#my mind took a field trip into the gutter

[giyuji]

GIVING THEM A HICKEY!

ft. satoru gojo, ryomen sukuna, yuta okkotsu, megumi fushiguro, toge inumaki & yuji itadori.

cw. cursing, suggestive content, aged-up characters, female reader.

#𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 — as soon as he feels your lips trailing downwards, from his jaw to the crook of his neck, a huge grin crawls on his lips. he knows what’s coming, and he absolutely loves it. will even tilt his neck in such a way that it gives you more access to his throat—the more red and purple marks you stick to the pale flesh, the better. bite him a bit, will you? it’ll have the blood rush straight to his crotch. don’t be scared, go harder, rougher, use his neck as your personal canvas. in fact, why stop there? he has even more space for your marks on his chest. go on, decorate his abs. what’s that? it’s full? no matter, satoru has a beautiful pair of thighs all for you to use to your heart’s desire. do be warned, though. he will not cover them in any way. so, if you happen to go to the beach the day after, and you don’t want others to see your handiwork, well, guess you will have to keep your hands (and mouth) to yourself. satoru will never cover the hickeys you give him. why would he, when you gave them with so much love? important meeting with the higher-ups the next day? he couldn’t care less. he’s not wearing a high-collar. fuck, no. use him as you wish, he’ll gladly carry your lovebites and proudly show them off. and when they start to fade? you best believe he’ll be ready for you to add new ones.

#𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 — look at you. comedian of the year. did you really think you’d be able to give the king of curses a hickey? that he wouldn’t yank your hair back as soon as he feels your mouth open against the skin of his neck? stupid girl. you’re his to mark, not the other way around. your bravery amuses him, the sheer audacity of it bringing him a form of entertainment so big that it prevents him from scolding you. instead he shows you how it should be. when he’s done, your poor, bruised body will be littered with marks—and not just in the form of hickeys. while your throat will be decorated in pretty dark red and purple colours, your cute little ass will carry his bright red handprints. your hips are now stained with the indent of his fingers, and you could swear there was an actual bite mark decorating your thigh. sukuna knows control, but very little of it he uses on you. you were his to do with as he pleased, and this is exactly what you deserve after making such a silly attempt. in what world would it ever be right for you to mark him? it obviously should be the other way around. you know that now. though, when the marks he left start to fade, you briefly entertain the thought of trying your reckless action again. no, no, you would never...right?

#𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐔 — receiving one of your lovebites is a double-edged sword to him. while he absolutely loves the feel of it, especially when you’re straddling his lap, tits squished against his chest, and lips suckling on a piece of flesh. his fingers dig into your ass as he fights off the blush rising to his cheeks, all while praying you don’t notice the way his pants tighten considerably underneath you. you do, but you’re sweet and don’t comment on it. he hates the repercussions they bring, though. because while the marks reminded him of the love you brought him, they were also a source of relentless teasing. particularly at the hands of maki. it’s not as if he doesn’t try to cover them up! because he does! he tries so hard. but somehow he always fails :( always ends up with his collar slipping down and revealing the discoloured skin :( poor thing isn’t he? it’s not as if you pull down his shirt a little every time you come give him a hug & kiss goodbye before class. right? right? of course not, that would be ridiculous. ok, maybe you do, but your yuta was prettiest with his cheeks dusted pink! do you feel sorry? sometimes. but that guilt quickly washes away when he comes back to you, offering his neck once again. maki’s teasing long forgotten.

#𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 — a bad actor. and an even worse liar. will scold you when your nose bumps against his neck, will scoff when he feels your lips press a kiss to the column of his throat, and will grumble when he feels you carefully nip the skin with your teeth. but never will he make an effort to get you off him. never will he try to push you away, to have you halt your movements. megumi lets you do as you wish, never taking your hand off his cheek as you use it to settle yourself before going to work. he’ll complain, he’ll grouch, he’ll bitch about—but make no mistake, megumi fushiguro loves getting marked by you. a pink blush settles on his cheeks as you do, and his hands clench into fists as he does everything he can to avoid your eyes. your eyes that he knows are filled with smugness, shining with mischief, shimmering with the knowledge that despite his protests he would rather die than have you stop right now. so, go ahead. litter his pretty neck with fiery red hickeys. put your mark wherever you want. far away from prying eyes, in full sight; it doesn’t matter. megumi knows how to hide them well. and knowing that underneath those clothes, red-ish marks reside, marks that you left on him, and marks that only the two of you know about, is more than enough fuel for him to seek you out again once they start to fade. megumi loves your hickeys. but you’ll never hear him say it.

#𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 — the fact that you love him enough to mark him is worth more to him than anything else in the world. his eyes light up each time your fingers delicately cup his jaw, slightly pushing it aside so you can start nipping at his earlobe, down and along his jaw and finally settling across his collarbone. loves the way you nibble on his pale skin, the way you take it between your teeth and tug slightly to get the pretty dark colour you’re aiming for. toge indulges in your hickeys as much as he can, and will look at them in the mirror each time he passes one (if he’s alone, of course). doesn’t even care when or where you put them! his collar is up higher than any other person’s anyway, so nobody would even notice. it’s just something the two of you share, something safe, something exciting and something comforting. when the marks start to fade? he’ll be on you immediately. won’t directly tell you what he needs, won’t even tap his neck to convey it. instead, he’ll get clingy; playing with your fingers, pressing kisses to your nose, pinching the apples of your cheeks. you get the hint eventually. please mark him. as much as you can.

#𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈— loves loves loves getting a lovebite, the suction of it feels so nice to him and the fact that it’s you putting the cute little mark there is even better. will be all smiley and happy when you do it, soft chuckle and blissful sighs tumble past his lips. his fingers are in your hair as he holds you against him. you’ll pull back when he allows you to, and not a second sooner. yuji has a specific amount of hickeys he wants you to leave each time your face finds the familiar hiding place in his neck. and while he could tell you it, he greatly prefers to hear your cute giggle when he pushes your head back, muttering about how you’re ‘not done yet.’ he never tells you how many you still have to go after that. be a good girlfriend and stop when he tells you, yeah? will also absolutely forget you put them there the day after. especially if he’s late for something such as a mission or a class. throws his clothes on in a haste, not paying much mind to the purple blotches on his neck and collarbone. you do, though. and so does nobara. and you’re pretty sure even megumi is giving you two the side-eye. yuji doesn’t care tho. he’s happy, happy and all marked up. will only scratch the back of his neck for a few seconds, a sheepish smile on his lips, before he goes on with his day.

[ketso]

Episode 9

By grace and grace alone, I gave birth to a beautiful and healthy baby boy last night and I took it like a woman – natural birth all the way. Shack could not play his game as he was here with me for the birth of our son. He has been by my side every minute of each day since I have been admitted into hospital. This time, I have actually put on so much baby fat. I am feeling super insecure. Shack has organised a trainer to help me train and lose the fat. Our son’s name is Zolani.

Lando and Paula arrive with gifts and balloons. They arrive with their hubbies, Leruo and Manqoba, and my hospital ward becomes a venue for festivities. It is nice and spirits are very high. Shack tells me the team wanted to come. But Zolani is still too small, so we have to keep the circle a bit closed. Tee-le promised he would come see us when he returns from a business trip that he has to make. He is actually close with Shack, so I don’t mind. As long as he leaves that Khosi of his in the gutters that he found her in.

“We will go and get us all something to eat. We will be right back”, Shack says. He kisses me and thanks me, yet again, for our son. He leaves the ward with Leruo and Manqoba.

“Thanks for staying with Lethu, babe”, I thank Lando. Lethu has been at her house since I went into labour.

“It’s no bother at all. My kids love having him around. I promised them that they would come by and meet Lethu’s new brother during the visiting hours tonight”, Lando says.

“Thanks babe, I would really appreciate that. I miss my little rascal”, I say.

“How are things with Leruo, the dad and vrou number 3?” Lando asks Paula.

“Awkward with a capital A, honey. I wanted to be nice and invite them over for dinner. Dikwe didn’t even pitch because he feels disrespected by his son. Then the wife arrives alone. I have no idea what the hell she was thinking leaving hubby at home and pitching at a dinner alone. Leruo then goes ham on her at the dinner, she leaves crying and an hour later, Dikwe is at my house, punching my husband in front of my kids. He even told the coach to bench him in the last few games, that’s why he hasn’t been playing. Leruo is not injured”, Paula explains.

“WHAT?!” Lando and I express. This sounds like an episode out of a soapie.

“But why would Dikwe bring his personal shit onto the field? He is risking the team”, I say. This is unacceptable. We all have issues, but to bring that to work is just unacceptable.

“It doesn’t end there. There are talks of Dikwe selling some players at the end of this season and bringing in new ones. I think Leruo is one of the players who will be sold”, Paula tells us.

“That doesn’t make any sense. Leruo is one of the best players in the league. Has Dikwe lost his mind?” me.

“His agent is already talking to clubs overseas. It’s bad, babe. We could be relocating”, Paula.

“What?! Are you serious?” Lando.

“So serious, girl. It is really bad. Ngapha that big-mouth bitch that Tee-le is fucking is out here talking to me ngathi we are friends. I am waiting for Tee-le to drop her ass so that we can exile her out of our circle. Can you believe she came to my house and attacked Leruo for attacking her sister?” Paula says this and we all burst into laughter.

“Khosi is just a straat-maid trying to climb up the class ladder. She is definitely not to be trusted, not after what she did to Thuli. I actually liked Thuli. I prefer her over Khosi”, Lando.

“I think we should recruit Yaya’s newest deal”, I say. Yes, I am starting it.

“Yaya has a new deal?” Lando attends to me in shock.

“Don’t your men tell you anything?” me, I am being coy, I know.

Leruo, Shack and Nqoba come back into the room with Mochachos. My favourite.

“Who is Yaya fucking, now?” Lando sprints to Nqoba and ambushes him.

The men look at each other.

“Spill! Right now!” Paula ambushes Leruo.

Shack looks at me. I start giggling. The gents put the food down and scratch their heads.

“So, we have secrets, now?” Paula plays the blackmail card.

“It’s Retshepile”, Leruo answers super quickly.

“Retshepile? Ubani uRetshepile?” Lando enquires.

I cannot help myself. I blurt out, “Bethlehem girl!”

We all scream and burst into laughter.

The men look at us and chuckle at our reaction.

“Bathong Yaya, how could he? And with Bethlehem girl?” Paula says, still laughing.

“We definitely need her in this circle so that she can get us another Bethlehem man-snatcher to kick Khosi out of our lives”, Lando.

We all laugh even harder.

“No wena! See the vision! Thuli is single now! Someone needs to find her, and we need her and Tee-le go on a date. Who doesn’t know that Tee-le will drop Khosi any day for Thuli? We need Reahile to be in with us on this one.” Paula says.

We are laughing so hard, but she is making so much sense!

The men hide their faces in the palms of their hands.

…

“Thank you for coming”, I say to him as we stand at the gate outside my mother’s house now that he has parked his car in the yard.

“I’m happy to be here. How are you holding up?” he asks me.

“I’m home. I’m at a place no WAG ever wants to find herself.” Me.

“Why? Home is usually the best place to find yourself, pick up the pieces and find a way to move on”, he says.

I sob.

“Thuli, what’s really going on with you?” he asks me, sincerely concerned.

“I am so ashamed”, I tell him in a whisper through my sobs.

“Of what?” he asks me.

“I was supposed to get my mother out of here. I was driving M2s and living in Blue Valley while my mother was selling amakota namagwinya lana trying to make a living. Remoletile, I was supposed to at least renovate my mother’s home, kodwa I was busy running after Uyanda and his baby mama while Uyanda was making it very clear that his family comes first. I’m sure he even got tired of me fighting him because of his son’s mother instead of making life better for my family like he was doing for his. Now, I am back home with my tail between my legs. My car is parked in a garage that is falling apart because I never fixed it while I was making millions from the stipend that Uyanda gave me. I came home knocking on the same door I failed to fix when I didn’t need to knock on it. I am sharing a bedroom with my mother because I didn’t bother to extend my home. What kind of a child am I?” I am in tears and my heart is overflowing with a dam of tears of shame.

Tee-le just hugs me. He holds me in a way that I have been praying to be held since the day Uyanda kicked me out of his house and out of his life.

“You are doing better now. Surely, that counts for something”, he says, breaking the silence that was dominated by my sobbing.

“No. God is showing me who is God. My mother always told me that God puts people in a position to uplift others so that people can see who they truly are. When God proves the kind of person that you are when you have money, He takes it all away so that you can be in a position of being ignored when you are also down and out. God is making sure that I live my hell here on earth for everyone to see the kind of daughter that I have been to my mom”, I say.

“That’s a bit harsh, Thuli. I think you are being too hard on yourself. Besides, old people say shit to us to instil the fear of God in everything that we do. God is not that cruel. He is a loving and forgiving God who gave up His only son so that we could all be forgiven for our sins”, he says.

“You are tight with the bible like that?” I ask him.

We both giggle.

He wipes my tears with his hands then says, “the bottom line is that God left you with a huge sum of money from that break-up and now you will grow your mother’s business and do more with the house than what you would have done if you were still with Uyanda. Maybe God removed him from your life so that you can finally lift your situation at home; focus on it without having to worry about Uyanda and his family drama. The glass is not always half empty”.

I smile.

“Sho”, my brother says as he approaches us.

“Sho”, Tee-le replies while giving him a handshake.

“My name is Lindani. I am Thuli’s elder brother”, my brother introduces himself.

“Remoletile. I am happy to meet you”, Tee-le says.

“Thuli”, my brother gets my attention. I look at him. Then he says: “I just wanted to say sorry for the fight we had the other day. I didn’t have to speak to you like that. I know you are going through a lot.”

He must think I am crying and telling Tee-le about his insolence. Lindani never says sorry to me about anything. Or maybe he is having a groupie moment. I cannot be a bitch, so I say, “Shup. It’s water under the bridge”.

“Sho. Are you coming in or…?” Lindani.

“We have a meeting with mom. We are coming in”, I say.

Lindani leads us into the house.

“Mama, uRemoletile lona. He is my friend who I have been telling you about. He will help us expand the business. Remoletile, this is my mom”, I introduce Tee-le to my mother.

