#like - he had a whole ‘it wasn’t a gas leak was it?’ moment

[twst-drabbles]

Heartslabyul 7

Summary: The plant nymphs always finish eating before you do. So, you watch them skitter about as you continue munching. Fast little walkers, all of them are. It’s nice to hear their little feet on the table.

(I’m… not having a good time. The house was without water for a bit and we got it back, but then the house sprung a gas leak so we were without hot water just as a cold front came in. And we have a gas stove, so we couldn’t boil water. And then I found the body of a stray cat I liked right on top of that. Back to back. Really puts a damper on the good mood I finally managed to grab after months of apathy… I need a distraction.)

Honestly, it was rather difficult for you to eat early in the morning. Nothing to do with sleepiness muting your hunger, more that your appetite just wasn’t present. Your stomach growled, it twisted this way and that almost to the point of nausea, but no matter what you looked at, nothing grabbed at you.

So, instead of looking for something to spark that craving, you just picked a bland enough food that won’t overwhelm you with its taste and texture.

Little pit-pats quickly raced towards you and you looked down. Ace bounced on one foot as he struggled to pull himself up on the lip of the bowl. When he finally got his torso over, Ace took one look, one sniff of what you’re scooping up, and his face creased up in a disappointed frown.

You took another bite and pushed Ace off with your pinky. “Get off, you’re not getting anything from me.”

Ace glared at you, grabbed your napkin just to spite you, and stomped off. Well, not quite stomped. His feet pattered against the table in that way budgies do when they’re really determined to get to a place without flying. You’re pretty sure these little creatures are incapable of walking slowly.

Not even Trey and Riddle are exempt from this. Trey’s steps were very close to one another as he set up the table for the Roseling. In his concentration, he walked with the same amount of purpose as Ace was doing.

The chair Riddle was supposed to be sitting at was empty, for he beamed out of it as soon as he saw Ace being a little brat. His petals were fluffed up and jiggled almost violently with his quick steps as he raced to Ace with that stormy look on his face.

Ace, snickering to himself obliviously, threw the napkin right over the munching Deuce. Suddenly without vision, Deuce sat up in a panic and dashed around the table, flapping about in an effort to get it off but can’t.

You snorted just as Riddle gave Ace a good smack on the head and a binding thistle for his pranks.

Cater and his clones, who were tapping away at your phone at maximum efficiency, looked up just as Deuce knocked right into him. Like a set of bowling pins, all the Caters were knocked and scattered away.

You finally decided to intervene and cupped Deuce just as he was about to roll right over the edge. “Woah, careful there.”

One Cater was rubbing at his head while the others skittered right over to your hand. Almost gliding, the way they all walked. They each grabbed a side of the napkin and ripped it apart. Deuce’s head popped out through the whole like a sprout, clearly confused and but relieved to be free.

Trey had stopped his set up for a moment, looking over the chaos with a skeptical eye. His attention was on Riddle squeaking at Ace who sat on the ground, grumpy. Then it landed on your hand as the Caters patted at Deuce was still a little dizzy from all that rolling.

Then he noticed you looking at him. You raised an eyebrow and only then did Trey just, looked away. Continued to set up the table like he didn’t notice anything was wrong.

Just to bother Trey a little bit, you reached over and poked Trey’s legs. He jumped up a good three inches into the air before skittering around faster.

You chuckled. You really like the way they all walked.

[momo-t-daye]

HP worldbuilding ramble primarily regarding comets and Voldemort

I rambled about this to @whimsyckle and @rubusart and now I’m tossing this idea up here to see if anyone wants to play with this concept/run with this idea/bounce thoughts around!

So, after several unsuccessful (and rather chilly) camping trips to darker skies (…when I wasn’t getting rained on/hoping that my tent wouldn't leak again) over the last few weeks, I wound up going to an observatory the other weekend where they could still pick up the “green comet” in the big telescope— it was pretty blurry and dim even so but, hooray, a comet! (I’m hoping we’ll get another nice bright comet soon, sure Halley’s comet is scheduled for 2061, but that’s still quite a few years down the road!)

And thus I may have had comets on the brain for a little while now and that’s begun to spawn some world building thoughts.

(Caveat lector: I’m not an astronomer/astrophysicist/historian etc.  I like having stars in the night sky and trying to find comets, but I enjoy meteor showers far more than trying to find Messier objects, so I am, at best, a very casual stargazer.  There’s a lot of Wikipedia under these thoughts under here)

Okay. The stars can be charted and are very predictable, certain constellations are always in the sky at certain times and some are always visible.  The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black uses stars and constellations as names, thus they are associated with the fixed and predictable heavens which reflects on their house being established and very important in wizarding society, right?

Then there are those bright planets (Venus, Mercury, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn.  The others aren't particularly visible without telescopes) that seem to have their own strange pathways unrelated to the more predictable stars (the Greek word root for planet means something like "wanderer") that made them more important for astrological prophecy/divination (for example: “Mars is bright tonight” etc.; I suppose, too, that centaurs don’t have much interest in Uranus).

Comets (long-haired stars), which appeared in the sky unpredictably and for a limited period of time and with a path entirely erratic/eccentric compared to the predictable stars, were, historically (…and not just historically given modern cults and people buying gas masks out of fear of cyanide gas from Halley's Comet...), seen as omens/ill portents/signs of displeased higher powers/harbingers of doom (particularly for those in power).

Maybe the Wizarding World, which has classes in Divination and Astronomy taught to schoolchildren and has an important family associated with the predictable stars and might not know about Uranus, Neptune, and/or Pluto+, is likely to take comets as omens (rather than a 'dirty snowball' going through the solar system on it’s own orbit etc.). (Also, we get talking mirrors in the Leaky Cauldron, two-way mirrors, foe mirrors, the Mirror of Erised, maybe wizards aren’t about to put mirrors in telescopes and instead stick to older refracting telescopes)

Now then, Tom Riddle kinda has a very high/inflated sense of his own importance (unlike Harry, who was rather freaked out by the whole "Chosen One" thing), right? From his: "I knew I was different, I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something" thing and giving himself a noble title, he rather strikes me as someone who would see astronomical or meteorological phenomena as signs confirming his significance.

So, there's the Geminid meteor shower in December, which tends to put on a good show (although it peaks in the middle of December, not the end) and the Quadrantids (which peak in early January) can sometimes be fairly active (for a few hours), but I’ve got comets on the brain at the moment.

I haven't found any records of a naked-eye visible comet in December 1926, but there was (the great) Comet Skjellerup-Maristany in December 1927 that was bright enough to be potentially visible in daylight and unusually golden.  It was mostly visible in the Southern Hemisphere, but towards the end of December it (or at least the tail?) could apparently be seen in the Northern Hemisphere.

For an AU/headcanon of Tom Riddle thinking of himself as special for having a comet visible around the time of his birth, I wouldn't be above changing his birth year (or having him lie about it/get a little confused because he was born on New Years Eve and the next day it was 1927 and does he even know math?).

A Voldemort born under a comet (or one that thinks/claims to be born under a comet) might then consider comets as auspicious and decide to take certain actions when a comet appears.

There were several very bright comets in the late 50s, the 60s, and the 70s (between Tom Riddle leaving school and Voldemort's first rise to power/war); I could see this version of Voldemort timing the creation of Horcruxes 3, 4, and 5 to comets. Perhaps the cup and the locket (both stolen during the murder of Hepzibah Smith right?) were made in 1957 with Comet Arend-Roland and then, a few months later, Comet Mrkos.  Maybe the diadem became a Horcrux in 1962 while Comet Seki-Lines was in the sky.  Perhaps he sees the brilliant 1965 Comet Ikeya-Seki as a sign that he should return to Hogwarts (only to have his job application turned down by Dumbledore; it would change the time between Hokey the elf's memory and Dumbledore's memory to more like eight years rather than ten, but that's a pretty minor detail).

In the first book, when Dumbledore and Minerva meet at Privet Drive in 1981, Dumbledore says something about having had little to celebrate over the last eleven years. So, in this headcanon/AU whatever this ramble is, perhaps the 1970 appearance of Comet Bennet spurs Voldemort into action again after stewing over the disappointing job interview. Maybe he starts getting serious about mustering political power, starts building support, starts to put himself into the public eye as the Heir of Slytherin/born under a great comet/destined and prophesized to be important/mystical cult leader-y type stuff. Maybe he runs for Minister of Magic in 1974 with Comet Kohoutek (which was rather hyped up in the media at the time and then, although it was briefly quite bright, rather failed to live up to the hype and faded fast)- and only fails to win the position because of a great deal of work on the part of Dumbledore and his allies; which would subsequently lead Voldy to seeking alternate methods of obtaining power. Maybe he takes the appearance of Comet West in 1976 (the year of SWM) as an omen to escalate DE activities and violence (maybe he only starts branding his DEs at this point, he’s been thwarted in his attempts to work at Hogwarts and to obtain legitimate political power, he’s at a point where he needs to reassure himself that his supporters won’t have a chance to abandon/deny him), so the first war with Voldemort (and tensions between houses at Hogwarts) really ramp up right about the time Lily and Severus’ friendship is disintegrating just like the comet's nucleus. 

Well, the 1986 regular visit from Comet Halley passed Voldy by due to his whole "attempting to murder the prophecy baby only to get hoisted by his own petard and left to float around as a wraith for a decade" thing, but when he made his physical return in the 90s there were some quite spectacular comets: Hyakutake  and Hale-Bopp (...Heaven's Gate one) in particular.

In this AU/headcanon/whatever this ramble is, I'd move the Azkaban mass breakout in OotP from January 1996 to late March when Hyakutake was shining in the sky- with Voldy delaying on taking major non-Nagini action post-resurrection until the auspicious appearance of a bright comet (…as opposed to not taking major action because his machinations have to line up better with Harry’s school year…). Then, Hale-Bopp starts to become naked-eye visible in May 1996 (around the end of OotP), which could be the sign that prompts Voldemort to finally lure Harry to the Department of Mysteries with the false vision.

Hale-Bopp was naked-eye visible for 18 months, twice as long as the previous record for a comet being visible (which was in 1811 or so).  Hale-Bopp was almost as bright as Sirius (the brightest star in the night sky) in late March/early April 1997 (so, during HBP) and only faded from naked-eye visibility around until December 1997 (or about the point in DH when Harry and Hermione went to Godric's Hollow and then manage to escape from Nagini); perhaps the combination of the comet that had been visible for so long fading from view and Harry escaping yet again drove Voldemort to more reckless moves to convince himself of his own importance/significance etc. since he'd not only failed to find the Elder Wand but also failed to kill Harry during the comet's reign?

Alright, so I am also very partial to the headcanon of a Severus with a childhood fondness for science fiction and fascination with space— as far as I’ve been able to find, the BBC aired the first episode of Star Trek on July 12th, 1969 and the lunar module would’ve landed around 8PM (GMT) on July 20th (if Sev stayed up until nearly 4AM into Monday the 21st, he could’ve seen Neil Armstrong walk on the moon.  Do I like to imagine he did?  Oh yes.  Perhaps Tobias took him to the Railview Hotel where there was a watch party, perhaps it was one of Tobias’ good mood days and Sev sat on his shoulders to see over the crowd and hardly nodded off at all.  Perhaps Sev had a sleepover at the Evans house, if July 1969 was a time when his da didn’t like much of anything. ...also, Sev could've seen "Amok Time" before going to Hogwarts...). Maybe a Severus who knew a bit more about space and such would've found treating comets like they were signs and portents a little embarrassing, it could've made him just a little less loyal/awed by the Dark Lord; but it could also mean that Sev would've heard about Hale-Bopp before it was visible to the eye/would’ve known that Voldy was going to see a sign to take dramatic action and would’ve dealt with that dreadful anticipation for nearly the entirety of OotP (Hale-Bopp was first detected in July 1995 (end of GoF) with telescopes, when it was somewhere between Jupiter and Saturn distances from earth).

In this, because I’m a little mean to evil Dark Lords/like things to be a bit more silly and absurd, I’d also put Dumbledore’s birth date and year as November 17th, 1882 (since we weren’t given one in the books and I know more about astronomy (which, again, is very little) than astrology). Not only should the Great Comet of 1882 have been visible at that point in time, that was also the date of a geomagnetic storm that resulted in a spectacular and very unusual aurora being visible in London (I think northern lights were also visible as far south as San Diego, California due to that particular solar discharge). Also, the Leonid (Leo the lion, Gryffindor connection there maybe?) meteor storm of 1966, while not visible in the UK, happened on November 17th (with peak rates of something like 10-40 meteors per second!?!). I just think it’d be awfully funny if Voldy, with an obsession over being special because of a comet around his birthdate, was tremendously jealous about how many fantastic natural phenomena happened on Dumbledore’s birth day (especially if Dumbledore, despite his best efforts to be or seem all-knowing, was entirely oblivious to that in particular).

[glitch-in-the-code]

Personally, yes

also you asked earlier how Mike knew that Elizabeth was there,, I think he already had some remnant thing in him beforehand probably due to William's experiments, enough that he could kind of sense Elizabeth's spirit in SL which is why he came back even after the suit

also what heckin timezone are you in?? go to sleep ffs

- music anon

I like that!!! It makes sense, also the implication that William tested the remnant on Mike has me screaming

I’m in EST, it’s 2:47am, I probably will! So goodnight for now!!

[westanthewaterman]

Risky Business - Illinois x F!Reader 2/3

Rating: NSFW

Word count: 1600+

TW: car sex, unprotected sex, light possessive behavior

Notes: Whee this one was so much fun to write. I may do more with this reader character because I really like them.

MASTERLIST - AO3 - M!READER VERSION - PART ONE

The sound of an alarm and people yelling fill your ears as you book it to the red Jeep waiting outside. The two of you pile in and without a backward glance, Illinois turns the key and slams his foot on the gas, peeling out of the parking lot and down the road, leaving dust and tire smoke in your wake.

You tuck the statue under your seat and sigh, finally feeling like you can breathe.

“Put your seat belt on.”

“What?”

“I said put your seatbelt on, sweetheart. We don’t wanna get pulled over carrying something we shouldn’t be.”

Rolling your eyes, you buckle your seatbelt and cross your arms over your chest. “Happy?”

“Always when you’re around.”

Illinois smirks and suddenly you remember how it felt to have those lips on yours not even ten minutes prior, the thought sending heat rising to your face. In an effort to distract yourself, you shift your eyes to the rearview mirror to watch as the building gets smaller and smaller on the horizon.

“I can’t believe we managed that.”

“Thought we weren’t gonna make it out of there?”

You shake your head. “Honestly, didn’t think I’d be able to distract that guard long enough. Really glad you showed up when you did, I did not want things to keep going the way they were.”

You notice Illinois’s hands tighten around the steering wheel and his jaw clenches.

“Would you…have let things keep going?”

“I wouldn’t have had sex with him if that’s what you’re asking. But maybe a little heavy petting, I don’t know.”

His eyes jump to you, briefly sliding down to your lips before returning to the road. Heat flares up in your chest and you smirk, eyeing him up and down.

“You are so jealous.”

“I am not jealous,” he huffs.

“No, no, you really are. I think it’s cute. How long have you been wanting to kiss me like that, Illi?”

“Cute.” He scoffs. “Enough teasing, I need to focus on my drivin’.”

“No way, I came with you to do this stupid job out of the kindness of my heart, I get to tease you all I want.”

“The kindness of your heart, huh? You sure it wasn’t anything else? Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at me all night, sweetheart.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I see,” he chuckles, “all talk but you can’t take the heat can you?”

Illinois pulls one of his hands off the steering wheel and places it on your thigh, fingers digging into your skin lightly. Your breath catches in your throat and you lick your lips, that fire inside you consuming your whole body.

“Go on, pretty thing, tell me I’m wrong.”

You whimper. You fucking whimper and Illinois gives you a shit-eating grin and that dark look from earlier. You wanna smack that smile off his stupid, handsome face but something catches your eye. Your graze drops down to his lap where you can see his hard-on straining against his dress pants (that look so fucking good on him it should be illegal with how well they hug his ass and thighs).

Before he can make some teasing quip about the sound you just made, you reach over and cup him through his pants. The car jolts suddenly, rocking you both sideways before straightening out on the road again.

“Warn a guy first, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, it just seemed like you had a very pressing matter that needed my attention.”

“Yeah? You so hungry for it you can’t even wait till we get to the safe house?”

“Can you wait that long?” You undo his belt and tug his zipper down, relishing the way his adam's apple bobs.

Slipping your hand into his boxers, you wrap your fingers around his cock and pull it out for you to see. He’s fully hard, the tip red and leaking precum onto your fingers. Illinois groans as you start to stroke him slowly.

“Darlin’, you gotta stop; I can’t drive while you touch me like that.”

“Then pull over.”

He looks you up and down for a moment before turning on his signal and pulling off the road onto an empty lot. Once the car is parked and the engine is off, Illinois curls his hand around the back of your neck and tugs you towards him, pressing your lips together.

This kiss is much more relaxed and unhurried than the one you’d shared earlier and you feel yourself melt into it. You bury your free hand in his hair, messing up his styled locks and coaxing a groan from him.

Illinois pulls away to press kisses up and down your throat, keeping you as close as he can with the console between you.

“Illi,” you breathe, resuming your slow strokes over his cock.

“Fuck, darlin’, been thinkin’ about this all night. You look so good all dressed up like this, had to fight to keep my hands off you.”

“I don’t think you did a very good job.”

He laughs, “Couldn’t help myself, seeing you with that guard got me all worked up.”

“I noticed.”

Illinois groans and grabs your wrist, pulling your hand off his cock. “Don’t wanna wait anymore, sweetheart. Why don’t you go climb into the backseat and let me take care of you?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

You step out of the car and climb into the backseat quickly, stretching out across the leather seats as best you can. Illinois joins you in the back, pushing your legs open and kneeling on the seat between your thighs.

“God, you’re gorgeous, sweetheart.” He ducks down to press a kiss to your lips, his hands slipping under the hem of your dress and pushing it up to your waist.

A moan escapes your lips as he runs his fingers over you through the fabric of your underwear.

“So wet. Who’s this for, baby? Was it for that guard back at the party?”

“No,” you shake your head.

“Oh yeah? Then who’s it for? Tell me.”

You open your mouth to respond but he slips your underwear off your legs and slides two fingers through your folds.

“Go on, baby. Tell me who got you all wet like this.”

“You, Illi, it was all you.”

“That’s what I wanna hear.” Illinois starts to rub his thumb over your clit in slow circles while two of his fingers slip inside you easily. ���Who do you belong to, sweetheart?”

Your back arches and you moan, grabbing the front of his shirt. “Y-You.”

“Good girl. You’re mine and nobody else gets to touch you.”

He curls his fingers and you swear you see starts flicker behind your eyes as you writhe beneath him. “Illinois, please. I want you so bad.”

“I know you do, baby. That’s why you kissed him, isn’t it? You wanted me to see so I’d show you who you belong to. Don’t worry, darlin’, I’m gonna do just that.”

