dusk canvas. Stars hung low in the fading light, competing with the twinkling lights of the city below. I could see a ferry steaming along in Finger River. The shade of blue made me realize how the chaos had worn on me. Stepping onto the terrace was a cool and much-needed repose.

After a while, footsteps sounded behind me. They were heavy and relaxed; lazy strides that could only be Jason’s. He was intimidating in his armor, lurching into a fight with fistfuls of firepower and that daunting stance he always took. But somehow, he was more intimidating here, out of his element, with wine and music and satin blouses, affluent society moving around him like water in a stream. He was uncharacteristically poised to pretend. In a fight, I could see the anger, the strain, the stubborn willfulness in the way he trusted completely the momentum of his own body. He was a great combatant, but I knew his moves. I always knew what he wanted. Here, even though I could see his face, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Everyone was his enemy, everyone was his friend. He could smile at a mafia goon and scowl at servant, and feel the exact opposite way. I felt like he was always lying.

Jason sauntered over and leaned against the Romanesque stone railing. He smelled like cologne and wine, and in fact tipped his glass to his lips for a sip.

“Hope it wasn’t too overwhelmin’.” He muttered, eyes falling on the city. He looked apologetic- but perhaps it was the lighting.

“No, it’s fine. I just needed some air.”

Something like glass breaking sounded from inside, followed by a chorus of laughter. He glanced back, amusement dancing on his lips. I wondered if he’d rather be back there; he did so seem to love the fray.

I ran a finger across a crack in the railing. Dick would have loved to know I’d attended a party with the upper echelon of mafia society. I thought I’d remembered a stupid story about his escapades with congressman’s daughter at the G.C. Opera House.

“What’s wrong?” Jason’s low voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked at him, surprised at the expression of interest he wore. I hesitated, shifting my weight as I stalled. Of course I didn’t want to tell him I’d been thinking of Dick.

“It’s stupid.” A beat.

“Yeah? Tell me anyway.” He said, with some finality. Again, I paused.

“Go on, little bird.” He said, drawing almost imperceptibly nearer, dipping his head close, drawing a line between ourselves and the mansionful of strangers. “Tell me.”

I was agonizingly aware of the modest inches between us. “My moms… they loved to travel. Everywhere they went, they always did something- something memorable. They were the life of the party, everywhere. They had a lot of stories.”

He didn’t say anything. It made me nervous, so I kept going to fill the silence.

“They probably came to Little Italy a lot. Probably before I was born. Ma used to tease me, because I never did anything. Or went anywhere. I just studied and… stayed home.”

More silence. I didn’t even want to look at him. He was the Red fucking Hood and I was telling him about my dead moms like he was alcoholics anonymous.

“I can’t help but feel like… I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t disappointing them, really. But I keep thinking how happy and proud they’d be now if they… if I could tell them all the stories I have now.” I concluded, watching cars with golden yellow headlights file like ants down the cobblestone streets.

“Huh.”

I blinked- not really sure what I was expecting out of him. Emotional intelligence-wise, he did die when he was a 15 year old boy. I never really yearned for him to offer me solace; but the way he just looked at me and listened made me feel like I could say anything.

I looked over at him, and he flashed me a toothy, wolfish grin and sipped his wine.

“So, if they were here, what tales would you tell em, darlin’?” He asked, eyeing me with some unreadable plan formulating in his head.

“I… well, I don’t know. I guess I don’t have anything that impressive yet. I’m spending my first ever mafia party on a balcony.”

“Easily remedied. Come on, I’ll get ya another glass.” He stood.

“Well, I‘ve never drank wine either.”

He looked at me with genuine surprise. “Ever?”

I shrugged. He settled back against the railing. “Do you want to?”

“I don’t know…” I hesitated. I’d had beer before, and burning liquor in the dark quells of some distant classmate’s basement party. But that, I could barely remember. I added quietly, “It smells bad.” He laughed his uncanny, jagged laugh.

“Yeah?” He gave me a vexatious look. “How ‘bout just a taste?” I glanced at the empty glass hanging in his fingers.

“Too bad you drank it all.” I said teasingly.

“I said a taste, not a sip.”

He drew closer. Leaning on the railing like we were, it was easy to forget my height reached only his chest. Before I could give any forethought to what any of this would mean for me, his calloused fingers were tilting my chin upward, tipping my face toward his. I could feel the warmth of his body and breath- it made the night seem colder, though I knew it was tepid at worst. His lips were soft and considerate when they met mine, gently adding pressure. It was a feather-light, brief thing. What startled me more than the kiss itself was the gentleness of it.

When he pulled away, I breathed, realizing I’d forgotten to. I blinked as he let go of my chin, a small grin playing at his lips as he surveyed my reaction. Realizing he wasn’t going to kiss me again himself, I leaned in this time, butterflies fluttering in my stomach as I did. Jason kissed me back, more enthusiastically this time. His tongue danced against my lips until I parted them, whereupon he slipped it past my teeth. The intimacy cradled me like a blurry dream- I hadn’t at all been expecting to be here with him, tonight, like this; and yet here I was, and not wishing to be anywhere else. Jason was with me- tall, strong, gorgeous Jason Todd- choosing me over all the rich and beautiful people of Little Italy beyond the stained glass french doors of the terrace. Choosing me over the criminals and vagrants he had the power to puppeteer for any purpose he so chose. The way his mouth and tongue felt was dizzying. And he was right; I could taste the wine. Fruity and tangy, with a more earnest, earthy bitterness just below the surface. When my breath hitched, asking for air, he pulled away. After a deep sigh, I leaned into him, letting his arms encircle me, laying my head against the fabric of his shirt.

Our mission was over. We could’ve left any time. But there, then, I couldn’t even associate with the idea of pulling away from him.

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels: A Duelist’s Dance

This is the third Magnificent Scoundrels story.  If you don’t see any of the characters you like, well, don’t worry, we’ll be getting to them in good time.  Also, if you want more action, don’t worry, because we’ll be getting to that too.  As always, I own none of these characters except the Drake and his crew.  I hope you enjoy!

Vir met with the two commanders of the regiment, Colonel Kasteen and Major Broklaw, before he was to inspect the soldiers of the regiment.  They nodded affably, the pale faces of ice worlders peering from under their dress caps, and saluted.  

“A pleasure to meet you, sir.  I read Drake’s report, and I’m happy to serve with someone who has advanced the cause of the human race.”  These guys really don’t stop with humanity vs. the aliens, do they?

“I heard from Commissar Cain that all the aliens in your universe want to kill you.  That’s, well, not the case here.  All the aliens on this ship are perfectly amicable, and won’t try to hurt you.”  Broklaw frowned.

“Well, you know what they say, beware the treachery of the xenos.”  

“Well, I trust them,” said Adam heatedly.

“You never know with xenos.  Anyway, Commissar- or should I call you Admiral?”

“Either is fine.”

“Tell me about yourself.  Where were you born?” asked Kasteen as they walked through the hallways. 

“The United States of America.”  The two other officers frowned.  

“An odd name for a planet.”

“You misunderstand.  That’s the country.  I was born on Earth, just like most humans from my galaxy.”  Both officers stopped and stared in shock.

“You were born upon Holy Terra itself?” asked Kasteen in an incredulous whisper.

“If that’s your name for the birthplace of humanity, then, yes,”  shrugged Adam.  What was the big deal with being born on Earth?  All humans came from there.  

“Truly, it is a blessing to meet a native Terran.  To see the cradle of humanity, yet alone to be born in it!” exclaimed Kasteen.

“Is that a rarity where you come from?”  Broklaw chuckled.

“With an empire spanning over a million worlds, yes.”  It was Adam’s turn to look incredulous.  

“A million worlds?  How could you possibly govern it?” Kasteen shrugged.

“Every planet in the Imperium is governed its own way.  So as long as they accept the word of the God-Emperor, pay the tithe, and respect the various branches of the Imperium, then they’re free to do as they wish.”  Well, that was interesting.

“Where are you two from?”  

“Valhalla, located in the northeast of the galaxy.  It’s an ice world, and we live in underground hive cities.  You either join the Guard or work in the caverns, cultivating the foodstuffs that sustain the populace.”

“That seems...” Adam searched for the right words, “harsh.”  Broklaw shrugged.

“Eh, could be worse.  You could be born on Catachan.”

“Or Krieg,” interjected Kasteen.  They both grinned at that.  But before Vir could ask what Krieg was, they arrived.  

He stepped through the door leading to the mess hall, one of the two only two rooms in the ship big enough to assemble a large body of people.  Every single member of the Valhallan 597th stood at parade attention.  Despite it being a relatively large room, the soldiers almost completely filled it, with little room to spare.  He didn’t really like doing it, but Adam was an admiral, and so that meant he had plenty of practice making speeches.  

“Men, and women of the Valhallan 597th, I am Adam Vir.  Due to the tensions between yourselves and the crew of the Omen, Commissar Cain and I are switching places to show both you and the crew that you can trust each other.  It is our duty to maintain order, and so order will be maintained.  That’s all for now.  Dismissed.”  Not one of his best speeches, but, again, not one of his worst.  Quick and simple.  It would work.  Now, for the tough part.  He found that people generally got along better if they knew and were comfortable with one another, and so he would be staying with the Valhallans and supervising them at all times.  Hopefully, they could work something out and tensions would de-escalate.  Kasteen approached him.

“Admiral Vir, I have decided to delegate tasks to the troopers to keep them out of trouble, and out of the way of the rest of the crew.  I thought it would be best if we gave both them and your crew some time to cool down, then gradually re-introduced them to each other,” she said.

“Good idea,” replied Vir.  He turned on his heel and walked towards the exit, when he had a sudden, horrid thought.  The Celzex.  The Celzex were a highly militaristic and easily insulted race, several of which were aboard the ship.  The problem with the Celzex, however, was that they were six-inch tall adorable balls of fur, practically the least intimidating thing any human had come across.  They, however, did not realize this, and all the other races of the galaxy let themselves be fake-cowed as the Celzex had the most powerful warships out of any race that sailed the void, and, honestly, they were too hilarious to take seriously.  Adam had hidden them away, out of the reach of the Imperials, as nothing good could come out of a confrontation with deluded fluf balls and highly xenophobic humans.  Adam would also feel terrible if the Celzex were to be insulted and retaliate with their deadly weapons against the Imperium.  (Although, later, he was to feel much the opposite and be thankful that the Celzex didn’t insult the Imperium)  The problem with this was that without him in control over the ship, the Celzex would probably start to roam, and inevitably, with their pride and the Imperials’ xenophobia, someone would get hurt.  He resolved to speak with Simone at the earliest possible opportunity.  

Commissar Ciaphas Cain, backed up by Jurgen, as always, stepped through the doorway to the cargo bay, the other room big enough to hold large bodies of people at one time.  He was to be in charge of all the ground combat operatives on the Omen, which, unfortunately, included a group of the ten feet tall four-armed xenos.  Despite Admiral Vir’s reassurances, Cain still wasn’t comforted.  Xenos were a tricky lot, and it was best to still be on guard, despite what the possibly heretical Admiral said.  The xenos, er, Drev, were lined up neatly next to the ship’s marines, and Cain walked down their rows to inspect them.  The Marines’ armor was odd, nothing like he had ever seen before on an Imperial Guardsman.  But, it was a new galaxy after all, so it made sense that new sights would be seen.  And, he thought to himself while inspecting the Drev soldiers, it could be worse.  One of the people at Drake’s meeting was accompanied by a small rodent-like xenos that could talk, and another with a brown hairy xenos that looked like a walking carpet.  Clearly, things could be worse.  Although, Cain, with several centuries (Authors note: in the Warhammer 40k universe, there are treatments to prolong people’s life spans.  Cain, being a high ranking commissar and a Hero of the Imperium had and has access to these treatments) of military experience really ought to have known better than to jinx it.  

“I am Ciaphas Cain.  Your captain and I have switched places to retain order between yourselves and the Imperial Guardsmen on board this ship.  It is our hope that you will all come to understand one another, so that we may carry out the Emperor’s work all the more efficiently.”  Damn.  He was still used to Imperial phrases and platitudes while making speeches.  “I shall be your commanding officer and oversee all of you and your efforts.  Unless you have any problems or questions, dismissed.”  Not one of his best speeches, but he wasn’t used to speaking to heretics and xenos.  Speaking of which, one of the big xenos, the Drev, he corrected himself, was sauntering over to his position.  

“You are presuming to command us?  I'm not sure if the Admiral told you, but in our culture, if you want command, you must fight for it.”  Cain wasn’t sure, but he thought the Drev, despite its beak-like mouth, was grinning at him.  Well frak.  He put on a casual outward appearance.  

“And if I don’t?”  The Drev shrugged.

“You cannot command us,” it said simply.  Most of the Marines and other Drev were sharing smiles between each other.  They wanted to see these arrogant Imperials put in their place.  And Cain, well, he had no idea if this custom was real, or if they were just making it up on the spot to spite him.  It didn’t matter either way.  He had to fight, otherwise, real custom or not, he would look weak, and the Drev and most of the Marines would probably refuse to serve under him.  He shrugged.  

“Fine then.  When is the fight?” he asked

“As soon as possible,” replied the Drev.

“See you in forty-five minutes.  Where, and, what are the rules?”  The Drev seemed to think things over, then replied.

“We shall make a combat area here.  We fight until disarmed or unable to continue.”

“I shall return in forty-five minutes,” replied Cain.  Frakkin’ xenos.  

Admiral Vir was frustrated.  He had returned to the bridge to talk to Simone about the Celzex situation.  Apparently, they were already mad that they could not go through the entire ship as they wished, and so he was required to go calm them down.  They wouldn’t listen to Simone.  Already, more problems.  And it was just at the point where he thought that the day couldn’t get any worse (again, he ought to have known better than to jinx it), when Ramirez, one of the Marines and a close friend of his, burst onto the bridge.  

“Adam!  We have a problem.”

“What else could have possibly gone wrong in the last half hour?”  Ramirez swallowed.

“Well, uh, the Drev challenged Cain to a fight.”

“They what?”