“I am happy to meet you, my son. And thank you for driving all the way here just to help us. May God bless you.” My mom.

“Hai mah, thank you for welcoming me into your home. ” Tee-le.

He has a way with mothers, I can just see it. He and my mother chat away while I make them tea and Lindani just stands in the corner of the kitchen, assuming the role of a bodyguard. I wonder what his problem is this time.

After I have served mom and Tee-le some scones and tea, I bring out the business plan.

“T, this is the business plan that we have to grow the shop. La endlini, we will expand it into a restaurant of some sort. We wish for it to be something out of Vilakazi street, you know. Then we will buy about three mobile kitchens that we will place outside of companies or government buildings such as home affairs and the traffic department. Those mobile kitchens will be an extension of the restaurant here at home and will also be a pop-up franchise of some sort. Mama and I went to a construction company that is about ten minutes away from here. They have a vacant kitchen. We approached them to take over the kitchen and a bit more area in the building to open the restaurant there. We will be paying rent, but it is a good start for expanding. We have detailed more of the venture in the business plan, outlining the costs and everything else”. I say.

“Thuli, what do you need me for? You’ve killed this expansion before we have even started it”, Tee-le says.

“I need your help so that it completely takes off. We need your expertise and resources as well”. I say.

He takes the business plan and says, “Please give me a week to read this and get my team onto the project. I just know that it will be a success. Reahile would also be interested in something like this. His family is huge on uplifting such initiatives and investing in them”.

“In Tholoana Kingdom, though. I am in a different country, remember?”

“Let’s work around it. I’m sure we can make your vision come to life.”

“Thank you so much, T. This really means a lot to us. I will never forget this”. I tell him.

He smiles at me.

My mother is very excited. She has her hands together in a prayer form and she just hugs Tee-le. Tee-le embraces her. Lindani is still standing in the corner, extremely sour.

“Let me walk you out”, I say.

Tee-le says goodbye to everyone and we walk out of the house. We get to his car.

“I am going to sell the BMW and get a smaller car. It will help us run errands and will be much cheaper to maintain”, I tell him.

“Give him his car back. It is the right thing to do. I will borrow you one of our small company cars to keep you going until you can get your own. This is your journey with your family. Do not make him believe that he made you in the slightest bit.” Tee-le advises me.

“I guess you are right. Thank you, Remoletile”, me.

“I will call a company to come pick it up and drop it off at his house tomorrow. This is your chance for your new beginning. You walked away with grace. You have no idea how proud I am of you. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for.” Tee-le.

We hug and say goodbye. He leaves.

…

“Thulisile, what are you doing with this boy?” Lindani starts his nonsense with me again.

“What have I done now, Lindani?” I ask him as I lock the door and tidy up in the kitchen.

“You broke up with Yaya Mbatha five minutes ago. Now you are on top of Tee-le Serame? We don’t do that. Please love yourself”, Lindani says.

“Remoletile is helping mom and I expand the business. Why do you assume there is anything else happening between us?” I ask him.

“Because I am not stupid and I am not a child. Life has humbled you and now you want to use mom’s business to get back to your status of being one of those rich women in the league.” He tells me.

“Your problem is that you are an old man with no vision or job. At your old age, you have nothing. You live in your mother’s house and even your mere toothbrush is sponsored by your mother. You are well over the age of 35, but you are still courting girls on the street corners of ekasi. Should you get married, where will you and your wife live? In your mother’s house?” I attack.

“So, you think you are better than me because you got to sleep your way out of ekasi?” He thinks he hurts my feelings.

“I slept my way out of the township? You must clearly have amnesia now. I went to school – just like you. I was given the opportunity to go university – just like you. I took that opportunity – unlike you. I got a job. My job got me my apartment and my car. The sex – I had that because I am a sexual being and I was able to find myself a man who could fuck me in his mansion, unlike you who still sneaks around in your mother’s house when she is not around – just to get laid.” I hurt his feelings further.

He stares at me like I disgust him.

“Lindani, you call yourself the man of this house, but you cannot even help mom in the shop. Why are you treating me like I deserted you guys when I got to Tholoana Kingdom? Who do you think buys stock sometimes when you spend mama’s money that she makes from sales? I bought it so that mom could take care of your grown ass with the profits of the shop. I have always invested in this shop. I have always taken care of you guys and I was here, two weekends of every month without fail. You had plenty opportunities to help umama. You’ve always lived here for free and without a job. You are the chief of lokshin management. I try to help mom and you are insulting me instead of working with us. You are useless, Lindani. Mom is in her old age and she must still work for you? Hai voetsek, mahn!” Me.

“Thulisile naweLindani, that’s enough. I think it’s time for you to go to sleep now”, my mom walks into the kitchen and says.

“Mama, You’ve always let Thulisile disrespect me. Are you listening to how she speaks to me? Does it make you happy? This is all your doing, mama. I need some air!” Lindani says then storms out of the house.

My mom looks at me as if she is blaming me for what just happened.

“Let’s go to the TV room, mah, so that I can help you soak your feet in some warm water. You have been on your feet all day.” I say.

I see her smiling. I am winning. I love taking care of the queen.

…

I am visiting my mother and my niece today in Modimolle, one of these Tholoana Kingdom townships. My eldest sister, the well-taken care of housewife in Taung, is here as well. My BMW 1-series is parked next to her BMW X6 – a whole panda. My mom is so excited to see us. My niece is playing with the kids on the street so my mother, my sister and I have the house to ourselves. Lethabo, my niece, has taken Molotsi’s three kids with her. Molotsi, my sister, is helping me cook a mean meal in my mother’s kitchen while my mom is making us her divine ginger beer. I am definitely taking some back to my flat with me.

“How’s work, baby sis?” Molotsi asks me.

“It is okay. I love what I do, so I have no complaints. The hours are flexible and that’s the best part. The hospitals here are very different from the clinics in Mahikeng.” I tell her.

“So, what’s your plan in the long-term? Are you really planning on being an employee for the rest of your life?” Molotsi asks me as if there is something wrong with that. So, I ask her, “What’s wrong with that?”

“Hai Neo, buy a surgery and run your own stuff. The revolution of black people cannot end at “ngisebenzela umlungu”. She says.

“Well, not all of us could bag ourselves a fine piece of KB Tloung”, I say to her while chuckling. She blushes. KB Tloung is her husband.

“I have been meeting up with Tshepi, by the way, and I even scored myself a VVIP ticket to an NFR Legends game.” I tell her.

“Why didn’t you call me? I could have come with you and introduced you to some fine men who could give you that surgery so that you can stop working for umlungu!” She says.

“Who said I need your help?” I say, being coy.

“You met someone?” She asks me, expecting me to meet her energy of excitement.

“Something like that. Kodwa, it is so complicated”. I say.

“Let’s go for a drive. We can use my car.” Molotsi is so weird.

“Molotsi, we are busy cooking. Hai bo!” I remind her.

“We will eat at a restaurant. Mama cooks everyday, she will appreciate a good take out. Ariye! Let me phone the kids to come back”, she says.

She phones her eldest and tells them all to come back. She tells my mom to leave the ginger beer, I was really looking forward to that ginger beer by the way, and we all leave for the Reahile Restaurant in her Panda.

The kids are sitting with my mom at the back. Molotsi and I are in the front, she is driving.

“So? Ke mang?” Molotsi wastes no time.

“Tyson”, I say.

“Tyson?” Molotsi.

“Tyson Archibald”, I say.

Teboho screams and shouts, “Shut the fucken front door!”

“Mommy! No man, you are making a noise and you are swearing”, her youngest daughter tells her.

“You are making a noise mahn wena Molotsi”, my mom.

“Askies!” Teboho says to them, then says to me, “Tell me more”.

I chuckle and continue to say, “Well we met at the game and he took me to his first hotel that he ever owned. He says it is because we were getting to know each other.”

“Wow. And?” Molotsi enquires for more.

“We have been talking ever since. He calls me everyday and I enjoy talking to him. But, I cannot get over the fact that he is married and I am still into Bangz. I am pushing Tshepi to introduce us. That is the main reason why I have been holding back.” I tell her.

“So, you not bothered ukuthi he is old enough to be someone’s grandad, but you have a problem with the fact that he is married? And I’m not even close to being interested in someone who calls himself Bangz, so we not talking about that. Remember that KB was married when we met? Now I have my ring and the ex-wife is irrelevant. The only thing that I care about is do you like him or not?” Molotsi asks me.

“I want to meet Bangz”, I say.

“Please focus on Tyson. Please! Bangz can go bang other people who do not have Tyson Archibald looking at them”, she says.

We laugh as the kids make one hell of a noise in the backseat.

…

“Hey baby”, Yaya greets me as he comes back from his workout session with his team of trainers. He finds me deep within my work on his kitchen counter. My plan was to multi-task: make food while working. I am not used to working on Saturdays.

“Hey you. How was your workout session?” I say as I save my work on the laptop and go back to finishing off breakfast.

“It was good. I just need to take a shower and have a very quiet day”, he tells me.

“I will prepare you some food in the meantime”, I say.

“What are you up to?” He asks me.

“I got off a conference call with Rofhiwa, KB, Dikwe, Mfundo Msomi and Mzwakhe. The league officials have published new rules around buying players. The officials believe that some teams have a financial advantage when it comes to getting players and that is why the same teams win the league and champions’ leagues. They have even used bold statements about big teams buying trophies. Social Media has gone on a tangent and have implicated NFR Legends as being one of the teams that buy trophies because of our financial standing. It has also gone into a speculation game about which players management is letting go of at the end of the season. I need to manage that within the next eight hours”. I explain the drama of my morning.

“Do you know who is being let go of?” He asks me, suddenly concerned.

“Your managers will have those conversations with you and help you manage it. You know very well that I cannot share that information with you. All I do is manage NFR Legends’ narrative for when the announcement is made”, I tell him. How could he even ask me this? I hope this guy is not sleeping with me just to have one up on everyone when it comes to information regarding the team.

“Baby, this is my career”, he says.

“I am not going to put my career on the line for yours. Your manager will be in contact with you accordingly.” I end the conversation.

A woman and a young boy walk in through the door that Yaya left open as he walked into the house from his training. The little boy runs to Yaya shouting, “Daddy!” I assume this is Phendulile.

“Sanibonani”, the woman greets us.

“Dumela ausi. You must be Ndalo. I am Tshepi, nice to meet you”, I say with a smile on my face.

“Hello Tshepi. Uphi uThuli?” Ndalo asks. I have no answers for her, but I am slightly embarrassed at the question.

“Akekho uThuli”, Yaya responds to her.

“So, this is the new Thuli?” Ndalo says. She is actually a bitch.

“Nope. I am Tshepi. Please excuse me”, I say as I leave them alone and move to the bar to get on with my work. I place my laptop on the bar table and eavesdrop on their conversation.

“So, she managed to kick Thuli out of your life and out of this house after six years of Thuli being in your life? Yho! Suk’ emabhozeni!” Ndalo says and chuckles as she says this. This bitch has some nerve.

“What do you want, Ndalo?” Yaya asks her, not even defending me.

“Phendulile was missing auntie Thuli, so I thought I would bring him here to spend the weekend with you guys while I go away. My man is treating me to a weekend away. I know that Thuli would generally not have a problem with staying with him, particularly because you have a game tomorrow. But I don’t know if miss ‘dumela ausi’ over there would have any issues. Plus Phendulile doesn’t know her”, Ndalo says, She is already giving me names.

“I’ll stay with my son, don’t worry”. Yaya says.

“And during your game?” Ndalo.

“You’ve brought him to me, right? I am Phendulile’s parent, not Thuli. I will make sure that he is taken care of. Have fun at your weekend away”. Yaya.

“Ok shup. Listen Yaya, I am Phendulile’s mother so I automatically care about you and your happiness because you are the father of my son. UThuli loved you and genuinely cared about you. She played a significant role not only in your life, but in Phendulile’s life too. She definitely had a stick up her ass, but the right things always drove her. People will come into your life with different facades because you are Yaya Mbatha. Be very careful. I don’t know miss ‘dumela ausi’, but it means something to me that she could not even say hi to Phendulile when we walked in here”. Ndalo says.

Fuck. Did I not say hi to him?

“Just be careful, Yaya”. She concludes. Again, Yaya does not defend me.

I guess it is a good thing that he and I are not official. I hope he will not suggest that I stay with his son tomorrow, because I will also be working. I do not even have my own child here because I am working. This child’s mother must take her child with her on her little holiday.

“Phendu my boy, please be good for your daddy and Sis’Tshepi neh. When I come to fetch you, you will teach me all the new words you learned from that tswerr tswerr language neh”, Ndalo says. She is already teaching her son to disrespect me. The way she says it is further disgusting and unacceptable. The kid laughs aloud and to add salt to the wound, Yaya chuckles at that statement as well.

I grab my laptop, put on headphones and continue with my work. Before I can play any music, I hear more people come into the house. I go see who that could be. I am standing with them in the receiving area of the house. It is a delivery person who is asking Yaya to sign some papers. He is here to drop off a car.

“But this is Thuli’s car”, Yaya protests.

“Sir, I have been asked to bring this back”. The delivery man tells him.

“I cannot accept this. It is not my car. Let me phone her”. Yaya is so emotional about this. Can he just sign for the damn car and we all move on? Ndalo is judging me as if this is all my fault.

“Fuck!” Yaya yells.

“Daddy, what’s wrong?” Phendu asks him.

Ndalo picks Phendulile up and soothes him as if he is about to cry.

“I cannot get hold of her”, Yaya says.

Ndalo is unbelievably disturbed.

“Sir, please sign for the car”, the deliveryman.

I take the papers from him and sign. He smiles at me and hands me the car keys. Ndalo is shaking her head. The car is offloaded from the truck and the delivery people leave.

“Are you sure that you will be okay to stay with Phendu for the weekend?” Ndalo enquires.

“I need to take a shower and go to Mpumalanga. I need to talk to Thuli”. Uyanda.

“What are you talking to Thuli about?” I ask him. I believe I have earned my right to do so.

Uyanda has already left us alone.