Illinois pulls his fingers from you and reaches down to stroke himself as he guides the head of his cock to your entrance. He sinks into you slowly and you can feel the way he stretches you open so perfectly. You moan his name, throwing your head back against the car seat.

“Fuck, better than I imagined. Does it feel good, sweetheart?”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut and rolling your hips down, trying to get him to move.

“Be a good girl and use your words for me. Tell me how good my cock is making you feel.”

“Illi, please,” you whine, “feels so good but I need more. I need you to fuck me, please .”

“Just what I wanted to hear, baby.”

He pulls out until only the head of his cock is inside you and slams back in with enough force to rock the car. He sets a slow pace of brutal thrusts, forcing a moan from your throat with each one.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down so he’s completely pressed against you. The new angle allows him to go even deeper and the head of his cock hits your sweet spot straight on, sending jolts of electricity up your spine.

“Illinois,” you gasp.

“Was that it?”

You nod frantically and he thrusts into you again, nailing your sweet spot once again. Illinois picks up his pace, slamming into you over and over again, aiming his thrusts perfectly to have you racing towards your end. One of his hands slips between your legs to start toying with your clit and you cry his name.

“I-Illi, I’m- fuck , I’m gonna cum.”

“Go on, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum on my cock, show me who you belong to.”

You clamp down around him, cumming with a long moan of his name as pleasure crashes over you. Illinois isn’t far behind, hips stilling as he empties inside you, filling you with warmth. The two of you lay still as you catch your breath.

Slowly, Illinois pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants and stroking a hand over your cheek. “You okay?”

“Way more than okay.”

“Good.”

You sit up, stretching your arms out and wiggling any soreness from your muscles. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see something in the darkness.

“Illinois, we need to go. Now.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Just go, drive.”

You clumsily climb back into the passenger seat and Illinois follows your lead, plopping himself down behind the wheel and turning the ignition. As he pulls out of the lot, his eyes flicker to the rearview mirror and he sees the cop car drive slowly by the lot you were just in.

“That was a close one.”

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m going back to prison and definitely not for something as stupid as public indecency. I don’t wanna go back to Happy Trails.”

“D’you say Happy Trails?”

“Yeah, that’s where me and Mark ended up after that botched museum job we did. He still owes me big for that one.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I know a guy in there.”

[scorpionyx9621]

Do you think Jason Todd fandom is kinda toxic? Because it seems like NO MATTER what DC do, there'll always be complains. Forget the bad adaptation like Titans. Even Judd Winick cannot escape the criticism with how he potrayed Robin!Jason. They just never satisfied.

SORRY, IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO RESPOND TO THIS. I just moved from Washington D.C. to Seattle, which, for my non-American friends, that's 4442km away. And I DROVE THERE ALL BY MYSELF. And now I'm trying to find new work in a new city and trying to stay mentally healthy and positive. Life is exciting but hard and scary.

*sighs*

As someone who was a fandom elder with V*ltr*n. I've seen some of the worst when it comes to fandom behavior. I'm talking people baking food with shaving razors and trying to give them to the showrunners. I'm talking leaking major plot details and refusing to take it down unless they make their ship canon (I am looking at you, Kl*nce stans) For the most part, DC Comics has had a decades-long reputation of treating their fans like trash and not caring what they think so from what I've seen, we all just grumble and complain in our corners of the internet about how we don't like how X comic portrays Jason Todd.

The challenge with Jason Todd is that he's your clinical anti-hero, the batfamily's Draco in Leather Pants, he's a jerkass woobie, and on top of all of that, he's a Tumblr sexyman. It's a perfect storm for a very fun but frustrating character to be a fan of. It doesn't help that every writer decides to re-invent the wheel every time Jason comes up so his canon lore is confusing at best and inconsistent as a standard.

I guess starting with a general brief on who Jason is and what is uniform about him with every instance he's appeared in comics/media.

Grew up in a poor family in Gotham with a dad who was a petty-mid-level criminal, and a mother who dies of a drug overdose.

Survives on the street on his own by committing petty crimes and potentially even engaging in sexual acts to keep himself alive.

Is cornered by Batman and taken in after Dick Grayson quits/is fired

Becomes the second Robin, but is known for being the harsher, more brutal Robin.

Is killed by Joker after being tortured, but somehow comes back to life and regains senses through the Lazarus Pit

Resolves himself to be better than Batman by basically being Batman but kills people.

Where there has been a lot of conflict in the fandom is the fact that Jason Todd is not a character that is written consistently. DC Comics loves to go with the narrative that Jason was "bad from the start" and was the "bad robin" when, yes, he has trouble controlling his anger, but he also still is just as invested in seeing the best of Gotham City and trying to be a positive change for the world as any other DC Comics hero.

Where I get frustrated with the fandom is its ability to knit-pick every detail of a comic they don't like while completely disregarding everything that makes the comics great and worth it to read. My example being Urban Legends. To which most people had pretty mixed reactions to. I was critical of the comic at first but as it went along I ended up really liking it. I have a feeling DC Comics went to Chip Zdarsky and told him he had 6 issues to bring Jason back into the Bat Family, and honestly he didn't do a bad job. Did it feel rushed? Absolutely. I wish there was more development of Jason and Bruce's characters and their dynamic as a whole. However, where I see a lot of people being angry and upset with Urban Legends is that they feel Zdarsky needlessly wrote Jason as an incompetent fool who needs Bruce to save him.

Whether or not that was the intention of Zdarsky is up to debate. However, and this may be controversial, but I don't think he wrote Jason Todd out of character at all. For as fearsome, intimidating, and awesome as Red Hood is. Jason is a character who is absolutely driven by his emotions. Why do you think he donned the role of Red Hood? As a response to his anger towards The Joker for killing him, and towards Bruce for not taking action against The Joker and for seemingly replacing him so quickly after he died. Jason didn't care about being the murderous Robin Hood or for being the bloody hammer of justice against N*zi's and P*d*ph*les. He only cared originally about making The Joker and Bruce pay. It wasn't until he trained under the best assassins in the world and realized most of them were horrific criminals who trafficked children and were p*dos that Talia began to realize that the teachers that she sent Jason to train under started dying horrific and painful deaths.

The entire story of the Cheer story in Batman Urban Legends was started because it finally forced some consequences upon Jason. Tyler, aka Blue Hood's father was a drug dealer who gave his supply to his wife and kids. And when Tyler's father admitted he gave the drugs to Tyler, it immediately made him fall within the self-imposed philosophical kill-list of Jason Todd. And Jason, well, he proceeds to kill Tyler's father. When this happens, Jason is in shock. Tyler's dad fit the bill to easily and justifiably be killed by Jason. We've never seen Jason having to deal with the consequences of being a murderous vigilante on a micro-level. When Jason realizes what he's done in that he's murdered Tyler's dad, he's shocked. He tells Babs the truth. He does a rational thing because he's in shock. He doesn't know what to do, he never has had to face the consequences of his actions as Red Hood and now the gravity of befriending a child as a vigilante hero who kills people just set in when he killed the father of the same child he was just introduced to.

(Oh here's a little aside because it had to be said, Jason would not have been a good father or a good mentor to Tyler and absolutely should not have been his new Robin. Jason is a man who is in his early 20's (not saying men in their early 20's can't be good fathers at all) who is a brutal serial killer using the guise of a vigilante anti-hero to let him escape most of the law. the complications of having the man who murdered your father adopt you and make you his sidekick are way too numerous for me to explain in a long-winded already heavy Tumblr essay post. There's a reason why we don't advocate for a story where Joe Chill adopted Bruce Wayne or one where Tony Zucco took in Dick Grayson.)

The next biggest argument is that they feel that Jason is giving up his guns as a means to just be invited back into the Bat-Family. To which I will tell anyone who has that argument to go actually read Urban Legends. Already have and still have that argument? Please re-read it. Don't want to? That's okay, I will paste the images from the comic where Jason specifically says that he doesn't want to give up his weapons for Bruce and his real reasoning down below since the comic isn't exactly readily accessible.

Jason gave up the guns because he felt the gravity of what he had done and knows how it'll effect Tyler. Thankfully his mom is alive and in recovery. But Tyler doesn't have a father anymore. And Jason killed Tyler's father. It may have been in accordance to Jason's philosophy, but it was a case where it blurred the lines. Jason Todd isn't a black and white character, just very dark gray. He doesn't kill aimlessly like the Joker. If you are on Jason's list you probably have done something pretty horrific, and also just in general, being in his way or being a threat to him. Mind you, in early days of Red Hood and the Outlaws (Image below) Jason almost killed 10 innocent civilians in a town in Colorado all because they saw him kill a monster. That being said, Jason isn't aimless in his kills.

(Also can we just take a moment to appreciate Kenneth Rocafort's art? DC Comics said we need to rehabilitate Jason Todd's image and Kenneth Rocafort said hold my beer: It's so SO GOOD)

That being said, the key emphasis in the story of Cheer asides from trying to introduce Jason Todd back into the Bat Family and give an actual purpose for him being there, other than him just kind of being there ala Bowser every time he shows up for Go Kart racing, Tennis, Golf, Soccer, and the Olympic games when Mario invites him, is that Jason and Bruce ultimately both want the same thing. Jason wants to be welcomed back into the family and to be loved and appreciated. Bruce want's Jason back as his son and wants to love and protect Jason. Both of these visions are shown in the last chapter of Cheer while under the effect of the Cheer Gas. It's ultimately this love and appreciation they both have for each other that helps them overcome their challenge and win.

Jason Todd is a character who, just like Bruce, has been through so much pain and so much hate in his life. The two are meant to parallel each other. While Bruce chose to see the best in everyone, giving every rogue in his gallery the option to be helped and give them a second chance, hence why he never kills, Jason has a similar view on wanting to protect the public, but he understands that some crimes are so heinous they cannot be forgiven, or that some habitual criminals are due to stay habitual criminals, and need to be put down. But at the end of the day, the two of them both try to protect people in their own ways.

I am aware that through the writings of various DC Comics authors such as Scott Lobdell and Judd Winick, the two have had a very tumultuous relationship. And rightfully so, I am by no means saying that Scott Lobdell writing an arc where Bruce literally beats Jason to within an inch of his life in Red Hood and the Outlaws, nor Judd Winick's interpretation of Under the Red Hood where Bruce throws the Batarang at Jason's neck, slicing his throat and leaving him ambiguously for dead at the end of the comic is appropriate considering DC Comics seems to be trying everything they can to integrate Jason back into the family. That being said, a lot of these writings have shaped the narrative of Jason and Bruce's relationship and have an integral effect on the way the fandom views the two. It doesn't help that Zdarsky acknowledged Lobdell's life-beating of Jason by Bruce at the very end of Cheer by having Bruce give Jason his old outfit back as a means of mending the fence between the two of them. That does complicate a lot of things in terms of how they are viewed by the fandom and helps to cause an even greater divide between the two.

Regardless, I want to emphasize the fact that Jason Todd is a part of the family of his own accord. Yes, he's quite snarky and deadpan in almost every encounter. However, Jason is absolutely a part of the family and has been for a while of his own will. There's a great moment in Detective Comics that emphasizes this. Jason cares about his family because it is his found family. Yes, they may be warry about him and use him as a punching back and/or heckle him. At the end of the day, we're debating the family dynamics of a fictional playboy billionaire vigilante whose kleptomania took the form of adopting troubled children and turning them into vigilante heroes. Jason Todd wants a family that will love and support him. This is a key definition of his character at its most basic. This was proven during the events of Cheer and is being reenforced by DC Comics every time they get the opportunity to do so.

Now, none of this is to say that I hate Judd Winick. I do not, I don't like the fact that in all of his writings of Jason, he just writes him as a dangerous psychopath, and Winick himself admits to seeing Jason as nothing much more than a psychopath. Yet Winick is the one who the majority of the fandom clings to as the one true good writer of Jason Todd because 'Jason was competent, dangerous, smart' Listen, friends, Jason is all of that and I will never deny it. However, what I love about Jason isn't that he's dangerously smart of that writers either write him as angsty angry Tumblr sexyman bait or that they write him as an infantile man child with a gun. There's a large contention of this fandom that has an obsession with Jason Todd being this vigilante gunman who is hot and sexy and while I definitely get the appeal. It is very creepy and downright disturbing that all of you hyperfixate on his use of guns and ability to be a murderer. It is creepy and I'm not necessarily here for it.

What I love about Jason Todd is that despite all of the pain, all of the heartache, all of the betrayal, and bullying, and death, and anguish. Jason Todd is one of the most loving and supportive characters in all of DC Comics. Jason has been through so much in his life, but he still chooses to love. He still chooses to see the bright side in people. Yes, he takes a utilitarian approach and chooses to kill certain villains, but at the end of the day he wants to see a better world, and he wants to be loved. It takes so much courage and so much heart to learn to love again after one has been abused or traumatized. I would not blame Jason at all if he said fuck it and just went full solo and vigilante evil. He has every right to, but he still chooses to be with the Bat Family of his own accord. That's something that I see a lot of in myself. I have been through a lot of trauma and yet I try to be a better person myself in any way that I can. It is extremely admirable of Jason to allow love back into his heart when he really doesn't need to. He kills and he protects because he has this love of society. It may have been shaped by anger and hatred, but Jason has found his place amongst people who love him and value him. I think Ducra, from Red Hood and the Outlaws put it best in the image given below.

To end this tangent, I love Jason Todd and all of his sexy dangerousness, but it's far more than that. As much as Jason may be dangerous and snarky, he loves his family without a shadow of a doubt. I look up to Jason Todd because despite all of his pain and all of his trauma, he still choses to love. Jason Todd is a character who is someone I love because despite all of his flaws and having a very toxic fandom, he still serves as a character filled with so much heart and so much passion. I wish more writers would understand that. But for now I will live with what I have. Even though the fandom may be vocal about it's hatred for his characterization, I choose to love Jason regardless because he is a character who chooses love and acceptance regardless of his pain. Jason Todd is by no means a good person in any sense of the word. He has easily killed upwards of 100 people by now. He is a character who is flawed and complex but ultimately is one who powers forwards and finds love and heart in a place from so much pain and anguish. That is what I love about Jason Todd. After all, to quote a famous undead robot superhero, "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Jason Todd chooses to love despite all of the trauma and pain and grief. Yes, he is hardened in his exterior, but inside there is a man with a lot of love to give and someone who deserves the world in my eyes.

[prairiesongserial]

19.7

John leaned up against a circus truck to catch his breath. The whole flank of it was pockmarked with bullet holes. He pulled himself slowly along the side of the truck, his boots landing in shallow puddles of stinking gasoline. The smoke was stinging his eyes. He couldn’t see through the haze, and he guessed no one else could, either. The fighting sounded more hesitant now. If he kept low, Hemisphere probably wouldn’t fire on him.

A series of shouts followed by heavy gunfire interrupted the moment of stillness. John had to get away from this truck. A stray spark would light the thing up.

John removed his weight from the truck, suppressing a groan as his bad knee took its share of the burden. A shadow approached in the smoke ahead, illuminated moment to moment by lightning-flashes from the guns.

John got down, soaking the knees of his pants in the leaking gas, and wrestled his pistol out of its holster, breathing heavily as the shadow moved closer. The sound of its boots on the gravel was louder than fireworks. John held his breath, stomach flat to the ground, as a boot came into view a few inches from his hand.

If John could see that boot, then its owner only had to look down to see John. John’s only advantage was that he’d noticed first.

John scrambled up and tackled the person at the waist, dragging them down. They rolled in the road among shouts and approaching footfalls; John’s hair went in the puddle of gas and he blinked up at the familiar weight over his hips. John and Cody each had a pistol jammed against the other’s side.

Cody pressed his three-fingered hand down on John’s mouth as a handful of Hemisphere gangsters swept cautiously down the road. John breathed the strong scent of gunpowder on Cody’s fingers and stared dead into Cody’s panicked eyes, just a few inches from his face. Half his face was covered in blood. His hair didn’t lay right around a wound that John couldn’t see.

John’s breath came more shallowly. The weight of Cody on top of him was making his legs go numb, was turning the painful gravel that jabbed into his back into broken corn stalks, was raising bile in his throat as the world turned over and tried to shake him like a spider caught in a jar out into a bad dream.

The footsteps passed. The pistol in John’s side turned away, and the hand over his mouth removed itself. Cody still had him pinned, but he hovered over John now, releasing some of the pressure. John let his own pistol fall to the side. He was firmly in the present, struggling to breathe through the gas fumes.

“It’s not going to happen this time,” Cody whispered, ducking his head so close that the words tickled in John’s ear.

“What?” John whispered back. “What’s not going to happen?”

“Ethan’s here,” Cody said. “I have a chance, but you have to get out of here and trust me.”

John stared up at Cody, searching his eyes. He was dead serious.

“You killed Ethan,” John said. Cody was starting to get up; John pulled him back down. Cody’s expression faltered, but only for a second. He stared down in annoyance.

“This is my chance,” he said forcefully. “I can kill him, and this time you don’t get shot.”

“That already happened,” John hissed, and tightened his grip on Cody’s arm. He understood now: Cody was in a dream. He was living two moments at once. “Ethan is dead. This is Lady.”

A drop of blood fell from Cody’s forehead into John’s hair. Cody’s face was twisted up in thought. He was fighting it.

“It’s okay. I’ll be back,” Cody said with a smile. He kissed John in a rough, masculine way that wasn’t like him at all.

John took both sides of Cody’s face in his hands and kissed Cody back. He really didn’t have the right to do any of this. If Cody remembered John dumping him last night, that was second to the overpowering force of memory cornering him next to the Mississippi River. Or maybe he remembered and wanted one more kiss for the road.

John finally turned his head aside, tears streaming freely down his face. Catching his breath blended into struggling to breathe from under heavy sobs. Cody’s hand moved through his hair, and John cried harder.

“I have to go; I’ll come find you when it’s over.”

“I broke up with you,” John said, still gripping Cody’s arm as he started to move away.

Cody faltered. John squeezed his eyes closed, tears running hot out of the corners of his eyes.

“Remember?” he pressed. “You were going to try to fight Lady alone. Lady. Not Ethan.”

Cody fought off John’s grip on his arm. “I know. I know, but - I can stop it from happening.”

“It already happened,” John said quietly, knowing how pointless it was to try to talk Cody out of it. He’d work himself out of the dream eventually, he just had to live long enough to do it. All John could do was stall for time. “We’re in Maine. The circus was going to hand us over, but they decided not to. You and Johannes led a charge down the hill; you were supposed to try to break the blockade - ”

“I wanted to kill Lady,” Cody finished. “I still can - ”

He moved suddenly to get up. Stupid - John had lost him. Cody was going to die because John hadn’t held on tight enough.

There was an ear-splitting explosion not far away, followed by a wave of heat that made Cody stagger back into the side of the damaged truck. Panicked shouts rose up. John struggled to his feet, reaching for Cody. One last chance. The smoke was clearing.