“They challenged Cain to a fight, as a way to get back at the Imperial’s insults.  A lot of the other marines are backing them.  I know it’s best if you guys restore order, which is why I’m telling you.”  Great.  Now Cian was going to get beat up, and he couldn’t do anything because he had to deal with the Celzex.  

“When’s the fight?”

”In ten minutes.”  It kept getting better and better, didn’t it?

“Try and stop them!” he practically yelled at Ramirez.  The last thing he needed was Cain getting beat up.  Then tensions would probably escalate until people started dying.  He hoped Ramirez could stop them in time.   

Cain stood at the edge of the space the Drev and Marines had laid out for the fight.  The edge of his chainsword was covered in black rubber, so as not to allow the razor sharp teeth to slice through his opponent.  (Author’s note:  Yes, chainsword.  It’s exactly what you think it is.  A chainsaw/sword)  His opponent, whose name he didn’t know, was holding a massive spear, blunted on the tip so he wouldn’t end up shish-kebabed.  Said opponent had been chosen by the other Drev, and Cain had no idea how good it was.  Hell, he had no idea what gender it was.  If, of course, Drev had genders, which he didn’t know and honestly didn’t really care about.  Most of the Drev and Marines were gathered around the circle, eager to see him get pummeled.  Hopefully, he would prove them wrong.  Hopefully.  It didn’t look good.  The Drev across from him was one of the big ones, standing ten feet tall with a forest green outer carapace.  It seemed to grin, an unseemly sight coming from it’s beak-like mouth, and spoke. “Commissar Cain, I am ready to begin.  Are you sure you want to fight in that coat?” it asked.  Several of the Marines snickered.  Cain hid his offended look behind a well practiced outer facade.  This time, he grinned in response.

“Of course.  I’ve fought many a tougher opponent than you in this coat.”  The Drev snarled.  

“Fine then.  We shall begin.”  The two fighters stepped forward, weapons raised, each one ready to test the other’s defences.  The Drev smiled to herself.  This would be easy.  A puny and arrogant human put in its place.  

Interestingly enough, most species throughout the now collective galaxies have a distressing tendency to not learn from the mistakes of the past.   The Drev were no exception.  This one seemed to forget that her species had once under-estimated humans, and it had cost them dearly, the Drev’s first ever major military defeat in war.  She lunged forward, spear singing through the air, intending to smash the sword out of Cain’s hand.  He sidestepped and deflected the shaft with contemptuous ease.  The Drev took a step back.  Surprising?  A little.  But it was of small matter.  That was just the opening blow.  She took a fighting stance, and the duel began in earnest.  

Ramirez sprinted through the ship, heading towards the cargo bay.  Hopefully, he would be in time to stop the fight, which would probably end badly for everyone involved, especially the Commissar.  If he was wounded or, unlikely but still possible, considering the mood most of the people on the ship were in, killed, the crew would be dealing with trained and armed soldiers without the oversight of their disciplinary officer.  In short, if the fight started, something bad would probably happen.  Unfortunately for him, he could see Cain and one of the Drev already in the combat ring, weapons drawn and raised, circling each other when he got to the cargo bay.  He was imminently familiar with Drev customs, having served alongside them for so long, and thus knew that interrupting the fight would probably cause worse problems than letting it continue.  There was nothing he could do but watch and hope Cain didn’t get pulverized.

The Drev scowled and launched another attack at Cain.  Once more, Cain’s feet moved in an intricate pattern, dancing around the blows, deflecting them with ease.  How?!  How was this possible?  This man wasn’t supposed to be this good!  She snarled and launched another attack.  

Cain spun out of the way of another blow.  The audience seemed to be taking closer notice it seemed.  It mattered little to him.  While the alien, Drev, he corrected himself, was certainly quite good, it wasn’t near the level of some of the opponents he had faced before.  It did not have the brute strength of an Ork, nor was it was hellishly fast as a genestealer, nor as overwhelmingly powerful as the demented servants of the Blood God.  He saw another swipe coming and sidestepped once more, knocking his opponent’s spear to the side.   

Several of the Marines were grinning.  There was, marines being marines, a betting pool for this fight.  The odds were overwhelmingly in favor of the Drev.  So in favor, in fact, that some of the marines had decided that they were just too good to be passed up and bet on Cain.  Now they grinned as Cain exhibited his deadly skill with a sword as their fellows glowered at them.  

Several of the more pragmatic and practical amongst the Drev and Marines were watching the combatants closely, noting how they fought for future reference and perhaps imitation.  The Drev, as benefited a warrior culture, had several different named styles for fighting with the most common weapon amongst  their kind, the spear.  The Drev in the ring was using what was known as the ‘Earth’ style, designed to deliver the most powerful and crushing blows as possible to one’s enemy.  Her form was good, noted several of the Drev absently.  What everyone was mostly looking at was Cain.  He fought using his own unique style, tailored to his tastes and abilities, and formulated to fight the horribly overpowered enemies of his home galaxy.  It was largely defensive in nature, designed to deflect blows with minimal effort so as to get his opponent to make a mistake or over-exert themselves.  But it was not only the style of the fighter, but the fighter himself that drew such attention.  It was plain to tell by those more experienced in the art of combat that Cain was an exceptionally good swordsman.  His reflexes allowed for no mistakes.  Every stroke was parried, every brutal blow knocked aside with a dexterity that astounded.  Every step was perfect, every counter attack measured so as to not let a single opening in his defenses.  He was more than good; he was one of the most deadly opponents anyone watching had ever seen.

And, finally, inevitably due to her frustration, the Drev over-extended herself.  She launched a wild, lunging sweep to Cain’s left.  Once more, he knocked it aside, then followed with a blindingly swift counter-attack.  Blow after blow rained down on the Drev, who did all she would to block the expertly executed counter, but finally, inevitably, with a twist and flourish of his chainsword, Cain knocked her spear from her hands.  Some of the watchers gasped.  Several applauded, mostly those who just won money.  Most just stood there, slack-jawed.  This wasn’t supposed to happen.  

Well, at least Cain didn’t get pulped, thought Ramirez.  He did wonder, however, exactly what the implications this victory would have.  

Later That Night

Admiral Vir had assembled his council.  Simone’s idea to switch Cain with Vir had already borne fruit, and the two factions were already more calm.  However, this was not the only part of the plan.  He had sent his most trusted friends to find out as much as they could about the Imperials and the culture they came from.  While Drake’s report was helpful, for some reason, the Imperial’s home galaxy was represented only sketchily, so Adam had decided to have his most trusted crew snoop around for questions.  The results were...alarming.  

“I had a one-on-one talk with the regiment’s chaplain, Tope,” said Maverick.  “They are totally infatuated with religion, which can be a problem just by itself, but their religion is what’s most concerning.  They believe that their Emperor is a living, breathing, omnipotent and omnipresent god, who they worship to the fullest extent.  The Emperor is entombed,”  she checked a notepad she had with her, “I think.  Anyway, he was apparently immortal, which seemed ludicrous, and is sitting on a massive life support device called the Golden Throne of Terra, where he’s been fueling a massive interstellar navigational beacon called the Astronomican.  It's all really bizarre and seems really improbable, but that’s not the worst part.  The tenants of this religion are as follows.”  She cleared her throat and read of her notepad.  “One: the God-Emperor of Mankind once walked among men in their form and that He is and always was the one true god of humanity.  Two: The God-Emperor of Mankind is the one true god of humanity regardless of any beliefs previously held by any man or woman.  That means there isn’t any religious tolerance in their Empire, which already isn’t endearing me to them.  Three: it is the duty of the faithful to purge the heretic, beware the mutant and, uh, psyker?” she struggled over the unfamiliar word.  “And abhor the alien.  Which explains why they don’t like us.  Four: Every human has a place in the God-Emperor’s divine order.   Five: It is the duty of the faithful to unquestionably obey the authority of the Imperial government and their superiors, who speak in the Divine Emperor’s name,” she finished.  The table shared concerned looks.  

“This smacks of Fascism,” intoned Narobi.    

“I’m inclined to agree,” replied Adam.  “However, we only got our crew and their soldiers off each other’s throats, and their relationship with the non-humans on board have improved markedly.  We can’t jeopardize that now, as much as I dislike how this government sounds.  What else did you find?”

“Well, as you know, Cain fought and beat a Drev,” said Ramirez.  Adam had heard.  Actually, it was probably one of the best things that could have happened.  The Drev had a high sense of honor, and thus accepted Cain totally.  The Marines respected him for being able to win a fight with a Drev.  He commanded the total respect of any of the Omen’s fighting crew.  

“How good is Cain?” asked Sunny skeptically.  She was a Drev, who was busy helping Simone run the ship, and so didn’t see the fight.  She didn’t see how an overly-elaborate dressed human had been able to take a ten-foot tall member of her species.  

“He’s good.  Very good,” replied Ramirez with probably altogether too much excitement for the situation.  

“Exactly how good?” 

“He could probably give Adam a run for his money.  In the Iron Eye suit.”  Several low whistles and incredulous expressions greeted this information.  Adam was himself no slouch at hand-to-hand combat, and the Iron Eye suit was a series of armored prosthetic enhancements that made its wearer move faster, jump higher, fight stronger; plus there was the fact that it was armor, which meant that it was really hard for any weapon to penetrate.  The idea that a single non-enhanced human could take on an Iron Eye soldier was frightening.  

“Alright then.  Anything else?” asked Adam.

“I went to the armory.  The Imperials asked to store their spare weapons there.  Most of the stuff there...is like nothing I’ve ever seen.  Their main weapon seems to be a laser rifle which runs off of rechargeable batteries,” said Sunny.  Laser rifles?  Now that was interesting.  Adam Vir was, by his own admission, a sci-fi fanatic.  Now he wanted a laser rifle.  

“Well, despite what it seems, we should try and keep an open mind.  They seem to be very logical and level-headed,” he said.  There were nods of agreement around the table.  “If no one has any other comments, dismissed.”  Little did the crew of the Omen know, but Cain and the other Imperial officers were doing the same thing on their side of the ship.

“Well, what did you find?” Cain asked Major Broklaw.  

“Their government is called the Galactic Assembly.  It’s a big council where all the races of the galaxy sit down and discuss their problems,” Broklaw sneered.  

“Great.  A bounce of xenos-loving filth,” muttered Sulla, one of the captains.  Cain ignored her.

“Chaplain Tope?  What did you find?” he asked.

“They have many different religions, and before any of you start yelling ‘heretic!’, that is to be expected.  You see, they come from a place that is devoid of the divine radiance of the Emperor, and thus, their tendencies will probably go against the Imperial Creed.  That’s all right, though.  I’m sure that we can bring them into the loving light of the Emperor soon.”  Cain nodded with approval.  He liked Tope.  Tope wasn’t what he liked to refer to as an Emperor-bother, one of the people who thought that they should be praying, day in and day out; completely obsessed with religion.  Tope was more practical.  And Cain had found through a long military career that the Emperor helped those who helped themselves.  

“That’s good, then.  I must say that we should keep somewhat of an open mind about all of these people.  They are humans after all, albeit humans from a different galaxy.  They do not have the teachings of the Emperor to rely on.”  Most of the heads around the table nodded.  “Kasteen, what did you find about your new acting Commissar?” he asked with a smile.

“Well, first off, he was born on Holy Terra.”  That caused some low whistles and incredulous stares.  Despite there being no Emperor in Adam Vir’s galaxy, he was still born upon Holy Terra, the sacred homeworld of the human race.  That had to count for something, right?  

“Well, if we’re being led by a native-born Terran, then we’ll probably be in good hands.  No offense,” one of the captains shot a look at Cain.  He laughed.  No offense was taken.  

“Anything else?”

“What about the fight?” asked Sulla.  Cain shrugged and gave a self-deprecating smile.  

“Those big aliens are good.  I just got lucky.”  Kasteen and Broklaw shared a look.  The Commissar was being too modest again.  In reality, he was probably the best swordsman either of them had ever seen.  But that was the Commissar.  A humble hero.

Well, on that note, that’s the story!  Endings are always the hardest to get right.  For any of you wondering how exactly Cain could have beaten a Drev, well, like I stated, he’s a very, very good swordsman.  Good enough to beat the terrifying opponents I mentioned during the duel, which if you want to know more about, just ask.  If you have any comments, criticisms, concerns, thoughts, ideas, or id you just want to know more about any of these wonderful sci-fi universes, feel free to ask!  Wherever you are, have a wonderful day!   

[pocket-luv101]

First Impressions // Chapter 1

Fandom: Servamp Ship: LawLicht (main), KuroMahi (side), Tetsono (side), Jekuni (side) Characters: Hyde, Licht, Kuro, Mahiru

Summary: After Licht meets the wealthy bachelor, Hyde, she was certain that she could never be friends with him. Their paths continues to cross and she slowly comes to know him. Licht wonders if she judged him too quickly. (LawLicht, Pride and Prejudice AU, Fem Licht)

(Ch.1) //

Licht was immersed in playing her piano. She loved music and she wanted to become a pianist. She understood that it would be difficult for her to be a professional musician due to her gender. Women were taught music and art but there was an expectation that they would perform as a hobby rather than a career. Despite the limitations, Licht was determined to pursue her dreams.

She hoped to provide for her sisters with her passion as well. While her family were respected among high society, they were far from wealthy. Both of her parents were rather frivolous with money. She had four sisters whom she adored and she wanted to give them an easy life. The hardship the sisters faced brought them closer.

“Father, I must speak with you immediately!” Mikuni yelled as she stormed into the drawing room. Licht was confused by her sister’s tone of voice. She rarely heard her be genuinely angry as she was now. While Mikuni would often feign a dramatic personality around strangers, she was truly a composed and intelligent person. “What is this that I’ve found in the study?”

She slammed a piece of paper onto the table in front of their father. Licht was curious what could’ve made her sister so upset and she stopped playing to listen to their conversation. Mikuni stabbed her finger against the words on the paper and Licht thought the table would break beneath her anger.

“Your will states that our house and land will be inherited by the male heir of our family after your death. Must I remind you that you have five daughters and no sons, Father? If you die without a son, the house will be given to our cousin, Haruto, and he will surely evict us. You will be forcing us to be homeless or to rely on the charity of others.” Mikuni took a pen and pressed it into her father’s hand. “I will not leave this spot until you amend this will so the house will be split equally among the five of us.”