Ndalo just takes her son and leaves, as she should.

…

It has been a long day. I came back home and took a nice long bath with bath foam and some oils to soothe my body. Taxis will demoralise you, but I am so happy that we are making moves with expanding my mother’s business. Tee-le has been such a great help and I really am thankful for his contribution. I am lying on my bed now and chatting on WhatsApp with Tee-le.

“Good luck for tomorrow’s game”. Me.

“Thanks. I guess we will no longer see you at games as well?” Tee-le.

“Nope. I am no longer a WAG“. Me.

“We play at 2pm. I am thinking that I come by to check-in afterwards. We can do dinner”. Him.

“Firstly, do you want Khosi to murder me? You know how possessive she is over you. Secondly, you need to rest. It is a tough game that you have ahead of you”. Me.

I hear voices in the kitchen. I walk towards the kitchen and I see Yaya. He has never been to my mother’s house before. How did he find me?

“Yaz, le ntwana yakho i-frequent kabi la ekhaya. (You know, your friend is very frequent here)” Lindani tells Uyanda.

“Intwana yami? (My friend?)” Uyanda.

“Sho. UTee-le. He says he is helping Thuli to expand my mom’s shop. But you and I both know how gorgeous my sister is. She is a beautiful woman and Tee-le is not a blind man.” Lindani.

“Tee-le is not like that. I trust him. If he says that he is helping with business expansion, then that is what he is doing. Besides, it is part of his businesses to invest in small businesses. We are good, but thank you for the look out”, Uyanda.

I walk out of the bedroom and meet with him in our very small kitchen.

“Uyanda”, I call to him. I am wearing shorts and my hair is tied into a bun. My skin has a glow, thanks to my face products. I want him to see what he left.

“Thuli. You look good”. He says.

“What were you expecting? To find me crying and unable to move on from you?” I ask him.

“No”.

“How did you even find me?”

“I knew you stayed in this township because you spoke about it a lot. When I got here, I just asked around, asking where I can find kaMam’Nandi. I remembered that your mom owns a popular corner in this township”. He says.

Lindani does not leave. He is clearly here for this conversation.

“What do you want, Uyanda?” I ask him.

“Thuli, this car is yours. Why are you returning it?”

“Uyanda, I paid six instalments on that car and you paid the rest. It is yours”, I tell him.

“Please take it, as a gift. It is in your name anyway”. He says.

“No! Thank you. If it was easy for you to terminate my cellphone contract – a main line that the world gets to reach me on – I don’t know why you want me to have your car. Give it to Bethlehem girl. I heard that she is the one who has your heart now”. I say.

He is silent. He seems unsure what to say.

“Thuli, I am sorry about everything”.

“Which part exactly? Uyanda, I didn’t deserve the treatment that you gave me. I did not understand why you punished me for something that I did not do. Imagine what was racing through my mind, trying to figure out what it is that is so bad that I did by Khosi making that phone call that put me in a position to be kicked out of your life. Uyanda, I was there for you when you were nobody. Before any team wanted to sign you, you were living in my apartment, driving my car and being taken care of by me. I bought your soccer boots for the training that you had to do. I found you trainers that could get you into the league and I paid them! I wanted this life for you because I knew it would make you happy. I got you a manager that got you into the league, and after you kissed me thank you, you cheated on me.”

“Thuli”, he says as he sees me crying, breaking down. This man has broken my heart.

“Don’t Thuli me. Don’t say my name. You got into the league and the team you played for was not big, but it was your debut. You then cheated on me and came back with a child. Do you know how much diapers cost? You don’t, but I do. Do you know why? Because I bought Phendu’s diapers, his formula milk and his clothes. You and Ndalo were both not working and I had to financially support your infidelity. Today, you do this to me?! I loved you, Uyanda Mbatha, but clearly you changed and you forgot how to love me and reciprocate my love for you.”

I wipe my tears and gather myself. He is feeling like shit now.

“Don’t get me wrong Uyanda, I did not do all of these things so that you can remain eternally grateful to me and never leave me. I did all of this because I loved you and your dreams were important to me. Phendu was important to me because he was important to you – even though he reminded me of how much you hurt and betrayed me. For you to say that I never loved him genuinely broke my heart because I cannot think of one thing that I did to give you that impression. His mother terrorised me and I hated her – definitely. But uPhendu, that was my son and if you are an honest person, you will admit to how I would have done anything for him. Yesterday, my very brother was telling me that I slept my way out of this township. I am 110% sure that the world is convinced of that fact as well – that you made me. I want you to get the fuck out of my life and watch me become even bigger without you. Maybe even you think you made me. Now I will show you what I could have become had I never met you.”

I say.

I walk back into the bedroom and get the wrapped gift that I have had with me for two months now. I get back into the kitchen and hand him the wrapped gift.

“I promised Phendu that I’d buy him an iPad for his next birthday, which is next weekend. Please give him this gift for me on his birthday and tell him that auntie Thuli still loves him. I may not be around anymore, but I do still keep my promises. You will drive back safely, now”, me.

With that, I go back into my room.

“Thuli”. Uyanda says.

I don’t respond.

“Thulisile, please. Can we just talk and –

“Yaya, vaya jo. Thuli is done with this conversation and with you. Kanti this is how you’ve been treating my sister? I’ve been defending you all this time.” Lindani.

“Lindani, I need to talk to Thuli. Please.”

“Yaya, vaya!”

I think he finally leaves.

I grab my cellphone that’s lying on the bed.

I find some missed calls from Tee-le.

I call him back.

“Are you okay?” Tee-le says as he answers his phone.

“I am okay. Uyanda was here. We spoke. He just left”. Me.

“Are you sure that you are okay? He has put you through enough, Thuli. Don’t let him bulldoze his way back into your life. Uyanda has never deserved you”, he says.

“Don’t worry. Uyanda and I are done. I think this conversation was the final curtain call for us. Lindani told him that you are working with my mom and me. So, just know that he knows in case he brings it up.” I warn him.

“I can handle uMbatha, relax. Take care of yourself and get some rest. I am going to see you tomorrow after the game, okay?” he says.

“Ok. Goodnight”.

“Goodnight, beautiful”.

I hang up. My stomach suddenly feels tight and my head feels weirdly light. Did he just call me beautiful?

…

Now that I am a mother myself, I want better for my son. I want to protect him better. I want to love him better. I want him to understand the hard facts of life: that no one owes you anything and all he ever will be is dependent on how he builds a life for himself. I want him to know that nothing and absolutely no one can hold it against him that they did more than they should have for him. He doesn't belong to anyone, not even to me. He may have come into the world through me, but he belongs to no one but God.

My son's father, Leruo Tloung, and I have a good relationship. He is married to Paula Tloung and they have some kids together. I know that Paula doesn't know much about me or my son, but Leruo is there for Fenya, has a relationship with him and helps me take care of him. That's the only business that I have with him.

I am a medical surgeon by profession. I am quite alright. My son and I live in a beautiful lifestyle estate. His father helps me with his fees, so we have him in one of Tholoana Kingdom’s finest private schools and I take care of my son and me. I cut ties with my family the day my mother passed away and my father just let me down in the worst way. I still talk to my siblings, but it's not as often as society dictates I should.

Fenya is on school holidays so we are packing up my G63 and we will be driving down to Basotho Rock. It is a nice place in Maja-Perre. Leruo suggested it would be nice to drive down together. He does things like go on holidays with us and it's usually nice. We co-parent, I promise. Nothing more. I know he's been going through quite a bit with his father as of late, so I think he wants to talk about that as well.

"Zamo, we need to get going. It is 7pm." Leruo complains.

"I'm finishing up the food for the road", I say.

"You've been cooking though", he says.

"I'm almost done. Is the car all packed up?" I ask.

"Yes. We just waiting for you", he says.

I finish up the food and pack it accordingly in lunch boxes. My domestic worker, Sizakele, offers to wash the dishes. I wasn't planning on washing them anyway. Sizakele and I run over what I expect of her while I'm away. Leruo and Fenya pack the food in the car. I hear my engine starting and I just know that the hooter is coming. I hate being hooted at with all my heart. I say my goodbyes to Sizakele and run to the car before the hooter -

"HOOT!"

Fuck!

Two hours into the drive...

Fenya is watching something off his iPad in the back seat. Leruo is driving and I am chilling in the front seat making sure that we are not getting lost. Navigation is helping us, but Leruo does not believe in navigation. He believes that he is a walking Google Maps.

"How's work?" He asks me.

"Work's cool. The hours are still insane, but now that I have juniors, I can afford to be a little picky with the late-night calls." I say.

"You managing it well. Your son over there is very lucky to have you" he says. I smile.

"And you? How's everything at the club?" I ask him. He looks like he has a lot to talk about.

"My father will not be renewing my contract at the end of the season", he says.

"Why?" I ask him.

"Because I was honest with him about his new wife. With him, honesty is forbidden", he says.

"So, he cuts his nose to spite his face? You are one of the country's finest and talented players", I say.

"Dikwe would rather have me be his lapdog - talented or not", he says.

"I’m sorry, L".

He tightens his jaws and keeps driving.

"I'm thinking of retiring at the end of the season. I'm past the thirty-five years mark anyway. The body is not as tough and flexible as it used to be. I suppose I can use my Sports Sciences degree to join the team behind the scenes, you know? Plus, with all my endorsements looking to actually go into business with me, I don't see why I shouldn't explore that further", he says.

"L, you know I just want you to be happy. I'll support you with whatever you need and whatever decision you make", I tell him.

"Thank you, Zamo. That means a lot to me. The thing is, Nomzamo... the NFR Legends is a big team and this is where the most competitive salaries are. I don't want to work for Dikwe. I'm not making that mistake again. So, I might need to leave Tholoana Kingdom at the end of the season", he says.

I look at him. I catch him already looking at me.

"I'm listening", I say.

He drives into a petrol station for our first stop.

"Mommy, why are we stopping?" Fenya asks me.

"We taking a break. We can't drive the full eight and a half hours in one go", I say.

"Okay. Can I go to the toilet?" Fenya.

"I'm also headed there. Let's go together", Leruo says to Fenya.

[magalidragon]

paris is always a good idea | a Jonerys Drabble

Thank you @youwerenevermine​ for my wonderful birthday gift, I love it so much and I love Paris so much and Jonerys and you for making this for me so I felt inspired and wrote a quick little drabble thing, lol. It’s only the fourth time I’ve written Jonerys in a modern, non-Westeros world, but it was fun!  And I wanna’ go back so much!  Paris, je t’aime!

They met while in university, oddly enough, as fate would have it, on her birthday.

She had been there to study art, for a year abroad, savoring every last second wandering the wide, arched hallways of the Louvre, staring at grand masters for hours on end, burning the vibrant colors and mesmerizing brushstrokes into her memory, wishing she could be as good as them one day.  One day, someone would have her art in their house, and proudly boast they'd gotten it back when she was but a nobody, painting on the streets or in the grassy parks.  

Since it was her birthday, she decided to treat herself, and instead of heading straight to the university to get some time in the studio, she decided to get an ice cream at Berthillon, heading to the Ile-St-Louis instead of to the metro, taking her time to admire, as she often did, the glory of Notre Dame, it’s gargoyles and buttresses.

At the glacier she took her time selecting a flavor, did not even mind paying the exorbitant price and shouldered through tourists taking refuge from a cold rain that had begun to fall. She savored it, the clean water bouncing off her peat coat and the beanie she’d tugged over her silver hair.

She was about to set off, to eat her ice cream and wander into the Marais, perhaps drop down into the Latin Quarter— maybe take a trip to Chanel or Dior or Celine to admire the creations she couldn’t afford— when her ice cream went flying, straight onto the wet sidewalk. Where a mass of pidgins attacked it with gusto.

“Merde! Faites attention!” she shouted, stomping her Doc Marten on the ground in petulant annoyance.

The man who had bumped her because he’d been roughhousing with another friend had been apologetic.  He bought her another and said his name was Robb Stark. He was from Scotland, was on spring break with his buddies, which she didn’t care about. To apologize he invited her for a drink, especially when the worker who she’d told it was her birthday had commented on it again when she got another ice cream.

She figured why not?  He was attractive, sorry, and nice enough so she agreed, although she had commented his French was terrible best to speak English. “You’re English?” he had teased.

“Half and half,” she answered. English father, French mother.

At the comptoir where she suggested they meet, in Montmartre, she brought her roommate Missandei and Missandei’s boyfriend Grey. It was just a drink and they’d leave and go to the dinner Missandei planned to take her to anyway.

Except that’s where she met him.

The dark, brooding figure at the tiny table in the corner, ignoring Robb and Robb’s friend Theon, and a couple others, favoring silence and his drink. He was in all black, barely acknowledging her and slipped out for a smoke when Robb began to shamelessly flirt. She didn’t care about Robb, she cared about him.

Jon.

She exited, saw him lighting a cigarette against a lap post. She flicked her coat collar up and sidled towards him. “Puis-j’en avoir un?”

“Sorry I don’t speak,” he began, and his eyes— black in the orange lamplight glow— flicking to her. He smiled gently “French.”

She smiled and repeated her question in English.  “Can I have one?  A smoke  that is?”

He stuck the cigarette between his pouty, sinful lips, framed with a cropped dark beard, and reached into his coat pocket, removing a pack. She took one delicately and he lit it, cupping his hands around the tip so the wind didn’t blow it out.

A stream of smoke escaped her nostrils when she puffed and she smiled up at him, hoping he got the hint. “Do you like Paris?”

“Not especially.”

“Aw come on,” she teased. She hummed, closing her eyes and taking in the cold night. The electric buzz is people on the street and at the cafes and bars around them. “Paris is always a good idea.”

“Someone famous said that.”

“Audrey Hepburn.”

He sucked on the cigarette and smiled, a tiny one, the curve of his lip sly rather than shy.  “You aren’t in there with the rest of them.”

“Because it’s my birthday and I want to do what I want to do.”  She stubbed the cigarette out on the post and turned, disposing it in the bin by the door.  A quick text to Missandei: I’m going to skip dinner, I think I have a date, she turned and studied him.  “I’m…”

“Dany,” he said. He shrugged, finishing his smoke. “I remember.”  

Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t think you were listening when Robb introduced me.”

“I was.”  He pulled the tartan scarf around his neck tighter.  He glanced towards Sacré-Cœur, illuminated white in the lights around its base. He smirked at her.  “You going back in?”

She shook her head. “No,” she drawled. She followed his gaze to Sacré-Cœur. “Have you been up there?”

“No.”

“You should. Some of the best views of Paris.”

He chuckled, voice tight. “You should invite Robb.”

“I think he might be a third wheel.”

It took him a second, the gears in his mind turning, understanding what she was saying. He cocked his head. His black curls were in a mess around his face. A few scattered rain drops landed on them, and he shook it free like a dog. Or a wolf, she thought, noting the animal embroidered on the edge of his scarf.

He narrowed his eyes again. “I told you I don’t really like Paris.”

“Why?”

“It’s loud. Busy. Dirty.”

She laughed. “Every city is like that but in Paris it’s different.”

“Why?”

Her bravado got the better of her and she stepped towards him, linking her arm through his. If he didn’t get it now, he was a stupid fool who deserved it when she kicked him into the gutter. “Because,” she murmured, rising to her toes, trying to gaze as directly as she could into his eyes, which she now saw were actually gray. His breathing quickened. “You’re with me.”

The wolf got the point with that comment. He allowed her to keep her arm around his and lead him towards the cathedral.  They spoke of nothing and anything on the long walk through Montmartre to the highest point in the city.  

He was in Paris for a research trip.  He was studying medieval weapons and was going out to Bayeux to study some relics. His cousin Robb and friends came along for the free trip.  They spoke about being starving artists in their field-- her literally an artist as it were.  They talked about Paris-- how much he disliked it, how much she adored it.  The top of Sacre-Coeur might have changed his mind, but he pretended he still didn’t get the appeal, so she dragged him back down to the streets, to her favorite all-night boulangerie, into the metro and across town to the Eiffel Tower, spinning in circles on the Champs du Mars.  They ran across the Pont-de-la-Concorde and across the Tullieries.  They wandered down the Seine, smoked cigarettes in the doorsteps of old buildings in the Latin Quarter, and drank cheap wine in one of the tourist-cafes near the Jardin du Luxembourg.  

They meandered back through the streets, the city oddly quiet, the rain stopping, and she brought him to her garret studio in the Bastille, up the six flights of stairs to the top of the building, where she shed her coat and boots adn scratched her fat cat Drogon’s ears, leading him to the wrought-iron bars in one of the four windows she had, pushing the window open and crawling out, up onto the roof where she wanted to show him something.  

“Look,” she directed, when he climbed up next to her-- less gracefully-- pointing to the lit-up Eiffel Tower.  

He cursed under his breath.  “It’s gorgeous.”

“It’s my favorite place in Paris.  The rent is steep, but it’s worth it for this.”  She chuckled.  “And it has the best view.”

He whispered.  “Yes, it does.”  

And to her surprise, since she didn’t realize the time, the tower began to twinkle, the 20,000 lights across its metal beams flickering and she glanced sideways; he wasn’t watching the tower, but her face.  She arched her brows.  “You know, the lights twinkle for five minutes every hour, on the hour.”  She smiled and shrugged, whispering.  “It’s a sign that you’re supposed to return to Paris.”

Instead of saying anything, like how silly that was, he leaned in and cupped her face in his wide palm, callused and warm, bringing her face to meet his, kissing gently, in the twinkly glow of the lights.  He pulled back a moment later, breathing, “I think I like Paris.  And you’er right...this place has the best view.”  His eyes were wide on hers, focused.  She chuckled, nodding in agreement, and pulled him back to her for another kiss.

That night she savored every moment with him, as they pulled each other’s clothes off slowly, kissing and touching, every smooth curve and muscle of each other, each hard ridge and plane of his strong, muscular body or her soft, lean one.  He touched her and kissed her and stroked her in ways she’d never experienced, bringing her to heights she’d only dreamed about.  It was intense, the lights behind her closed eyelids when she came, over and over, gripping his shoulders, hair, the bedframe behind her.  He rose up and over her, in and out, their bodies moving as one, thrusting and arching.  

She didn’t know if she’d see him again; if this was a one-time, romantic Parisian adventure, but in the morning when she woke, she found him coming back inside from getting pastries and coffees, the faintest scent of cigarettes and her toothpaste on his lips when he kissed her good morning.  

They exchanged their information, vowing to speak daily, and he would see her when he got back from Bayeux.  She couldn’t believe when he did call and he kept his word.  “When you lie, words lose their meaning,” he’d explained, obviously reading her surprise.  

And when her year ended in Paris, she found herself in London, back at university, dreaming of their magical time there, even when they made time for each other, going back and forth from London to Edinburgh; and he from Edinburgh to Paris during the last couple of months of her year there.  

They made it a priority; every single year they spent time in Paris, like they were students again, on that magical night.  

They grew older, no longer needing to find the cheapest drinks and cigarettes, or staying in studio garrets, eventually able to experience some of the best hotels and restaurants the city had to offer, as he sold books and became a well-known author and professor, and her dream of becoming a famous artist came true, when sure enough, someone bought one of her paintings on the side of the Seine, someone who happened to be an art dealer in New York.  

It was their city, where they met, and where they could remember.  

After they married, about fifteen years after that fateful birthday, they visited again, and spun together on the Pont-Neuf, kissing and murmuring how they loved each other and always would, and he took her back to the tiny studio garret, which was now theirs, and sat on the rooftop and watched the Eiffel Tower sparkle.  

“Paris is always a good idea,” she murmured, head in the crook of his neck, her back to his front, wrapped in a warm blanket, and his arms tight around her middle.  She tilted her face up to his, sated, and still hopelessly in love with him.  “Take me to Paris, Jon.”

He nuzzled his nose into her cheek, whispering.  “You are Paris, Dany.”

As it was the city where they’d met, fallen in love, and found true happiness, she grinned, because that was his way of saying how much he loved her.  She brushed her lips over his, sighing, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”  

And they kissed, as the Eiffel Tower lit up, and she curled up into him, falling asleep in the city of love and lights.

[fumingspice]

andante

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt: oK so how about like?? Delia x reader and they're both in love af but they think the other has no feelings for them so they're both tripping over themselves to make the other love them and then madison comes in and she's just like 'stop being dumb' and they finally realise how much the other loves them.

I’m sorry but my ed crept back in and im not horny enough to put more thought into writing so just ignore the massive time skip at “---”. enjoy, you strange people xo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*(*❦ω❦)*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's crazy. Falling. You see? We don't say "rising into love". There is in it, the idea of the fall. And it goes back to extremely fundamental things. That there is always a curious tie at some point between the fall and the creation. Taking this ghastly risk is the condition of there being life. You see, for all life is an act of faith and an act of gamble...

Between Cordelia Goode's ears were pretty brown eyes and a mind full of thoughts. Brown eyes were never really your favourite until you saw them on her. You knew yourself that somehow, over the years you got to know Cordelia; working with her, befriending her, carrying her home from the bar one night when she got far too drunk, letting her cry into your shoulder when her job became too real and she could feel her mother's words hanging over her head.

When you started falling for the woman with those beautiful brown eyes.

Somehow, her eyes were now your favourite colour.

Not brown- brown wasn't simply the word for the colour. Cordelia's eyes were the colour of aged whiskey. Sometimes they were the only two safe shots of tequila that you could see. Sometimes they were a beautiful milk chocolate dotted with exposed honeycomb. Once when she had asked you to help her decorate the garden for the Summer Equinox- she had given Zoe enough money to take the girls on a field trip for the day so she could give the girls a little party. You stood watching her in her denim shorts and her white button up. When she had stepped back and put her arm around you to admire both of your handy work you could have sworn her eyes were glowing like fresh magma.

Her hand lay on your waist a split second too long.

You had fallen in love with the Supreme.

"Yo, bitch!" Madison Montgomery's usual entrance phrase disturbed you from your imagination. You raised your brow and smirked.

"Yes, Madison?"

The blonde took her sunglasses off her face and closed them with a slight snap. "The girls want to know if you wanna come to play Pysch! with us," she said. Her lips were curled in what could almost be described as a friendly smile. You were one of the few honoured to know that under Madison's bitchy white girl facade there was actually a very sweet someone lurking under there.

You thought for a moment and put your pen down. "I won't be long- I just have to log these last few names and I'll be there," you tell her. Madison rolled her eyes and waved her hand, the pen lifted itself and wrote the last thirteen names within seconds. "You're done. Let's go, Y/N."

Madison didn't even give you a minute to say anything before she walked out of the room. "Come on, bitch. Don't make me use my powers!" she called from the hallway, finally motivating you to move.

The girls sat in a circle in Zoe's bedroom. Lights off. Candles lit.

Zoe, Queenie, Mallory, and Coco were indulged in their phones for the game. Madison turned to you and held up her phone to show you the question. "What is Zoe's deepest, darkest secret?" she read. "You gotta answer it and the person with the most votes wins. It lasts for ten rounds and it can be fucking hilarious."

Zoe's face was red with laughter at the answers. "She's not actually a witch- that's not even funny," she gasped through cackles. She then sobered slightly. "She likes to watch Danny Devito movies while masturbating and screaming 'I am a dirty man'."

Madison was the only one who chortled at that.

You joined the game and got your best answers ready in your head. "If Madison got arrested tomorrow what would it be for?"

Madison rolled her eyes and muttered something about knowing exactly what everyone was about to answer. You smirked slightly, sensing her slight apprehension.

Prostitution.

Murder. Third-degree.

Fucking up the brakes on a bus full of frat boys.

Public Nudity.

"Gosh, you're so original," she muttered, glaring right at Zoe, who just shrugged.

"It's the rules of the game, bitch. Go all in, don't get offended," she replied.

The game pinged for the next question.

"What is on Y/N's mind right now?"

Coco gave a loud "Ha!" and typed quickly, along with the other girls who were all typing as quickly as possible to get their answers in first.

A quiet knock came from the other side of the door and Cordelia poked her head around. "Sorry to interrupt, girls. Y/N, could I borrow you for a moment?" she asked, voice sweet and angelic. You bounced up as soon as she finished the sentence and obliged straight away. You were met with a sweet smile.

Madison flicked her brows. "Speak of the devil," she muttered, winking at Delia's slightly confused face. As you left, your phone pinged to announce the results just before you left the game.

Cordelia 🥵🥵🥵

Delia. I ship it <3

Getting knuckle deep finger fucked by the HWIC

French fries

You quickly shut off your phone screen before Cordelia could see.

"What's the matter, Delia?" You asked, practically skipping alongside her. There was a vibrant air of satisfaction between you.

Cordelia shook her head, her blonde hair bobbing with her movements. “I just wanted to know if you’d like to go out.”

You felt your heart stop. “Go out?”

Cordelia looked hurt by the confusion on your face.

“Yes. Would you like to join me in the garden?”

“Oh,” you realised, slightly disappointed. “I would love to.”

---

"For the love of Hades. Right, I don’t mean to sound rude or anything because I have some understanding that lesbians are fucking useless because of the fear of appearing to be predatory because the media is an asshole,” Madison continued. “But I don’t really think any of us can eat at this table anymore without choking on the fucking sexual tension between the both of you.”

Cordelia looked shocked. “It’s not that-”

“I’m a fucking mindreader! You do get that I can fucking hear the things that you say in your head about what you want to do to Y/N? I’m one gutter minded bitch and not even I’m creative enough to come up with that shit while I’m eating my fucking apple turnover!”

You blushed hard and chuckled.

Madison’s neck snapped towards you. “Oh, and don’t getting me fucking started on you! Do you know how fucking unsanitary it would be to carry out your little fantasies of fucking Cordy on the kitchen counter? Not even for us but the amount of fucking crumbs that would work into your nooks and crannies would be like trying to spring clean Myrtle's fucking hair! "

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cordelia chuckled nervously. Her face turning a shade of red. “I’m sure Y/N’s got plenty of better options.”

Madison dropped her face in her hands and rubbed her temples. “God, you bitches are going to put fucking years on my skin.”

“Oh, give me a break, Madison.”

Cordelia stumbled foward slightly, having been tripped up by some unseeable force and sending her tumbling into you. Her hands lay against your chest for that split second too long once more.

Your lips parted for a moment and your breath hitched as you both watched Madison smirk and leave the room. It felt like your heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour. You surroundings were unnoticable to you now; replaced by unidentifiable whirls of colour and light. Your hand rested flat on Cordelia’s cheek. It was different this time. Not the spark, that had been there every time you touched. It was the fact that you were both too slow to ignore the ignition that started in your chests. 

You saw her eyebrows falter from their previously confident expression, like all of her preparation and barriers and walls had fallen down and she was too slow to replace them. Cordelia pursed her lips, presumably trying to figure out what she should say to you. Again, she was too slow as you inhaled sharply and thrust yourself forward to catch her lips.

Delia was quick to mould herself to the curves of your front, hands falling to the small of your back on a collision course as she backed you into the dining room table. You smoothed your hands over the contours of her jaw, her collar bones, breasts, hips like you were a master pianist playing a brilliant concerto. Her body was the only instrument you longed to play; her moans the only melody that you longed to draw from her.

As her lips glided across your own, everything came together like pieces into place. You thought back one of those late nights in the kitchen. The way Delia’s fingers had so enthusiastically laced through yours during the late night in the kitchen when you had both stayed up until the wee hours of the morning talking about life. How the witch had turned the radio on and taken your hand while you danced to some song by REO Speedwagon. Twirling you through the night. “Can’t fight this feeling” was the song. Ironic, now that you thought about it. It seemed as though fighting her feelings was what she had been doing the entire time.

She twirled you around in the light of the dim television and the refrigerator when the songs were upbeat, even going as far as dipping you and pulling you up again. Bare thighs against your own in her shorts and oversized shirt. When the songs that were played were slower, she was more gentle. Until eventually you swayed in a slow two-step, your head against her chest, and hers against yours. The air was thick with something pure. Something untouched. 

You had no idea why you ever just thought this was something two best friends did. More so, you had no idea why you didn’t lean back and dip into her lips and allow your souls to dance the waltz that they were so clearly destined for. 