Figures moved through the vanishing haze. John blinked up at the sight of Val and Johannes pushing a circus trailer into the middle of the road. They tipped it once it was in position, creating a little cover for themselves.

John took Cody’s hand, only for Cody to jerk out of his grasp.

“Are you back?” John asked. Cody’s face was turned away from him, his shoulders stiff. John felt a strange mix of relief and pain - but no time to think about that.

Cody darted to the tipped trailer, joining Val and Johannes. A new wave of smoke was rolling in, quickly turning the three of them into silhouettes. Val took a look at Cody’s head. Guns traded hands. They pointed and gestured as they worked out a plan to keep themselves alive for the next few minutes, though all John could hear was the pop of smoke bombs and indistinguishable layers of shouting.

John sank back down, sitting in the puddle of gasoline with his pistol dangling between his knees. In a second, he’d join them.

19.6 || 19.8

[wheresmybuckyhoes]

Bad hair day

(Are you done part 2)

-> Read part 1 

Summary: The pollen begins to affect you, but Bucky is immune. What will he do?

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Swearing, sex pollen, smut (18+), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), nudity, angst

I hope this does the first part justice, I did my best. I personally really like this one, so let me know if you liked it x

‘Think i misheard you, what pollen?’ you asked, Bucky throwing himself at the door causing you to flinch. Not even a small dent. ‘Sex. Pollen’ he replied between breaths as he walked towards you. ‘I’m so sorry, doll, I don’t think I can get you out of here before you inhale it’ Bucky spoke to you apologetically, topped of with the nickname he only used for you when you had done something very right, or he had done something very wrong. But it’s not his fault he can’t get us out, you thought to yourself as you noticed his desperation and sadness as he tried to jump up and claw at the vent to no success.

As the foggy substance crept towards you at an alarming rate, you backed up into the wall once more, desperately trying to escape it. ‘What’s it gonna to do to us, Buck?’ your voice cracking from sheer terror as you looked between the gas taunting you and the concerned super soldier whom the gas had already reached. ‘It won’t affect me, only you. Super soldier serum stops that from working. They would use an enhanced version on us in Hydra as a means of...’ he trailed off, ‘But this isn’t the enhanced version. but I don’t...’ he repeated, his voice wavering at the end as he made eye contact with you and felt his heart break when he saw how terrified you were. Truth was, he had no idea how this was going to affect you, but he wasn’t planning on telling you that. Lie to her, he thought to himself as he felt the urge to do anything to make you feel better. ‘I don’t know exactly what this one will do, but it won’t hurt you, I promise’ a small rise in his tone told you he was lying, but you couldn’t question him as it was too late.

His last words were shortly followed by your vision turning cloudy as the gas encircled you, the oddly sweet substance seeping into your every pore as you inhaled it. It felt like your throat was on fire as you choked and coughed and fell to your hands and knees, Bucky by your side, concern in his voice. ‘Shit, please tell me you’re ok, y/n? Please just try to breath and stay calm, I think the gas is stopping’ you faintly heard Bucky’s voice say, but everything was echoing in and out of your ears as you regained your breath and tried to stand up, falling immediately as your legs gave away. Bucky caught you before you could fall, placing you down carefully against the wall and stepping back.

Thing is, the place on your waist where he had caught you was literally burning. Your whole body was burning with an intense feeling of...not quite pain. ‘I know when you lie, Bucky. You know exactly what I’m feeling’ you groaned as Bucky ran a hand down his face as he experienced conflicting emotions. ‘Don’t you?’ you asked firmly, looking up at him through hooded eyes as you felt your nipples harden at the sight of him. How had I never noticed how fucking hot this man is? The way his jacket is tight at the seams, filled out so well by his muscular form, his long hair framing his chiselled face perfectly. The ringing in your ears had stopped and you tried to clear your head, but all you could think about now was the pressure growing between your legs as you squeezed your thighs together to try to relieve it. ‘What’s happening, doll? Does it hurt?’ Bucky asked tenderly, knowing very well exactly what you were feeling and choosing to ignore your previous line of questioning, but when he said doll this time, you could almost feel the vibrations of his voice going to straight to your core as you let out a small whimper.

Sweat was now pooling between your tender breasts, as you unzipped the top of your suit to try to cool yourself down. You wanted to tell him. You wanted to tell him how every nerve of your being was screaming for him to be inside you right now. How never in your life had you wanted someone to fuck you so badly. That aroused didn’t even come close to the horniness you were feeling at the moment. ‘Bucky. Help me’ you commanded, looking at him with lust filled, pleading eyes. But he shook his head and backed away. ‘Your not thinking straight. It would be unfair on you, and I couldn’t do that to you. I didn’t want it to happen like this’ he replied as your hand flew to your thigh, grabbing at the fabric there to try and stop yourself from grabbing somewhere else. You were practically dripping now. ‘You mean...you would have wanted...this to happen?’ you were a bit taken back as you thought Bucky didn’t even like you that much. ‘Why do you think I have to keep my distance from you in missions? Your so...’ he gestured to your body ‘and amazing, but I had to control myself so I stayed distant’ Bucky’s mouth was moving but you could only think of one thing as the pressure built up to the point of pain.

You stood up, and pulled Bucky close to your face by the collar of his jacket ‘look Bucky, I have never felt the need for someone so much as I do now and if you don’t help me then you are the one causing me pain. I need you to make it stop. There is no chance in hell I will regret this, so please just fuck me already’ you were panting, faces inches away from each other as Bucky slipped his hand up to cup your face gently. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked seriously as you nodded furiously. Bucky’s tongue slipped out to wet his lips as his eyes trailed down over your exposed cleavage. ‘Anything for you, doll’

With that, he pulled you in by the waist, kissing you deeply. You pried his mouth open with your tongue, running your fingers through his soft hair. With your extremely heightened senses, the kiss was like torture, and you needed more. Bucky spun you around so you were against the wall, not once breaking the kiss. You moaned into his mouth as you felt his hands explore your body, leaving a trail of fire. Bucky leaned down to kiss your neck as he unzipped your leather suit all the way down. You shook off the suit, ravenously pulling down Bucky’s combat trousers and jumping up into his arms. You kissed him hungrily, but it wasn’t enough. ‘It hurts so bad Bucky’ you whined into his mouth as you tried to grind against his growing bulge to try and get any friction at all. Bucky pulled back and placed you down, leaning you against the wall as you could barley support your own weight.

You watched hungrily as he pulled down his boxers, letting his thick cock spring free, mouth watering at just the sight. He kissed you once more as he pulled you up by the thighs, your legs wrapping around his strong waist. He held you bum up with one hand, back pressed against the wall and breasts pressed against his chest. You were desperate for him, and he could sense it.

‘Last time I’m asking. Are you absolutely sure you want this?’ he asked as you felt him rub the tip of his leaking cock against your clit, making you shake and thank him in your head for not making you stand up on your own. ‘I want you inside of me Bucky’ you whispered, giving him the final permission he needed. With that he slipped himself inside of you slowly, at first just the tip. When you whined for him to stop teasing you, he slipped in further until he bottomed out. You bit his shoulder as your breathing stuttered, walls clenching down around his enormous cock, wanting to scream out. It felt so, so fucking good but the pollen only made you crave more. Bucky let go of his cock and supported your legs with both hands, slowly moving you up and down to allow you to adjust, getting deeper and deeper with each stroke. ‘So fucking wet’ he moaned into your ear, causing your eyes to roll back into your head as you felt the fire in your core rage. He sped up the pace, railing into you as you whined and moaned and felt yourself near the thing you so desperately need.

With each thrust, you felt the knot tighten and tighten until it was unbearable, and you were gripping his shoulders and burying your head in his neck as you finally called out ‘I’m...I’m gonna cum Buck’. He sped up his thrusts, kissing your neck and sucking to leave a trail of hickeys, and all the pleasure was building up and up. ‘Come undone for me, doll. All over my cock’ he groaned as you practically screamed. You felt the first wave if pleasure take a hold of your body, starting as a burning in your toes and finishing as euphoria burning through your veins. ‘oh my... fuck’ you called out as he worked you through your orgasm, his cock hitting you g spot perfectly every time. You felt your walls pulsate and clamp down on him for what felt like an hour, as he soon followed and you felt himself spill his warm seed inside of you as he thrusted one last time deep, deep inside of you.

You both stayed there for a moment, not wanting the moment to end. You finally felt the pain subside enough so that Bucky could place you down carefully and your legs could support your own weight (barley). Bucky pulled you in sweetly for a kiss, as you held onto his shoulders for dear life. You pulled back reluctantly, resting your forehead against his as you both tried to regain your breath. ‘Thank you’ you whispered to Bucky as you giggled, embarrassed that he had to do that. ‘Although it didn’t happen in the best possible way, I’m so happy we finally did that’ you finished, taking his metal fingers in your small ones, the cool metal feeling pleasant against your boiling hand. ‘You have no idea’ Bucky laughed as he pulled up his trousers and bent down to help you back into your suit. When you were almost zipped up and the effects of the pollen had basically worn off, you heard voices just outside.

‘Your saviour is here!’ You heard Tony call out from the other side of the door as he used some sort of laser technology in his suit to melt a hole through the door. Nat stood behind him, looking you both up and down, a small smirk capturing her lips. ‘Tony, do you notice anything ... different about them?’ she asked as you and Bucky gratefully stepped out of the room into the well - lit corridor. ‘What? No not really. That ones having a bad hair day, though’ he replied as he messed with some sort if control on his arm, gesturing to you. ‘Yeah, ran out of...hairbrushes’ you replied nervously, noticing Bucky raise an eyebrow as Nat sarcastically replied ‘that explains it all’.

[failedskillcheck]

Change with the Tides (Part 1/??)

A/N: Hiya! This is a little thing that I wanted to write, where the reader is a changeling wizard/rouge working for the Gentleman and joins the Mighty Nein! This takes place around 2x14-2x16. I’ll probably write it for the whole campaign.

You grew up in the various orphanages of Wildemont, starting in Port Damali, then Alfeild, Nogvurot, Trostenwald, Rexxentrum, and Deastock, eventually ending up in Zadash.

Due to your race, people found it hard to trust you. You didn’t really blame them, you had been picking pockets since you were seven. In Alfeild, you managed to steal a few spellbooks off of a traveller and began teaching yourself magic. Mostly Illusion spells, but you got your hand on some water-based magic as well.

When you grew out of the system, you were in Zadash, so you went about looking for the Gentleman. By the time you were 23, you had a secure career with him.

That is until a group barged into the underground bar, a strange collection of individuals calling themselves the Mighty Nein… but there were only seven.

From your seat at the bar, you couldn’t see them. You subtly put up your usual disguise, a human woman with brown hair and dark eyes, except you keep the hair a platinum blonde, the closest colour to your true form.

Cree noted one of the adventurers, a purple teifling she called Lucien. The man was a literal peacock. In fact, you’re pretty sure you saw a peacock tattoo creeping up his neck. You noted the others. An aloof half-orc, an energetic blue teifling, a massive woman who could probably crush you, a human woman in Cobalt Soul blue, and a human man in dirty brown clothing, sticking close to a small goblin. The goblin surprised you. You were all too aware of what people thought of monstrous races like hers.

The group went to the Gentlemans’ table, and you snickered, sipping on your drink. Then, Clive comes over and leans over the bar, “He needs you.” You sigh, down the rest of your drink, and walk over to the table, knowing that the drink will be paid off later.

“What’s up Boss?” You say as you reach the table, grabbing the chair closest to him. You’re his best employee. He knows that, everyone here knows that. There’s very little you can’t get away with.

“Ah, Y/N. Meet the Mighty Nein. You may recognize those two,” he gestures to the purple teifling and the monk, “as the two who murdered the High-Rictor. They’ve agreed to do me a favour, in exchange for me clearing their names.”

“So you’re the sorry sods he’s making go to that blasted facility,” you turned your head to the Gentleman, “Let me guess, I’m going with them?”

“You are the one who found it.”

“So when do we leave?” You asked, looking back at the group, who all seemed to be talking to one another. All of them except for the half-orc, who was instead watching you.

“Tomorrow, we need to prepare first.”

The Gentleman waved you off, and you went to your bed in the upper part of the Evening Nip, then preparing some things for your mission tomorrow. You went down to the bar, waiting for the Mighty Nein.

They finally arrived, and they were blindfolded and escorted to a dock, where you parted ways with you’re colleagues and rowed down the river with the Mighty Nein. You led them down the river, not talking and very aware that the half-orc and the monk were watching you. The Nein then decides to pull a race, and the goblin uses her ring of water walking. Until she hits a rock.

As she’s being pulled into the boat, you see a dark mantle drop, wrapping around her head, as well as the man and the half-orc. Luckily, you’re able to defeat them with almost no injuries.

“Those weren’t there before, I swear.” You say as the monk woman accuses you of trying to kill them. As she’s yelling at you, she stops and urges everyone to go faster due to rock monsters.

You drift downward before docking and sitting on the gravel beach as the large woman and blue teifling clear the rockslide.

“Mind telling us your name?” the half-orc asks, sitting beside you,

“Y/N,” you say, looking over, “And no, no last name. What about you?”

“I’m Fjord,” he says, then points to his party, “That there’s Beauregard and Jester. Then Mollymauk and Yasha. Those two are Caleb and Nott.” He pointed to where the goblin was braiding flowers into the man’s hair.

“Right. Apologies for the cave-in, when I first discovered this place, my group got attacked, one of them decide to destroy the wall.”

“Not a problem Y/N!” says Jester, clearing away the last rocks, “See, already cleared”

Mollymauk walks over and offers you his hand to helo you get up, as he does, he pulls you close to whisper in your ear, “Do you have any clue who I was?”

Was. Interesting choice of words, Mr. Mollymauk. “No, Cree seemed to though. So whatever little gang you two were in, I certainly wasn’t a member.”

“Something tells me there’s more to you than meets the eye Y/N, and I for one, am interested to find out what.”

Mollymauk back off at my shocked expression, walking away before saying over his shoulder, “And it’s just Molly, dear.”

We go down the stairs, through many trapped rooms (which Nott kept forgetting to check, leaving you to pick up her slack), Fjord almost falls down a pit, before finally reaching a large chamber.

The first thing you notice in the room is a teleportation circle, though it’s broken. You tell this to the Nein, which makes Caleb give you a quizzical look “And how do you know what a broken teleportation circle looks like?”

“I may be nothing more than a thief, but I am somewhat educated.”

You all begin searching around, and eventually, Caleb finds a journal written in Draconic. As you discuss it, the temperature drops and a skeletal form stretches from the group, ghastly skin stretched over its face.

“My secrets are yours.”

After that, you and the Nein launch into battle, and shockingly, you all fight very well together, working in sync.

You watched Jester sink to the ground, your own head pounding from the mental attacks. Molly charged at the undead Siff Dunder, and you shouted “Finish this Mollymauk!” as you ran towards Jester, giving her a healing potion you kept in your pocket.

The temperature drops again, cold energy emerging from a bookshelf. You can physically see Caleb remembering something, his eyes lighting. He mentions a physical form, like will o’ wisps and you swear under your breath as a series of attacks knocks Yasha unconscious. Jester is by her side instantly, healing her, before she and Beauregard pull down the bookshelf.

A large urn stands amongst pots and small cases, and Molly reaches through and destroys the urn. Siff, who was just attacking you and Fjord as you tried to distract it, disintegrates, and you both breathe a sigh of relief.

You all take a bit of time to collect yourself, and Fjord once again sits beside you, “Alright, I need to know. Why no last name?”

“Never got one.” You said, drinking from your waterskin and checking for any injuries.

“Orphan?”

“Yeah”

You notice a flash of something like sympathy on his face, and but in “I don’t need your pity. I’m perfectly fine without parents.”

“I was gonna say me too.”

You look at Fjord, “Right, sorry.”

Fjord looks like he’s about to ask another question, but you’re interrupted by Nott rubbing oil on herself and squeezing through the hole. Yasha just breaks the wall.

Why was that hot? You think to yourself

You see Nott bent over a case with her thieves tools out, trying to open a lock. Two minutes pass and you hear a gas leak and repeated coughing. “Poison,” she croaks, handing out the jewelry she found, even handing you a piece.

Beauregard searches through the urns, finding a spellbook, which she gives to Caleb. He traces some pattern in the air and finishes the spell, looking around the room. Your back is turned, but he gives you a look, nodding at Beau. You’re definitely hiding abilities other than the rouge ones you’ve displayed.

He points out a sword called the Magicians Judge, which Yasha takes. Molly, Jester, Fjord, and Beau leave to investigate further down the river, while you make camp with Caleb and Nott.

“You know magic,” Caleb says after a long stretch of silence. “How?”

A simple question, but you were reluctant to answer, Fjord already knows too much about you. “I stole some books off of a travelling wizard when I was 15. I was going to sell them, but they seemed interesting, so I taught myself.”

“How old are you?” Nott asked in between sips of her flask.

“23.” You answer, resting your head on your bag.

“What spells do you know?”

“Just a few illusions. Makes thievin’ easier.”

The interrogation seemed to stop then, and a few minutes later, the others return, and you all fall asleep.

You dream of being chased through Alfeild after stealing the books. You ran and ran, jumping on carriages until you deemed yourself far enough away. Late nights of learning magic, trying to get a hold on precious components with no money. Slowly learning.

When you woke up, you realized you shouldn’t have slept around strangers, your true form peeking through. You shift slowly back, keeping your cloak wrapped around you.

“Fjord, you have a little something right here.” Jester says, pointing out the dried blood on the corner of his mouth.”

“Oh, yeah, I grind my teeth,” Fjord explains blushing slightly as he wipes it. As he does you notice his tusks are shorter than other half-orcs you’ve seen.

Jester notices it too and starts questioning him about them. Fjord gets nervous and says “When I was younger, they used to make fun of my teeth, so I got rid of the target.”

“The kids at the orphanage?” You ground out, all too familiar with asshole kids

“Yeah, it just kinda became a habit.”

“Did you ever kill them?” Yasha asked, looking very serious,

Nott quickly became concerned “Yasha. Have you ever killed a kid?”

No answer.

Immediately, the Mighty Nein promised that if he grew them out they’d support him. You had a moment then. These people hadn’t known each other long, minus a couple of obvious pairings, but you could tell they were good people. Certainly better than the Gentleman’s goons.

You all make your way up to the Gentleman’s lair, keeping quiet. You’re lost in thought, right up until you take the blindfold off of the Nein. You pull Fjord aside before he gets to the Gentleman.

“I still have to talk to the Boss about it, but would it be alright if I maybe tagged along with you guys for a bit? You seem like good people, and I think I need a change of company.”

“I’d have to talk to the other, but I don’t have a problem with it. You’re a good fighter Y/N, we could definitely use you.”

You nod and wait for the Mighty Nein to finish the meeting with the Gentleman before you sit down with him.