“Mikuni, you are being unreasonable. This is a fairly standard will. Women are not permitted to inherit property so I couldn’t include you in my will. You are very intelligent so you should be able to understand the law.” He said and his answer only made her frown deepen. “Your Uncle Toru is very kind. Perhaps he can take you girls in.”

“We grew up in this house and Mikuni should be the one to inherit it.” Licht argued in support of her sister. “She took over the estate’s finances and she’s the only reason we weren’t forced to sell off the house to settle your gambling debt. Mikuni can run the business better than Haruto. He has never stepped foot on our land and doesn’t know it as well as Mikuni.”

The Eves owned a modest animal farm and their main income came from training horses for nobles. When Mikuni was only seventeen, she had decided to help with the family’s business. She had gained the respect of the workers over the past ten years and they saw her as their manager over her father. Despite her efforts to save her family’s home from debtors, she would still lose it.

“You father and I have already discussed the issue, my sweet children.” Their mother said. “There is no need to worry about our financial security after you find husbands. In fact, a wealthy family will be moving into the estate next to ours. The Servamp family has several eligible bachelors and one will be taken with our beautiful Sakura. Perhaps, several will ask for her hand!”

“The town hall will be throwing a public ball to welcome them to the countryside. I shall introduce you to them.” Her father added.

“A ball? We must go into the village and buy me a new dress for the occasion. All the men will fawn over me.” Sakura cheered in excitement and jumped to her feet. She was the youngest sister at nineteen and she was rather spoiled. Licht hoped that her younger sister would mature out of her vain personality with age. “Mikuni, can I borrow money? I already spent my allowance on my new bonnet.”

“Sakura, we cannot afford to buy you a new dress every time you step out of the house. I’m certain that you will find a suitable gown in your closet.” Mikuni told Sakura sternly. She turned to her parents and her backs straightened. “I don’t agree with your plan to marry us off, as though that will solve the issue. I will find a way for the house to stay in our family.”

“You have always been a headstrong woman.” He sighed. “JeJe, make tea for us. It should help calm Mikuni.”

“JeJe, escort me to the stables. I want to oversee Misono’s riding lesson and whether Tetsu is caring for her properly.” Mikuni purposely spoke over her father. JeJe stopped next to her and she placed her hand on the crook of his arm. She began to leave the room with him. She only looked back to her parents to say: “For the sake of my sisters, I wish you a long and healthy life. I want you to know that I’m disappointed by both of you.”

Licht watched Mikuni leave and she debated if she should go after her. She knew her well enough to understand that her sister would prefer to be alone to think. As she closed the lid on her pianoforte, she decided she should find her fifth sister, Mahiru. She didn’t want her to return home to the tense atmosphere and be confused. She could explain the situation to her so she would be prepared at least.

She wrapped a shawl around her and she left the house. Licht thought of the different places her sister could be on the estate and she immediately walked to the stream. They loved to play in the shallow water when they were children and Mahiru still loved the spot. She could trust to find her next to the stream with a sketchbook on her lap.

Licht passed the horse stable and crossed the field to reach the creek that bordered their property. She stared at the grand manor that rested on the other side of the creek. Her mother said the Servamp family would move into the estate in a week. She didn’t agree with her plan to arrange marriages for them. She was a little curious about the family though. Even lost in thought, her feet were familiar with the path and she could walk to the creek easily.

In the distance, she could see her sister. Mahiru sat on a wooden swing that hung from the tree overlooking the lake. She didn’t call out to her immediately because she wanted to play a childish prank on her. She crept behind her sister so she wouldn’t notice her immediately. The moment Mahiru stopped drawing, Licht jumped forward and lightly grabbed her shoulders. “Surprise, Mahiru!”

“Licht?” She gasped and almost fell off the swing. Mahiru placed her feet on the ground and rocked her body back so she was looking up at Licht. “Is it time for lunch already? I was certain that the bell only rang ten times. I’ll start cooking. Is there anything particular you want to eat?”

The sisters would do the chores around the house to help save money. They had to depend on each other while they were growing up. Their father was often gambling and their mother only doted on Sakura. Mikuni’s efforts to save their family home inspired the others to do the same. Licht wanted to become a pianist, Misono helped Mikuni and Mahiru worked with the house’s staff.

“I came to warn you that Mikuni had another fight with father about the family estate. I didn’t want you to be blindsided when you return home.” The swing seat was wide enough for two people so Licht sat next to her sister. She lightly pushed the swing into motion with her feet and Mahiru mirrored her movements. She told her about their father’s will as they swinged slowly.

Mahiru stared at the sketchbook on her lap where she had drawn their house. They had countless memories connected to their home and she couldn’t think of leaving everything behind. “Father is still in good health so we still have time for the will to be changed. Perhaps, the title can be given to Uncle Toru. I trust him not to throw us out. I would prefer if Mikuni was given the house but it’s nearly impossible.”

“By the law of arrogant men, property cannot be owned by property. We are so much more than what they see us as. Women should be provided the same rights as men.” Licht spat. Her anger became a cunning grin and she said: “In the event that the house does fall into Haruto’s hands, we must welcome him with a feast.”

“Extending an olive branch could help us keep the house.” Mahiru nodded. “We can explain to him that it’ll be best for everyone to have Mikuni run the estate.”

“I had planned to poison his wine. We shall keep his death a secret and tell the lawyers that he is simply on a business trip. We can live in our home indefinitely. Though, we will need to find a safe way to dispose of his body.” Licht suggested. Mahiru knew that she was partially joking with her outlandish suggestion and she laughed. She wanted to ease the tense atmosphere with the joke.

“Licht, you must stop reading those gothic novels. They’re quite macabre. Maybe we can get away with your plan because the constable will not suspect women of being so ruthless.” Mahiru stopped the swing and she stared at the garden across the lake. “Do you remember how we would cross the creek to pick the flowers on Hanafield? It’ll be dangerous to sneak into the garden now that it’s being rented.”

“Well, the Servamps won’t be here until next week. We should pick flowers while we still can. No one will notice if a few goes missing.” Licht jumped off the swing and took her sister’s hands. She lightly tugged her off the swing and then pulled her towards the creek. A fallen tree reached over the water and they used it as a bridge.

“We shouldn’t trespass on someone’s property, Licht. We were young when we went to pick flowers from Hanafield’s garden and we didn’t know that they belonged to someone else.” Mahiru followed her sister even though she felt a little concerned. She had always admired how free-spirited Licht was. “We should only pick the wildflowers next to the creek.”

“Alright. But we should collect enough to make flower crowns for Mikuni and Misono and all of the horses in the stables!” Licht decided and Mahiru nodded in agreement.

They reached the end of the fallen tree and Licht held onto her sister’s hand to keep her balance as she stepped down. The wood was slippery but she wasn’t afraid of falling into the creek. Her slippers were flat and allowed her to walk easier than heels. The two sisters didn’t notice the horses grazing on the grass downstream from the log.

“You shouldn’t be trespassing on this land, Ladies. May we escort you back to the village?” A voice behind her caused Licht to turn her head slightly to see who it was. She took her eyes off the ground and she placed her feet on a loose tree branch. She felt herself fall backwards and her stomach dropped. Licht didn’t want to drag her sister into the water as well so she let go of her hand.

Mahiru called her name but her voice was quickly muffled by water. Between the cold water and the impact of the water, Licht was disorientated. She managed to turn herself in the water to see sister reach out to her but someone held her back. The layers of Licht’s dress made it difficult to swim to the surface. Her lungs burned but she knew she couldn’t breathe in as her body screamed for her to.

Suddenly, a warmth surrounded her hand.

Licht was pulled out of the creek and she could finally breathe again. She clung to the creek’s bank and took a moment to collect herself. A hand patted her back and she found it easier to breathe with the light touch. She wasn’t able to thank the person who saved her before Mahiru took her attention. Her sister knelt in front of her and immediately placed a shawl around her wet shoulders.

“Did you hit your head, Licht? Do you feel dizzy? We must take you to the doctor to see if you have a concussion or hurt.” Mahiru insisted. Even though she was the middle sister, she would mother her sisters. “Thank the gods that this gentleman was here to save you. Let me help you out of the water, Licht. Keep the shawl around you.”

Mahiru’s words made Licht realize that her clothes were soaked through. She was grateful that she wore a dark blue dress and it didn’t reveal anything. Licht tied the shawl around her shoulders before she took the hand Mahiru held out to her. She climbed out of the water and looked back into the creek. The man who saved her had his back turned to her and she assumed it was out of politeness.

“Thank you,” Licht said to him. The blond man turned to face her and she thought that he had a handsome face. He had jumped into the water to save her without hesitation so he was likely a kind man.

“We would love to speak with you gentlemen longer but I must take my sister to the doctor. She also needs dry clothes.” Mahiru interrupted them and Licht knew that she was right. They exchanged a polite goodbye as they left. Licht heard water splash behind them and she assumed the man had climbed out of the water. She wondered if she’ll get the chance to thank him for saving her and learn his name.

She grew up in the countryside so she knew most of the residents. Licht didn’t recognize him though. She looked over her shoulder to the blond man. He walked to another man and she recognized that he was the one to stop Mahiru from jumping after her. Their appearances didn’t resemble each other but the way they regarded each other reminded her of siblings.

Then, she overheard their conversation.

“Who do you think they were, Kuro? Their clothes are refined but their manner doesn’t reflect that. Her sister tried to jump into the water. I know she intended to help her sister but she wouldn’t have been able to do much. At least you were there to stop her. Which family do you think they belong to?”

“Hyde, you shouldn’t call her sister— Hyde?” Kuro yelled in shock when a slipper flew past him to strike his brother. His voice was drowned out by Licht’s rage.

“How dare you speak lowly of my sister, Shit Rat? Apologize or face me in a duel!” Licht yelled. She loved her family and she wouldn’t allow someone to disrespect them. She took off her other slipper to throw at him but her sister stopped her. Mahiru knew her words were far from a threat and she tried to pull her back. “Never step onto my creek again!”

Hyde couldn’t pull himself out of his shock to respond to her. He didn’t intend to insult her family and upset her. He wasn’t able to apologize before she was gone. Beside him, Kuro sighed: “That was a terrible way to introduce ourselves to the neighbours.”

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Thirty One

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

Roman was literally shaking as he sat in the car with Damien and the Queen, with Virgil in shotgun and the Queen driving. “Roman, are you okay?” Damien asked softly.

“Yeah,” Roman said, continuing to shake. “I’ve just dreamed of this day for years now. I get short hair again.”

“Any plans?” Damien asked. “In terms of haircut?”

“Probably a quiff,” Roman said. “Not very original, I know, but if it works it works.”

“Very true,” Damien said. “You’d look rather dashing with it.”

“Shut up,” Roman said, blushing.

Damien kissed Roman’s knuckles and said, “Never, my love.”

Roman took as deep a breath as he could in his new binder and sighed. He had insisted on wearing it when he tried on clothes, purely so that he could ride the euphoria of gender-affirming clothes and body at the same time. But all the happiness and nervousness building up in his system meant he was shaking rather violently, and couldn’t see any signs of stopping soon. “You know, between your comments and the plans of the day, it’s not unlikely for me to just faint.”

“I’ll catch you before you hit the ground, my love,” Damien said with a soft laugh. “But I’ll also try to go easy on you for a little while, just until you calm down.”

Roman nodded. Part of his shaking was out of sheer nervousness. What if his mother was right? What if this wasn’t what he wanted? What if the haircut turned out poorly? There were so many ways that this could go wrong, and Roman knew it wasn’t healthy to focus on them, but they were difficult to push from his mind.

As they pulled into the parking lot in the shopping center, Damien growled and Roman swallowed. There were people pointing at their car and pulling out phones, presumably to take pictures. “The drawbacks of being royalty,” Virgil snarled. “The fucking papparazzi.”

“I don’t want to deal with questions,” Roman said faintly. “If I have to hear one more word about my mother today, I’m going to burst into tears.”

“I’ve got you, my love,” Damien said, grabbing Roman’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “It’s a ten-foot walk to the door. And no one will bother you once you’re inside. If anyone so much as think s about interrogating you, they’ll have me to answer to.”

Roman looked at Damien, noticed the sincerity in his eyes, and smiled softly with a small nod. Damien would be there for him, he didn’t doubt that.

They let go of each other’s hands to step out of the car, and Roman gave the obligatory polite wave to the people before walking past the car to Damien, linking hands with him as they walked into the barber shop.

“Prince Damien!” one man who was cutting another’s hair exclaimed, hastily bowing. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I’m afraid my fiancé is in need of a good haircut, Vince,” Damien said with a grin. “My mother and Virgil are right outside, so no funny business, understood?”

“Of course! I never shave the heads of newcomers unless they ask for it!” Vince laughed. “Have a seat, Your Highnesses, anywhere you like, and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Damien practically dragged Roman to a chair in the back, while two barbers puttered around the shop, and Vince finished the haircut. “I only trust Vince to deal with the bird’s nest that is my hair,” Damien explained to Roman. “Not that the other barbers here aren’t excellent, but Vince was the only one I trusted as a child to not yank on my hair when there were tangles, and since then he’s always gotten top priority on my haircuts.”

Roman nodded, not letting go of Damien’s hand for a moment. “Good to know he’s experienced,” he said.

Vince finished brushing hair off the other client, who quickly left, and Vince turned the sign on the door to “Closed.” “For just a bit of privacy, Prince Roman. I know that you must be going through a lot right now.”

Roman smiled nervously as Vince came over. “I appreciate it, thank you,” he said.

Vince draped a sheet over Roman’s shoulders and tied it in the back, pulling his loose ponytail out from under the knot. “Your hair is very healthy,” he complimented. “How short do you want it?”

“Chop it all off,” Roman said. “Much as it’s healthy, it’s entirely too long for my tastes.”

“Oh, I understand that,” Vince said. “Any style or length you want?”

“Quiff please, no longer than four inches. Three would be ideal,” Roman said.

“You’ve got it, Your Highness,” Vince said, taking a pair of scissors out of a drawer and straightening Roman’s ponytail.