Cordelia’s thumb and finger lay on either side of your jaw as she continued to kiss you as if her soul depended on it. Her fingers interlocked with yours against the table.

She broke away, tears had fallen down her cheeks and made your heart melt. “Oh-ho,” you chuckled, mouth agape at her sight. “Why the tears, my love?”

Cordelia laughed, wiping away her tears. “I’ve longed to do that for so long,” she replied. “So, so long.”

You chuckled at her sweetness and the display of pure love that you were so unaccustomed to.

“I fell in love with you, Y/N. I don’t think I will ever stop falling in love with you. You’ve created this storm of beautiful chaos in me,” she continued. “Do you remember that night where I was really sleepy, so you let me just stay in your room? How I had fallen asleep on top of you by accident and you wrapped your arms around me and hummed a lullaby?”

You nodded, remember the feeling of waking up with the Supreme in your arms.

“I was wide awake,” she told you. A delicate smile arose.

You chuckled into her touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you replied, drawing her closer, her blonde hair twirled in your fingers. “I know you were.”

[rwby-oscar-blog]

Mistral, the land of prosperity, and known to have the highest amount of minerals in the soil for farming, known to have the best crops of food throughout all of remment. But unfortunately two orphans were now homeless, lien-less and with nothing to their names, except for the clothes on their back, a hunting rifle from their father and two hand guns from their mother and whatever they got after the fire happened. Destroying their home and the field that they had a good number of crops growing, but now it's just a burnt field and the charred skeletal remains of a home left. 

This wasn't a home anymore, so Ocsar and his twin sister Olivia both left the homestead, to look for another place to live and to call home. 

Throughout their travels, they were able to stay in a tent that they also had among their stuff after the fire, which consumed their home and killed their parents. Nobody in either villages or small town's would take them in at all. The only way they kept themselves alive was through sheer determination and practice of hunting animals for food. This wasn't what they wanted to do, but it was a better way to get some food and a bit of lien, after selling the fur or anything of the origin to medical doctors in the towns or villages. Olivia was starting to develop into a beautiful woman, but Oscar didn't want her to start selling herself like a cheap prostitute or even being a prostitute at all. So hunting was the only thing to do, or find small easy jobs that they could do.

But for sleeping, it was only in the tent off of the main route in a field or among the bushes, near the main road or path towards the towns and villages. It was something at least. Until they made it to the forest.

It was a mighty thick and luscious forest, that had many of remment's tallest trees in the entire world. "This is a perfect place" Olivia looked at her twin confused of what he ment "wait what, what do you mean this is perfect?" "I'm saying Olivia is that, this place will be our new home" looking around the entire forest, there was barely any room for a tent, let alone a cabin to build. So Olivia crossed her arms above her breasts, looking at Oscar "okay Mr survivalist, where in the hell are we going to build a home, in the middle of a thick forest, there is barely any room on the ground" course Oscar pointed up at the sky or among the tree's.

She looked up at the top of one of the tallest trees, then shook her head "noo way, no i don't like, yo..you do know i hate highests, right?.. Oscar, why?" He shrugged at her "why not?, it's perfect, we will be off the ground. The animals will not be able to step on us, or hunt us down, anyways it's perfect" sighing again at the childest idea from her own twin, shaking her head again. "Okay Mr.toughman how are you, let alone us going to get up the tree and make a treehouse, or a base for the tree house?" Oscar just lifted up both arms, took one big 360 turn around the forest, pointing at the wood that was surrounding them.

Olivia smacked her forehead, she was being sarcastic, she knew about the huge numerous trees around the entire place. Placing her hands on her tight short shorts, sighed "you do know i was being sarcastic right?" He just nodded to her "oh yeah, i know" facepalming herself, he placed his bag on the ground getting some tools out, like axe he took from home "well, no time like the present now, let's get started already and finish the base before sunset" Olivia sigh once again and just went with it, for now.

Oscar got to chop down some trees that looked like they could be useful, checking a tree to see if it was coming down or sick, he chopped it down. It was a slow process, but with Olivia's help, it made the journey of building a home easier, but building steps were first. The temporary wooden stairs were constructed without hassle, they got to a height where it was enough to be invisible but visible to them. They got started on the platform.

Time flew past them as they worked throughout the rest of the day into early to late evening, once it got dark out they stopped working. Luckily they just finished working on the main base, or platform to build their home. But left it bare, with a lamp lighting the area above the tree, they set up their tent and had their dinner. As they ate, Olivia would take a glance at her brother's shirtless chest, he was getting chiseled slowly. Seeing those muscles, she turned red looking away 'damn it he is getting hot, wait' she shook her head 'no he is my brother, i'm not falling for him no way' she sighed once again, Oscar heard that sigh " is everything okay Olivia?" Asking his sister about it, she turned even more red, blankly looking at him.

"No no no I'm fine just my mind went off somewhere" laughing it off, she continued to eat her dinner, shrugging it off was the only thing he could've done for now.

Sleeping was even more of a hellish task, still awake Olivia's heart was beating fast and her breathing was irregularly picking up fast, when she saw Oscar. A few times she caught herself, with her hand on her unzipped short shorts, lightly touching her crotch, softly rubbing herself, she also felt her nipples get hard in her small top, at this point it could be called a tank top. Olivia stops dead in her tracks giving herself a good smack across the face, painful, but effective. So she got up grabbing a towel, headed to the pound that they found just a little ways from the forest. She removed her clothing and jumped into the very cold water, letting out a yell, she shivered and shaked. Quickly she got out of the pound and gave herself a quick dry off and put her warmish clothes back on. 

Olivia felt better, for the most part. But who said her mind wouldn't run wild, in her dreams. Getting back to the platform was easy enough, just reaching the last step. She heard a click, knowing that sound, she again stopped in her tracks. It was dark still, but she saw a small little spark of a light coming from Oscar, she gave a sigh. "Who goes there?" He demanded an answer "it's just me Oscar, Olivia your sister" lighting up the lamp, he pointed it at Olivia seeing her there, letting out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank the brothers you are safe" then it hit him "wait where in the hell were you" "i was using the little girls room Osc really" he sighed again, putting the pistol back into the holdster, he just looked at her. "Well next time just say something" "how can i? When you are still sleeping ?" "Just give me a shake and tell me" this was going over his head.

Saying that she was using the "bathroom" was her own business, not Oscars business at all, even if he did the same, he wouldn't even tell anyone about that either. Still she shook her head "let's get back to sleep and talk about this in the morning" laying back down, in their tent. Oscar was already asleep, but Olivia was still awake, for a bit. Though she did cool down with a drip in the cold pond, she still felt a little itch deep in her core, so getting to sleep wasn't much of a problem. 

The morning came within about 7 hours later, Oscar didn't waste any time at all and continued to build up their new home in the tree. Olivia woke up later after Oscar and joined in with the help to finish or start on the wall of the tree house. 

After 6 hours of work on the treehouse, they managed to get the main house built with a half of the roof already built, but also managed to get three additional rooms made, one was a bathroom completed, the last two were full bedrooms for Oscar and Olivia to use. So with it being lunchtime and a nice break for the both of them, Olivia had caught a good number of fishes to eat for lunch. Sitting around the campfire, eating their lunch Oscar was proud of his and Olivia's hard work on the new home they were building together, being shirtless was very hard on Olivia again, the sweat coming off of his forehead and all over his chest was driving Olivia crazy and awakening her hormones in her again. She was blushing like crazy, giving her head a real good shake to get her mind out of the gutter. "So very close, we are nearly done with this home of ours, but what are we going to put in it?" Olivia heard her twin asking that, but her mind was stripping Oscar down to nothing, yet she doesn't know how big he was or if had a small member.

Oscar looked at Olivia, seeing that her mind was not here, it was just elsewhere. Waving his hand around in front of her face, he called her name " hey Olivia, hello are you there, remnant to Olivia, it's your twin brother Oscar calling want to answer" finally coming back to reality and seeing him standing there, waving his hand around "oh hey Oscar" "finally, welcome back to remnant space cadet, enjoy your trip" she blushed red "oh sh..shut up you" Oscar laughed at her when she told him to shut up like that "take it easy sis, i was only kidding" again he laughed and Olivia just blushed again even more red "so what were you asking me?" Sighing "I was asking what we would need for the house, we don't have any electricity running through this place, as of yet. But we will soon or not" sitting back down by the campfire, finishing up his lunch fish. 

Olivia rubbed her arm thinking a bit, but her mind was still processing if her brother was packing or not, shaking her head from the indecent idea of not knowing her brother's Anatomy. " Well we do need a decent kitchen set up and windows, a fireplace can be good, if we can find clay or something" Oscar nods to those ideas that would make it more of a home and a place they can be truly happy. Nodding to that, he finished his lunch and he went back to work to finish the roof. 

After a couple of hours of working on the roof it was at least now finished, both standing back and checking out their handy work. "Well i do believe we are done now" Olivia smiled at her brother "yep we did, do you think mom and dad would like this" that hit him hard as well as her, when she heard herself repeated to herself in her head, just looking at him with an apologetic eyes as she just looked at him "I'm im.." She felt his hand touch her head and gave her hair and head a rub "Don't worry about it Olivia, mom and dad would be very proud of our hard work on the house we made" he just smiled as Olivia looked sad.

It was hard on them both since their parents had died, and it was hard on both to realize that they were now gone. 

As Olivia was making some improvements in the new house, Oscar looked at the sun. Seeing it was getting dark and it was nearly time for dinner. "Hey Olivia i will head out to hunt for some food" she looked at her brother, as he went to get the weapons. "Wait, what is wrong with fish?" "Fish is okay, but I do want something more than just fish." Olivia nodded in agreement to that statement "and I can see if anyone had left anything we can use outside of town" that would be another idea. The village sometimes throws away anything that they are not using or can't be fixed at all. Oscar took his father's 70 lever action rifle and is taking the matching pistol's ivory, leaving Ebony with Olivia. 

Handing her ebony, she took the pistol and held it "keep this with you, only use this if it's really necessary okay." Olivia nods to her brother "i will be back soon" "be careful Oscar you're the only family i have left" giving her a smile he rubbed her head "i know same with you dear sister, but i do promise i will be back" both smiling at each other, Oscar left the treehouse to hunt for food, as he got off the last step, he lifted up the stairs up concealing the stairs from anyone or anything, that might come their way. Getting his gun ready he walked towards an empty field to find food. Olivia sits there in the silent room, no tv, no radio, nothing but just the pure silence of the evening.

She laid on the bench that Oscar made from the remaining wood, to give at least a bit of furniture in the house. She laid there looking up at the ceiling, slowly closing her eyes, she remembered him being shirtless and getting sweaty from the hard work he did, to build this new home for the both of them. Olivia's hands went from her sides upwards towards the hem of her tight short shorts, unbuttoning the single button, she slowly unzipped her zipper. Exposing her white panties, she slipped off the shorts, moving her right hand up her stomach, moving underneath her shirt and bra, groping herself. She imagined again, how Oscar looked so built and his muscles were developing, so well. She breathed in a sharp breath, as her left hand moved above her panties and between her legs, she started to move her fingers between her pussy lips. 

Moving her finger slowly between her pussy lips,she still imagine him shirtless, but instead, he pinned her to the ground, kissing her neck and groping her d cup breasts in both hand's of his, she softly moaned, while her right hand grope her breast, rubbing it and her nipple in a circle, while her left hand and trigger finger, moved a bit fast up and down, making a wet spot appear. Olivia softly moaned, rubbing her pussy bit more, picking up the pace, in her imagination, oscar was sucking on her neck, rubbing her breast and moving his two fingers around her pussy, she moaned a bit loud, moving her panties to the side, she rub her clit in a circle slowly at first, but picked up pace and speed, then she inserted her fingers into her pussy, moving them in and out of herself.

Moaning loudly now, in her micro dream, Oscar removed all of her clothing and was licking her pussy and sucking on her clit, Olivia naked and on her knees, bending over was plunging her fingers deeper into her pussy and rubbing her clit faster, moaning Oscars name "ohh...Oscar...oh.Oscar". In her micro dream, he plunged his cock into her pussy fucking her like a dog, she plunged her fingers faster, hard and deeper into her pussy, rubbing her G-spot manytimes over and over again. Moaning loudly, Olivia was reaching her limits. With the last few pumps of her fingers in her pussy, she screamed as she squirted all over the bench and half of the floor too. Panting like crazy just after she had an Orgasm for the first time really drained, she looked at her fingers, seeing how sticky they were. Olivia blushed very red, but she heard the stairs being brought down.

With her ears picking up the sound, she quickly got dressed again and cleaned up the mess before he or someone else came up the stairs. So she grabbed the gun ready to shoot the gun, cocking the hammer back till it locked in place, she waited and watched. Then the figure got to the door, opening it she saw it was Oscar, she let out a good sigh of relief. "Welcome back Oscar" "Thanks Olivia, got dinner" showing her the kills he had gotten, she took them from him "okay let me get them cleaned and skinned, then we can eat" "sounds good sister, i will get the fire started" Olivia nods, watching her brother leave the house again.

After a delicious dinner, they had planned to stay outside to enjoy a late night campfire, just sitting around remembering the good old days with their parents. But a sudden spit of rain started to come down upon them both, rushing into the house getting soaked with each step they took, trying to get into the house. Getting in, Olivia started to shiver a bit, so Oscar held her close for a bit keeping her warm for a bit. "Let's get you out of those clothes and into something warm" Olivia blushed like a tomato, being close to her brother like this. They split to their own room, she started to strip down to her underwear, as she got to take off her bra, Olivia felt her heart beat fast. She can still feel his warmth against her body, finishing stripping down, and giving herself a good dry off with a towel. 

Still raining outside and shivering a bit, she couldn't handle it, she needed the warmth of another to keep warm. She walked over to her brother's room, giving a knock she waited for a bit. The door opened, Oscar still awake looking at his sister. "Hey Olivia, you need something?" She nods to her brother, when he asked that "can we cuddle for a bit, im feeling cold" Oscar nods a bit " might as well sleep here since we don't have blankets as of yet" Olivia like the idea, she walked into his room, closing his door as she walked in, would be the last time, they see each other as siblings.