“Hey, Boss?” You say, waiting for permission to speak, “I was thinking, I might try travelling around a bit. I’ve never been good at staying in one place, you know my past. And those Migh-”

The Gentleman held up a hand, and you felt the entire bar fall silent. He was going to say no, you knew it.

“Y/N, you’ve been my best employee for the last several years. Your talents are unmatchable, and I don’t think I’ll ever find a replacement. But I get it. A change of pace is always needed. Go pack up your things, and don’t worry about your bar tab, I’ll pay.” He slid a pouch of gold across the table, “Here’s a little something to start you off.”

Holy shit.

“Thank you, sir.”

The Gentleman nodded, and you ran to pack your things. Fjord said something about the Leaky Tap, so you headed over. Right away, Jester threw her arms around you.

“Welcome to the Mighty Nein!”

[westanthewaterman]

Risky Business - Illinois x M!Reader 3/3

Rating: NSFW

Word count: 1600+

TW: car sex, unprotected sex, slight possessive behavior

Notes:  Whee this one was so much fun to write. I may do more with this reader character because I really like them.

MASTERLIST - AO3 - F!READER VERSION - PART ONE

The sound of an alarm and people yelling fill your ears as you book it to the red Jeep waiting outside. The two of you pile in and without a backward glance, Illinois turns the key and slams his foot on the gas, peeling out of the parking lot and down the road, leaving dust and tire smoke in your wake.

You tuck the statue under your seat and sigh, finally feeling like you can breathe.

“Put your seat belt on.”

“What?”

“I said put your seatbelt on, sweetheart. We don’t wanna get pulled over carrying something we shouldn’t be.”

Rolling your eyes, you buckle your seatbelt and cross your arms over your chest. “Happy?”

“Always when you’re around.”

Illinois smirks and suddenly you remember how it felt to have those lips on yours not even ten minutes prior, the thought sending heat rising to your face. In an effort to distract yourself, you shift your eyes to the rearview mirror to watch as the building gets smaller and smaller on the horizon.

“I can’t believe we managed that.”

“Thought we weren’t gonna make it out of there?”

You shake your head. “Honestly, didn’t think I’d be able to distract that guard long enough. Really glad you showed up when you did, I did not want things to keep going the way they were.”

You notice Illinois’s hands tighten around the steering wheel and his jaw clenches.

“Would you…have let things keep going?”

“I wouldn’t have had sex with him if that’s what you’re asking. But maybe a little heavy petting, I don’t know.”

His eyes jump to you, briefly sliding down to your lips before returning to the road. Heat flares up in your chest and you smirk, eyeing him up and down.

“You are so jealous.”

“I am not jealous,” he huffs.

“No, no, you really are. I think it’s cute. How long have you been wanting to kiss me like that, Illi?”

“Cute.” He scoffs. “Enough teasing, I need to focus on my drivin’.”

“No way, I came with you to do this stupid job out of the kindness of my heart, I get to tease you all I want.”

“The kindness of your heart, huh? You sure it wasn’t anything else? Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at me all night, sweetheart.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I see,” he chuckles, “all talk but you can’t take the heat can you?”

Illinois pulls one of his hands off the steering wheel and places it on your thigh, fingers digging into your skin lightly. Your breath catches in your throat and you lick your lips, that fire inside you consuming your whole body.

“Go on, pretty thing, tell me I’m wrong.”

You whimper. You fucking whimper and Illinois gives you a shit-eating grin and that dark look from earlier. You wanna smack that smile off his stupid, handsome face but something catches your eye. Your graze drops down to his lap where you can see his hard-on straining against his dress pants (that look so fucking good on him it should be illegal with how well they hug his ass and thighs).

Before he can make some teasing quip about the sound you just made, you reach over and cup him through his pants. The car jolts suddenly, rocking you both sideways before straightening out on the road again.

“Warn a guy first, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, it just seemed like you had a very pressing matter that needed my attention.”

“Yeah? You so hungry for it you can’t even wait till we get to the safe house?”

“Can you wait that long?” You undo his belt and tug his zipper down, relishing the way his adam's apple bobs.

Slipping your hand into his boxers, you wrap your fingers around his cock and pull it out for you to see. He’s fully hard, the tip red and leaking precum onto your fingers. Illinois groans as you start to stroke him slowly.

“Darlin’, you gotta stop; I can’t drive while you touch me like that.”

“Then pull over.”

He looks you up and down for a moment before turning on his signal and pulling off the road onto an empty lot. Once the car is parked and the engine is off, Illinois curls his hand around the back of your neck and tugs you towards him, pressing your lips together.

This kiss is much more relaxed and unhurried than the one you’d shared earlier and you feel yourself melt into it. You bury your free hand in his hair, messing up his styled locks and coaxing a groan from him.

Illinois pulls away to press kisses up and down your throat, keeping you as close as he can with the console between you.

“Illi,” you breathe, resuming your slow strokes over his cock.

“Fuck, darlin’, been thinkin’ about this all night. You look so good all dressed up like this, had to fight to keep my hands off you.”

“I don’t think you did a very good job.”

He laughs, “Couldn’t help myself, seeing you with that guard got me all worked up.”

“I noticed.”

Illinois groans and grabs your wrist, pulling your hand off his cock. “Don’t wanna wait anymore, sweetheart. Why don’t you go climb into the backseat and let me take care of you?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

You step out of the car and climb into the backseat quickly, stretching out across the leather seats as best you can. Illinois joins you in the back, pushing your legs open and kneeling on the seat between your thighs.

“God, you’re gorgeous, sweetheart.” He ducks down to press a kiss to your lips, his hands making quick work of your pants.

A moan escapes your lips as he runs his fingers over your cock through the fabric of your underwear.

“So hard. Who’s this for, baby? Was it for that guard back at the party?”

“No,” you shake your head.

“Oh yeah? Then who’s it for? Tell me.”

You open your mouth to respond but he slips your underwear off your legs and wraps his fingers loosely around your cock.

“Go on, baby. Tell me who got you all hard like this.”

“You, Illi, it was all you.”

“That’s what I wanna hear.” Illinois starts to stroke you slowly while two of his fingers slip inside you easily. “Who do you belong to, sweetheart?”

Your back arches and you moan, grabbing the front of his shirt. “Y-You.”

“Good boy. You’re mine and nobody else gets to touch you.”

He curls his fingers and you swear you see starts flicker behind your eyes as you writhe beneath him. “Illinois, please. I want you so bad.”

“I know you do, baby. That’s why you kissed him, isn’t it? You wanted me to see so I’d show you who you belong to. Don’t worry, darlin’, I’m gonna do just that.”

Illinois pulls his fingers from you and reaches down to stroke himself as he guides the head of his cock to your entrance. He sinks into you slowly and you can feel the way he stretches you open so perfectly. You moan his name, throwing your head back against the car seat.

“Fuck, better than I imagined. Does it feel good, sweetheart?”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut and rolling your hips down, trying to get him to move.

“Be a good boy and use your words for me. Tell me how good my cock is making you feel.”

“Illi, please,” you whine, “feels so good but I need more. I need you to fuck me, please .”

“Just what I wanted to hear, baby.”

He pulls out until only the head of his cock is inside you and slams back in with enough force to rock the car. He sets a slow pace of brutal thrusts, forcing a moan from your throat with each one.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down so he’s completely pressed against you. The new angle allows him to go even deeper and the head of his cock hits your sweet spot straight on, sending jolts of electricity up your spine.

“Illinois,” you gasp.

“Was that it?”

You nod frantically and he thrusts into you again, nailing your sweet spot once again. Illinois picks up his pace, slamming into you over and over again, aiming his thrusts perfectly to have you racing towards your end. One of his hands slips between your bodies to stroke quickly over your cock and you cry his name.

“I-Illi, I’m- fuck , I’m gonna cum.”

“Go on, sweetheart. Be a good boy and cum for me, show me who you belong to.”

You clamp down around him, cumming with a long moan of his name as pleasure crashes over you. Illinois isn’t far behind, hips stilling as he empties inside you, filling you with warmth. The two of you lay still as you catch your breath.

Slowly, Illinois pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants and stroking a hand over your cheek. “You okay?”

“Way more than okay.”

“Good.”

You sit up and tuck yourself back into your underwear, stretching your arms out and wiggling any soreness from your muscles. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see something in the darkness.

“Illinois, we need to go. Now.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Just go, drive.”

You clumsily climb back into the passenger seat and Illinois follows your lead, plopping himself down behind the wheel and turning the ignition. As he pulls out of the lot, his eyes flicker to the rearview mirror and he sees the cop car drive slowly by the lot you were just in.

“That was a close one.”

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m going back to prison and definitely not for something as stupid as public indecency. I don’t wanna go back to Happy Trails.”

“D’you say Happy Trails?”

“Yeah, that’s where me and Mark ended up after that botched museum job we did. He still owes me big for that one.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I know a guy in there.”

[matbarzyy]

Must Have Been The Wind [A.B.]

A/N: Soooo my requests are closed but I still get some and an anon sent me a good one that stuck in my brain and I ended up actually writing it anyway lol. I’ll link the post here once I’m not too tired to look for it again. Anyway, this is based off a song by Alec Benjamin, enjoy.

Word count: 2755

Warnings: Abusive boyfriend

.

“What the hell?” Anthony mumbled to himself and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

The loud noise that had woken him up echoed through the building again. It was glass shattering. Whatever was going on, it was happening in the apartment above his. The digital clock on his bedside table shone dark red numbers that read 3:05, and he groaned as he pushed the covers off his body and sat up.

At first, Anthony thought someone might have dropped glasses or plates, but the sound was much louder. It wasn’t an object being dropped, it was something being thrown. Knowing he wouldn’t get back to sleep immediately, Anthony got up and yawned on his way to the kitchen. A dim light was still on, he had forgotten to turn it off before going to bed, but now he was thankful he could see the layout of his unfamiliar apartment.

He was renting the place even though he had just bought a brand new apartment that was at least twice as big. The day he sold his old place, a water leak and gas problem arose in his new building. For a moment, Anthony had thought he was cursed, but with some help he managed to find this place to rent and he didn’t even have to spend a night in a hotel.

It was a temporary solution, so he was okay with having only two bedrooms and a rather small kitchen. It wasn���t like he’d have his family coming over any time soon. Maybe the neighbours were a little crazy breaking stuff at ungodly hours, but with a glass of water and ear plugs Anthony would get right back to sleep.

He stopped dead in his tracks when the sound of glass shattering was replaced by a cry. His glass got abandoned on the kitchen counter while he tiptoed to his front door, trying to catch any other noise.

The voices turned clearer as the yelling grew louder, it wasn’t enough for Anthony to understand what they were saying, but he could tell there was a girl crying while arguing with a man. There was no way he could go back to bed now. What was he supposed to do?

Should he try to go up there? Was calling the police a better idea?

His dilemma ended when a door slammed upstairs. Quickly, Anthony glued his eye to the peephole to see anyone that might walk past his door. This cursed building didn’t have an elevator, so if someone was leaving he’d see them. The light in the corridor was off, but with the moon shining bright outside it wasn’t completely dark.

As the stomping of feet got closer he caught the silhouette of a man heading out. A minute later, the sound had faded and the entrance door had slammed shut with the noise Anthony was getting accustomed to.

He stepped back and grabbed a hoodie from his bedroom, pulling it over his head to hide his bare chest. Dressed in a little more than just sweatpants, he hurried to find shoes, grabbed his keys, and slipped out of his apartment.

When he got to the second floor the faint sound of a girl crying directed him to the right door. He lifted his hand to knock but hesitated for a second. What if he got the wrong place and bothered someone at three in the morning?

Deciding that someone’s safety was more important than getting in trouble with his neighbours, Anthony quickly shook his head and gave the door a couple of loud knocks. He heard shuffling on the other side, followed by footsteps, and eventually a slight creak.

“Can I help you?” The girl opened the door just a crack.

She had a sweater zipped up all the way to her chin, and her eyes were a little swollen, but in the darkness it was hard to tell she was crying for sure. Her voice seemed steady enough as far as Anthony could tell from that short sentence.

“Hi, sorry, um I know it’s super late,” he shuffled from one foot to the other nervously. If only he had thought about what to say before knocking. “I’m Anthony, I live right downstairs, I just heard some noise and stuff… I wanted to make sure everything’s okay?”

“Uh, yeah? I didn’t hear a thing, sorry,” the girl pulled the sleeves of her sweater down to cover her hands.

“Could have sworn it came from up here,” he played dumb to insist a little more, but she was quick to shut him down.

“Must have been the wind or something,” she shrugged. “Thanks, I guess, but uh, I should go,”

“Right, yeah, sorry I bothered you,” he murmured and stepped back before she quietly closed the door.

Anthony didn’t get a minute of sleep that night. Mat chirped him for his slow reactions when he practiced in the morning, but he had bigger things to worry about. Was that girl really okay? Or did she just tell him lies so that he wouldn’t intrude?

None of it sat right with him, but he was limited in his options, so he promised himself he’d keep an eye out for her as much as he could.

.

A week passed before anything happened again.

Anthony was on his way home from a game, still dressed in his game day suit and ready to crash into his bed. Even the adrenalin of the win couldn’t keep him up for much longer. He was half asleep as he walked up to the building, his keys out to get through the main entrance. Now that he had cooled off, his legs ached and he almost groaned at the thought of the stairs.

“Two more weeks,” he muttered to himself.

He was about to continue complaining out loud to himself when he spotted her. If he had paid attention he would have noticed the couple arguing way earlier. The man had a tight grip on her forearm, and he didn’t even notice the way her eyes flickered over to Anthony as he continued speaking.

“I told you not to fucking-”

“Everything okay?” Anthony spoke up loudly enough to startle the man.

“Mind your fucking business.” He turned around, but the hockey player was taller and obviously stronger, so he didn’t even look at him.

Instead, he stared at his upstairs neighbour and waited for her to answer.

“Fine,” she rubbed her forearm, soothing the red skin. He nodded in response but didn’t make a move, his bag still hanging over his shoulder.

“We’re not done.” The other man grumbled when he saw Anthony had no intention of walking up to his apartment until they moved too.

He stomped out, the noise matching what had resonated in the corridor the first night Anthony heard them fight.

“So, am I at least going to get your name?” He walked towards the stairs with her, letting her walk up first.

“Carrie,” she told him, taking the stairs two at a time. Anthony cursed in his head as he kept up with her, his legs burning from all the skating and a nasty fall.

“Well Carrie, if you ever need anything, I live right here, okay?” He motioned towards his door and she nodded.

“Thanks,” she glanced down at the floor as she said it, not even waiting for his reply before dashing for the stairs and heading back to her own place.

.

The next morning was nice for Anthony. The weather was beautiful, he didn’t have practice, and all he had to do was go for a walk and get himself a nice coffee to enjoy his day off. The park near his building was a little crowded, it was a Saturday after all, families walked with kids running back and forth, people walked their dogs, others jogged.

The little kiosk at one of the intersections didn’t look like much, but Anthony had found out the day he had to move here that their coffee was some of the best in the city.

Carrie seemed to know that too, because he spotted her a few feet away on one of the benches. She was alone, taking in the way the sun shone through branches and onto the grass.

“Can I sit?” Anthony asked, and she looked up at him.

“Sure,” She slid over to make space on the bench.

“I don’t mean to overstep,” he began while racking his brain for the right thing to say. “And I don’t need to know whatever it was that happened when I heard that noise, or what was going on last night, but if you ever need absolutely anything, my door’s always open for you.”

“It’s fine I swear, he’s not as bad as it seems,” Carrie dismissed him and he scoffed.

“Well not as bad doesn’t mean ‘not bad’ so even if you just need a friend or whatever, I’m around,” he reiterated to make sure she wouldn’t hesitate if she was ever ready to ask for help.

“Thanks, Anthony,” she felt the corner of her lips itch to curl up while he leaned back.

“Not running away today?” He took in the people moving in front of them, resting his paper cup on his thigh.

“Not today,” Carrie smiled and took another sip of her coffee.

.

Only one more week before Anthony could move out.

Some of his things were still packed, a few boxes were stored in his garage in his new building, others were stacked in his spare bedroom and the rest would have to be repacked this weekend for him to finally vacate this apartment. He was excited to settle into his new place, he was somehow enjoying the whole decorating thing.

The only thing that bothered him was leaving Carrie. What was he supposed to do, leave her there and never come back? He couldn’t just turn his back with what he knew. She was the only thing on his mind day and night. Anthony couldn’t remember his dreams in the morning, but he was often convinced they had been about her.

The one thing that definitely wasn’t a dream was the loud knock on his door that night. 4:32am. It had to be Carrie.

Anthony jumped to his feet with a groan and rushed out of his bedroom. “Fuck,” he cursed as he slammed his shoulder into the door frame, not slowing down for a second until he reached the front door.

He threw it open and Carrie stumbled in, shaking and sniffling. Her arms were wrapped around herself and she hurried to make sure the door was closed.

“What happened?” Anthony’s eyes widened when he took in her panicked state. She barely looked up at him and cried harder, so he realised now wasn’t the time for questions. “Hey, hey come here,” he pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re safe, it’s okay, you’re safe here.”

Carried leaned against his chest, biting her lip and shaking with quiet sobs. Her whole body was trembling, Anthony was the only reason she was standing, so he slowly walked over to the couch with her in his arms and sat down. He had managed to hit a light switch on his way to make a warm light illuminate the living room.

“Sorry, it’s so late,” she eventually whispered, but he pulled away and shook his head.

“Don’t apo-” Anthony started but cut himself off when he got a good look at her face. “What happened?” His tone was nowhere near soft this time, his jaw was clenched and he was ready to run up the stairs to break her boyfriend’s face.

A purple bruise was blooming on her cheekbone, and the skin had split so a little bit of blood seeped out of the wound.

“I-” Carrie tried to talk, but another sob shook her chest and she looked down instead, hiding herself.

“Carrie…” he reached out for her hands. “Did he do this?”

“Yes,” her answer was barely above a murmur, and he took a deep breath to calm down.

“Let me take a look,” he cupped the uninjured side of her face and guided her to tilt her head until the light hit the forming bruise on her cheekbone. “I’ll find something to put on that, okay?” Anthony dropped his hands and she avoided his eyes.

He found everything he’d need in his bathroom pretty easily. He was used to being injured, so he came back to the living room with a cream for the bruise and an ice pack.

“Tell me if it hurts too much,” He said as he sat next to her and pushed a little bit of the product out on the tip of his fingers.

Careful not to press too hard, Anthony rubbed it over the bruise and made sure it was mostly absorbed before holding the ice pack to her face. It wouldn’t really ease the pain but it would at least reduce the swelling.

“I got it,” Carrie took it from him to keep it to her cheek.

“Okay, you need anything else?” He let her gather her knees up to her chest, resisting the urge to pull her into a hug again. He wished he knew how to comfort her, but she clearly needed her space.