Roman clutched Damien’s hand tightly as the scissors went to the base of his skull, and with two high-pitched and expertly placed snips, his ponytail fell to the floor, hair coming to rest above his shoulders in a bob. Roman looked at the mirror and laughed. “I look like a bisexual,” he joked.

“Not for long,” Damien laughed back.

“Taper fade on the bottom?” Vince asked.

“Please,” Roman said.

“Hang on one moment,” Damien said, pulling out his phone and pressing a few buttons. “Hey, Remus?” Damien asked into his phone.

“Yeah, you’ve got me!” Remus’ voice came over the phone, and Roman’s face broke into a relieved grin. “What’s up?”

“I think there’s a moment Roman would like to share with you,” Damien said.

When the flash on Damien’s phone came on, Roman waved to the camera. “Guess who’s finally getting his hair cut!” he crowed.

“Hell yes, my man!” Remus exclaimed. “I want to see them shave your head!”

Roman laughed as Vince grabbed a razor and began to get rid of all the long hair on the back of Roman’s head. With Remus on the phone he felt so much more relaxed, and more self-assured. He knew he was trans, and so did Remus. Remus never questioned him for a second. This was what Roman needed, and it was nice to be reminded that this was normal, this was healthy, this was good.

Remus was giving running commentary in the form of compliments, and Damien just sat back in his chair with a pleased grin. When the fade was complete, Vince took a pair of scissors to the hair that was left on the top of Roman’s head, combing it so the short strands left were pointed towards the front, rather than to the sides. Roman watched this process in the mirror in awe, finally looking at his reflection and seeing someone resembling himself. When Vince took off the sheet after brushing the last of Roman’s hair off his neck and shoulders, Roman stood slowly, observing his new look in the mirror.

“How do you feel, Roman?” Damien asked.

Roman broke into a wide grin. “Gone are the days of Veronica Sarah Ayer!” he crowed. “You are looking at none other than His Highness Roman Augustus Ayer, prince and soon-to-be-husband of Damien Byron!”

Damien whooped and high-fived Roman, and Roman felt tears coming to his eyes as Remus cheered and clapped over the phone. “You did an amazing job as always, Vince,” Damien said. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Vince said with a bow. “I hope the two of you have a great rest of your day.”

“You too,” Roman said as Damien paid Vince and the two walked out.

The Queen gasped as she saw Roman and exclaimed, “Oh, dear, your haircut is perfect!”

“Thank you!” Roman said, grinning. “It feels amazing to look like myself.”

“Are you ready for an updated wardrobe?” the Queen asked.

Roman nodded, blinking back tears. “So ready to figure out what styles I like in men’s clothing,” he said, voice watery.

Damien kissed Roman’s cheek and Roman squeaked, whacking him lightly.

“Damien Janus Byron, if you do not behave with your fiancé, you will not get to help him pick out clothes, and that’s a promise,” the Queen warned.

Damien turned away and swore under his breath, and Roman blinked in shock. “That is...quite the middle name,” he said mildly.

“It was his father’s choice of name for him. I told him simply that if he didn’t want his son to be bullied for a majority of his childhood, we would give him a more common first name. Damien was what we agreed on. But Janus is a family name,” the Queen explained.

“I see,” Roman said. “Sort of, at least.”

The Queen smiled. “Are we ready to keep shopping?”

“Yeah,” Roman said, smiling. “I think I could even brave a couple reporters if I had to. Still hoping I don’t have to, though.”

“We’ll try and avoid it,” Damien assured him.

They walked to the stores just a couple buildings away, and Damien swept Roman into the most upscale of them all. Damien looked around, waving off the associates who tried to walk up to the three of them. “He’s fine,” Damien said. “Just give him a moment to soak it all in.”

Roman looked around, feeling all the air leave his lungs. There were mannequins with suits in the windows, button-up shirts on the shelves, nice pants, both of the dress variety and ones more appropriate for a relaxed dress code. And not a dress or skirt in sight.

“The women’s equivalent is across the street,” Damien said. “But I figured you’d much rather be in a men’s store, at least to start.”

“Thanks,” Roman said faintly.

Damien nodded with a smile. “Go wherever your heart tells you,” he said. “I won’t judge...too much.”

Roman laughed, but dutifully walked further into the store. There was a pastel green button-up that he picked up, looking around. He grinned when he saw T-shirts, knowing that territory much better. He grabbed a shirt with Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon album art on the front because rainbows, duh, and then went for a pair of dark skinny jeans, and called, “Damien, I’m gonna try on a look, I want your opinion when I walk out of the changing room!”

“Copy that,” Damien called into the racks. “I’ll meet you on the far right where the changing rooms are!”

Roman sprinted through the aisles, grin splitting his face. He was a fashion disaster sometimes, bue he had a good feeling about this. He tore off his shirt and caught his breath for a moment inside the changing room. He shouldn’t make a habit out of running in his binder, he saw now why Remy was so strict in his instructions.

When he had his breath back, he took off his pants and put on the shirts first. The green was a stark contrast to the gray, so he had a feeling he was on the right track. He pulled on the skinny jeans, up over both of the shirt’s ends and made sure they were tucked properly. Roman did the bottom two buttons of the green shirt and looked in the mirror, giving himself some nervous finger guns. The shoes on the other side of the door were undoubtedly Damien’s. Roman took a deep breath, ran his fingers through his hair, and unlocked the changing room door, walking out with his hands in his pockets. “Thoughts? I need something more iconic than that time Remus went out on Halloween dressed as a stripper—complete with rippable tuxedo. This do it?” he asked Damien.

Damien said nothing, looking Roman up and down for a moment, before he said, “Fuck, I’m gay. If we weren’t in public I would jump your bones.”

Roman squeaked. “So you’re a fan, got it,” he said with a laugh. “This is going to be my ‘ultimate boy mode’ look.”

Damien managed a strangled laugh. “Yeah. Mother is grabbing you some dress shirts and pants for special occasions. But as for style...looks like you’ve got at least one look. Now go on and take it off, we’re getting that and anything else you might want.”

“I have good stuff in terms of T-shirts already, aside from a disparaging lack of rainbows. I might buy a flannel and some pants, but let’s be real, I’ll be stealing your shirts most days.”

“At least you’re honest,” Damien huffed as Roman retreated back into the stall.

Roman changed back into his regular clothes and walked out, new outfit in hand. “I’m wearing that combo to Pride first chance I get, I hope you realize,” he informed Damien.

“Fine by me, so long as I get to scare off any pretty boys who try to make a pass at you,” Damien said, just a hint of huskiness still in his voice.

“You’re not as discreet as you like to think you are,” Roman said, glancing down and then up meaningfully at Damien.

“Hey, be careful who you tease,” Damien warned. “I’m most likely going to be the one teaching you how to position when you get a packer, and if you keep this up I’ll make tasteless jokes every time your packer shifts.”

Roman sighed. “Okay, I see your point,” he allowed.

The two of them got a few more pants for Roman, and Roman picked up a yellow and red flannel, and then went to the front of the store, where the Queen was waiting for them. Once everything had been rung up and they were walking out of the store, Roman laughed. “God, this doesn’t feel real,” he breathed. “I’m free. I’m genuinely... free.”

“Glad to hear you feel that way,” Damien said, kissing Roman’s temple.

Roman turned to Damien and smiled. “Am I free to kiss you?”

“Ah...” Damien glanced away, turning red. “I don’t know how to feel about that. It’s not a no...”

“If it’s not a yes, then it’s a no,” Roman said. “It’s okay. Hopefully you’ll be okay with it by the wedding.”

“I do as well, I do not want to disappoint the people waiting for us to kiss,” Damien laughed nervously.

“Even if you aren’t, I know ways to fake it,” Roman said with a shrug. “Besides, we don’t even have to use tongue. That’s not a requirement for a kiss at the altar.”

“I would be slightly concerned if it was,” Damien laughed. “I do not need all my relatives to watch me kiss using tongue.”

Roman snickered. “Remus would make disgusting gag noises every time I kissed a boyfriend when I was younger. It was never appreciated at the time, but looking back on it, it’s a little endearing. I mean, he’s still a little shit, but...”

Damien laughed genuinely and a few people turned their way, before one brought a camera out of her bag. “Oh, no, the paparazzi are after us!” Roman hissed.

“To the car?” Damien offered.

“To the car!” Roman agreed, and the three of them rushed to the car and order Virgil to drive, narrowly dodging the woman as she tried to cross the street and get a good picture of them.

“Are we going to continue to risk the commonwealth tearing us apart or are we heading back to the castle?” Virgil asked.

“Back home, please,” the Queen said. “I need to make some calls before the wedding rehearsal tomorrow, see if we can change plans that involve Roman’s parents, and ensure that Remus leaving the country won’t endanger his security to the throne.”

“What, no dance practice?” Damien questioned.

“Oh, you two will get plenty of dance practice in,” the Queen assured. “I just won’t be there to oversee it. I trust Logan to keep you two from killing each other.”

“Hey!” Damien squawked indignantly, while Roman just tittered next to him.

[sanjisock]

bark to smoke, wood to ash

ao3

one.

You are eight and the words that fall out of your brothers’ mouth hurt like gravels, like acid, like gunshot wounds. They call you useless and it tears at your skin, they call you weak and it rings inside your ears for days. The bruises on your skin fade, but the words claw underneath, bone-deep, like a phantom scar.

A failure. A burden. A mistake. A mistake —

Brother.

You don’t know what’s wrong with the last one. It isn’t one of the bad words your mother taught you not to say, and your brothers never said it with the tone and derision they reserved for your name. Brother. Almost in passing, like an afterthought.

The word clung to you anyway, dirty and foreign, seeping under your skin like mud. It has sullied you into something you’re not.

(You are not, you know — you are not anyone’s brother. You’re not a —)

-

two.

You are thirteen when you realize that you hate the way you look in the mirror. You know you always do, at the back of your mind, but it’s the first time that it catches you off guard; there’s bile at the back of your throat, and you almost drive your leg through the vanity, shattering the ugly image staring back from the surface.

Zeff has just started giving you salaries — actual salaries instead of the meager pocket money they used to be — so the first thing you do is to visit the town’s market.

You are a boy, so you get yourself a couple of men’s shoes, loafers and dress shoes, oxfords and sandals. You are a boy, so you pick up the three-piece suits and vests, the kind a gentleman would wear. You are a boy, so you walk past the nail polish and lipsticks, and you don’t wonder how they would look against your pale skin, if they should match the dresses you will never wear.

You narrow your eyes at your own reflection, rubbing your chin, feeling the beginning of a stubble under your fingers. Your chest is a flat and narrow thing, every part of your body telling you what you have heard a thousand times — you’re a boy. You’re a boy. You’re a boy. 

(You are a boy because you don’t know what else you could be.)

-

three.

You are sixteen and nobody tells you you’re beautiful; they call you handsome and strong and clean-shaven and many other words that don’t settle right at the pit of your stomach. A good husband, one over-eager patron once said to her blushing teenage daughter; a rough delinquent, most shopkeepers would say behind your back after you’ve haggled their prices one too many times; a handsome boy, some of Zeff’s old associates would sometimes say, a clumsy attempt to praise you. You hate the last one the most.

You are sixteen and you fall for the first boy who calls you beautiful.

He’s a boy from the next village, a year older than you are, sharp-tongued and sharper smile. He visits on Saturdays as his parents go to the island’s marketplace, a few ways down the street from Baratie, and when he kisses you behind a passing cart he tastes like a brilliant supernova.

Beautiful , he calls you, and for the first time a word slides off your skin like honey. Beautiful, he whispers to your lips, and it warms you from the inside, right in the very center of your chest. Beautiful, he presses against your skin, and you close your eyes and take it all in, the way the word fits right in between your rib cage, tucked neatly against your heart.

It doesn’t last. He also calls you his man.

(You’re not his man. You’re not anyone’s man. You’re not a man —)

-

four.

Today’s celebration is more crowded than you are used to, which says a lot, considering how it usually goes with the Strawhats. Luffy, you are quick to learn, always finds a way to surprise you.

You’re carrying five plates on one hand and three glasses of beer on the other, half-tiptoeing to avoid stepping on people’s feet. Some of the locals wave at you, complimenting you on the food, and you don’t notice Nami among the crowd until she’s pressed against you, her breasts digging into the crevice of your back as someone pushes her from behind.

You feel a shock of jealousy burst through you.

It is shocking, in its suddenness. There is nothing inherently sexual with the thought; you’ve always been attracted to men and women alike, in the safety of your own mind — but this is something entirely different. You are suddenly aware of your adam’s apple, your flat chest, your dick between your legs; how they’re wrong wrong wrong — 

She must’ve felt the way you stiffened, because she leaps back in surprise and stammers out an apology. You want to tell her that it’s fine, but for once, you can’t. There are a lot of people you can lie to but not her, who’s been carved open and forced to lie for so long.

“I can’t,” you tell her; no longer caring if you don’t even make sense. “Nami-san, I can’t —”

Something erupts among the crowd, and Luffy emerges from it a moment later, always the center of attention. Nami’s instantly distracted, and you have never been more glad of Luffy’s natural proclivity for trouble.

You chase after him, and try not to think of the way envy curls coldly in your chest.

(For the first time in your life, you dare to want —)

-

five.

They force you to wear a dress and you run.

It’s wrong, you try to tell yourself, because men don’t wear skirts and you may be a failure to Judge but you won’t be one to Zeff. It’s wrong, you try to tell them, to every single resident of this cursed island of Momoiro, and they look at you with pity , and you hate them for it. It’s wrong, you try to tell someone, anyone who would listen, because you don’t know what else it could be.

So you run.

You run and you feel the silk of the dress slide against the inside of your thighs, the bra tight around your chest, the straps of your panties dig into your hips. You wonder if they would leave marks against your skin, the kind that’s red and stark and doesn’t disappear for days, like they have become a part of you somehow.

You run because you know it’s wrong.

(You run because it doesn’t feel wrong.)

-

six.

Zoro is terrible. A brute, a dumbass, an oaf — you hate his guts, you hate his voice, and you hate the way he always knows the right words to set you off into a tirade. He is loud and brash and everything a man is supposed to be and you hate that, too — like a constant reminder of who you aren’t, of who you’re supposed to be.