Laying on the ground together, they spooned together. Holding each other close, Olivia was able to close her eyes to sleep, but something hard was poking between her ass cheeks, she then looked behind her, seeing her brother blushed a bit "Olivia its not" she didn't let him finish his sentence, she grinded her ass up against his cock underneath his pants, she blushed as well, but she had a sly of a smile on her face as she grinded more "Olivia" he moaned a bit, looking at him "you like this huh your twin sister's ass grinding you huh" getting turned on more, she was egging her brother on. Hesitant at first, yet feeling this ass grinding up against his cock, he gave in, unleashing his cock from his boxers, he grabbed her ass and really went to town on her ass. Both moaned softly, while she lifted up her shirt, giving her breasts both a rub. She smiled at him 

"Sit on the floor back to the wall" stopping midway through grinding his cock between her ass, he nods. Both getting up from laying on the floor, Oscar crawled up to the wall, putting his back up against it, Olivia crawled as well, seeing how big his cock was, she licked her lips, taking it into her hands, she stroked his cock in her hand. She heard her brother moaning as she stroked his cock more. Then she took the whole thing into her mouth, sucking and licking the shaft, she bobbed her head up and down, taking it all into her mouth. Oscar wanted to grab something, so he put his hand on her cheek watching her suck on his cock, Olivia felt his cock throbbed feeling like it was going to explode. "I'm cumming" he said but too late, he held her head as he shot all of his cum from his cock and balls, drained everything into her mouth and down her throat. Pulling Away Olivia coughed after tasting his cum "im sorry sis" he apologized right away "its okay Osc" she stood up seeing his cock rise back up from the dead, hard girthy, but very thick. Already wet she removed her panties, throwing it at Oscar.

Catching it in his hand, he looked up seeing her wet pussy dripping, she put her hands on his shoulders, Olivia slowly squatted down towards his cock, teasing the head of his cock, she slipped it into her pussy. Finding it hard to get it in, he grabbed her hips and slammed it in, she yelled in pain as he broke her hymen, making her bleed all over his cock "Olivia you were" giving her a nod, she slowly moved her hips up and down on his cock, the pain was slowly going away, being replaced with pleasure, she and Oscar moaned together. Kissing each other and he grabbed her hips still plunging deeper into her pussy more, so she moved up a bit with just the tip inside, she shoved her breasts on to his face, motorboating his sister. But he sucks on them both, sending his whole cock back into her pussy again. 

Both moaning still, Oscar felt his cock throbbing again as he slowly tried to remove his cock from her pussy, but she slammed hard and kept bouncing a little bit of a time " Olivia i'm about….to...cum..let me pull out" " no cum in me give me your seed plow my field" Oscar got harder hearing her say that, both hugged each other, he finally shots his hot, sticky, thick cum into her pussy and womb. Panting and heaving, both laid on the ground together, kissing each other and holding each other in their own embrace, falling a sleep together

THE END

[dansantat]

NOW WE ARE TWO: A Eulogy for My Father

Adam U Santat (October 21,1943 - April 27, 2021)

Today is April 27, 2021.

When I was very young and we lived in New Jersey my father took us to the beach and he lifted my tiny frame over his neck and we walked out into the ocean together. My mother watched us from the coast as we wandered 50 yards into the shallow sea. I was terrified of whatever lurked in the water convinced that sharks would come and eat us. My father gripped my legs and whispered, “I’ve got you. You don’t have to be afraid.”

I don’t exactly know why this particular memory rests so clearly in my mind, but it’s a good one. That was my father in a nutshell.

I interviewed my parents for a memoir I’m currently working on. This is what I know of my father. 

He was born in the small village of Khlong Dan, Thailand on October 21, 1943, though the official birth certificate indicates October 27 because of a typo (21 sounds like 27 in Thai)  He was the youngest of nine kids. His parents immigrated from China and started a merchant business. For fear of being racially ostracized by the local Thai people the oldest brother changed their name from “Lim” to “Santativongchai” (he found the word in an old book)

They collected rain water off the storm gutters in order to drink. He didn’t get hie first pair of shoes until he was 10 years old. They were sandals, really. Knowing facts abut Western culture was cool and he had an insatiable desire to learn everything he could about America. Coming to the United States was a dream of his obsessed with Elvis Presley, Paul Anka, and movies like “Shane” He admits to being spoiled by his mother and says he was lazy during most of his childhood, but was gifted in math and science. And he truly was. He attended medical school, paid for by his older sister, Yawanit, and he came to Newark, New Jersey in 1969 to do his internship.

My mother followed a year later

His first car was a Red ‘69 Camaro. No air conditioning. He ran the car into the ground because he was unaware of the fact that you had to change the oil. He never owned a car before then.   

This was the American dream.

I was born in 1975 and they soon made a mass exodus to Southern California along with many of their Thai doctor friends with brief career stops in Wykoff, New Jersey and Hopedale, Illinois until we settled in our newly built four bedroom home in Camarillo, CA. 

He worked for the state of California as a pediatrician, and eventually as a cardiologist, and then a psychiatrist continuing his education over the years to fill the needs of the state. He was an accomplished man in his field.

He loved golf, tennis, and buying things he would see on TV. He loved Ralph Lauren clothing, he owned one of the first Apple computers, and he loved making weekly trips to Los Angeles to buy classical CDs and audio equipment.   

Three weeks ago I stepped inside my parent’s home for the first time in over a year. The COVID-19 Pandemic had kept us apart . “Stay at home. We’ll see each other after this is all over.” my parents told me. 

Under normal circumstances I would happily avoid their company for fear of constant nagging about a plethora of reasons which mostly dealt with my weight, or my political views.   

But this was different. 

My father had been diagnosed with Stage 4 liver cancer and he returned home to hospice care. My mother was helping him get situated on his favorite couch because he refused to use the hospital bed that hospice had offered him and recommend that he use.

They say that doctors make the worst patients. 

Besides his stubbornness my mother was angry at him for not putting up a fight, turning down Chemotherapy and Immunotherapy and opting to just let the cancer take him. She herself having been a breast cancer survivor over 25 years ago (along with living with lupus for 45 years) could not comprehend the thought of just giving up. But my father knew the odds. He had taken one look at the CT scan and he knew the primary source was in the liver and it has metastasized to the lungs, his jaw, and his pelvis. 

His body was dying but his mind was still as sharp as a tack.

I understood the diagnosis, as well. When speaking to the doctor on the phone he did not mince words by emphasizing quality of life. My father’s days were limited, and I was there to make the most of the time that was left between us before he departed. 

“I have one last question for you before I go.” he said to me.

“Anything. What’s your question, Dad?”

“How much....do you earn annually?”

My mother and I quickly glanced at each other and we both immediately let out a huge laugh. “HA HA HA! You have one last question and that’s what you want to ask me?!”

He was always curious about my finances. 

He is my Asian father. 

Normally, this type of question would be a point of heated contention and it would typically result in an argument at a restaurant, and yet, here he is living his last weeks and he STILL wouldn’t let the question go. And this time, without argument, I simply tell him. 

Why deny a dying man his last wish?

“I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!” he shouts as we all share in a good laugh.

“I have one more question...”

“What is it, Dad?”

“Why do you always get upset when I ask you that question?”

This too would have normally resulted in a heated discussion, but I simply gave him an honest and simple answer, “Because you taught me that it was rude to ask people that question.” And I left it at that.

My mother gets up and heads to the kitchen and it’s in this moment that my father pulls me in closer to discuss more pressing matters. 

“I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ve accepted my fate and I’ve lived a good life. I’m worried about your mom. I want you to take care of her after I’m gone.”

“Of course.”

“I’ve saved up a lot of money. Use it to buy a house with a guest house for her. Make sure it has a big yard so she can do her gardening and she’ll be fine.”

 “I promise, Dad. I’ll spoil her.” 

“Good.”

My mother returns to the family room with an assortment of shirts for my father to wear. I grab a blue button up collared shirt from Tommy Bahama. “This shirt actually isn’t too shabby.”

“It was originally $125 and I got it for $90!”

Always in pursuit of looking his best while also landing a great deal.

He is my Asian father.  

“If you like the shirts they’re yours now. All of this is yours.”

None of the items that my father owned interested me. What interested me was giving him one last amazing experience before he was gone. The one thing my father truly treasured among all his possessions was a one of the finest wine collections I had ever seen. It contained over 500 bottles of wines he had collected over the course of twenty years housed in three separate wine refrigerators, which were spread throughout different rooms in the house and sent their electricity bill skyrocketing to the moon, and my mother’s nerves to the very edge of insanity. 

“Hey, what do you think about going into your wine collection and we drink the most expensive wine you have?”

“No,” he says hesitantly.

“But don’t you want to know what you bought? Don’t you want to at least know what the best wine you own tastes like? I don’t think you should leave this world without enjoying your one great vice in life.”

My father looks away from me and mutters, “No...It’s yours now. All of it.”

This is not how I want it to end. I want him to have one last good memory.

My mother interrupts, “I’m hungry. What are we having for lunch?”

I try to keep my father focused on his bucket list. I’m hoping for just one last memory, “Whatever you want, Dad. My treat.”

He looks at me and says, “I want a Pink’s hot dog.”

My mother and I look at each other in shock. This request from a man who was obsessed with his blood pressure. A man who constantly avoided salt like it was Kryptonite to Superman was now requesting for one of the saltiest most nitrate rich foods in America. 

“With mustard and relish.”

25 minutes later I returned home with three sodium bombs per his request. My father, who hadn’t eaten in three days, grabbed a hold of his hot dog, and ate the entire thing. My father, a man who did everything in his power to stave off death by cardiovascular disease to the point of obsession, was indulging in the one thing he avoided like the plague. 

SALT. 

As I sat on the couch and watched him eat his hot dog I could see the look on his face as he solemnly took each bite thinking, “What was the point of being so scared for all these years?” I took solace in the fact that for the first time in my life, I saw him as a person unafraid.  

 Later that day, a few of his closest friends came over to wish him well. I met them at the front door, “Hey, do me a favor. Can you see if you can make him agree to having one last glass of wine?”

It was a good idea.

HIs friends all walked in, paid their respects, and then peppered him with little hints like, “Hey, how about one last sip of wine before you go?”

My dad finally agreed.

“That fridge has the best stuff!” my dad shouted as he pointed to the fridge closest to the door. 

I was not as knowledgable about fine wines as my dad and his friends were. That’s what Google is for.    

I reached into the back of the fridge and found a bottle of Opus One from 1995. 

This was $600 bottle of wine. It wasn’t his best but it it would do nicely.

The room let out an audible “oooooh” when I entered the room with the bottle.

His best wine glasses were brought out, we each poured a glass, and we toasted my father. We share stories about his life, he boasts to his friends about my accomplishments, and we are basking in a moment of complete harmony.

For this moment in time, I was his perfect Asian son.

He thoughtfully studied the peaks generated by the swirling of the wine on the edge of the glass

“It’s been a good life. No regrets.”

I was glad I could give him this.

This week I bought that house for my mom. I told my father this as I fulfilled his last dying wish while I held his hand.

“I’ve got you, Dad. You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’ve got you.”

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Empires on the Horizon VI

Jason is a CEO: Part VI

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

TW: not really overt but there is mention of NSFW activities. 

every story has a

beginning

middle

and end

not necessarily in that order

-Tim Burton

“Annabeth Chase, my favourite impulse-controller,” Jason smirked, pulling his friend into his chest for a hug.

Her grey eyes sparked with mirth, “What do you want you troublemaker?”

“I find it offensive that you think I’m a troublemaker. We all know it’s your boyfriend that gets us into a mess.”

“Lies and propaganda,” She raised a brow, “You two are in a committed relationship with hullabaloo.”

He gave her a wide-eyed look, “Hullabaloo?”

“I’ve been spending way too much time with Percy,” She sighed.

He burst out laughing, “Who in this day and age says ‘hullabaloo?’”

“Percy discovered the word when we were in high school and thought it was the most hilarious thing he’s ever heard. He used to say it all the time.”

Jason shook his head amusement dancing on his lips, “So why did you want to meet me? I thought you’d be with Leo today since you’ve been out of state all week.”

They collapsed onto his couch. Annabeth tucked her feet underneath her and he propped his on the ottoman. When they settled down, she finally looked at him.

“Yea,” She pinched the bridge of her nose, “He had to go into work today because the part-time lecturer couldn’t make it for classes.”

“What’s going on? Why do you look so…” He had never been good at finding the words that matched the emotion, “So frustrated?”

“I’m not,” She gave him a weak smile, “I’m not. I just miss him.”

“You saw each other last night, didn’t you? He picked you up for the airport?”

“Yea but we haven’t gotten the chance to talk. I don’t know how to–, I just miss him.”

“Hey,” He grabbed her hands, “Take a deep breath. We have all the time in the world.”

Neither of them had quite figured out how to handle emotions, how to express them. It was an ongoing frustration when he and Luke were dating. Annabeth and Leo had learned how to read each other after all these years; four years of friendship and three years of dating had cemented that bond, had it running core deep. But him and her still couldn’t quite get the words out on their own.

“I miss his presence,” She breathed, “We saw each other last night but I was exhausted, and it was late. He practically had to carry me from the car to our bed and then he left early this morning. We just haven’t had the chance to catch up, to exist together yet.”

He held her close, let her head fall onto his shoulder.

“Being away from him is like losing a limb or being thrown into the deep end of the pool when you don’t know how to swim, like walking through darkness. You know what all of those have in common?” She looked up at him, grey eyes lined with tears.

“What?”

“Emptiness, the absence of something vital.”

“I think,” He tilted her chin up, caught the storm in her gaze, “I think you are lucky to have someone who makes saying goodbye so hard.”

“Did you just quote Winnie the Pooh at me?”

He winced, “Yes?”

She dissolved into laughter, “Really Jason? Winnie the Pooh?”

“What?” He gave her an indignant look, “It’s a good quote, and better than anything I could have come up with.”

“You are something else.” She managed to rein in her amusement, “What’s been up with you?”

“Nothing exciting,” He shrugged.