“I’m okay, thank you,” she shook her head no and focused on slowing her breathing. It was hard with the mess in her head after everything that happened. She felt weak and pathetic, she had never been so vulnerable in front of someone, and maybe it was time she opened up but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything more.

“Is he still upstairs?” Anthony probed, trying to figure out what to do, at least for the immediate future.

“Probably,” Carrie shrugged, wiping tears out of her eyes.

“You can stay the night, I’ve got a spare bedroom.” He offered, written worry all over his face when she glanced up at him.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you,” she turned him down, but he wouldn’t let her leave when she wouldn’t be safe.

“Stop that,” he nudged her foot gently. “I’m not going to let you go back up there, just stay. Do you want tea? Chamomile is good for sleep,”

“Um, yeah, please,” Carrie gave in with a sigh. There was no point in fighting him, and deep down she knew he was right. Now that she had woken him she couldn’t leave and just let him worry.

“Be right back,” He put a hand on her knee as he got up and went to boil some water.

When he came back with both steaming mugs, Carrie had helped herself to the tissues on his coffee table to dry her tears and it looked like she had calmed down a little.

“Careful it’s really hot,” Anthony set the mug down in front of her.

“Thank you.”

They sat in silence after that. Anthony was done pushing, she was next to him and he was keeping her safe, he didn’t need more than that. The night had been traumatic enough for Carrie, so he didn’t want to add to it.

Small sips of burning liquid eventually turned to larger gulps of warm tea until both mugs sat empty on the table. Carrie had stopped shaking, and the heat of her drink had helped her warm up. The ice pack was mostly melted against her cheek now, but it was still cool and her cheek was burning underneath it.

“Wanna go to bed?” Anthony eventually whispered, pulling her out of her thoughts. She stopped staring at the black screen of the TV to turn to him, nodding slightly.

The bed in the guest room was made, and the sheets still smelled like fresh laundry. Anthony looked into the mostly empty closet for a few things, and while Carrie slid under the covers he brought an extra blanket to lay on top of it.

She settled quietly, curled for extra warmth while the melted ice pack sat on the nightstand. Anthony took it as his cue to leave, but he stopped once he reached the door.

“Carrie?” He turned to look at her, a hand on the door knob.

“Yeah?” She wondered what else he was going to say, and her heart warmed when she heard his words spoken with unwavering certainty.

“I don’t care what I have to do, but I’m not going to let that happen again.”

.

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[stars-are-just-ghosts]

16th prompt for harrisco 'cause we'd love a fixit <3

So this isn't a fixit, simply because (and I may be alone in thinking this) the mess that the show made out of the Wells' still makes me kind of furious. It's such a nuclear disaster. I try to pretend (okay I do pretend) that it never happened. I live in complete denial when it comes to that debacle. (That aside, Nash is one of my favorite Wells, so he gets a free pass.) I do hope you like this anyway, as I love to write angsty stuff. Be safe! -QD * * *

Cisco's ears were ringing, a chorus of bells and chimes and cymbals rampaging in his eardrums that made him nauseous and far too dizzy. He coughed against the dust that had begun to settle around him like a cloud of gray and forced his eyes to blink, tearing up against the particles that assaulted his vision.

It took far too long for his sight to clear, for actual sound to process, and not chaotic trilling. And when everything finally came into view, all he could think to do was stare. Jitters was more than a mess. It was just... not Jitters anymore. What the hell happened?! He tried to remember... They hadn't had any meta mayhem in over a week, which resulted in him and Harry working non stop on all their pushed-back projects just so they could have something to do. It was the most fun Cisco'd had in a while. He'd always loved working side by side with the genius of a man, but if he was being honest... well, it was more than that now. It had been for almost a year.

Realizing he was falling for the tall, hot-headed, grumpy scientist hadn't had any fanfare. It hadn't startled him. It had, in fact, been the most comforting realization Cisco had ever had. Because it made sense. To him, anyway. Because Cisco had learned to see all the incredible stuff beneath the dense layer of sarcasm and self-loathing Harry had built up over the years. And the more he saw, the more he experienced, had resulted in Cisco head-over-heels before he had the sense to stop it. Not that he would if he'd known.

Lately, he'd been trying to come up with the courage to tell Harry. But the idea that Harry would reject him, that they'd lose the far-too important friendship they'd built, was far too prevalent in Cisco's mind.

It didn't stop him from daydreaming, though. Something he was doing just moments ago, staring at Harry's far too alluring lips as the taller man stirred his coffee while he went on and on about the updates they were doing on the satellites. They'd stopped at Jitters for a night-time pick-me-up. It was almost closing time, and Nancy, a barista, was the only person behind the counter. There weren't any customers. There was some sort of pop music playing softly through the speakers. And Cisco took the quiet and emptiness as permission to just let his thoughts drift. He pictured himself just moving in, capturing Harry's damn delicious lips with his own.

And then...

There had definitely been an explosion. It was all that made sense.

Cisco pushed himself up, a piece of the counter sliding off his stomach as he shoved it out of the way and coughed. He let his eyes wander. Tried to push through the strange daze in his brain. He needed to take stock of the situation. Needed to make sure that Harry was... "Harry?" he croaked out quickly, blinking as he pushed himself to his feet, staggering slightly amongst the debris. He could hear water rushing somewhere, the sounds of sparks crackling from a broken and hanging light, the crunch of debris settling.

There was an enormous caved-in sort of hole where the kitchen had been. He could see Nancy, shocked and shaking, picking her way through the debris and toward the shattered doors. She looked as stunned as he felt. And Harry... where was he?! Cisco stepped forward. They'd been standing right next to each other. He couldn't be far, right?!

"Harry!" He called out much louder, looking around. He began to toss pieces of wood aside. A chair. A half-split table. Panic began to settle in. There was a strange sinking feeling in his chest. Because he couldn't lose Harry.

Harry was his cornerstone, the most important reason he got up in the morning, the most constant tangible presence in his life. And maybe Cisco had become too accustomed to their daily antics and bickering. Maybe he had become too familiar with the numerous little kindnesses that Harry showered him in. Maybe he had become too addicted to the touches in passing, their combined laughter, the effortless way Harry just took Cisco's depression and anxiety and transformed it all into happiness...

Cisco froze in place when he saw a boot.

No... not a boot.

Harry's boot!

He rushed forward, yanking aside a tall tea rack and a piece of drywall, revealing Harry's still form covered in dust and dirt. The left side of Harry's face was caked in dusty blood that had pooled from a gash above his brow. The gray shirt Harry wore was stained along the ribs with something dark that Cisco knew wasn't coffee. It made his whole body buzz with terror, made him drop to his knees and freeze in place. He focused on Harry's chest, willing him to breathe... just fucking breathe!

He half registered the sounds of sirens in the distance, could hear a murmur of voices outside the shattered windows, mingling with all the other unsettling sounds around him. "Harry, please..." His voice cracked, tears unnoticed as they rolled down his dusty cheeks. He moved a hand toward Harry's chest. But just before he put his palm down, Harry's whole body jerked and the tall man coughed, turning slightly sideways. It startled Cisco so badly, he fell backward into the tea rack he'd pulled off of him.

"Holycrap!" He blurted out quickly. Then he scooted back toward Harry as he coughed, a hand coming up to his head, the tall man wincing slightly. "Don't do that to me!" Cisco fought the urge to smack him and chose to help him sit up instead. "I... I thought you were dead." Cisco half-whispered. Harry blinked heavily, looking around at their surroundings, leaning his torso into Cisco as he let his hand fall.

"Ramon." He said gratingly, eyes coming back to Cisco's face. Harry took in the sight of him quickly, eyes roaming at the wet streaks on his cheeks before holding his gaze. "What happened? Are you alright?!" Before he could answer, Harry had simply reached up and cupped Cisco's face, a thumb smoothing through the wetness. And Cisco lost any words he'd been planning to say. Because he'd seen a lot of sides to Harry. Seen all the hidden things that no one else seemed to notice. But he'd never, not once, seen Harry look at him like that.

It was at that moment that Barry showed up. Everything moved quickly after that. Ambulances and fire trucks and police cars. Barry got Cisco and Harry back to the labs. The explosion was caused by a gas leak in the store connected to Jitters. Both places were a loss. Thankfully, no one had died. Nancy barely had a scratch on her because she'd been inside a walk-in freezer when it happened. Cisco had a hell of a bruise on his back, about the size of a basketball, a few cuts, and had needed stitches on his thigh. Harry had a concussion. Caitlin swore it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He also needed stitches on his ribs, the cut there almost a foot long. It all could have been so much worse. A thought that was sticking with Cisco as the minutes ticked by.

It was nearly three in the morning by the time Caitlin and Barry cleared out. They had both offered to drive Cisco home, but he didn't want to leave. Not yet. He was watching Harry stiffly put a shirt on in the medlab. That sinking feeling in Cisco's chest hadn't left. How many times had he come that close to losing Harry? And how much longer was he going to be a chicken about telling Harry the truth?

Harry turned his ocean blue eyes on Cisco and paused before pulling the black S.T.A.R. Labs t-shirt completely in place. Then he wandered over to where Cisco was leaning against the doorway of the medlab. And just like that, he was touching Cisco's face again. His palm smoothed over his skin, his fingers slipped into the dark strands of his hair. And Harry shook his head.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, eyes dancing between his own. Cisco didn't know what to say at first. He was too busy reveling in the feel of Harry's warm and large hand on him. But then he cleared his throat and reached up, wrapping his fingers around Harry's wrist.

"No." He managed, pulling Harry's hand down. But... he held onto it, in both of his own, looking down at Harry's long fingers, running a thumb over his knuckles. Two of them were slightly bruised. "I need to tell you something." He didn't dare look back up at him. He would never be able to get this out if he did. "I haven't said anything because I was afraid of what might happen if things changed. I didn't want to lose our friendship because it just means... it's everything, man. I can't... I couldn't take the risk. But I saw you lying there bleeding and unconscious and... I thought... you looked dead. And I couldn't process that. I couldn't picture existence without you in it. Because I'm... I..." Fuck, why couldn't he just say it? He was a big boy. He could enunciate words properly. He could make his thoughts known. Right? But then Harry lifted his other hand, hooked a finger beneath Cisco's chin, and gently urged him to look up.

And what he saw...

Harry was smiling. It was the most tender thing he'd ever seen on the other man's face. And it made all his anxiety flee in a heartbeat.

"I love you, too, Cisco." Harry said so simply, it made Cisco blink. "I value our friendship. More than nearly anything else. It's why I never said anything, like you." He stepped closer, pulling his hand out of Cisco's hold and holding both sides of Cisco's face. "But if it's a choice between telling you how I feel, and the possibility that one of us could die without the words ever having been said," he shrugged, "Then I'd rather you know just... how much... I love you." Harry's voice cracked slightly, his eyes growing wet. Cisco let out a sound, feeling his own eyes burn.

All he could think to do was move into him, to let Harry wrap those safe arms of his completely around him. He breathed in the smell of Harry's aftershave and the lingering scent of smoke and dust. He curled his hands into the fresh t-shirt and let out an enormous breath, letting all that fear and worry out with it. For a few, blissful, long moments, Harry just held him.

"This is not how I thought I'd tell you." Harry said gently, soft humor in his tone. Cisco chuckled and lifted his head, meeting Harry's sparkling gaze.

"Me, neither. Though it's not like anyone plans on having their coffee date go up in flames." He watched Harry raise a brow.

"Date?" Harry asked, eyes roaming along Cisco's features again.

"Okay, so... maybe I tend to think of everything we do together outside of work as a sort of date. It's pitiful, but it's kind of how I, uh..." He cleared his throat, shrugging a shoulder, "It kept me going, got me out of my head. Since I couldn't actually get the words out." Harry smiled, warm and bright.

"And now that we've gotten the words out?" He asked, bringing his face a little closer. "If I kissed you right now, what would you consider that?" Cisco's brows shot up and his eyes darted directly to Harry's mouth.

"Oh, that... that's definitely not a date. That's more like... we've been established for a while now, and I want some damn affection from my better half." He smiled, hearing Harry chuckle.

"As you wish." Harry winked knowingly, and before Cisco could dare ask how Harry knew about Princess Bride, the taller man had closed what little distance there was left, his lips sliding along Cisco's in a brilliantly soft and tender press.

He'd always pictured Harry to be a pushy kisser. But... he was sooo wrong about that. Because Harry was eager, but he was also so goddamn patient. He let Cisco lead the way, let him decide when it got deeper, and how deep. Harry tasted like dark coffee, and he was pretty damn exceptional with that tongue of his. And the longer the kiss went on, Cisco was glad his daydreams were nothing like reality.

He also had a feeling that the friendship they'd cultivated wasn't going anywhere. In fact, it was just evolving into something far more concrete. Something permanent. Something they didn't need to hide from each other, or anyone else.

Their soreness and exhaustion took over at one point. But Cisco still didn't go home. Instead, he curled up in Harry's bed with him and they talked till even their mouths were too tired to keep going. It was so easy, nothing felt awkward about it. Harry held him as Cisco happily played little spoon, and not a moment of it was uncomfortable. It didn't take long for either one of them to pass out.

The next day, they were still asleep by the time Caitlin came back. She'd gone in search of Harry, wanting to check on him, figuring Cisco was at home. But what she found was the two men very asleep and completely tangled with each other.

"It's about time." She whispered with a smile before closing the door to Harry's room. They had a busy day ahead of them. But there was no harm in letting them sleep a little while longer. They deserved the rest. And each other.

About time, indeed.

[domesticated-feral]

Sceo for the ship prompt?

Sorry for the long wait, but I finally got it done! 1,198 words [Warning for the slight description of blood]

***

Mercury.

Theo stood in the gas station toilet, looking at himself in the mirror. His reflection was clouded by the mirror being de-silvered over time but he still saw it. Mercury dripping out of his nose, the silver shine of it stark against his skin.

He didn’t know why it was happening. Nor did he know what was going to happen because of it. Was he going to die like the others? Could there be a way to stop it?

The dripping stopped after a while, he dispensed all the tissues he used to wipe up the mercury in the trashcan and exited the toilet.

He begins driving down the highway, he would be back in Beacon Hills by nightfall.

The next morning, he woke up to his blanket stained with mercury, more had dripped out while he had slept. The backseat of his car had some too. He tried wiping it clean, but a slight glittery sheen was left on the seat.

Nobody had noticed so far, being too involved in the war that was going on, but it had been getting worse.

The pack was out, scouting the preserve. Allegedly, a camp had been set by some hunters with not-so-good intentions.

Scott and Theo managed to find the camp first. Managing to subdue the hunters until the rest of the pack got there. At the cost of a few injuries, of course.

Theo had been slashed across his arm by a hunter before he could knock them out.

“Theo, your arm,” Scott asked after Jordan and a few other deputies reached the scene to handle the hunters.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” he said before looking at it once more.

He didn't notice until he took a better look at the slash across his arm. It was healing, but it had mercury pooling and bleeding out as it did.

He was bleeding mercury.

“I guess I should have told someone about it,” Theo looked up at Scott.

“How long has it been happening?” Scott asked.

“A few weeks.”

Scott looked concerned. Of course, Scott being Scott, he is always concerned. But this was a different look on his face. Theo had never seen it before. He looked concerned to the point that Theo would think he might faint.

“Scott, it's fine.”

“It’s not, you’re dying.”

“Who cares if I did anyway?” he muttered, turning to walk away from Scott.

“I do,” Scott said, long after Theo left.

***

Theo woke up to his whole body spasming. A metallic taste prominent on his tongue. His head was pounding and he felt weak. The spasms continued, he tried moving but he felt trapped inside as he twitched uncontrollably in the backseat of his car.

There was mercury everywhere, smeared on his face, in his mouth, on the seat, his clothes, everywhere. He fought against his body, willing to control it. He reached for his phone, taking it out of the seat pocket on the back of the passenger seat.

His phone falls onto the floor of the car as he loses grip of it. He tries to pick it up, his body felt excruciatingly weak as the spasms got weaker.

He manages to turn the phone on, keeping it on the car floor. The bright light blinded him for a second. Groaning as he squinted his eyes, he opened Scott’s number. If anyone would pick up Theo’s call, it would be Scott.

The dial tone rang twice on the speaker before Scott picked up.

“Theo?”

“Scott,” Theo said, the bitter taste inside his mouth strengthening as he talked, “I’m dying.”

“What do you mean? Where are you?”

“I’m parked in the preserve. There’s so much mercury and-” he retched involuntarily because of the bitter taste, “I’m dying.”

He didn’t know what else to say, except the cold hard fact that he was dying.

“Stay there, I’m coming.”

Scott ended the call and Theo was met with dial tone once again. He turns it off. He retches again, spitting the mercury out on the blanket. It could be washed off later. He felt his muscles twitch again, slowly growing in intensity and pain.

He tried holding it off, trying to keep control over his body but it’s a futile attempt. The muscle spasming and constricting was too much, he found himself looking at the streetlight out his window.

It became dimmer as he felt extremely tired. Maybe he could just sleep the pain away.

***

Scott saw the blue truck alone in the preserve parking lot. He skids his motorcycle to a stop, and runs up to the truck. Looking inside the car window, he saw Theo, unconscious.

He opens the car door, making sure he didn’t open it so hard that he ripped it out, just enough to break the lock. He pulls Theo out, lying him down on the asphalt.

Scott wasn’t sure what he should do, but he checked Theo’s pulse. It was weak, barely a sound that he could pick up on.

“I’m so sorry, Theo.”

He had to take his chances, lifting up Theo’s shirt, he bit down on the side of his abdomen. Theo groans, his heartbeat picked up as Scott listened. The bite leaked of blood and mercury. Scott takes Theo’s arm, pulling as much pain as he could to help.

“Come on, please,” he said.

He was met with Theo’s labored breathing, his own heart rabbiting in his chest and the sight of blood and mercury on his hands and on Theo.

“Please, Theo. Please don’t die,” he props Theo’s head up on his lap. Hopefully it could help with his breathing.

“I can't lose you like this,” he whispered, trying to pull more pain out of Theo to try and kickstart his healing.

He listened to Theo’s heartbeat. It dropped lower, lower, and then, it wasn’t even there anymore. Scott’s breath hitched, tears pooling up in his vision.

“Theo...Theo!” He shook him, quickly moving to perform CPR when he heard Theo breath.

It was short, sudden, but it was a breath. His heart begins beating again, growing steadily. He looks at Theo whose eyes snap open, an illuminating bright blue.

He immediately props himself up, dazed and confused. The quick movement was too harsh for his body to deal with after everything that just happened so he begins to fall backwards when Scott catches him.

He hugs Theo, relieved that he's alive. He feels Theo's hands embrace him before they are suddenly pushing him backwards.

“Why did you do that?” he asked, “why did you choose to turn me?”

“I… I had no other choice.”

“You could've just let me-”

“No,” Scott cut him off.

Theo looks at Scott, confused. Even if Theo had called Scott, he did have the choice of letting Theo die. It would've been better off like that Theo thought.