He also looks at you like you’re an equal, like someone he can depend on when all else fails. He pushes you towards your dream and never expects any less than the best; when the two of you stand side-by-side, something in your blood sings, like you are strong enough to take on the world.

That part — you don’t hate that.

(Zoro is terrible, but —)

-

seven.

Your stomach drops when your eyes meet Zoro’s.

He’s not supposed to be here , you want to think, but in hindsight, why shouldn’t he, when the tavern they are in seems to be the only establishment in this quaint little town that offers alcohol on its menu. Of course that brute is here.

You should’ve known better than to risk it. 

You are not wearing the — the whole thing , thankfully; the red dress from Momoiro still safely tucked at the corner of your locker, never to see the light of day. But your hair is shoulder-length and your nails are in three different colors, and you are at least five-inches taller than him because of the heels you are wearing. Zoro’s a dumbass with only one good eye left, but he’s not blind.

Zoro blinks, does a once-over. You wait for the other shoe to drop, for the disgust to crawl up his expression like poison ivy, but it never comes; he simply tilts his head to the side, more confused than anything.

The first thing he asks is, “How did you get your hair so long?”

“It’s called a wig , dumbass,” you retort, the banter between you two coming as naturally as breathing, even when your heart is pounding against your ribcage. “It’s like — fake hair, basically. Not that you’d know anything about fashion.”

Zoro scrunches up his nose, and he’s wearing that expression he always wears whenever someone tells him to count higher than ten. You usually find it hilarious, just one more thing to tease him about, but right now it is comforting in its familiarity. The disgust that you have long dreaded never seems to appear, and you feel tension slowly bleed over your shoulders.

“Huh,” Zoro says after a moment. A blush blooms across his cheeks, and he sounds almost embarrassed when he says, “suits you.”

(You remember being sixteen, falling in love with the boy who called you beautiful.)

-

eight.

“Please change us back!” Nami calls out to Law, and you feel your blood runs cold. You know it’s selfish, that none of these is yours, the breasts and the curves and the long, soft fingers; but you can’t help begging still, please don’t please don’t please don’t please —

Law still turns you back.

You fall to your knees. Nami thought it was from the physical wounds she’d received before Law switched you back, and you let her think that way. Your hands will not stop shaking for the rest of the day, and you tell Chopper that it’s the cold.

(This is not your body, your brain traitorously whispers, persistent. It’s never been the right body for you —)

-

nine.

Zoro slips his hand under your shirt, and you groan at that, pleased — you’ve been making out for what seems like forever now, and the way his finger brushes against your nipple is a welcome development. His mouth starts to trail down your neck, and you tug on his haramaki, urging him on. This thing between you two — whatever this is — has been long-overdue, and you feel like a second without the two of you naked is just another second wasted.

You slip out of your pants without thinking, and your breath hitches when you realize you’re still wearing your panties.

Zoro seems to notice your discomfort, because his hands immediately still. He looks up at you, eye searching, and you find it sweet, the way he’d stop if you tell him to stop. You don’t want him to, of course, if the arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach is any indication; but you like knowing that you have the choice. You can count on one hand the number of times you’re able to do that — making choices, that is.

You know that you don’t need to explain anything, when it comes to Zoro. You have that choice too. He has always been good at giving people space, and you know he will wait until you are ready to say anything. But you look at the man in front of you who has never been anything but honest, and the words claw out of your throat before you can think twice.

“I’m a woman.”

Your voice is small and confused. Your throat burns, like the words have been scraped raw from its walls.

Zoro doesn’t say anything at first, and you tear your eyes away from him, because you’ve never been scared of him but you don’t think you can stand it if he starts to look at you different. You think of your pathetic excuse of a family, their cold eyes and colder shoulders, and you don’t know if you can go through another heartbreak. You know the Strawhats are better than this — better than them — but you can’t help thinking what if, what if, what if — 

“Okay,” Zoro says. And, “Thanks for telling me.”

You exhale, then. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath.

He fucks you into the bed, long and sweet, softer than you’d ever expect him capable of. He holds your hand after, and the two of you lie on the bed, chests pressed against one another’s under the covers of a warm blanket. He breathes out when you breathe in.

(For the first time in a long while, the king of Germa doesn’t haunt you. You are not his son, and you have never been his.)

-

ten.

“You ready?”

Zoro is leaning against the door frame, waiting for you, but you can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away from the mirror yet. You watch the way your kimono hugs your frame, thick and rigid; nobody could’ve seen any curves, even if you had one. That’s the point, you’ve been told — this is Wano’s idea of a woman’s beauty. Femininity through the concealment of body curves. It’s different than most concepts you’ve heard of female beauty, and you like that — that there isn’t one way to be a woman, that there is no mold to fit in for you to be one.

“Yes,” you say, and you let him lead you towards the door.

(You are a woman, and you have never been anything else.)

[buck-nialled]

Two Million Minutes - N. Horan Imagine

NOTE: this is super angsty and sad as hell and yeah some of yall might cry but YOU CANT HATE ME BECAUSE I WARNED YOU!!

but you’re probably gonna hate me a lot okay enjoy !!!

PLAYLIST

The cold plastic she had been forced to sit in for the past two hours did everything but aid Veronica’s posture. Her figure was hunched over, hands covering her face as she deposited heavy breaths onto her quaky palms. In hindsight: pajama pants and one of her boyfriend’s old shirts might not have been the most appropriate choice to attend the emergency room the night before Christmas Eve. But that thought could not have been further from Veronica’s mind. In fact, all her mind had been doing for the past one hundred and seventeen minutes consisted of screaming her boyfriend’s name to the point where a migraine formed.

“Ma’am?” Veronica’s head snapped up, eyes watery and completely bugged out. A nurse stood inches away, gracing a sympathetic smile. Her heart quickened in its pace. “Did you want anything to drink? Water, or coffee?” The woman offered with a raise of her brows. Veronica never refused a free coffee, but her still trembling hands clasped themselves together, along with her lips as she declined with a head shake.

“Do you have any hot chocolate?” Solemnly, the white-uniformed woman shook her head back and forth.

“Unfortunately, we are out. Would you like a blanket?”

“Please.” The nurse scurried off in an instant, fulfilling herself with another activity. Veronica could not blame her. She—save for the two other strangers in the waiting room—had been the only visitors to enter tonight. If she could, Veronica would be doing just about anything to occupy her thoughts with something other than worst-case scenarios.

“Veronica?” She heard a deep, slurred voice call out. The woman’s head turned to the left, along with the two other occupants, to find one of hers and Niall’s closest friends standing with a slight sway.

“Jake?” Her voice cracked hopelessly as she stood herself up from the chair and waited for his figure to approach. There was a slight stupor in his steps to her, but his embrace when he finally wrapped his arms around Veronica was comforting, nonetheless.

“Hey, any word?” Veronica only shakes her head as she releases a shaky breath.

“They won’t tell me anything…I don’t even know what happened.” She whimpers, glancing back towards the front desk, whom she must have walked up to a dozen times, pleading to see Niall.

“I’m sure when the others get here they can explain. We all got jumbled up between the six and seventh pub and I wasn’t with him.” Jake simply shrugs, just as clueless as she was. Turning her back towards him at the sound of footsteps pattering, she spots the nurse from earlier. Her arm was stretched out, proffering a blanket. Veronica only gives her a silent nod as a thank you, before cloaking her shoulders with the itchy material.

Jake sighs at the sight of tremors running through her, despite the blanket. “Here, those things are like fucking paper. Don’t do shit.” He murmurs and peels off his jacket—one of the many layers he bundled up in before his night out with Niall and the rest of their mates.

“Take it.” He insists. And she does. As the minutes go by, more familiar faces pile into the room and greet her and Jake with sympathetic smiles and any hazy information she could pry from them. From what Veronica gathered from the slurs, a group of friends had collectively encouraged Niall to hop up on one of the pub’s tables and do a little jig. Nobody had ill intent by doing so, obviously, and everybody knew Niall was not idiotic enough to do something he felt was risky. Nobody knew the night would end with only seven pubs and an emergency room visit.

Maura was the first woman Veronica had seen and recognized that night. Their expressions were both identical; fearful eyes, trembling lips. The womens’  hearts were racing in sync as they collapsed into one another’s arms, trying their absolute hardest to hold in their sobs.

“Who is here for Niall Horan?” A group of nearly twenty people stood, including herself and Maura, attentive and silent. The doctor gazed upon the now crowded waiting area and blew out a breath.

“Okay, I know all of you are eager to see him. But I think the immediate family should come into the room first. Too many people might overwhelm him.” Maura, Bobby, and Greg all took quickened steps towards the doctor, explaining their relation. When Veronica asked Maura moments ago, she explained Denise was watching Theo back at their house, phone on hand for any updates.

“Alright, follow m—”

“Wait.” Maura cut in. “Could she come too?” Maura jutted her thumb back to point at Veronica. The doctor followed her pointed finger and met eyes with her.

“Relation?”

“I’m his girlfriend, but—” As she was about to justify herself with the fact that she was Niall’s emergency contact, the doctor cut her off.

“I’m sorry. Immediate family only.” He refuted. Maura glanced back at her, eyes swimming with empathy at her restless state.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay.” I should have gone with cousin, she thought.

“…vitals are stable, everything looks fine. He just took a hard hit.” Breaths of relief are exhaled when Niall’s eyes flutter open. He recognizes his mother almost immediately, as she exclaims at the sight of her son finally awake and unscathed.

“Oh, my Niall!” She cries upon wrapping her arms around him. Startled to see he is most definitely not on his tour bus, he reciprocates the delicate hug. “We were so worried about you.” It might have been the fact that his mind was still foggy from his long sleep, or that he felt quite hungover that made his mother seem more aged than she was over Skype only weeks ago.

“Mum, what happened t’ me?” His eyes meet the doctors as he asks this.

“You took quite the fall tonight, Niall. Luckily your vitals are fine and you seem perfectly healthy.” Niall blinks, eyebrows furrowing to exactly how and where he could have fallen. The last thing he recalls was being on stage with the band, performing. He was only supposed to be off of the stage for five minutes.

“How long was I out for?”

“Only about two and a half hours, which is quite average for a concussion.”

“How’d you all get here so fast? Chicago is miles away from Mullingar.” Niall murmured, reaching a hand up to scrub at his face. He was surprised to feel stubble scratching at his palm and brought the hand away from his face to study it. His eyes travel down to his wrist, the plastic, hospital band reading Mullingar Medical.

“Chicago?” Bobby repeated, just as confused. “Son, you’ve been here in Mullingar for the past week…when were you in Chicago?”

“I was…the band and I were just there playing a show. Are they here? Maybe we can ask Harry and he can explain.” The three Horans and Niall’s doctor all tilted their heads like dogs to his statement.

“Doctor?” The door opens, the nurse peeking her head through the opening. “Could I have a word with you for a moment?” The doctor gives a firm nod and turns back to the patient and his family.

“Excuse me for a minute.” The doctor exits the room to speak with the nurse, while Maura, Bobby, and Greg all stood dumbstruck.

“So you were playing a show with…Harry?”

“Mhm,” Niall confirms. “And Liam, and Louis,” he continues. Biting her lip, Maura begins to feel wary.

“Oh, and Zayn!” He finishes with a small smile, while Maura feels as though she was going to cry again. Bobby already senses her discomfort and wraps his arms around her.

“And that’s the last thing you remember? Like the very last thing before you woke up?”

“Yeah…why?” As he asks this, Niall takes in Greg’s appearance also. He looks more burdened with life than Niall remembers. The circles under his eyes looked darker. But he had a more mature way of dressing. Maybe it’s the two-year-old that’s changed him.

“Could I see all of you out here?” The doctor opens the door, staring at the family in urgency. Sharing apprehensive glances, the three all follow the doctor into the hallway.

“It seems that some test results were mixed up with Niall and another patient. Now, for the most part, everything is fine, except for his PET scan.” The doctor holds up a photo for Niall’s parents and brother to inspect. The majority of the x-ray was black and white, however, the brain held arbitrary splotches of red throughout it.

“This is the scan we took of Niall’s brain when he entered the hospital. We filtered the scan to only see the areas where his brain might have been injured and susceptible to amnestic syndrome…amnesia. Those red spots are where the injury occurred. And a lot of where Niall was injured were parts of the brain which function memory.”

“I’m sure this goes without saying, but from your expressions in the room, it seems Niall has forgotten an extensive amount of time. I’m not sure how much—“ Maura had already done the math in her head.

“Five years.” She breathed out. The men all looked to her. “At least.”

“Right. Well, there is a chance Niall might regain some pieces of his memory back within this next week. After that, the chances he might remember grow slimmer as the weeks go by. It all depends on how well his brain can function independently and if his memory transitions into something short-term…”

All while the family nodded their heads in understanding, Veronica stood feet away shaking her own. Warm tears streaked down her face. Five years? How could five years of him, her, them, be gone?

Hell, Veronica still thinks meeting him was yesterday. But luckily she could remember it had been nearly four years ago. In one hundred and seventeen agonizing minutes, her boyfriend had managed to lose more than two million.

[oh-theres-a-woman]

Blood Doilies; Part Three

A/N: Warnings for mentions of abuse and abusive relationships. Please read at your own discretion. The next chapter will also have the same warning. I understand that such topics can be triggering to some people, this is pure to show what the Female Reader has experienced in married life and her breaking away from that with the aid of the Blinders. Once more thank you for taking the time to read this story, feel free to reblog or comment if you’re enjoying this. 

Taglist: @zodiyack , @itsfrancisneptun , @shelbys-we-get-the-job-done, @amy-booxx​ & @fandom-fucking-shit​

Parts: [ 1 ] , [ 2 ], [ 4 ], [ 5 ], [ 6 ], [ 7 ], [ 8 ], [ 9 ]

Pairing: Thomas Shelby X Female Reader

Word Count: 1923

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You set the tea down on the coffee table noticing the children had both fallen asleep on Mister Shelby’s knee. Offering a smile at the sleeping children. Whispering softly that you could take the children to bed, Thomas simply rose to his footing. Carrying both the children upstairs, calmly following him. Showing the beds for each child. Annabeth curled up into a ball with her little dolly looking absolutely smitten and at peace. Leaning down you kissed the little girl’s head, smoothing the messy mop of hair away from her face. Pulling the blankets up to her shoulders, brushing the back of your knuckle lovingly over her cheek.