“Nah uh Mister,” His friend gave him a look, “Leo tells me you met a lady? What happened to my cousin? And how did you meet her? Do you have a picture?”

“Alright,” He chuckled, “Slow down. I don’t have a lady; we’ve been on one date. Next one is tomorrow. Your cousin and I didn’t get to exchange numbers at the dinner and I’m sure you know he’s now seeing Reyna. Thalia introduced Zoe and I, she’s a vet at the Conservatory and no I do not have a picture.”

“I hope you know all that information gave me a ton more questions.”

He rolled his eyes, shoving her shoulder lightly, “Let’s get some coffee going and maybe bring out the choc chips and then you can harass me with your endless curiosity.”

“Hey, this curiosity is what made us friends.” Her voice followed him as they walked to kitchen, where she promptly hoisted herself onto the countertop and plucked a cookie from the jar.

“As far as I understand it was Leo’s dumbassery that made us friends.”

“Yea, but without my curiosity I wouldn’t have bothered to check why a skinny, curly-haired, Latino was cursing a blue streak underneath the table.”

“I still think we should be crediting Leo because if he hadn’t gotten his foot stuck in my backpack and tripped thereby falling underneath our table it wouldn’t have been me and you who helped him.”

“Oh gods,” She giggled, “We really were a chaotic bunch weren’t we?”

“Nothing has changed Chase,” He handed her a steaming mug of coffee, “We just have less opportunities to be chaotic now.”

“I used to be so excited to grow up, but all my years have escaped me, have sped by me faster than bullets and I’m not yet grown.”

He leaned across the counter, bringing his cappuccino to his cheek, “I don’t think we ever really are. We’re just an accumulation of all our years before now. I am still one and two and ten and twenty.”

Annabeth looked at him then, caught his gaze in her grey eyes, “When did you get so wise?”

“Guess I’m spending too much time with you.” He winked, “Now please help me find something to wear for tomorrow. Zoe is taking me somewhere in nature and she says I should be prepared for a little exercise.”

“Are we talking a walk in the park or a hike up Blood Hill?”

“I don’t know she said it was a surprise and I don’t get any more information than wear clothes you can move in a little.”

His friend smirked at him, “Sounds steamy?”

“I’m pretty sure sex requires clothes off, not on, t least to some degree.” He rolled his eyes.

“Mhmm, okay. All i’m saying is make sure you pack a condom, or multiple.”

“We are not having- we will get arrested for public indecency.” He grumbled, pushing her shoulder, “So get your mind out of the gutter Chase.”

Her laugh was bells and beauty. “Come on then Mr Grace, let’s go raid your closet.” She held out her hand for him to help her off the counter, and the two blondes disappeared into his room.

***

Jason took a deep breath, letting his nerves find their space in his chest, stomach, lungs. He didn’t like walking into things when he didn’t have all the information; ergo surprises were avoided as much as possible.

A knock at his window pulled him from his mind.

“Are you going to come out? Or do you want to have a car date?” Sparkling dark eyes and a bright smile peered at him through the glass.

“I’m coming,” He laughed, grabbing his wallet and keys before opening the door.

“Hello Jason,” She stood on her toes and looped her arms around his neck. He folded his arms around her waist, catching the soft hints of juniper berry and clove that was purely her.

“How are you?” They pulled away.

“I am nervous,” He admitted, “I don’t like surprises.”

“Yes I did imagine so, I am not fond of them either, but this one was a necessity as it needs an explanation.”

“Well I hope I dressed okay?” He gestured towards his jeans and loose white tee.

“It’s perfect.” She looked him up and down, her eyes flashing, “Now come on, we only have the place for a couple hours.”

“Hold on,” He moved to his trunk, “These are for you,”

“Oh Jason,” She gasped softly, taking the flowers from him, “These are­– Who is your florist because these bouquets are unbelievable?”

He ducked his head, attempting to hide his reddening cheeks, “I choose them myself.”

“Well, your taste is exquisite,” She smiled up at him and he knew he had picked perfectly. Sunflowers because the dress she wore on their first date was liquid sunlight. And red roses because she was beautiful, poised, regal, just as they were.

While she admired the bouquet, he took the time to note their surroundings. They seemed to be on some sort of field, school or farm he didn’t know. A small wooden marquee sat a few meters away, but it was unoccupied which meant they were alone out here.

“Okay,” Zoe started, “So I don’t know how weird this is going to be to you, but I figured I’d get all my secrets out before you’re in too deep.”

“I’m starting to get mildly suspicious,” He raised a brow quizzically.

“Don’t worry I don’t plan on murdering you. I could probably take you in hand to hand combat but for someone of your size, drugs or poison would be the better method.”

He blinked at her, “You spend a lot of your time wondering what the best method for murder is?”

“This is not going well,” She giggled, “I don’t plan on killing you. I brought you here so we could practice some archery.”

“That does not make me feel even remotely better.”

She slugged his shoulder, mirth bouncing in her eyes, “I’ve been doing archery since my first year at varsity and I thought it’d be cool to share it with you.”

“Oh,” Was his eloquent reply, and then, “Well I’m honoured, thank you.”

“Don’t get too sappy on me, I’m only willing to go easy on you in the practice trials.”

“This implies a competition of some sort?”

“Of course. One question answered to whoever gets bullseye or as close to it.”

“I feel like I’m at a serious disadvantage here,” He pouted at her.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’ve only been doing it for nine years,” She smirked.

He groaned, waving his hands, “Oh gods, I see I’m going to be bared to the bone after this.”

“Don’t worry Grace you get to torture me on our next date.”

“Be prepared Nightshade because after this set-up I am not going easy on you.”

“I certainly hope not,” Fire danced in her eyes.

He narrowed his gaze, taking a single step towards her, “Is that a challenge Miss Nightshade?”

“Aren’t scared of a little heat, are you?” She mirrored him, closing the distance.

“Bring it on,” His words were nothing but exhales and anticipation.

Their noses brushed, eyes of midnight and electric storms pinning each other to the world.

“Ready to learn?” She breathed.

“Ready to be taught.”

“Okay,” She stepped away, taking a deep breath before moving to the table that he now noticed had two metal bows and various arrows.

“You’ll get the thirty-pound bow and large arrows to start. Hopefully you don’t need anything heavier because I did not ask for the thirty-four.” She frowned, “Okay some rules. Never have your arrow nocked until you’re on the firing line. Don’t collect arrows until everyone is done shooting. Don’t hold your bow sideways, you will hit someone. Do not under any circumstances pull the string back while there’s no arrow.”

“Got it.” He nodded.

“Cool, you’re gonna do great!” She clapped her hands, excitement radiating from her every movement. “Let’s get you equipped so you don’t end up with string-snapped wrists or a raw thumb.”

And then she was handing him all sorts of equipment, guiding him so everything fit where it was supposed to. Her hands, calloused and small, brushed over his as she adjusted the arm guard and made sure the thumb flap was correct. She explained how to stand, moving his feet and angling his shoulders until she deemed it good enough.

“Okay, let’s do some shooting.”

“I’m ready!” He smiled at her, hoping his own excitement was evident.

“Don’t worry about hitting bullseye, just choose a spot on the target and try to get all your arrows to land in the same place.”

He nodded, rolling his shoulders and moving to stand in position.

“Since it’s just us I’m going to forego formalities, so began shooting Grace.”

He had a clumsy start, arrows falling short of the target, or flying far over it, but Zoe was patient, adjusting and helping him each time.

“This is…” He stared in wonder at the arrow he had managed to bed inches away from the center. ‘I can understand why you enjoy it.”

“Great because now it’s time for Question and Arrow.”

“Fun,” He chortled, “You come up with that?”

“Yes, I thought it was rather clever.”

“Oh it is, I never expected anything less doctor.”

She snorted at him, “Ready to see the queen take her throne?”

“Please Your Majesty,” He bowed low, gesturing to the field.

She laughed and took her stand at the line, adjusting herself and making sure the sight on her bow was at the right level. She took an arrow from the stand in front of her feet, placed it on the string with trained casualness and looked over her shoulder at him. Her smiled was wicked.

She lifted the bow, pulled the string taut and fired the arrow. Before he had time to see where it had landed, she was already nocking her second one, and moments later her third.

He blinked, stared between her bright eyes and the three silver arrows now embedded in the small red circle fifteen meters away, and adjusted his pants.

She smirked, “How was that?”

“Possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” He breathed.

“Ready to answer some burning questions?”

“If I say no will you keep shooting?”

She raised a brow, “Hot and bothered, are you?”

“No thanks to you,” He growled.

She pulled him to the line, “I’m glad you’re taking to it so nicely.”

“I think I’m taking to you,” He grabbed her wrist, pulling her flush to him.

“You don’t even know me?”

“After that little display I’m half willing to marry you on the spot.”

She laughed and shoved away from him, “You’re a special breed Mr Grace. Men do not usually fall into marriage ideas after seeing a woman shoot arrows.”

“Then they are not men.” He frowned, “And besides, anyone with aim as accurate as yours has many, many advantages.”

“Questions Grace,” She took a step back, amusement and… something else passing over her face.

“Right okay,”

So they stood to the line and fired. Her a question him an answer. Then an arrow. A curse as she hit the center and he missed the target completely. Another question, answer, arrow. Question, answer, arrow.

Until two hours had blurred by and Jason had confessed to three college pranks, horrible braces in high school, and the weirdest fear of bricks. She had taken pity on him and answered her own questions after he kept losing their little battle. He knew she regretted her college days because she had wasted them studying, knew she was as gorgeous in high school as she is now, and her weird fear was thunder.

“This was great Zoe, thank you.”

“Thank you,” She beamed at him, “For not thinking I’m weird, or for dismissing this.”

He wrapped his arms around her, speaking into her neck, “I think this may be the coolest second date I’ve ever been on.”

“Really?”  She lifted his head, tugging at his hair until they were staring at each other.

“Really.” He smiled softly, “I did not know archery could be so…”

“Grounding?” She offered.

“Yes, and exhilarating.”

“I don’t know if I can put into words how much it means to me to hear you say that.”

“I was thinking,” He stroked his fingers down her side gently, “Since you didn’t get to do the typical college things maybe I can plan the next date?”

“Sounds like a dream, what are you thinking?”

“Drive-in theatre? I’m fairly sure ‘When the Stars Burn Out’ is playing.”

She nodded, eyes wide with excitement, “I’ve always wanted to go to a drive in! When?”

“Give me a couple days to plan but how does Wednesday sound?”

“Perfect.”

He cupped her cheek, memorising the constellations in her eyes, the soft lines around her mouth  that told you she smiled often, and the lines between her forehead that told you she frowned often too.

“You are divine.” He exhaled.

“Are you going to kiss me?” Was her reply.

He grinned, wild and undaunted, “Happy to.”

And then their lips were meeting, soft and steady. The world fell away, became swirls of colour and sound, became the background of a Monet, became life. And oh gods, Zoe’s hands may be rough with the proof of living, but her lips were softer than petals, than clouds. He held back a groan at her nails scraping his neck gently.

Reluctantly they pulled apart, resting their foreheads against each other.

“Wow,” She whispered.

“Indeed,” He chuckled.

It was that kiss, lingering spice and the smell of beginnings that followed him into his apartment later. Rolled down his skin as he took a shower. Fluttered behind his eyelids as he finally collapsed into bed. That kiss that marked the beginning.

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

HOW MUCH DO WE LOVE ZOE? Very much because Ciara just projects onto her??!?!????!!??!! oops.

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts​

@queen-of-demons-and-hell​

@msdrpreist​​

@sparkythunderstorm​​

@nishlicious-01​​

@lucyisblue​​

@leydiangelo​​​

[stardustryewriting]

A Learning Process (2)

Part 1 3 4 5

AO3: here

Social Learning

It’s been exactly three days, since the mess that was initially meant to be ‘a fun shopping trip together’. Since then, the only interaction between Bakugou and Midoriya had been angry looks Bakugou threw at him, whenever he had the audacity to breathe too loudly. Or when he looked like he wanted to talk to Bakugou. Or every time his head decided it was time to think about feelings again. Bakugou didn’t really feel bad. He was convinced it was all Deku’s fault anyway, for dating such a social airhead.

Said social airhead didn’t like Bakugou throwing mean looks at his boyfriend. More often than not, Todoroki gave his own mean looks back or he even said something about it. Bakugou was close to challenging Todoroki, both to settle the argument and to blow off some steam, but he wasn’t really into the idea of getting house arrest from Aizawa, again. So he just showed him the finger, every now and again.

Something which always, without fail, got Kirishima on his case, saying that his attitude was ‘uncalled for’. And maybe, yeah, he had a point. But also, there was a part in Bakugou that loved all the attention he got from Kirishima, a voice in his head that demanded more. His hatred for that voice translated to the outside and he told Kirishima to get off his case.  

So, everything was going great.

And then everything had to go to hell. There wasn’t even any time to prepare, Bakugou didn’t see the storm coming. ‘The storm’ came very inconspicuously, in the form of Kirishima knocking on his door, to ask if he wanted to play a game of Monopoly with him and the rest of the gang. Bakugou wanted to protest that there wasn’t a ‘gang’, only people who insisted on spending time with them, but he thought better of it. He had that argument with Kirishima one too many times. Then he simply wanted to say no. He couldn’t do that either.   

Because, of course, it was Kirishima, who asked. If it had been Kaminari or Sero or even fucking Mina, he could’ve easily said no. But when Kirishima asked and then looked at him - eyes shining hopefully, lips turned into an expectant smile - there was no way Bakugou could say no. The voice in his head yelled ‘yes’ very enthusiastically. He toned that enthusiasm down several notches and threw in some annoyance to keep up appearances. Kirishima was impressively not impressed.  

“Great”, he cheered and walked ahead to the elevator, “we meet in the common room in thirty. Don’t be late.”

Bakugou wanted to scream that he’d never been late in his life, how dare Kirishima imply otherwise, but he thought better of it. That would make him seem lame. Kirishima was always going on about manly men, being lame didn’t fit into that scheme. Bakugou paused, wanting to hit himself for that thought. It didn’t matter what kind of men Kirishima liked. And even if it did (again, it didn’t), that wouldn’t mean Bakugou would just simply change himself. Who even knew if Kirishima liked men like that?