“I care about you, Theo. I didn't want you to die,” Scott said after a moment, “I love you.”

To Theo, the words came as a splash of cold water on himself. He never expected for someone like Scott to say those words to him.

“Do you really mean that?” he asked.

Scott nods, “I do, I really do.”

***

[ourloveisforthelovely]

On the Mend. Part 4

Harry Potter AU 

Link to Part 3

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: T

_________

“Mum, I’m sure that you remember Y/n Potter. She is the woman that I am in love with and this is our daughter, Renee.”

Both Walburga and Ambrosia’s mouth fell open. Ambrosia looked at her ex-husband’s face before falling down to the baby in his arms. This was most definitely his child. Whatever hope she had of salvaging their marriage just burned into a million little pieces as Regulus pulled you closer to him. The expression on Regulus’ face when he looked at you clearly said true love. He never looked at Ambrosia like this and it infuriated her even more. She had to press her lips together and look down before she burst into tears.

Later Ambrosia knew that she would be angry. She would be livid. In her mind, she was already preparing for the jokes that she would make about Regulus and yourself.

“Oh look, it's just another teenage couple with a baby. How typical.”

Ambrosia didn’t want to think about how her life was going to be “affected” by Regulus’ decisions. She didn’t want to think about how other members of the “sacred 28” would whisper about her.

“That girl, that one right there...Ambrosia...that’s the girl that was abandoned by Regulus Black for Y/n Potter. Did you hear what a catastrophe that was? Apparently, Black had an affair with the Potter girl that resulted in a baby. Regulus left Ambrosia for Y/n and the child. It must be dreadful for Ambrosia”

Ambrosia had to shut those thoughts from her head. She had always been bitter toward Regulus’ attachment toward you now it was becoming a rage. Rage over the fact that the man she married had no feelings toward her. Ambrosia couldn’t help feeling stupid. She had gone into the marriage with an open mind and heart. She had given Regulus everything. Now her repayment for her good deeds was less than to be desired. Instead of getting a husband that would love and pamper her, she now had an ex-husband who knocked up his teenage girlfriend.

I should have seen this coming.

Ambrosia thought bitterly. Regulus never wanted her (and she knew it). At the wedding, he would barely look at her. Regulus looked anywhere but at her. Sex that night wasn’t even anything special. Regulus got what he wanted then left Ambrosia alone in the bedroom to drink himself to sleep. Anytime that Regulus would touch her, he either had to be drunk or would get drunk immediately after. He would then spend the rest of the night muttering your name in his sleep.

“What have you done, Regulus?”

Walburga asked, interrupting Ambrosia’s own brooding. Regulus didn’t deviate his attention from his mother. The last thing that he wanted to look at was Ambrosia and her tear-filled eyes. He didn’t feel sorry for her and nothing that she said would change it. So what if Ambrosia didn’t ask for what was happening to her now? That wasn’t Regulus’ problem. Ambrosia knew what she was getting into when she said “I do.” Regulus’ rage toward Ambrosia stimulated by the woman saying that you were plain that not worthy of Regulus’ affection. “Why do you love her so much? Y/n Potter is a plain girl. Why am I not good enough for you? I am twice as pretty as she is. She doesn’t deserve a moment of your time. You should love me, your wife. Not some girl that you had a hormonal teenage affair with.” After those words left her mouth, Regulus had no use for her. She was just some girl that he was forced to take care of.

Walburga hadn’t been able to move from her chair as she kept her cold gaze locked on her “favorite” son and the baby that was clearly his. Typically meeting one's grandchild should be a joyous moment. Walburga should be thrilled that her son produced an heir. She should be elated and excited but she wasn’t.

“You had a baby with Y/n Potter…”

Regulus nodded.

“Yes, mother….for the third time. If you would open your eyes and look at the child in my arms you would see that. This is my daughter and the woman that I am in love with...get the picture? I’m standing up to you like I should have done a long time ago. I was in a relationship with Y/n, to begin with. I didn’t want to marry Ambrosia and you forced me into it. I figured my being drunk the whole time would have clued you in on that but it appears obviousness is lost upon you. Y/n was pregnant and I didn’t know about it. My head is in the ballgame and I won’t give her up.”

Walburga was seething. Regulus never talked to her like this. Where his sudden surge of “big dick” energy was coming from was baffling. Regulus was the one that would stand beside her and agree to whatever his mother wanted.

Today, she didn’t know the young man in front of her. Judging by the surprised expression on your face, you too weren't expecting this kind of language to come out of Regulus. For some reason, Walburga felt comforted by that. Why? She didn’t know.

The part of her brain (or heart), that she didn’t let out much, was beginning Walburga to calm down and listen.

"Just give him a moment...a chance...this is our grandchild. Look at her precious little face. She’s a beauty. If you don’t calm yourself, you will never know her.”

The stubborn side of Walburga, that always won, however, had other things to say…

“What has this bitch done to my darling son? She has to have him under a love spell. That is the only thing that would explain this behavior. This is not my Regulus.”

“You are throwing away a wonderful marriage to a pureblood darling for Potter trash!”

Walburga finally said with a cold distant glare. Regulus, meanwhile, gently nudged you behind him and placed Renee in your arms. The little girl started whimpering and reached for her father again. Regulus turned and nuzzled his face against hers.

You, meanwhile, watched Walburga’s furious expression with a look of pride on your face. Regulus was, for once, standing up for you and your child. Walburga should be thrilled that her son would want to support his own child. Maybe there was some kind of gas leak in Grimmauld Place that was ruining her common sense? That was the best that you could come up with at the moment.

Regulus stood up straight again before giving you a small smile before turning back to his mother. The pleased smile had evaporated from his face.

“I suggest you watch how you speak to her. Y/n in a pureblood whether you want to admit it or not.”

Walburga jumped up from her seat.

“I want you to remarry the woman that we set you up with.”

Regulus laughed, making Walburga step back. She had forgotten that her youngest son could smile. She hadn’t seen him smile or heard his laugh in years. Had the situation been different, Walburga may have welcomed it. Now, however, she wanted nothing more than to slap Regulus as hard as possible.

“I am not marrying or being with Ambrosia.”

Walburga stomped her foot. She would sit and throw a tantrum until Regulus saw her way. Walburga knew that her son was scared enough of her that if she yelled loud enough she would get what she wanted.

“You are not marrying that girl! I forbid it!”

Regulus’ cold smile deepened. He would have not been surprised if Walburga laid down in the middle of the sidewalk and threw a fit like a spoiled child.

“Forbid all you want. I will marry Y/n. You can banish me from the family. Burn my name off of the tapestry if you have to...I am not changing my mind. I love Y/n and our daughter. You don’t have to be part of Renee’s life. We could really care less. I know that it doesn’t matter to you but how do you think that Y/n felt being pregnant and watching me marry that disaster? Like it or not, she isn’t going without or doing anything alone. If you cared about your granddaughter at all then you wouldn’t want her mother suffering as a single mother. It isn’t Sirius or Remus’ job to care for her. It's mine. You’re showing me exactly what kind of person you are and I don’t like what I see.”

“I will burn you off of the tapestry.”

Walburga almost yelled. Regulus shrugged before turning to you.

“Time to go, love.”

Regulus moved to apparate the three of you from the street. You put a hand on his chest before giving him a small nod. He took Renee from you as you turned to Walburga.

“You would really throw your son away like rubbish because he is no longer feeding into your insane ideology. It's your loss. You’ve already lost one son, go ahead and throw away the other. When you die alone and bitter, it will be your own fault.”

Regulus gave you all of two seconds before he pulled you in his arms and rushed back home.

You still felt a little dizzy when the concrete beneath your feet turned into the hardwood. Ever since you had become pregnant with Renee, apparating made you ill. As you tried to get your grasp back on the stagnant world, Sirius came in with a smile.

His smile fell when he sat the expressions on your faces.

“Guess the meeting with mummy didn’t go so well?”

Regulus didn’t say anything as he put Renee down on a soft blanket. He stepped toward the window and looked out at the street below. Sirius met your gaze. You gave him a curt nod.

Sirius turned his attention back to his younger brother. Regulus didn’t have to say anything for Sirius to know that the younger brother was upset. He could deny it all that he wanted but Sirius knew that Regulus loved their mother...even with all of the hell that she had put him through. Washing his hands of the whole family and walking away had to be more traumatic than Regulus seemed to be letting on.

“Are you out of the family too?”

Regulus turned.

“Yeah, look at that. We are more alike than we thought.”

Sirius normally would have made a witty joke but he could tell by the expression on your faces that jokes wouldn’t be appropriately timed. Instead, he turned his attention to Renee who was happily untying Regulus’ dress shoes.

“I’m going to take the baby upstairs and get her down for a nap.”

Sirius picked up Renee and disappeared from the room leaving Regulus and yourself alone.

Once Sirius was out of the room, Regulus knelt down to tie his shoes again before meeting your gaze. You were looking at him with big doe eyes that was making the man in him go crazy.

“I told you that I would do it.”

Regulus commented before joining you at the window. He placed his hand over yours hoping the physical contact would lure you to him. Sure enough, it did. You stepped closer to him.

“I was surprised.”

You commented, turning to face Regulus. His grey eyes were locked on your face. To say that you were surprised was putting things lightly. It was a miracle that you weren’t standing beside Regulus with your mouth open the whole time. Watching Regulus put Walburga and Ambrosia in their places made the attraction that you felt for him soar.

“I meant what I said. I want you. My family doesn’t matter now.”

The two of you stood in silence for a few moments. You had been internally fighting with yourself on whether or not you were ready to move forward with a relationship. After debating a few moments, your heart spoke before your head did. You had your arms around Regulus’ shoulders and was kissing him as if the world was about to end.

Regulus had been caught totally off guard by your out of character action. He had expected that he would still have to find some way to win you over (and he was fine with it). If it took him wooing you nonstop for the rest of however long...Regulus would do it.

Now here he stood, like a stunned idiot, with you kissing him. It reminded Regulus of the first kiss the two of you had shared. Neither of you liked each other very much (or so both of you thought). After being stuck together for a project, Regulus realized that he liked your company more than anyone else’s. The first kiss was a day in the forbidden forest. Regulus had caught you after almost tripping over a tree. The next thing he knew, he was kissing you. Where his sudden surge of bravery came from, he had no idea. This kiss felt like that kiss and it made that “butterfly” feeling in his stomach go crazy.

Regulus recovered quickly enough to wrap his arms around your waist. His left hand had gone up to cradle your head. The last thing Regulus wanted was for you to change your mind and try to get away from him.

“Did you mean what you said?”

You asked, voice quivering. As much as you hated sounding like you were afraid, you were. What if Regulus decided to change his mind about everything? What if he decided later on that he didn’t want a wife and child to care for? Would you be able to go on? Part of you said “hell yes.” You had done it once before with the help of your friends. The other part said, no. Now that Regulus knew about Renee and most of what you had gone through; continuing without him would be hard. It wouldn’t be fair to you or your child.

Regulus pressed his forehead against yours.

“About?”

“Renee and I...what if you change your mind...I…”

Regulus placed two fingers on your lips to gently shush you.

“I am not going anywhere nor am I going to change my mind. I promise. Now, may I kiss you again?”

You nodded, quickly pulling Regulus back to you by the lapels of his jacket.

“Upstairs?”

You questioned. Regulus wrapped his hand around yours without even answering and tugging you up the stairs behind him.

Meanwhile,

Remus, who neither of you had seen in the opposite doorway, stood shaking his head.

“Here we go.”

_______

@amelie-black

@realgaytrash

@swinginsoulbailiffrascal

@sunles

@truly-insatiable

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@velveteencurls

@authoressskr

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@summer-novak

@hankypranky

@li0nh34rt

@tas898

@marichromatic

@maggioli-m

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@shaylybaby2032

@emiwrites3reads

@knight-of-gleefulness

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@sprnaturallover

@shitfaceddaniel

@wontlookaway

@mycuddlycorner

[justactsupernatural]

We’ll Never Leave You Alone Allie

Warnings: mental health issues, possesive behavior and implied murder

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

He was their baby, their mother’s last gift before dying.

How could the world expect them to give him up?

                                         ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 Alan was three years old when their mother had died, having survived the avalanche that had threatened to take them both because of their mother’s protective embrace, taking the brunt of the snow to save the child.

After the accident, their father went MIA on them and focused solely on his work, leaving the five brothers to fend for themselves. This had a major effect on their whole dynamic, starting with the fact that the youngest Tracy needed constant care.

Scott grew up too fast for a boy his age, running himself ragged in his attempt to take care of his younger brothers. He helped with homework, with getting dressed, making dinner and breakfast, and keeping everyone alive. At only 13 this certainly wasn’t something he should be worried about, but with their father practically living at the office someone had to keep what was left of their family going.

Even though he was raising four younger brothers, he could always feel a deep connection with Alan. Granted, he had a connection with all of his brothers, but the youngest Tracy was different; the three-year-old was innocence itself and the little firework kept them all going during that dark time.

Which was probably why they all freaked out when the world threatened to take him away for the first time.

                                          ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 The mystery car arrived at their around nine months after the funeral, it was a Saturday, and all the boys were in the house. Scott, John and Virgil were awake and picking up the discarded toys and dirty dishes of the night before while Alan and Gordon slept upstairs. Their father never got home the night before.

Scott had just finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher when Virgil called his name near the front door. Going to see what was up with his brother, the brunette left the kitchen and approached his nine-year-old sibling, John at his heels.

“There’s a car outside” said Virgil when the older boys got to him, pointing out the window to their front lawn where a car with that blasted symbol was parked. The woman coming out of the car had a folder on her arms and was making their way to the door, the sound of her heels unheard because of the distance but each step marking the beat of Scott’s heart.

Child Protective Services.

The lump in his throat was making it almost impossible to breathe. They were going to take his brothers away, tearing apart his family and giving them away like some kind of sick fair prize.

The curse that left John’s mouth told the oldest Tracy that he knew what the symbol in the car meant, even if Virgil didn’t. After telling the dark-haired kid to go to Alan and Gordon’s room and stay there until he was summoned, he turned to his other brother and told him to go unmake their dad’s bed.

John didn’t question him, he was smart and knew that if that woman thought their father wasn’t home enough they would be in big trouble. Someone looking at their private mess of a life wasn’t ideal, but Tracys aren´t stupid, nor are they weak and the threat to their brothers and what could happen to them if they failed was enough to motivate the both of them into action.

Going to the kitchen, Scott mentally steeled himself for what was to come and waited the few seconds it took for the woman to reach their door. Making his way to open it, only one thought was going through his mind: ‘I’m not letting them take my brothers away’.

                                           ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 Everything had been going just fine, the woman looked around the first floor and asked some questions that both Scott and John handled perfectly, using the excuse that their brothers were sleeping to explain their absence. Creating scenarios where their father had been present in the last five months was easy when they were memories already existent, only slightly altered; the CPS lady seemed to be buying it and was about to leave when it all went wrong.

After spinning tales and asking well hidden questions, the brothers found out that a neighbor had called to make sure they were all right, out of worry that their father was neglecting them. While it was true, the anger Scott felt was indescribable and he thanked God that John had spoken some bullshit story about the person responsible for the call only wanting fame for “saving” the kids from their “evil, rich father”, because he would have yelled his heart out and probably would have blown the interview if he so much as opened his mouth to breathe.

She said her goodbyes and that they probably wouldn’t have to hear from her again, a blessing that Scott was willing to take and forget the moment she crossed the threshold.

But then Alan, sweet, innocent and blissfully ignorant to all the bad in the world Alan, came running down the stairs asking for Scott and came to a full stop in front of him, holding his pijama clad arms up, demanding to be held. Never one to deny his baby brother anything, Scott complied and picked the blonde up, letting him rest on his hips and turning to slam the door on the CPS agent’s face to get her to leave.

That was, until she decided to smile at Alan and turning to look at Scott with a questioning glance before asking if she could ask Alan some questions. Without any other option, the brunette gave a forced smile and nodded turning to go back into the living room, thanking that Virgil had listened to him and stayed upstairs with Gordon.

Sitting down in the couch with John at his side and Alan on his lap, Scott waited for the woman to sit down only to have her phone ring and her excusing herself to the kitchen to talk. But she was talking loudly, and Scott could clearly hear her saying words like “only a kid”, “taking him away” and “the Johnsons”.

By the tension in his redheaded brother’s shoulders Scott figured he heard it too. The Johnson family lived three houses down from theirs and had always been way too interested in the lives of others instead of their own. If they had been the ones to call CPS and Alan got taken away, he would make sure they paid.

                                           ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 In the end, Alan fell asleep after only a few questions and the woman left, repeating that there were no problems and that she wouldn’t bother them again. With his heart trying to beat out of his heart, Scott closed the door and hugged the sleeping Alan closer.

And when he saw the Johnsons standing in front of their house, he talked with John and planned. They would pay.

                                           ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 Four days later the Johnson house burned down, a gas leak caused a fire, according to the firemen. No survivors.

                                          ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 There were many times when others tried to hurt or take Alan from them.

That one psycho nanny that their dad had hired, who though she could get rough with Alan and they wouldn’t find out. She tripped on the street and fell in front of a bus a week after they found out, Virgil telling the police what he saw before going home with news for their father that they would need a new sitter.

A business partner of their father’s who came to eat dinner at their house and made Alan cry after calling him stupid and pushing him out of his way. He had a heart attack that night; apparently, he had an allergic reaction to the piece of pie he had eaten in his house after dinner, the rat poison that had been on their kitchen in their neighbor’s trashcan.

The old man who cat-called Alan on the street when he and Gordon were on the mainland, getting some supplies for the Island. He was mugged and stabbed in an ally three hours later.

CPS again, saying that a nineteen-year-old could not be Alan’s guardian after their dad’s death. Tracy Industries had the best lawyers money could buy and the CPS agent in charge of their case had a newfound habit of driving drunk, according to the police after the car crash.

Their father, who tried to send Alan to school on the mainland and keep him away from them and the protection they could give him. His plane had crashed on its way to a meeting on New York, no survivors found.

Many others had tried, no one ever succeeded.

                                          ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 Sixteen-year-old Alan was lying in bed, shivering and covered in blankets despite the fever running through his body. His brothers by his side, doing different things to keep entertained but keeping him company.

John was sitting on the beanbag at the right side of the bed, typing away at his laptop, probably working on his new book. Virgil and Gordon were playing Go Fish on the floor in front of the bed, making as little noise as possible as to keep from disturbing their sick brother.

Scott was on his left side, sitting next to him on the bed and putting a wet towel on his forehead. Standing up, he went to fetch the medicine when a hand on his wrist stopped him in his tracks.

“Where are you going?” asked Alan, looking up at his brother with scared eyes. His heart clenching at the sight of his miserable brother, Scott sat back down and ran a hand through the blonde’s soaked hair. ”I’m just going to fetch your medicine Sprout”.

“But you’ll be back right?” asked the teenager, looking up hopefully at his brother. Scott gave a soft chuckle and smiled at his baby brother before stroking his hair again.