Repeating the same action for Marcus, knowing that he’d need another feeding in a few hours time. “You’re a good mother, you do so much for your children,” Thomas said observantly from the door watching on with silent awe. Aunt Pol had always warmed someplace in his heart at her mothering but it had been a time since all the Shebly children had ground. Now the mothering seemed like a nagging.

Maybe it was the war that changed him but watching you at that moment. He didn’t see the harshness of his own upbringing. But the solid foundations of nurturing and admiration. Tommy didn’t quite remember the loving gaze of his mother, only her death. It had been the first of many lives that were lost. Charlie Strong had been the replacement when his father walked out of them and Pol took the helm of mothering. Swift in her workings and proved very stern for the young Sheblys’ that were left like orphans before she swooped in.

However, you were a different case. There was something about your maternal instincts that caused Thomas to stop a moment. Admire the qualities of a woman. The way in your wounds and bruises from an abusive husband, no matter the pain. You carried on your task of being a mother never let anything go to chance or mess with you. Easily smoothing a hand over baby Marcus’s locks whose were just like your own. Beautifully soft with a slight wave in the front. Tucking your son in, you watched him for a moment listening to his breathing, the little snores that left his buzzing button nose.

Thomas and yourself wandered back downstairs to the tea. Looking at each other for a moment. The narrow stairs led to you brushing hands in the walk. Causing you steps to falter for one moment. However, the Blinder once more found his seat again. Marking the page he had been reading to the children as if he’d continue that story for them another time. Picking up his teacup, he added some cream and one sugar. Stirring with the provided teaspoon then offering the spoon to you. Carefully, you poured the creamer not adding any sugar. Enjoying the strength of the tea. Lips slightly pursed together, glancing back to Thomas Shelby again. “Thank you for offering my family this safe house for the time until we get our lives back on track,” you said with a warm blush on your cheeks.

“It is alright, Mrs [Y/N],” Thomas said in a swift and noble tone of voice. Leaning back into his chair observing you. “The Peaky Blinders don’t take kindly to men who bash into their women and children.” Thomas’s words sparked a cool murderous rage in him. His eyes were like a cool fire, burning hotter than any red flame you’d seen in your lifetime. Glancing down at the marks that riddled your body and all that was hidden under your clothes. You hadn’t remembered a day where things weren’t thrown or fists were flying. Once upon a time, it was a social norm for a husband to beat his wife.

“I’ve had it happen all my life, my father was a drunk and my mother a prostitute. I don’t really know any better…” You admitted in a defeated manner. Clenching your fists on your legs thinking about the life you led. “But, I want this cycle to end. Because if I let this keep happening, it’ll only happen to my children and they won’t know how to respect each other or their future loved ones.”  Deep down you knew this was the right thing, the sudden separation to make sure no more harm would come to yourself or the children if your husband overstepped his normal range of violence.

“Do you need my help in any way of separating from the man, because once you're divorced of him that debt owed is only on him. I don’t believe in wives cleaning up their husband’s debts when they have a family to protect. By those marks too, I’d believe you’ve been looking over them for some time too.” Mister Shelby said, reaching into his coat pocket, procuring a silver cigarette case. Opening it and offering you one with a slight incline of his arm. Reaching out you picked up one of the expensive tailor-made, always used to the harsh rolling without a filter.

Placing the stick of nicotine in between your lips, that were chapped and broken from a hit. Picking up a matchbook from the table lighting up your cigarette, then leaning out to light Thomas’s. He leant into the flame. The small light of the match burning embers of life at the end of the neatly rolled tobacco. Watching the embers eat at the paper when Tommy puffed. The flame licking at your fingertips were lighting the sharper features of the Shelby before you, causing a feeling of enchantment to pull over you.

Tingling burns at your fingertips, causing you to finally shake the match and drop it into the ashtray. Settling back into your seat letting out a calm inhale and sighing softly. The sitting room clouded with an illusion-like smoke cloud. Giving a new atmosphere to the room. Like it wasn’t heavy in the topics of conversation. The stress had been disbursed in to the air, exhaled with the carbon-dioxide and smoke through lips and nostrils.

“I need to find a way to get divorced from him, I know it’d help my case that we’re living separately from one another. It would be a year’s process at the longest, I’d need to find a way to keep the tea house. My own business… I don’t want to lose it to him. Need some form of income to keep a roof over the wee ones’ heads.” You muttered, flicking the ash into the crystal tray on the table. Wondering in all seriousness how much it cost to buy because it was impeccable. Everything in the Watery Lane home was beautifully charming and way out of your price range.

“I’m hoping to get settled then go back to work, have a friend lookout for the kids.” You said to the man, who seemed to offer a small nod. Knowing the modest little establishment in your ownership. By far considered the loveliest tea shop in Small Heath, it had charm and class to the small little shop. He’d remembered Ada gushing over it opening some years ago, by a beautiful young woman that had the dream to do so. Through the proper means, she opened the shop by herself. Even without her husband’s help. This seemed like an even biggest motivator for Tommy’s little sister feminist ideals.

“Given your current condition, I’d recommend your healing before heading back to work. Keeping a low-profile due to your husband’s likely retaliation to your left with the children. For your safety, I’d advise you take a week at the least, then return to work. I or one of the Blinders will be there to escort you home after.” Thomas took a swift to inhale of his cigarette. He didn’t know why he was so adamant to protect you. Normally the Blinders would help get rid of the trouble and then recoil. Yet, deep down he knew it's because he’d seen what the government and church would do if they caught wind of things happening.

You’d lose your children. Thomas didn’t want to see that happen, because you’d taken responsibility for your husband’s debt and tried to clear it up. Even in such a state that you were in. Trying to protect the little family you’d been in. Keeping those well-behaved children in line, working the long hours that he found out on an investigation prior. Where your morning shift could start as early as four-five o’clock in the morning for the baked goods. Then until closing hours in the evening. A short break in between to take your children home, giving the neighbour a break.

Only to have most of the money earnt wasted on your husband’s addictions and there were plenty of them. Never in a million years did he even expect anyone at that meeting today. But, there you were to shock him. Taking time out of your day, to see him and try to make things right. Surprisingly, it gave Tommy a little bit of hope for some of the women in this day and age. So, the patriarch of the Shelby family sat there and discussed with you into the long hours of the night. Things were arranged for your meeting with a solicitor under the guidance of Polly Gray. Moral support. Plus, everyone seemed to be as scared of her as they were with Tommy. Bonus.

*********** 

The following days passed quickly with everything being prepared. Marks began to fade on your skin and it restored some of your lacking confidence. You felt happier in the safe house. Not because of the fancy layout because your children were happy, they were settling in nicely. The Shelbys’ came to visit enough. John Shelby bought over his children someday and they all played while business and things were attended to. More often than not it meant walking in on the children all snuggled up on each other and napping; after having an argument or fight. Everything was sorted with a simple nap together, then they were as good as rain. It made you often wish that adults were as simple as children.

By the following Monday, you were returning to work. Your workers had been running the ship well and left things in perfect condition. It was nice to see the faces of the customers again. Hours were long like normal, but that’s how you enjoyed working. Things were peaceful and you didn’t feel an ounce of stress because Thomas had promised to come to pick you up after work and walk you home. It was safe… Well, that’s what you thought.

Hours passed by swiftly and you finished the till counting after hours in the office. The last thing was to do the bins. When you were collecting the bins. Wandering in the dark alley, tossing things into the larger bins outside for landfill. You were so focused on your task that the sound of someone sneaking up on you escaped your knowledge. A rough hand, the smell of hard liquor and cigars filled your nostrils. You knew that scent from anywhere. Your husband. 

He holds a hold on you, smothering your screams of utter terror and pinning your body against the firmness of his body. “It’s not nice to say goodbye in a letter,” he whispered in your ear with vile intent. Holding out in front of you, the wedding band you letter on the letter. Forcefully sliding it back onto your finger as tears fell. 

[jamielea81]

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 7

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, pining, fluff

A/N: This fic is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome.

Word Count: 3,959

Catch up with Chapter 6

**

“You so owe me. BIG time.” Travis said, getting into the Uber you ordered.

You had taken an Uber to the airport and grabbed another to go back to the hotel. Chris had offered up his driver, but technically that driver was paid by the studio and you didn’t want to take advantage like that. Besides, having a car on your own terms meant you and Travis could talk in private, minus the stranger driving you.

“I know. I know. And I appreciate you so much.”

When you texted him a week prior telling him you needed him to be your fake fiancé, he called you immediately. That call had been uncomfortable to say the least.

“So, let me get this straight. You told everyone your fiancé was named Travis? And then you showed Chris Evans a picture of me, Travis?”

“Yes, you, Travis,” you muttered. “It wasn’t on purpose. I wasn’t thinking and thought of you, one of my dearest friends. You should really take this as a compliment that I consider you husband material.”

“Ye-ah, sure. Compliment. What do you need me to do?”

A week later you were picking him up for the airport for his three-night stay in cold Vancouver. The plan was to get a room at a different hotel away from everyone else, but Monica had insisted on you taking the room while she bunked with Maggie who had her own room.

“Just don’t fuck on my bed,” she had said.

**

“What’s the plan today?” Travis asked.

The two of you had just gotten back to the hotel. Travis was laying across your bed with his arms behind his head.

“I’ve gotta be at the studio in two hours, so I thought we’d just hangout and catch up. We can order some food or eat at the studio when we get there.”

The plan was to have Travis come with you to the studio, meet everyone, and then head back on the shuttle bus to the hotel. He was then free to do whatever he wanted, but was not allowed to bring a girl back to the room. You didn’t even want to think about that scenario. It would frankly be a nightmare.

“Let’s order something. I’m kind of starving,” he said, sitting up and pulling out his phone from his pocket.

**

Monica, David,” you began, Travis’ fingers entwined with yours.  “This is Travis. My fiancé.”

Boy, was that hard for your lips to spit out.

The fiancé. Finally, in the flesh,” Monica said.

“Thanks, for offering up your room,” Travis responded with a smile. It was too nice of a smile. You had seen that particular smile when you had been out with Travis. Your group of friends had called it his “take me home” smile. He needed to tone it down.

“Yeah. No problem,” Monica said, apparently not picking up on his subtle flirtation.

“So, this is the fiancé. ‘Bout time you came by for a visit.” David said, patting an arm on Travis’ shoulder.

“Trust me, I’ve tried, but this one won’t let me.” Travis said, putting his arm around your shoulders.

You scoffed and pushed on his chest. “You know that’s not true, babe. Our schedules just haven’t lined up.”

You and Travis always called each other babe, so saying it in front of your colleagues, no, work friends, wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Well, either away, it’s good to see her smile about something other than work. Are you as big of a workaholic as she is?” David asked.

“No one loves working more than this one. But she keeps me motivated, so I can’t complain,” Travis said, kissing your temple.

This is going better than I thought.

**

Hugh, the assistant director Steven, and Travis were all huddled together discussing shop. Travis was still and up and comer so he wanted to pick their brains since they both worked on major studio projects. You took the time to go over the scenes for today. Having found an unoccupied chair, you envisioned the scenes in your mind as you read through them. It was something you always were able to do and it worked well in your favor.

“Travis go home already?”

Chris

“Funny,” you deadpanned. “Yeah, he said it’s too cold here. Turned right back around for the airport. He’s one of those odd ones that’s actually from Los Angeles.”

Chris grinned, taking a seat on the table next to your script.

“That him talking to Hugh?” Chris asked pointing in the direction of the three directors.

“Yep. That’s him.”

Travis looked up and saw you looking in his direction. He raised his hand and gave you a wave. Boyish smile present on his face. He was good at that. Of course, you two had been friends for a long time, so it wasn’t too hard to pull off. He said something to Hugh and Steven and then jogged over to you.

“Hey babe,” he said, stopping in front of you.

Chris hopped off the table and got to his feet. Travis stuck out his hand.

“Travis, this is Chris,” you said as the two men shook hands.

“It’s great to meet you, man. Love you work.”

You internally rolled your eyes. You really hope he wouldn’t fan boy out and you could tell Travis was just on cusp.

“Thanks, man,” Chris replied.

What’s with the word man? Must be a guy thing.

“What time did ya get in?” Chris asked.

Travis looked at you. “Like, ten. Right, babe?”

“Yeah. Picked him up and we ordered some lunch before coming here,” you smiled back at Travis before looking at Chris.

Chris nodded his head absentmindedly. This whole interaction just felt weird and you couldn’t figure out why. It didn’t feel this way when you introduce Travis to the others, but you kind of just wanted to run away now.

“Travis is actually going to take off though. You’re going to nap, right Trav?” You got to your feet and wrapped an arm around his back.

“Yeah, figured I’d nap for a bit and then maybe go explore the area while I wait for you to get back.”

“I’ll call you when I’m on my way back,” you said, leaning into his side. Travis wrapping his arm around your front, giving you a squeeze.

Travis turned to face Chris offering him his hand again. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“For sure. ‘M having people over tomorrow actually, so I’ll see you there,” Chris replied.

He is?

“You are?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah,” Chris gave you a questioning look. “It’s a whole thing.”

You honestly had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but you weren’t going to have that conversation in front of Travis.

“Cool. Looking forward to it.” Travis looked back at you. “Walk me out honey?”

You nodded your head, and then looked back at Chris. “Be back in a few.” Chris nodded before heading to the table that held coffee and hot water for tea.

When you were safely out of view from prying eyes, you pinched Travis’ side. He yelped and released his hold on you, rubbing the offending spot with his hand.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“You need to control those flirty eyes of yours.”

Travis shook his head but kept pace along side of you. “I didn’t flirt with Chris.”

“Good one Trav,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “I’m talking about Monica. I work with lots of pretty people. You need to rein in the flirtiness. I don’t think you even know when you’re doing it.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close. “I love you, button. My eyes are only for you.” He touched his free hand to your nose. “Boop.”