“Of course I’ll come back” he answered, voice soft and reassuring “We’ll never leave you alone Allie”.

                                           ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 He was their baby, their mother’s last gift before dying.

Did the world really expect them to give him up?

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 15: Spiders Aren't Water Proof

The next afternoon, June 14, seven days before the solstice, our train rolled into Denver. We hadn't eaten since the night before in the dining car, somewhere in Kansas. We hadn't taken a shower since Half-Blood Hill, and I was sure that was obvious. "Let's try to contact Chiron," Annabeth said. "I want to tell him about your talk with the river spirit." "We can't use phones, right?" "I'm not talking about phones." We wandered through downtown for about half an hour, though I wasn't sure what Annabeth was looking for. The air was dry and hot, which felt weird after the humidity of St. Louis. Everywhere we turned, the Rocky Mountains seemed to be staring at me, like a tidal wave about to crash into the city. Finally we found an empty do-it-yourself car wash. We veered toward the stall farthest from the street, keeping our eyes open for patrol cars. We were four adolescents hanging out at a car wash without a car; any cop worth his doughnuts would figure we were up to no good. "What exactly are we doing?" Percy asked, as Grover took out the spray gun. "It's seventy-five cents," he grumbled. "I've only got two quarters left. Annabeth?" "Don't look at me," she said. "The dining car wiped me out." I fished out my last bit of change and passed Grover a quarter, which left me two nickels and one drachma from Medusa's place. "Excellent," Grover said. "We could do it with a spray bottle, of course, but the connection isn't as good, and my arm gets tired of pumping." "What are you talking about?" He fed in the quarters and set the knob to FINE MIST. "I-M'ing." "Instant messaging?" "Iris-messaging," Annabeth corrected. "The rainbow goddess Iris carries messages for the gods. If you know how to ask, and she's not too busy, she'll do the same for half-bloods." "You summon the goddess with a spray gun?" Grover pointed the nozzle in the air and water hissed out in a thick white mist. "Unless you know an easier way to make a rainbow."

Sure enough, late afternoon light filtered through the vapor and broke into colors. Annabeth held her palm out to me. "Drachma, please." I handed it over. She raised the coin over her head. "O goddess, accept our offering." She threw the drachma into the rainbow. It disappeared in a golden shimmer. "Half-Blood Hill," Annabeth requested. For a moment, nothing happened. Then I was looking through the mist at strawberry fields, and the Long Island Sound in the distance. We seemed to be on the porch of the Big House. Standing with his back to us at the railing was a sandy-haired guy in shorts and an orange tank top. He was holding a bronze sword and seemed to be staring intently at something down in the meadow. "Luke!" I called. He turned, eyes wide. I could swear he was standing three feet in front of me through a screen of mist, except I could only see the part of him that appeared in the rainbow. "Y/N!" His scarred face broke into a grin. "Is that Annabeth and Percy, too? Thank the gods! Are you guys okay?" "We're... uh... fine," Annabeth stammered. She was madly straightening her dirty T-shirt, trying to comb the loose hair out of her face. "We thought—Chiron—I mean—" "He's down at the cabins." Luke's smile faded. "We're having some issues with the campers. Listen, is everything cool with you? Is Grover all right?" "I'm right here," Grover called. He held the nozzle out to one side and stepped into Luke's line of vision. "What kind of issues?" Just then a big Lincoln Continental pulled into the car wash with its stereo turned to maximum hip-hop. As the car slid into the next stall, the bass from the subwoofers vibrated so much, it shook the pavement. "Chiron had to—what's that noise?" Luke yelled. "I'll take care of it.'" Annabeth yelled back, looking very relieved to have an excuse to get out of sight. "Grover, come on! "What?" Grover said. "But—" "Give Percy the nozzle and come on!" she ordered. Grover muttered something about girls being harder to understand than the Oracle at Delphi, then he handed me the spray gun and followed Annabeth. Percy readjusted the hose so we could keep the rainbow going and still see Luke. "Chiron had to break up a fight," Luke shouted to me over the music. "Things are pretty tense here, guys. Word leaked out about the Zeus—Poseidon standoff. We're still not sure how—probably the same scumbag who summoned the hellhound. Now the campers are starting to take sides. It's shaping up like the Trojan War all over again. Aphrodite, Ares, and Apollo are backing Poseidon, more or less. Athena is backing Zeus." In the next stall, I heard Annabeth and some guy arguing with each other, then the music's volume decreased drastically. "So what's your status?" Luke asked us. "Chiron will be sorry he missed you." We told him pretty much everything, including Percy's dreams. It felt so good to see him, to feel like I was back at camp even for a few minutes, that I didn't realize how long I had talked until the beeper went off on the spray machine, and I realized I only had one more minute before the water shut off. "I wish I could be there," Luke told me. "We can't help much from here, I'm afraid, but listen... it had to be Hades who took the master bolt. He was there at Olympus at the winter solstice. I was chaperoning a field trip and we saw him." "But Chiron said the gods can't take each other's magic items directly." "That's true," Luke said, looking troubled. "Still... Hades has the helm of darkness. How could anybody else sneak into the throne room and steal the master bolt? You'd have to be invisible." We were both silent, until Luke seemed to realize what he'd said. "Oh, hey," he protested. "I didn't mean Annabeth. She and I have known each other forever. She would never... I mean, she's like a little sister to me." I wondered if Annabeth would like that description. In the stall next to us, the music stopped completely. A man screamed in terror, car doors slammed, and the Lincoln peeled out of the car wash. "You'd better go see what that was," Luke said. "Listen, has the knife come in handy?" "Very..." I smiled. "The knife is really perfect." "And Percy, are you wearing the flying shoes? I'll feel better if I know they've done you some good." "Oh... uh, yeah!" Percy tried not to sound like a guilty liar. "Yeah, they've come in handy." "Really?" He grinned. "They fit and everything?" The water shut off. The mist started to evaporate. "Well, take care of yourself out there in Denver," Luke called, his voice getting fainter. "And tell Grover it'll be better this time! Nobody will get turned into a pine tree if he just—" But the mist was gone, and Luke's image faded to nothing. We were alone in a wet, empty car wash stall. Annabeth and Grover came around the corner, laughing, but stopped when they saw our face. Annabeth's smile faded. "What happened, Percy? What did Luke say?" "Not much," Percy lied. "Come on, let's find some dinner." A few minutes later, we were sitting at a booth in a gleaming chrome diner. All around us, families were eating burgers and drinking malts and sodas. Finally the waitress came over. She raised her eyebrow skeptically. "Well?" I said, "We, um, want to order dinner." "You kids have money to pay for it?" Grover's lower lip quivered. I was afraid he would start bleating, or worse, start eating the linoleum. Annabeth looked ready to pass out from hunger. I was trying to think up a sob story for the waitress when a rumble shook the whole building; a motorcycle the size of a baby elephant had pulled up to the curb. All conversation in the diner stopped. The motorcycle's headlight glared red. Its gas tank had flames painted on it, and a shotgun holster riveted to either side, complete with shotguns. The seat was leather—but leather that looked like... well, Caucasian human skin. The guy on the bike would've made pro wrestlers run for Mama. He was dressed in a red muscle shirt and black jeans and a black leather duster, with a hunting knife strapped to his thigh. He wore red wraparound shades, and he had the cruelest, most brutal face I'd ever seen— handsome, I guess, but wicked—with an oily black crew cut and cheeks that were scarred from many, many fights. The weird thing was, I felt like I'd seen his face somewhere before. As he walked into the diner, a hot, dry wind blew through the place. All the people rose, as if they were hypnotized, but the biker waved his hand dismissively and they all sat down again. Everybody went back to their conversations. The waitress blinked, as if somebody had just pressed the rewind button on her brain. She asked us again, "You kids have money to pay for it?" The biker said, "It's on me." He slid into our booth, which was way too small for him, and crowded Annabeth against the window. He looked up at the waitress, who was gaping at him, and said, "Are you still here?" He pointed at her, and she stiffened. She turned as if she'd been spun around, then marched back toward the kitchen. The biker looked at me. I couldn't see his eyes behind the red shades. Who did this guy think he was? He gave me a wicked grin. "So you're the unclaimed kid, huh? No wonder they're arguing over who your parent is." I squinted at him, "The hell does my parents have to do with this?" "Well, which ever stuck up your parent is, the big guys upstairs are angry for interfering with your life." He said and placed his dirty boots on the table. "Your parent raised you with your mortal idiots, that's why no one can smell you." I could tell Annabeth wanted to say something but she probably was processing what this guy said. "Don't call my parents idiot. And I only have two parents, it's M/N and D/N L/N." I glared. I was confused as to why an Olympian would raise me and it'd hide my scent. Shouldn't it make worse? "Sure thing." He then turned to Percy who was beside me. "And old seaweed's kid." "What's it to you?" Percy spat. Annabeth's eyes flashed him a warning. "Percy, this is—" The biker raised his hand. "S'okay," he said. "I don't mind a little attitude. Long as you remember who's the boss. You know who I am, little cousin?" Then it struck me why this guy looked familiar. He had the same vicious sneer as some of the kids at Camp Half-Blood, the ones from cabin five. "You're Clarisse's dad," Percy said. "Ares, god of war." Ares grinned and took off his shades. Where his eyes should've been, there was only fire, empty sockets glowing with miniature nuclear explosions. "That's right, punk. I heard you broke Clarisse's spear." "She was asking for it." "Probably. That's cool. I don't fight my kids' fights, you know? What I'm here for—I heard you were in town. I got a little proposition for you." The waitress came back with heaping trays of food—cheeseburgers, fries, onion rings, and chocolate shakes. Ares handed her a few gold drachmas. She looked nervously at the coins. "But, these aren't..." Ares pulled out his huge knife and started cleaning his fingernails. "Problem, sweetheart?" The waitress swallowed, then left with the gold. "You can't do that," I told Ares. "You can't just threaten people with a knife." Ares laughed. "Are you kidding? I love this country. Best place since Sparta. Don't you carry a weapon, punk? You should. Dangerous world out there. Which brings me to my proposition." He turned to Percy, "I need you to do me a favor." "What favor could I do for a god?" "Something a god doesn't have time to do himself. It's nothing much. I left my shield at an abandoned water park here in town. I was going on a little... date with my girlfriend. We were interrupted. I left my shield behind. I want you to fetch it for me." "Why don't you go back and get it yourself?" The fire in his eye sockets glowed a little hotter. "Why don't I turn you into a prairie dog and run you over with my Harley? Because I don't feel like it. A god is giving you an opportunity to prove yourself, Percy Jackson. Will you prove yourself a coward?" He leaned forward. "Or maybe you only fight when there's a river to dive into, so your daddy can protect you." I wanted to punch this guy, but I knew he was waiting for that. He'd love it if I attacked. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. But by the gods I want to smack him. Maybe some other time. "We're not interested," I said. "We've already got a quest." Ares's fiery eyes made me see things I didn't want to see—blood and smoke and corpses on the battlefield. "I know all about your quest, punk. When that item was first stolen, Zeus sent his best out looking for it: Apollo, Athena, Artemis, and me, naturally. If I couldn't sniff out a weapon that powerful..." He licked his lips, as if the very thought of the master bolt made him hungry. "Well... if I couldn't find it, you got no hope. Nevertheless, I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Your dad and I go way back. After all, I'm the one who told him my suspicions about old Corpse Breath." "You told him Hades stole the bolt?" "Sure. Framing somebody to start a war. Oldest trick in the book. I recognized it immediately. In a way, you got me to thank for your little quest." "Thanks," Percy grumbled. "Hey, I'm a generous guy. Just do my little job, and I'll help you on your way. I'll arrange a ride west for you and your friends." "We're doing fine on our own." "Yeah, right. No money. No wheels. No clue what you're up against. Help me out, and maybe I'll tell you something you need to know. Something about your mom and Y/N's parents." "Our parents?" He grinned. "That got your attention. The water park is a mile west on Delancy. You can't miss it. Look for the Tunnel of Love ride." "What interrupted your date?" I asked. "Something scare you off?" Ares bared his teeth, but I'd seen his threatening look before on Clarisse. There was something false about it, almost like he was nervous. "You're lucky you met me, punk, and not one of the other Olympians. They're not as forgiving of rudeness as I am. I'll meet you back here when you're done. Don't disappoint me." After that I must have fainted, or fallen into a trance, because when I opened my eyes again, Ares was gone. I might've thought the conversation had been a dream, but Annabeth and Grover's expressions told me otherwise. "Not good," Grover said. "Ares sought you out, Percy. This is not good." I stared out the window. The motorcycle had disappeared. Did Ares really know something about our parents, or was he just playing with me? Now that he was gone, all the anger had drained out of me. I realized Ares must love to mess with people's emotions. That was his power—cranking up the passions so badly, they clouded your ability to think. He does not lie. He knows about your parents. "It's probably some kind of trick, Y/N," Percy said. "Forget Ares. Let's just go." "We can't," Annabeth said. "Look, I hate Ares as much as anybody, but you don't ignore the gods unless you want serious bad fortune. He wasn't kidding about turning you into a rodent." "Why does he need us?" "Maybe it's a problem that requires brains," Annabeth said. "Ares has strength. That's all he has. Even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes." "But this water park... he acted almost scared. What would make a war god run away like that?" Annabeth and Grover glanced nervously at each other. Annabeth said, "I'm afraid we'll have to find out." The sun was sinking behind the mountains by the time we found the water park. Judging from the sign, it once had been called WATERLAND, but now some of the letters were smashed out, so it read WAT R A D. The main gate was padlocked and topped with barbed wire. Inside, huge dry waterslides and tubes and pipes curled everywhere, leading to empty pools. Old tickets and advertisements fluttered around the asphalt. With night coming on, the place looked sad and creepy. "If Ares brings his girlfriend here for a date," I said, staring up at the barbed wire, "I'd hate to see what she looks like." "Y/N," Annabeth warned. "Be more respectful." "Why? I thought you hated Ares." "He's still a god. And his girlfriend is very temperamental." "You don't want to insult her looks," Grover added. "Who is she? Echidna?" "No, Aphrodite," Grover said, a little dreamily. "Goddess of love." "I thought she was married to somebody," Percy said. "Hephaestus." "What's your point?" he asked. I suddenly felt the need to change the subject. "So how do we get in?" "Maia!" Grover's shoes sprouted wings. He flew over the fence, did an unintended somersault in midair, then stumbled to a landing on the opposite side. He dusted off his jeans, as if he'd planned the whole thing. "You guys coming?" Annabeth, Percy and I had to climb the old-fashioned way, holding down the barbed wire for each other as we crawled over the top. The shadows grew long as we walked through the park, checking out the attractions. There was Ankle Biter Island, Head Over Wedgie, and Dude, Where's My Swimsuit? No monsters came to get us. Nothing made the slightest noise. We found a souvenir shop that had been left open. Merchandise still lined the shelves: snow globes, pencils, postcards, and racks of— "Clothes," Annabeth said. "Fresh clothes." "Oh my gods yes." "Yeah," Percy said. "But you can't just—" "Watch us." She snatched an entire row of stuff of the racks and offered me a hand which I graciously took, together we disappeared into the changing room. "I need a shower." I groaned, while I changed. "We all do." She pointed out. A few minutes later we came out in Waterland flower-print shorts, a big red Waterland T-shirt, and commemorative Waterland surf shoes. A Waterland backpack was slung over our shoulders, obviously stuffed with more goodies. "What the heck." Grover shrugged. Soon, all three of us were decked out like walking advertisements for the defunct theme park. We continued searching for the Tunnel of Love. I got the feeling that the whole park was holding its breath. "So Ares and Aphrodite," Percy said, to keep my mind off the growing dark, "they have a thing going?" "That's old gossip, Percy," Annabeth told us. "Three-thousand-year-old gossip." "What about Aphrodite's husband?" "Well, you know," she said. "Hephaestus. The blacksmith. He was crippled when he was a baby, thrown off Mount Olympus by Zeus. So he isn't exactly handsome. Clever with his hands, and all, but Aphrodite isn't into brains and talent, you know?" "She likes bikers." "Whatever." "Hephaestus knows?" "Oh sure," Annabeth said. "He caught them together once. I mean, literally caught them, in a golden net, and invited all the gods to come and laugh at them. Hephaestus is always trying to embarrass them. That's why they meet in out-of-the-way places, like..." She stopped, looking straight ahead. "Like that." In front of us was an empty pool that would've been awesome for skateboarding. It was at least fifty yards across and shaped like a bowl. Around the rim, a dozen bronze statues of Cupid stood guard with wings spread and bows ready to fire. On the opposite side from us, a tunnel opened up, probably where the water flowed into when the pool was full. The sign above it read, THRILL RIDE O' LOVE: THIS IS NOT YOUR PARENTS' TUNNEL OF LOVE! Grover crept toward the edge. "Guys, look." Marooned at the bottom of the pool was a pink-and-white two-seater boat with a canopy over the top and little hearts painted all over it. In the left seat, glinting in the fading light, was Ares's shield, a polished circle of bronze. "This is too easy," I said. "So we just walk down there and get it?" Annabeth ran her fingers along the base of the nearest Cupid statue. "There's a Greek letter carved here," she said. "Eta. I wonder..." "Grover," Percy said, "you smell any monsters?" He sniffed the wind. "Nothing." "Nothing—like, in-the-Arch-and-you-didn't-smell-Echidna nothing, or really nothing?" Grover looked hurt. "I told you, that was underground." "Hey Percy, that wasn't nice." I glared. "Okay, I'm sorry." Percy took a deep breath. "I'm going down there." Pulling out my knife, "There isn't any monsters." "I'll go with Percy." Grover didn't sound too enthusiastic, but I got the feeling he was trying to make up for what had happened in St. Louis. "No," Percy told him. "I want you to stay up top with the flying shoes. You're the Red Baron, a flying ace, remember? I'll be counting on you for backup, in case something goes wrong." Grover puffed up his chest a little. "Sure. But what could go wrong?" "I don't know. Just a feeling. Y/N, will go with me—" "Yeah, I can go with." "Didn't take you as a romantic Seaweed Brain." Annabeth smirked. "What?" Percy's face was burning now, too. It made me laugh at how adorable he was. He turned to me and blushed even more. "Fine," he told us. "I'll do it myself." "Percy, I didn't say i don't want to come with!" I giggled. He started down the side of the pool, I followed, I hear him muttering about how this wasn't how its supposed go. Then I realized how we would've been surrounded by water. "Arthur Curry, if I drown I will beg Hades to have you." He paused and turned to take my hand and we continued walking. We reached the boat. The shield was propped on one seat, and next to it was a lady's silk scarf. I tried to imagine Ares and Aphrodite here, a couple of gods meeting in a junked-out amusement-park ride. Why? Then I noticed something I hadn't seen from up top: mirrors all the way around the rim of the pool, facing this spot. We could see ourselves no matter which direction we looked. That must be it. While Ares and Aphrodite were smooching with each other they could look at their favorite people: themselves. Percy picked up the scarf. It shimmered pink, and the perfume was indescribable—rose, or mountain laurel. He smiled, a little dreamy, and was about to rub the scarf against his cheek I frowned ripped it out of his hand and stuffed it in me pocket. "No." "What?" "Just get the shield, Arthur Curry, and let's get out of here." The moment he touched the shield, I knew we were in trouble. My hand broke through something that had been connecting it to the dashboard. A cobweb, I thought, but then I looked at a strand of it on my palm and saw it was some kind of metal filament, so fine it was almost invisible. A trip wire. "Wait," I said. "Too late." "There's another Greek letter on the side of the boat, another Eta. This is a trap." Noise erupted all around us, of a million gears grinding, as if the whole pool were turning into one giant machine. Grover yelled, "Guys!" Up on the rim, the Cupid statues were drawing their bows into firing position. Before I could suggest taking cover, they shot, but not at us. They fired at each other, across the rim of the pool. Silky cables trailed from the arrows, arcing over the pool and anchoring where they landed to form a huge golden asterisk. Then smaller metallic threads started weaving together magically between the main strands, making a net. "We have to get out," Percy said. "Woah I didn't know!" I said. Percy grabbed the shield and holding my hand we ran, but going up the slope of the pool was not as easy as going down. "I'm going to drown again aren't I? "Come on!" Grover shouted. He was trying to hold open a section of the net for us, but wherever he touched it, the golden threads started to wrap around his hands. The Cupids' heads popped open. Out came video cameras. Spotlights rose up all around the pool, blinding us with illumination, and a loudspeaker voice boomed: "Live to Olympus in one minute ... Fifty-nine seconds, fifty-eight ..." "Hephaestus!" Annabeth screamed. "I'm so stupid.' Eta is H.' He made this trap to catch his wife with Ares. Now we're going to be broadcast live to Olympus and look like absolute fools!" We'd almost made it to the rim when the row of mirrors opened like hatches and thousands of tiny metallic... things poured out. It was an army of wind-up creepy-crawlies: bronze-gear bodies, spindly legs, little pincer mouths, all scuttling toward us in a wave of clacking, whirring metal. "Spiders!" I said. I kicked these pests. Percy pulled me up and dragged my back toward the boat. "I am not staying here! I am so going to drown again!" The things were coming out from all around the rim now, millions of them, flooding toward the center of the pool, completely surrounding us. I told myself they probably weren't programmed to kill, just corral us and bite us and make us look stupid. Then again, this was a trap meant for gods. And we weren't gods. Percy and I climbed into the boat. Percy started kicking away the spiders as they swarmed aboard. I was swatting away some that I could. "Thirty, twenty-nine," called the loudspeaker. The spiders started spitting out strands of metal thread, trying to tie us down. The strands were easy enough to break at first, but there were so many of them, and the spiders just kept coming. I kicked one away from Percy's leg and its pincers took a chunk out of my new surf shoe. Annabeth was frozen from where she stood trying to keep away from us as much as possible. Grover hovered above the pool in his flying sneakers, trying to pull the net loose, but it wouldn't budge. Think, I told myself. Think. The Tunnel of Love entrance was under the net. We could use it as an exit, except that it was blocked by a million robot spiders. "Fifteen, fourteen," the loudspeaker called. Then I saw them: huge water pipes behind the mirrors, where the spiders had come from. And up above the net, next to one of the Cupids, a glass-windowed booth that must be the controller's station. "Annabeth!" Percy yelled. "Get into that booth! Find the 'on' switch!" Snapping out of her trance she turned. "But—" "Do it!" Annabeth was in the controller's booth now, staring at the buttons. "Five, four—" Annabeth sighed and started pushing every button, then looked up at us hopelessly, raising her hands. She was letting us know that she'd pushed every button, but still nothing was happening. "Y/N, I won't let you drown, just hold on!" I didn't think twice on nodding. Percy closed his eyes. "Two, one, zero!" Water exploded out of the pipes. It roared into the pool, sweeping away the spiders. He pulled me into the seat next to us and fastened me seat belt just as the tidal wave slammed into our boat, over the top, whisking the spiders away and dousing us completely, but not capsizing us. The boat turned, lifted in the flood, and spun in circles around the whirlpool. He held my hand tight afraid I'll drown the moment he lets go. The water was full of short-circuiting spiders, some of them smashing against the pool's concrete wall with such force they burst. Spotlights glared down at us. The Cupid-cams were rolling, live to Olympus. Percy and I held tight, both of us screaming as the boat shot curls and hugged corners and took forty-five-degree plunges past pictures of Romeo and Juliet and a bunch of other Valentine's Day stuff. Then we were out of the tunnel, the night air whistling through our hair as the boat barreled straight toward the exit. If the ride had been in working order, we would've sailed off a ramp between the golden Gates of Love and splashed down safely in the exit pool. But there was a problem. The Gates of Love were chained. Two boats that had been washed out of the tunnel before us were now piled against the barricade—one submerged, the other cracked in half. Jump. We have to jump. "Unfasten your seat belt," I yelled to Percy. Who already had his belt unfastened. "Jumping?" "We're going to have to jump for it." My idea was simple and insane. As the boat struck, we would use its force like a springboard to jump the gate. I'd heard of people surviving car crashes that way, getting thrown thirty or forty feet away from an accident. With luck, we would land in the pool. Hopefully not drown. Percy nodded. He gripped my hand as the gates got closer. "On my mark," I said. On mine. Jump when 'I' say so Perseus Jackson. He looked at me reluctantly. "How?" "What?" You'll know when I say so. "Fine." He shouted. "Jump when I jump!" "How would I know?!" "You'll say it!" "What?!" "Just tell me when to jump!!" "Now!" I yelled. I was about to jump when Percy pulled me closer. "Not yet! You didn't say it yet." Jump Hero. Percy jumped. I followed him. Crack! He was right. If we'd jumped when I thought we should've, we would've crashed into the gates. He got us maximum lift. Our boat smashed into the pileup and we were thrown into the air, straight over the gates, the pool was getting closer. I was going to drown again. Something grabbed me from behind. I yelled, "Ouch!" Grover! In midair, he had grabbed Percy by the shirt, and me by the arm, and was trying to pull us out of a crash landing, but we had all the momentum. "You're too heavy!" Grover said. "We're going down!" We spiraled toward the ground, Grover doing his best to slow the fall. We smashed into a photo-board, Grover's head going straight into the hole where tourists would put their faces, pretending to be Noo-Noo the Friendly Whale. Percy and I tumbled to the ground, banged up but alive. Ares's shield was still on Percy's arm. "Are you okay?" Percy panted. "Yeah... I didn't drown." Once we caught our breath, Percy and I went over to help Annabeth who was getting Grover out of the photo-board and thanked him for saving our lives. I looked back at the Thrill Ride of Love. The water was subsiding. Our boat had been smashed to pieces against the gates. A hundred yards away, at the entrance pool, the Cupids were still filming. The statues had swiveled so that their cameras were trained straight on us, the spotlights in our faces. I walked closer, "You guys suck." I blew blasphemy at the camera. Percy pulled me away. "Show's over!" Percy yelled. "Thank you! Good night!" The Cupids turned back to their original positions. The lights shut off. The park went quiet and dark again, except for the gentle trickle of water into the Thrill Ride of Love's exit pool. I wondered if Olympus had gone to a commercial break, or if our ratings had been any good. I hated being teased. I hated being tricked. And I had plenty of experience handling bullies who liked to do that stuff to me. Percy hefted the shield on his arm and turned to us friends. "We need to have a little talk with Ares."

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[peaceoutofthepieces]

chapter 10

The Stars Look Very Different

Social Media AU

previous chapter

I usually don’t do one of these so early in the story but.....yeah. please tell me what you think 🙈

tag list: @yellowballoon @cleocc @skaming-myself @boldlydeepestcupcake @pduwd @notallthereyall @gingerhead007 @groeneweiden @nyttvera @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @curiouskopf @engelkeijsers @xiaomailab @honeyandsinn @lauren-bk @saraben00 @tailsbeth @boysrunaway

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Robbe couldn’t believe how easy it was.

After some extra encouragement from Lucas and a little goading from Jens yesterday, he had managed to message his father and coerce him into seeing the flat. He’d agreed almost too quickly, and probably given Lucas a panic attack trying to make the place and himself presentable, while Robbe waited with doubt stirring in his chest and the tiniest hint of wonder. A very tiny spark of ‘what-if’.

He wouldn’t call it hope. Hope was a thing Robbe didn’t take lightly, and he kept it dormant inside him on occasions such as this. Hope only led to disappointment, and Robbe had experienced that often enough to know it was an unwanted feeling.

Curiosity was different. Anticipation was different. When he didn’t really expect anything in particular—and certainly not anything good—to come out of it. That was manageable.

He was curious, at his father’s unusually quick response. He watched Lucas run around with amusement and let that curiosity build into a sickening sort of anticipation. He already knew what was coming. His father would turn it down, and Robbe would be back to begging Jens for just one more night and cursing his mother’s nurses for giving him the same half-assed reassurances.

But Lucas was good, and the apartment really wasn’t a shithole, and Robbe only had to spend twenty excruciating minutes with his father before he’d given them his blessing. The surprise was so sudden and strong that Robbe was too slow at tamping down the unexpected wave of pleasure. For half a second, a tinge of gratefulness had even managed to set in as his father discussed payment and utilities with Lucas. Lucas responded as if he had prepared the information on a PowerPoint the night before, pleasant in a way Robbe never quite managed to be.

He’d grinned excitedly along with him, after his father had left, letting relief take over for just a moment. It wasn’t until Lucas had left to stock up on groceries for them both, however, that Robbe had let genuine happiness sink in, smiling to himself as he took in his new room, ready to be filled and made his own.

Reality had crept back in relatively quickly, however, and he knew none of his problems had really disappeared. They would be carried with him to this new place, and he’d have to bear their weight just the same.

But for a small moment, he let himself have it. He let himself enjoy the win. He sank onto his own, fresh, unbroken double-bed and let out a long breath. He basked.

It was a knock on the door that eventually dragged him out of it and reminded him that such peaceful things never last. He dragged himself up with a groan, his brief moment of rest having only made him more tired, and sluggishly made his way to the door. It was most likely Lucas, back after forgetting his keys, already lax now that he had a roommate once more who he could probably consider a friend. It was possibly Jens, come to check up on him, to be smug, to piss Robbe off with his ‘I-told-you-so’s and his genuine joy.

It was actually Sander.

The boy stood on the threshold with his hand still raised, face a mask of impatience and agitation, looking as lovely as ever.

Robbe’s fingers twitched at his sides.

Sander lowered his hand slowly, and even that movement was intriguing, mindless and careful all at once. He blinked, as if in disbelief, as if Robbe would disappear when he opened his eyes again. Charmingly innocent. “Robbe?”

His voice was even better than Robbe had imagined. Deeper, smoother, slithering in through Robbe’s ears and rumbling in his chest. An itch crept over his skin, curious and anticipatory.

“Oh, thank god,” Robbe said, seeping the barest hint of irritation into his voice. “I’ve been waiting for you for two hours now. How do you expect me to sign the papers with all the shit going on here, huh?”

Sander blinked again, though now he seemed considerably more lost. Christ, he was adorable. “Wha…?”

“Yeah, the bathroom is disgusting. How long has that toilet been leaking? And the tiles are basically falling off the walls. Plus the kitchen reeks of gas. You know they could probably shut down the whole building for that? Are you doing anything about it?”

Sander merely stared, though Robbe could see his thoughts racing, pleading for an explanation.

Robbe rose a brow. “You are the landlord, aren’t you?”

“Robbe?” Sander questioned again, nervously now, meek in his confusion. He seemed suddenly small, seemed suddenly his age, quiet and oddly vulnerable under Robbe’s less-than-warm greeting.

It was enough to crack Robbe’s facade, to have him folding over in laughter as Sander remained stock still. He had to take a few gasping gasps before he could compose himself and straighten up, only to let out a few extra giggles at Sander’s expression. He was doing his best to scowl, bless him, but his cheeks twitched with the effort of repressing his smile. Something about it sent a thrill through Robbe. He was just too fucking cute.

“If only you could see your face,” Robbe giggled, elated as Sander’s scowl turned genuinely unimpressed. “Come on, Sander, you didn’t really think I wouldn’t recognise you anywhere.”

The faintest, loveliest flush flooded the boy’s cheeks, only a tinge of red visible under his golden skin. With it, his smile finally crept through. “No, but I thought I didn’t know *you for a second.”

Robbe gaped and pressed a hand to his chest in mock-offense. “With how often you stare at me? I don’t believe that’s possible.”

Sander’s blush deepened, and he scoffed, and this was brilliant. Robbe couldn’t believe how lucky he had been. How quickly the universe had granted him this. Sander in front of him, shy and stubborn, confidence faltering but admirable.

“What are you doing here?” Sander’s voice lowered as his eyes widened dramatically, and he stepped in closer to Robbe as his eyes flickered around the apartment behind him. “Where’s Lucas?”

Robbe snorted. “Out. Grocery shopping for his new roommate.”

Sander brightened, and he really was too sweet for his own good. “Oh, he found someone already?”

“Yep,” Robbe grinned. “Ten times better than the trash he had living here before.”

That gave Sander pause, and he examined Robbe consideringly, eyes sweeping over him from top to bottom. For someone who had shied away from the idea of meeting Robbe, he didn’t seem to require any work. His bright green eyes were intense and intent and enough to send shivers sparking down Robbe’s spine. He seemed relatively relaxed, and the realisation only strengthened Robbe’s curiosity. How much would it take, right here, right now, for Robbe to get him to lose his cool?

His throat dried up at the possibilities, and he licked his lips as he examined Sander right back.

He watched with satisfaction as Sander swallowed. He seemed unsure of his next question. “Did he coerce Jens into it?”

Robbe hummed, tilting his head side to side as he narrowed his eyes. “Think even better.”

Sander simply stared at him, unwilling to believe it or unwilling to say it out loud, Robbe couldn’t be sure. Robbe could only stare back, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to be teasing, that he was supposed to be the put together one and Sander was supposed to be fumbling in awe. Robbe was never one to fumble, or fall into awe, or take much interest in anything. Not anything simple. Sander intrigued him for that exact reason. Robbe couldn’t figure out why, but he somehow knew that they were matching in their faux-simplicity. It seemed obvious, in the sharper, darker glimmer behind Sander’s eyes when Robbe had caught him looking that night at the party. It seemed obvious, now, in the simultaneous glee and resolution trapped behind an admirably blank mask.

God, he really was quite intense.

“You know,” Sander said slowly, and Robbe really wished he had thought to try calling him before, or that he’d worked harder to pass closer to him in the courtyard, so that his voice didn’t come as such a (pleasant) surprise. “Someone who lived in this apartment would probably invite a guest in.”

Robbe’s initial instinct was to argue, to taunt, to whittle another blush out of the boy if he could. He would, if he didn’t recognise it for the roundabout question it was, if there wasn’t an undertone of challenge in the words. Instead, he stepped back with a sweep of his arm, holding the door open for Sander to step through.

Sander took a moment to steel himself before brushing past him, closer than necessary. Robbe shut the door behind him and took a second to himself before turning, finding Sander already watching him. The disbelief had returned to his face. “You’re going to be staying here?”

Robbe let his lips curve up in a smirk. “Why? Worried you and Lucas are going to have to stop your secret little rendezvous? I could be convinced to keep quiet, if you let me in on it.”

Sander stared at him again, and the twinkle in his eyes came slow. “I’m not sure Lucas would go for it.”

He was making it so easy. Robbe was being let in so easily. Too easily.

Robbe didn’t really care. It could be nice, having things easy.

He closed the distance between them in a blink, standing even closer to Sander than they had been at the door, almost toe to toe. Almost, but not quite. Robbe was a little startled to find that he had to look up at him, but not displeased. He gave a slow, exaggerated shrug as Sander took in the lack of space with a short breath. “Good thing I’m not interested in Lucas.”

Sander took another swallow, and though Robbe had guessed it, this really was the best thing about moving in. It felt a little like a housewarming gift. It might have been, or it might have been his birthday and Christmas all wrapped up in one. It was mean, maybe, not telling Sander, not giving him any warning, but he appeared before Robbe even had a chance. Plus, Robbe never claimed to be nice.

But clearly, Lucas hadn’t told him either, though it was likely for a whole separate list of reasons that Robbe blindly ignored.

Sander hadn’t said anything, and he hadn’t moved, but he looked. He looked and looked and let Robbe look back. Curiosity and anticipation.

Too easy.

The door banged open and set Sander springing away, almost tripping over his own feet in an attempt to gain distance from Robbe. Robbe barely bit back a snort. He made all of it too easy. He really was just as adorable as he was annoying.

Robbe spun around just as Lucas did, eyes settling on the two of them and faltering. His hands tightened around the handles of the bags in his grip as he looked from Robbe to Sander and then back, a range of emotions warring in his expression that Robbe wasn’t bothered enough to decipher.

“Look,” Robbe waved at Sander, smiling at Lucas cheekily, taking the right route for them with ease. “I’ve already met one of yours. I’m basically a relic.”

Lucas’s smile was hesitant. “Right. You two haven’t met before.”

“Nope,” Sander quickly agreed, almost suspicious. But when Robbe looked, his face really was the perfect mask of youthful innocence, easy joy. A face used to getting away with whatever he wanted. “But he did look familiar. I was wondering, you know, if you’d find a way of making it more convenient to have Jens around with this new roommate thing.”

Lucas brightened, all suspicions and worries neatly wiped away. Robbe used the distraction to shake his head at Sander in disbelief. Little shit, he thought, awed.

“Next best thing to having Jens himself move in,” Lucas agreed, shrugging, and Robbe was quickly realising with glee that he wasn’t going to hide Sander away. “But you’re relegated back to the couch anytime you stay.”

Robbe was being handed win after win. He glanced at Sander, quickly flicking his brows up and watching that blush rush back.

Lucas nodded towards the kitchen, raising the bags in his hands. “Right now, you can only stay if you help me unpack this.”

He didn’t wait for a response before leaving them to head into the kitchen, but Sander gave a groan anyway, even tilting his head back to expose the smooth line of his throat. Robbe was going to be living in bliss. He stayed in place until Sander made it as far as him, then carefully snatched his arm as he tried to pass. Sander stumbled to a halt and had no time to react before Robbe stepped in and moved his lips to his ear, a hairbreadth away from brushing the skin. “You can have the couch, but remember I don’t mind sharing, okay?”

He did, but he would make an exception.

Sander gulped, and Robbe realised he was getting continuously sidetracked by his neck, and noted it down for hopefully-not-much-later use. He released him with a quick pat to the back and a wide smile, and enjoyed Sander’s lingering stare before he shook himself out of it and followed Lucas to the kitchen.

Even then, he couldn’t help liking watching him go.

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