You chuckled lightly and shook your head. “No wonder we didn’t work out.”

“Ouch! That hurt.”

“No, it didn’t,” you replied.

“You’re right. It didn’t,” Travis chuckled.

You snuggled into Travis’ side while you waited for his hired card in the cold. To anyone walking up to your exchange, they would buy that you were indeed a couple. The two of you were just close. It was no wonder his name was the first to pop in your head when you needed a name for your fiancé. You were lucky to have him as your friend and even luckier that he didn’t have anything going on this week.

“I’ll shoot you a text when I’m on my way,” you said, patting his head.

“Have fun at work dear!” he called, getting into the car.

You blew him a kiss before going back inside.

**

Filming had ended for the day which was great because you were beat. Waking up early to pick up your fake fiancé from the airport really took a lot of a girl. You sent a text to Travis to let him know you were on your way back.

Travis: I’ll order more food

Y/N: Chinese?

Travis: Anything for you dear

You chuckled to yourself, sliding the phone into your back pocket.

“What’s so funny?” Chris said, approaching you.

“Uh, nothing. Travis said he was ordering more food. That man can really put it away.” Chris hummed in reply. “So, you’re having people over tomorrow?” You gave him a questioning look.

“Well, I’d like to get to know this young man that plans to marry my friend. Figured having you guys and some others over would be a good idea.”

“He’s not that much younger than me. You really need to knock it off.”

You weren’t sure why it bothered you so much, but it did. It was such a double standard. What if you and Travis were really together? Him being five years younger wasn’t that big of a deal. Plenty of guys date and marry women ten or twenty years their junior.

Chris held up his hands in surrender. “I was only implying that he is a young man compared to me.”

“Yes, because you’re so old Mr. Evans,” you sassed.

“Older than you.”

“Ah, yes. That’s true. A whole what, four years? Tell me about the world, old wise one.”

“You offend me greatly, Y/N. I’m having a special get together in your honor and this is how you treat me.”

“Shuddup,” you mumbled.

“Make me,” he replied. Roughness ever present in his voice.

You let out a slow breath. He was too close to you. So, damn close.

“I, ah. I ah…have to go,” you stuttered out. “See you tomorrow?” You chuckled. “Of course, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You started to walk away.  “See you tomorrow morning.” You were nearly to the exit and still couldn’t get your damn head on straight. You turned around to face him in the distance. “Night, Chris.”

Fuck me. I mean, really.

**

Thank goodness for an outdoor shoot, even if it was cold out. You bundled up as much as you could and still have the ability to walk. Keanu was filming with Maggie this morning on a couple of scenes, then she was shooting one scene with Chris before you wrapped for the day. You had some work to do back in your cubical slash office, but that was only because it was impossible to work with Travis in the room. He was technically on vacation, that you paid for, but you still weren’t going to ask him to turn down the TV. He was doing you this huge favor after all.

Since you were busy going over scenes with Keanu, Chris didn’t have the opportunity to talk to you for most of the morning. You sent him a wave from across “the stage” which was really just an open field. He returned it with a megawatt smile on his face. He sent you a text an hour later of him in makeup getting an open wound applied to his face. You sent him a GIF back of someone’s head in a toilet. There was such a comfortability there that you hadn’t experienced before.

You couldn’t get him out of your mind. This was not a good thing. Had this been another studio. Had this been another movie. Had you not lied to everyone you had gotten to know and worn your grandmother’s ring on your left-hand finger. Then maybe. Maybe you wouldn’t be scared out of your mind. Maybe you would flirt right back. Maybe you’d ask him to have a drink with you. Maybe you’d ask to see him after filming wrapped. Maybe in a year you could say that you and Travis called it off. But that couldn’t happen. How often did you keep in touch with the actors you had worked with? Maybe one. It was hard to do when everyone was working on other projects with a new group of people. He’d move on by then. Chris was too in demand. He’s too good looking. Too charming. There’s no way he’d be there a year from now. Let alone, interested in you.

**

Pressing the doorbell for the second time, Travis shook his head and turning the door knob on Chris’ condo door until it opened. Someone had propped open the door into the building, so you hadn’t buzzed to be let in.

“Trav!” you scolded.

“It’s a party. Relax.” Travis said, shrugging his shoulders.

Walking in, you waved as you saw a few people from the crew sitting on chairs and the couch in Chris’ living room. Kings of Leon’s Sex on Fire played in the background and you wondered if this was Chris’ playlist or someone else’s.

Maggie, Monica, Daisy, and Joe were our on the balcony with drinks in their hands. Monica spotted the two of you and motioned for you to come out there. You mimed a drink in your hand and held up the pointer finger of your other hand indicating that you’d be out after getting a drink of your own. Only one drink, of course.

You moved to the kitchen, spotting Chris, Keanu, David, and a few others from wardrobe and makeup. Essentially the people you interacted with the most.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Chris jested.

“My fiancé is pretty. It takes time for him to get ready,” you teased.

Travis smacked your butt. “Not true. She couldn’t keep her hands off-” You cut him off by putting your hand over his mouth and shaking your head.

“Give this man a drink! Please.”

David grabbed a beer from the fridge and passed it to Travis.

“Thanks, man,” he replied getting a nod from David. “And thanks for having us over,” he said to Chris.

“Oh yeah. No problem. We all kind of like this one and wanted to get to know you.”

“Such flattery. Kind of like. You’re going to make my head explode.”

Travis wrapped an arm around your back and kissed your temple. “Not you, my love.”

He was good. You had to give him that. He remembered all the little touches, things you were totally forgetting. You leaned into him a bit more and smiled at your friends.

“Beer me please,” you said.

**

When Harry Styles’ Adore You came on, you knew it wasn’t Chris’ playlist.

“Whose phone is playing this music?” you asked Monica.

“Chris’ actually. He found your Spotify playlist and added a bunch of your songs.”

You were pretty sure your eyes had popped out of your head. Okay, not really. But you were sure you resembled a cartoon character.

“Again. I don’t understand why he’s single. Most importantly, why hasn’t he asked me out?” she whined.

“Um…Not sure. I think he’s just really professional,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Well, I wish he would get a little unprofessional with me,” she whispered.

You chuckled awkwardly looking around the room. “Have you seen Travis?”

“I think he was talking to Maggie last time I looked.”

You nodded. “I’m going to grab another. Do you need one?”

“Of course. Thanks,” she replied.

Travis wasn’t on the balcony and he wasn’t in the living room with you, so you headed to the kitchen where the beer was. You spotted him immediately, a glass of dark liquid in his hand, one elbow leaning on the kitchen counter talking closely with Maggie. You rolled your eyes and shuffled to them.

“There you are babe.”

Travis looked up and held his free hand out to you. “Perfect. Y/N, come here. I was just telling Maggie about that script I got a hold of. Don’t you think she’d make a perfect Erika? She’s the right age and height.”

Maggie had the decency to look a little ashamed. Granted, you were sure nothing happened, but Travis was doing the lean in thing that no doubt led to the moving a strand of hair behind her head, which led to the hand hold.

Fuck, Travis.

“You know, babe, I haven’t read it in a while so I can’t recall at the moment. Could I actually talk to you for a second?”

“Sure, love,” he said sweetly. “I’ll talk to you about it later Maggie. We should exchange e-mails or something.”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll give it to Y/N to pass on,” she replied.

You gave her a tight smile and pulled Travis down the hall into the guestroom you had stayed in.

“Travis,” you said shaking your head.

His arms crossed over his chest. “What?”

“What?! Dude, you’re totally flirting.”

“I can’t just turn off the charm.”

“Could you at least try?” you asked. “I know you’re the one helping me out, but Trav, it looks so bad when you’re flirty. Why not just try flirting with me?”

“Ick! You’re like my sister.”

“Har-har. You’re so damn sweet to me.”

Travis pulled you into a hug. “You know I’m kidding. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

“I know,” you sighed. “That’s what worries me.”

**

You gave up on the whole one drink about an hour ago. You were on your third and it was helping. Travis was being very cuddly with you much to your relief.

Jonas Brothers’ What a Man Gotta Do came on and you physically clapped because it was one of your favorites.

“I'm not tryna be your part time lover. Sign me up for that full time, I'm yours, all yours,” you sang.

Travis grabbed your hand and spun you around causing you to erupt in giggles. He had always been into swing dancing. His mother owned a dance studio and he was required to choose one type of dance and he went with swing. You had no idea how to dance, but you had grown accustom through the years of Travis spinning you, Emma, and Joanna when he had the chance.

So what a man gotta do? What a man gotta do? To be totally locked up by you What a man gotta do? What a man gotta prove? To be totally locked up by you

“You guys are so cute!” Daisy cheered.

**

David along with Elaine from styling had both gone home in the last twenty minutes, but everyone else was hanging out in the living room. A couple of people sat on the floor. Travis and Joe sat in the two upholstered chairs, no doubt talking shop while Maggie, Monica, Daisy, Chris, and you all sat cozy on the couch.

“We should play a drinking game,” Monica suggested, handing you a new beer. There was a small cooler on the floor in front of the couch you hadn’t noticed before.

A sourpuss look flashed across your face causing Chris to chuckle. “Okay, that’s a no from Y/N.”

“What’s next for everybody after we wrap?” you asked, trying to change the topic.

“I’m filming in New Mexico. It’s a thriller, but I haven’t really read through the script.” Daisy said quietly. “I usually just let my manager handle all that.”

Maggie raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

“I’ve got couple of months off. Didn’t want to jump into something else right away,” Chris responded.

“You and I will be on the next project they put us on most likely. David said they liked us as a team,” Monica said, bumping you with her elbow. “I don’t see it.”

“Bitch,” you said, glaring at her.

“You love me,” she replied.

You popped a shoulder while taking a long pull from your beer. At least they were considering keeping you on.

Lizzo’s Cuz I Love You started to play on the speakers.

“Turn it up!” you shouted. When everyone turned to look at you, you ducked your head. “I really like Lizzo. Okay?”

“I don't know what I'm gonna do. I'm crying 'cause I love you, oh. Yes, you,” erupted from your mouth.

Maggie gasped out a laugh.

“It’s the best part of the song,” you replied bringing the bottle to your mouth once again.

Conversations continued, but when the chorus started again, Monica, Maggie, and Daisy all joined you.

“I'm crying 'cause I love you, yeah. I'm crying, hey,” the four of you sang out.

Chris gave you the most endearing smile causing you to lose any focus you may have had.

“What?” you asked softly.

Chris shook his head lightly, bumping his knee against your own. “You’re just cute.”

The chorus came around again and you sang it along with the other three, but your eyes were on Chris. “Cause I love you…” His eyes widen and you realized your error. You turned your head to Travis who was still deep in conversation with Joe. “Trav, I think we should head back to the room.”

He looked to you, seeing the worry in your eyes. “Everything okay babe?”

“Ye-yeah. I just want to spend some more time with you,” you said getting up from the couch.

A chorus of oohs echoed around the room. You promptly stuck your tongue out and spun around. Okay, it was safe to say you were a little drunk.

“Cars ordered. Says the driver is ten minutes out.” Travis said holding up his phone to you.

Chris promptly got up, turning his back to you as he promptly moved down the hall. “I’ll grab your coats,” he yelled over his shoulder. You were about to offer to help, but Travis offered before you could.

A minute later the two men were back. Travis promptly helping you with your coat. You gave Chris a hug but it was awkward as he hands just lightly tapped your back. It was an impersonal hug and you knew he was doing it for Travis’ sake. The two of you had been pushing boundaries without even trying.

**

Travis was on his way home and you were at work. The two of you had stayed up late as you confessed your feelings about Chris. Travis, the ever-supportive friend held your hand throughout as you relayed your fears about your job and your heart. That’s the funny thing about love, you never truly knew how the other felt. Love involved risks.

Chris was back to texting you several times a day. When Travis was in town, he didn’t text at all as he wanted to give you and Travis time together. Neither of you spoke about the get together at his place and you took at as a sign that it was all one sided. Filming would be ending soon and everyone would be back in Los Angeles where the spell would be broken. You lived in California full time and Chris was in Massachusetts eighty percent of the time. You wouldn’t see each other. In a matter of months, he’d be promoting this film and you’d be on to the next one.

**

Chapter 8

A/N: Tumblr wasn’t letting me tag a few of you. If your name is crossed off below, please check to make sure you can get tagged. Thanks!

Tag list: @chrisevansfanfic​ @zsuzstyina​ @peach-acid​ @hista-girl​ @trynnabemultifandom​ @mrsshiddleston​ @tfandtws​ @heyyouwiththeassbutt​ @evanlys19​ @cheeseburgersstuff​  @evemej​ @whymalu​ @straightforwardly @deidrashouseofpain​ @samsgoddess​ @fanfictionaffair​ @sweet--rabbit​@lakamaa12 @imaginesofdreams​ @captnstarryeyed​ @the-walking-daryl​ @illi-vanilli​ @benedictcumberbabe​ @the-walking-daryl @dezzylou24​ @jennabenna12​ @tinycertain​ @oncloudnani @tanelle83​ @pinknerdpanda​ @allaboutthebooz​ @estillion14​ @panicfob​ @patzammit​ @heartislubbingdubbing​ @collinsstanharbour​ @twittytelly​ @linki-locks11​ @ab-baybay​ @rda1989 @impalaimages​ @jesseswartzwelder​ @rainbowkisses31​ @xostephanie​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​ @xxloki81xx​ @thenormreedus​ @firstangeldragonranch​ @soitmightgetweird​ @maeleeme​ @denisemarieangelina​ @rvgrsbrns​ @icanfeelastormbrewing​ @velvetwonderbucky​ @kitkat1690​ @smilexcaptainx​ @suppu97​ @dangerouslovefanfic​ @dwights-new-plague​ @kelbabyblue​@sweetlittlegingy @chrisevansforever​ @evansxxx​ @southerngracela​

[inkedstarlight]

Bittersweet: Chapter Five

Summary: College is kicking Nesta’s ass, so she goes to her T.A., Tomas, for some extra help. Note: Read it on AO3 here! Bittersweet Masterlist  Warnings: N/A

October

It was only a couple weeks into the fall semester, and it was already hell.

Nesta was drowning in schoolwork, whether it be essays or presentations or hour-long projects. She had exams every damn week, so she was at the campus library nearly every day – typically until the sun set and the stars emerged. But even then, her night was far from over. Nesta returned home only to catch up on the work she’d put off for her paid internship. Elain got in the habit of making Nesta tea and cookies when she returned from the library on those ruthless nights. And every damn time, Nesta would wrap her arms around her sister with thanks.

This was her routine for at least four days of the week. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Needless to say, she was fucking exhausted.

The worst part, though? Nesta’s grades were precariously low despite the countless hours she’d been putting in. And she knew exactly what was causing it.

It had been a month since her father’s death, yet Nesta was still waking up in her own sweat every morning after a nightmare involving him. Of him hanging on the edge of a cliff, begging Nesta to save him. Of her dad screaming at her to kill herself. Of her mother dragging Nesta into the other room as he watches idly by.  

Nesta had cursed herself for letting her father’s death affect her in this way. She’d never been one to grieve, especially not for so long. She preferred leaving it in the past. It was easier that way.

Thanks to her merciless professors, Nesta was forced to dedicate nearly all of her time to school, which forced her to neglect her internship. They required she edit ten pieces of work every week, whether it be self-published books, college publications, or online articles. Even though the internship was entirely online – a convenient bonus – she still didn’t have enough time to fulfill the weekly goals. Instead of editing ten works, she was barely scrapping by with five. She’d already received several angry emails from her boss threatening to fire her if she didn’t get her shit together.

And, well… Nesta didn’t get her shit together. On the last day of September, she received that fateful email.

Nesta Archeron,

I regret to inform you that we’ve made the difficult decision of letting you go from Scribner Editorial. While I understand you’re in the midst of earning your Master’s degree, we are looking for editors who can reach – or exceed – the necessary requirements. Unfortunately, you have been lacking in the past few weeks. It has caused other editors to pick up your slack and do more than what we ask for. We are sorry to see you go.

Sincerely,

Ressina Laurent Scribner Editorial

Nesta read and reread the email dozens of times before closing her laptop. Her head fell in her hands, her shoulders trembling with the weight she carried.

She stared out the window, the world a flurry of red, orange, and yellow. Nesta had worked so hard for this, and all for nothing. She couldn’t believe she’d fucked up such a prestigious internship. It’d paid surprisingly well, and that had been the only income she was receiving. Even with the paychecks from Scribner Editorial, Nesta’s financial situation was holding on by a thread. She had used the money her father had passed down to her to pay off the remaining student loans she owned. Her family never had much money and when it was split in three, it didn’t make much of a difference.

Just like that, Nesta no longer had a job.

Fuck.

Within ten minutes of receiving that email, she was already browsing online for job opportunities. Nesta didn’t care what it was, as long as it put steady income in her pocket. There was no way she would be able to finish school without a job.

But unfortunately, after an hour of job hunting, Nesta came up empty handed. The only person who was hiring was the large grocery store downtown. They were looking for a cashier. And there was no way in hell Nesta would even consider working there. She’d seen the crowds they got on weekends. The work were incessantly forced to talk with rude, invasive customers. Nesta was far from the realm of customer service.

Nesta was down to her last resort. She didn't give herself another second to overthink it as she picked up her phone from her desk and texted Feyre.

I was just fired. You know of any job openings in the area?

Nesta sat by her phone for a couple minutes until Feyre deigned to respond.

The only one I know if is Rita’s, the local bar. They’re looking for a bartender, have been for months.

Nesta nearly snorted out her coffee when she read the text. Feyre had to be kidding. Nesta, bartending? There was no way in hell she could be a halfway decent bartender – anyone who’s ever met Nesta knew that. She didn’t possess the charm nor the patience, and she certainly couldn’t deal with drunken men who leered at her all night. In Massachusetts, she'd had her fair share of hook-ups, men and women alike. It was night after night of mindless, drunken sex. But then she'd grown up.

Nesta looked back at the soft glow of her computer screen. There had to be something, right?

----------------------------------

Wrong.

After scrolling through hundreds of websites with job opportunities (or lack thereof), Nesta collapsed on her bed. She checked the time to find that it was nearly one in the morning. Rubbing her face, she let out a low groan. Tomorrow was Monday. Gods, why did tomorrow have to be Monday? She was so exhausted that she was feeling physically ill: sore throat, cough, stuffy nose. The urge to skip classes tomorrow was tempting.

But Nesta knew she wouldn't skip. What would she do? A whole day to herself and a head full of intrusive thoughts. The perfect ingredients for a panic attack or two.

Her gaze fell to the small stack of bills she had yet to pay – that she couldn’t pay. Bills that would only grow.

With that thought in mind, Nesta cursed Scribner Editorial as she grabbed her laptop and searched ‘Rita’s’ on an open browser.

Then, she composed an email.

----------------------------------------

The next day, Nesta finally got around to contacting her Fictional Techniques teaching assistant. It was by far her most challenging class, and she despised the professor. A big chunk of her studying was dedicated to that course alone. And since she no longer had a job – for now – she finally had the time to meet with him for extra help.

His name was Tomas. He was notoriously known as the “Hardass T.A.” Nesta had heard her peers complaining about his grading on more than one occasion. It was common knowledge that he rarely gave students any feedback on their essays but when he did, it was brutal. It was practically unheard of to receive higher than a C from Tomas.

Nesta never got below a B+, though. And though she’d never spoken with him, Tomas always gave her detailed feedback on her papers, more so than any student.

So that afternoon, she emailed him.

Tomas –

           My name is Nesta Archeron and I am a student in a class you T.A. in, ENG-403 Section 003. I have a couple questions regarding the paper that was assigned on September 28th. Are you available to meet after class? It would be much appreciated.

Nesta –

           Thank you for contacting me. I would love to help you one-on-one. I’ve noticed the work you hand in, and it is spectacular. Your writing is sophisticated, and you have such potential. Coming from someone who has been in the publishing business for years now, I know several companies who would publish your work. Perhaps I can mention your name the next time I meet with them. How does tomorrow work? We can walk to the library together, maybe grab a cup of coffee (on me). Let me know.

Tomas –

           Thank you. That works for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.

----------------------------------

“Don’t forget to finish up those essays! They’re due on October sixth, and I won’t be accepting anything that’s turned in late. Yes, Mr. Vanserra, I’m looking at you.”

Students snickered as they filed out of the lecture hall. Nesta grabbed her backpack and made her way down the stairs to the front of the room. Tomas had his own desk in the corner where he chimed in during class discussions.

He was already smiling at her when she approached.

“Hi, Nesta,” he greeted her. He was in the midst of packing his things. “Are you ready to head out?” She nodded.

Tomas had the charm of the boy next door. His dirty blonde hair was cropped short, eyes crystal blue, and he wore an easy smile. It was hard to imagine that this was the guy who gave students Fs for not having a cover page for their essay.

"Did you want to grab a cup of coffee?" Tomas asked her as they made their way out of the classroom. He shot her a smirk "Like I said, I'll pay."

Is he flirting with me?

Nesta prayed to the gods he wasn't. Sure, he was cute and all, but she had no interest in a relationship of any kind. Including a one night stand.

Perhaps I can use that to my advantage...

Nesta dismissed the thought immediately. There was no way in hell she would flirt with her T.A. to ensure a high GPA. She wasn't going to sleep her way to the top. That's not how Nesta did things.

A little flirting never hurt anyone.

She groaned inwardly and shut out that train of thoughts.

Tomas and Nesta chatted while they trudged to the library, backpacks full of textbooks in tow. Much to Nesta’s dismay, he fired question after question at her. Tomas asked about her family to which she miraculously deflected, about her journey to become a writer, and her ambitions. Luckily, Nesta was a pro at this sort of thing, so she simply responded to every question with a question of her own. Not the most subtle approach, but it worked.

The library was teeming with students when they pushed through the doors. Pryth U’s library was a sight to behold. Its foyer was ornate with hand-painted murals, the ceiling stretching far above them. They hopped on the elevator to the third floor. When the doors opened, Nesta inhaled the sweet scent of old books. The bookcases reached the ceiling, thus requiring a rolling ladder in every stack. When Nesta and Elain had toured the campus before the semester began, Elain was quick to jump on the ladder and sing “Be Our Guest.” Her voice was horribly off key. They both burst into laughter, clutching their stomachs until the librarian found and scolded them.

Nesta was pretty sure Elain hadn't stepped foot in the library since.

“Okay,” Tomas said, setting his belongings on a corner desk. He grinned at her. “Ready to be tortured?”

Nesta offered a less than enthusiastic smile. “Let’s do it.”

---------------------------------

After a couple hours of grueling studying, Nesta hurried to the coffee shop on campus. It was five o’clock and she hadn’t had a cup of coffee since the morning. If she didn’t get caffeine in the next ten minutes, Nesta wouldn’t function properly.

The meeting with Tomas went well; he was certainly a helpful resource to have. He'd even offered to meet with Nesta again to prepare for the next big assignment, to which she graciously accepted. There may have been batting of the lashes involved.

Nesta pulled her wool scarf tighter around her neck. Even with a peacoat and a hat, she was still freezing. She let out a sigh of relief when she entered the coffee shop, grateful for the inviting warmth.

That gratefulness disappeared when she looked at the line.

It was at least a dozen people long. Nesta let out a frustrated groan, managing to put a tamper on her anger and hauled her ass to the back of the line.

After a couple minutes of drooling over the scent of fresh coffee beans, she felt a tap on her shoulder from behind.

“Nesta?” a sultry voice asked. The familiar husk in her words had Nesta turning around to see Amren standing behind her. She was staring up at Nesta through her long lashes, a smirk playing on her face. Nesta couldn’t help but admire her feral beauty: chin length hair, angular face, dark and smooth skin, and exquisite makeup.

“Hi, Amren,” Nesta said blandly. “I didn’t know you attended Pryth U.”

“I don’t,” she snorted. “I wouldn’t last one week in college. This is the best coffee around, and I don’t mind driving twenty minutes out of my way.”

Another coffee snob. Interesting.

“I’m impressed that you even remember my name. I thought you always zoned out during the dinners.”

Nesta huffed out a laugh, and a hint of surprise flashed on Amren’s face. It was gone a second later.

“It’s tempting whenever Rhysand opens his mouth, trust me,” Nesta replied dryly. “But I have my ways.”

Amren’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Oh, I’m going to like you.”

--------------------------------

That evening, Nesta strolled back to her apartment with a steaming cup of coffee and Amren’s phone number.

It was quiet when she unlocked the door, but the living room light was on. As Nesta dropped her heaving backpack and padded to the kitchen, she noticed Elain sprawled out on the couch, her nose buried in her phone.

“Did you eat already?” Nesta called out as she rummaged through the cabinets. She dug through a shelf for pasta, which was buried under Elain’s many baking ingredients.

When Elain didn’t answer after a couple seconds, Nesta poked her head into the living room. She was still scrolling through her phone, the faintest smile on her rosy face.

“Hello? Earth to Elain?”

Silence. Nesta groaned in frustration. Rounding the overstuffed sofa, she assaulted Elain’s feet with her hands.

Elain’s entire body jerked as Nesta tickled her, pained laughs escaping her mouth. Elain was easily the most ticklish person Nesta had ever met. It made it easy to get information out of her.

“Stop!” Elain gasped breathlessly, laughing all the same. “Please!”

Nesta ceded and raised her hands up in surrender. Elain scrambled off the couch and narrowed her eyes.

"What the hell, Nesta?”

“I was calling your name for a good five minutes,” Nesta crossed her arms. She nodded her head at Elain’s phone. “Anything interesting?”

Elain’s cheeks flushed, and Nesta gasped.

“Is it a guy?” Her voice was threatening. Nesta had always been protective over Elain.

“A guy? No! That’s… that’s just ludicrous. Why would a guy… I mean -"

Nesta let her sister stumble over her words with amusement. She raised a brow. “Show me what you were looking at then.”

“That’s none of your business!”

Nesta gave her no warning as she leaped at Elain.

Elain squealed in surprise, trying her best to deflect Nesta's tickling. They wrestled on the couch, Elain trying desperately to get her phone out of Nesta's reach. But Nesta was taller and stronger.

“Gerroffme -"

“Just gimme -"

“Argh!”

"Ha!" Nesta stood up and held Elain’s phone in her hand triumphantly. Elain was glaring at her from the couch, her hair sticking every which way.

Nesta looked down at the screen to see the Instagram app open. Then, she read the name of the account.

“You’re stalking Azriel?”

“No! I was just following him.”

All Nesta had to do was give her a stern look.

“Okay, fine," Elain threw her hands up. "I think he’s cute. Are you happy now?”

“No,” Nesta glowered, “I’m not happy. He’s basically Rhysand’s brother. I'm not letting another one of those boys seduce my sister.”

“Seduce?!" Elain choked. She shook her head. "They’re best friends! And what does it matter anyway?”

Nesta shot her a leveled stare. “Rhysand’s an asshole.”

“He’s just protective over Feyre,” Elain explained incredulously. “Like you are of me.”

Nesta considered that for a moment. “Touché. But if Azriel hurts you -"

“Nesta!” Elain exclaimed, an exasperated laugh leaving her lips. “We’ve barely talked. I just think he’s handsome.”

“Does Feyre know?”

That got Elain's attention.

“You can’t tell Feyre.” Elain broke out her puppy face: wide eyes, pouty lips, knitted brows. No one in history had been able to resist her puppy face. Including Nesta.

She huffed out a laugh. “I may be a bitch, but I’m not that cruel.”

Elain threw herself at her sister and pulled her into a hug. "Thank you!"

After promising Elain she wouldn't tell Feyre about her crush for the tenth time, Nesta retreated to her room. She was just about to pull out her notes when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.

I’m supposed to go on a date with this guy tonight, but I just met a hotter guy on my way home. Will you judge me if I ditch the first one?

Nesta looked at the phone number.

Amren.

She could help but let out a small laugh.                              

When in doubt, pick both.

Both?                                                                                        

Both.

Damn, Nesta, I didn’t realize how savage you are.

A couple moments later, another text came in.

Both is good.

---------------------------------

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