Bakugou kicked his trashcan hard, in an attempt to get his mind off these things. The result was him being distracted and his room being a mess. He really needed to let off some steam soon. Or make a real attempt of sorting through his feelings.

Maybe Aizawa’s potential house arrest wasn’t that bad.

__________________

Monopoly proved to be very bad for Bakugou’s blood pressure. It started out very tame, except for Mina getting three throws - and by extension three properties - in her first turn, because of her way too good luck. Bakugou’s got himself one of the pink properties, which was decent enough. Kirishima also got a pink property and started bothering him about trading almost instantly. Sero got one of the train stations, which was nothing special, so Bakugou paid him no mind and Kaminari was deemed the loser of the first round, when he bought a light blue property. 

It turned out that was the biggest mistake of the evening. 

An hour later, with almost all of the properties on the board gone, Kaminari looked more and more like the winner. How he did it was beyond Bakugou and everyone else in their circle. He really only owned the light blue properties, but he somehow managed to get four houses on each of them and landing there took a big chip on everybody's wallet. Sero proved so very impressively, two times in a row. 

Meanwhile Mina, who had the infamous dark blue properties, was a minor inconvenience at best. She only had one measly house and even though it still hurt, it was nothing compared to what Kaminari took from them, every time someone was unfortunate enough to land on his field. At this point, jail was the best option. He was really envious of Kirishima, who spent most of his time there. 

He and Kirishima had formed an alliance halfway through, when Mina and Sero turned mad at Bakugou for refusing to trade and threw money at Kaminari, while encouraging him to build houses. Kirishima stuck by him - accusing Mina, Sero and Kaminari of bad sportsmanship - and Bakugou in turn helped him complete the pink street. Kirishima only had two houses on each of his properties, but he made decent enough money to not be in constant danger. He also told Bakugou not to worry, should he ever land on Kaminari’s property, because he would bail him out. Mina and Sero immediately used this statement to declare bad sportsmanship.

“Okay, as long as you don’t throw a five, seven or eight, you’re safe”, Kirishima declared, nodding at Bakugou encouragingly, as if that would help. As if the outcome of the throw was determined by anything other than sheer luck. This wasn’t the luckiest evening of Bakugou’s life. Nonetheless he took a deep breath, he could feel the tension in his fingers. Landing on Kaminari’s property now would cost more than he currently had. He couldn’t afford it. He let go of the dice, watched them spin and hoped against common sense, that Kirishima wishing him luck would be helpful in any sort of way. 

It wasn’t. 

The dice showed a seven. Kaminari and Mina erupted in cheerful laughter, Sero happily declared himself ‘Not-the-first-to-be-bankrupt’ and Bakugou wanted to blast all three of them to smithereens. He probably would have done it, too, hadn’t he been interrupted by Kirishima at the very last second.

“How much do you need?”, Kirishima asked urgently, while Mina, Sero and Kaminari still happily celebrated Bakugou’s apparent defeat in the background. That surely wouldn’t last long.

“About four hundred”, Bakugou grumbled, while his friends slowly calmed down, focusing on him and demanding money they knew he didn’t have. He could see Kirishima moving out of the corner of his eyes, while he stared the other idiots down, hoping it would calm them down. It didn’t really, but it felt better than just sitting there and doing nothing.

“Here.”

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Kirishima waving money under his nose, grinning like a maniac. Bakugou raised his eyebrows in a silent question and Kirishima rolled his eyes at him, like he was an idiot. Bakugou would be offended, if he were any less confused. 

“It’s 450 Ms”, Kirishima explained, calling the Monopoly money ‘Ms’, because none of them could figure out how the currency was actually called, “to bail you out of your debt.”

That got the other three idiots back on track, protesting loudly against Kirishima just giving Bakugou money, because ‘That’s not how the game works’. Kirishima shrugged, reminding them of them just giving money to Kaminari near the beginning, while still waving his money into Bakugou’s face.

“I don’t want your money”, Bakugou finally said. Not because the three idiots protested, he couldn’t care less about what any of them thought, but because he’s always prided himself on his sportsmanship. He could win without any support and he could win even when his opponents didn’t hold themselves back. He had to, if he wanted to be number one.

“Just take my money. I’ll be your sugar daddy!”, Kirishima said jokingly, winking at him playfully and eliciting a laugh from all of their friends. Except Bakugou didn’t laugh, because his mind went immediately into the gutter. He took the money out of Kirishima’s hand swiftly, ignoring the comments on his ‘bad sportsmanship’. Anything to get his mind off of these particular images.

“Fuck off”, he said, more for the effect. It didn't work very well, because his cheeks still felt somewhat hot and Sero wasted no time in pointing that out. Snitch. Kirishima just laughed good-heartedly and then moved on, as if this were a normal occurrence.  

And maybe for Kirishima it was just a normal thing, a friendly jab between, well, friends. Nothing big, no harm done. But the voice in Bakugou’s head that had been entirely too insistent that what he felt for Kirishima could be a crush took these words and went wild with them. It took every ounce of self-control Bakugou could muster to not blow himself up for these thoughts, which made concentrating on the game basically impossible. He vaguely registered that Kirishima went back to jail. He heard Mina make a joke about sugar daddies and prostitution. He knew he didn’t stand any chance at all at winning.  

He didn’t win in the end. But, to his immense satisfaction, Kaminari didn’t win either. That idiot built hotels on his properties, which in turn meant throwing some of the houses back in the bank. Houses which Kirishima swiftly bought. It only took two more turns and some very unlucky throws for Kaminari to get bankrupt and with the light blue properties also under his belt, Kirishima was deemed the default winner of the round by Mina and Sero, who just gave up. Bakugou, of course, didn't give up, it just wasn’t in his nature. He lost anyway, because Kirishima possessed almost the entire board and lived a happy life in jail, while Bakugou had to pay him. It took only three more rounds for Kirishima to become the ‘Monopoly-Overlord’.

With how happy he looked after he won, Bakugou didn’t have it in him to be mad. 

Because really, Kirishima’s eyes sparkling happily, while he humbly gloated about his win, was too good to be mad about. And after he threw his arm over Bakugou’s shoulder to explain that technically, Bakugou won too, because of their alliance, he knew he was a goner. A warm arm over his shoulders and Kirishima close enough that he could feel his breath, that Bakugou’s nose would’ve touched his cheek had he moved his head even slightly, felt like a win in itself. The voice wanted him to move so desperately it almost hurt.

Bakugou moved alright. To push Kirishima’s arm off his shoulders, while declaring the whole game stupid. And to make a very swift retreat, before the voice in his head got any other terrible ideas. He’d take a cold shower and then he’d go to bed. There was an early training session waiting for him, the next day, after all.

And maybe, just maybe, he could humor the thought that he had a crush on Kirishima some more. Just consider it a bit more seriously. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt.

__________________

It was absolutely and without doubt the stupidest thing Bakugou ever considered. 

How does one even know if they have a crush? An hour and three google searches later, Bakugou had exactly zero answers. The only thing he accomplished was getting his patience to the lowest level it had in years. Weren’t teenagers supposed to have crushes all the damn time? Apparently it was impossible to even properly define what a crush was. 

He wanted to scream at whoever was trying and failing to define stuff like that. Not that Bakugou would ever admit to reading it in the first place. That would make him everyone’s laughing stock until the end of his life. Probably even after that. 

‘A brief, but intense infatuation with someone, especially someone unattainable’ 

This entire thing was so far off the mark, it would have been laughable. If it were any less frustrating that is. ‘Brief’, ‘intense’, ‘someone unattainable’ weren’t really the words he would use describing Kirishima. Or his relationship with Kirishima. Or his feelings towards Kirishima. Then again, Bakugou had no idea how he would describe his feelings towards Kirishima. That was the whole problem. 

Nonetheless, he knew that google wasn’t any help in quest to find out about these stupid things, that bugged him more than they had any right to. He just knew that he either needed to figure them out and get rid of them, before they actually messed with his friendship with Kirishima. He liked being friends with that idiot well enough. 

But if the internet wasn’t of any help, what would help him then? Unfortunately, there was no ’Feelings 101’ he could consult. And even if there was, Bakugou would probably blast it, if it was written anything like these terrible articles he wasted an hour reading. He could ask someone, but that probably wouldn’t yield any results. Most of his classmates were way more sentimental and in touch with all of their feelings than he was.

Most of them, anyways. 

He already knew what a terrible idea that was. 

__________________

Nonetheless, the next saturday, after his morning run, he found himself in front of Todoroki’s dorm room. He prayed that the social airhead was both there and alone. If he saw Deku, he would definitely blow something up. And then he would crawl in a hole and die, because even that was better than asking advice from his childhood acquaintance. (Yes, he refused to acknowledge this ‘friendship’ Deku was always going on about.)

He released a deep breath, staring at the door as if it had personally offended him. This is the worst, he said to himself, while simultaneously raising his balled fist to knock. There was no way this would end well. He gave three firm knocks, to not betray his shaking thoughts and waited for Half-and-Half to open the door. It felt like forever. Realistically, it was probably five seconds. 

Todoroki opened the door slowly, because other than Bakugou he was in no haste. He did raise his eyebrows just the slightest bit when he saw who was standing in front of his door. Otherwise his facial expression stayed exactly the same. Bakugou could still read the surprise and it irked him, even though he couldn’t exactly be mad about it. There wasn’t really any good reason why Bakugou was standing in front of Todoroki’s door. Even the reason Bakugou had for actually being there felt mediocre at best. 

“Bakugou?”, Todoroki said, nearly entirely neutral, so you could barely hear the question in his voice, “Do you need something?”

“I’m not talking about this in the hall”, he grit out, knowing full well he had no right to ask for entrance into Todoroki’s room. Todoroki granted it to him anyway, albeit just by wordlessly taking a step to the side to let Bakugou through the door. Bakugou made his way inside quickly, paranoid that someone else might see him, if he were any slower. 

“You’re not waiting for shitty Deku, are you?”, he made sure, eyeing Todoroki suspiciously. Deku barging in and hearing the conversation he was about to have was his worst nightmare. He’d rather be in the clutches of the sludge villain again.

“He’s not shitty!”, Todoroki defended his boyfriend immediately, “and he’s training with All Might.” He crossed his arms after that, looking at Bakugou like he was expecting an apology. Bakugou waved him off, relieved to know Deku wouldn’t stop by anytime soon. His training sessions with All Might always took quite some time. 

“What are you doing here anyways?”, Todoroki wondered, uncrossing his arms and moving to sit on his bed. By the looks of it, he was reading before Bakugou came by. He was sure he’d heard Sero talk about that exact manga just a week ago. Shrugging it off, Bakugou moved to sit on Todoroki’s floor, back to the wall and legs crossed. Todoroki mustered him curiously, so he crossed his arms in front of his chest, before trying to sort out what he wanted to say. He really should’ve thought about this beforehand. 

“This conversation needs to stay in this room”, he demanded, before anything else. If Todoroki went out to tell anyone what he was about to talk about, he might as well just end it there.    

“Okay”, Todoroki gave in easily, even agreeing when Bakugou demanded that not even Deku was allowed to know about this. With that, the second biggest hurdle was taken. Now he was standing in front of the biggest, and damn him, he didn’t have any idea how to tackle that. 

Well, if the water is too cold, you don’t go in slowly. You jump in all at once.

So that was his new game plan.

“How did you know you liked Deku?”

“What?”, Todoroki asked, looking entirely caught off guard. It was one of the rare times, when his carefully crafted stoic expression dropped and you could see perfectly what was underneath it. Bakugou would gloat about it, if he were any less tense.

“How did you know you liked Deku?”, he emphasised again. At least now he had Todoroki’s undivided attention, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. This clearly wasn’t how Half-and-Half had planned his morning to go. In all fairness, Bakugou could imagine more pleasant things, too. 

“Is this going to be one of these ‘shovel talks’ that Uraraka warned me about?”, he finally answered, after several seconds of careful consideration. Bakugou could feel his headache starting to throb from that answer alone. He would like to scream at the idiot for getting such unwarranted ideas, but he really didn’t want to draw any attention to them.

“The hell? No it isn’t. I couldn’t care less about who the idiot is dating”, he almost whisper-yelled and then he continued swiftly, because Todoroki looked like he wanted to defend Deku again, “Now answer the damn question! How did you know you liked Deku?”

“He’s not an idiot”, Todoroki protested and Bakugou considered leaving for a solid five seconds. Unfortunately that would get him nowhere closer to figuring out his feelings and he already was at his last option. He wouldn’t be there, if he had anything else, that was promising to be helpful. Todoroki, meanwhile, looked like he was in deep thought and Bakugou didn’t know if that should make him hopeful or fearful. Probably a mixture of both. 

“I don’t know”, Todoroki finally concluded, “I guess I just knew.”

Bakugou wanted to claw his hair out. That was by far the least helpful answer he could have possibly gotten. If it were that easy, he wouldn’t have consulted the internet and there would have been no need to talk to Todoroki in the first place. Why did the bastard insist on being the least helpful being on the planet?

“Are you shitting me? There had to be something”, he argued, less in hopes of actually getting some more information from Half-and-Half and more because it was a convenient outlet for some of his frustration and anger. Why did he feel like he was going backwards, instead of making progress?

“Not really”, Todoroki murmured, again looking to be in deep thought and not even talking to Bakugou properly, “It just feels nice, you know? Warm and welcoming and safe. Like I can be myself and it would be just fine, but also like I wanna be a better person, just for his sake. Does that make sense?”

“Not even a little”, Bakugou deadpanned, because really this was probably even less helpful than what he said before. Even worse, it was sappy and hearing Todoroki of all people say it made Bakugou feel like he needed to vomit. This proved to be an even worse mistake than he originally thought it was.

“There had to be a moment where it hit you. Like the realisation!”

“No”, Todoroki denied, shaking his head to emphasize it, “I think it’s been there from the beginning. He was always special, since he shouted at me during the sports festival. It just went from there.”

“What a weird thing to say”, Bakugou grunted, not even a flicker of kindness in his voice, which didn’t seem to bother Todoroki in the slightest, “It sounds like your feelings had a mind of their own.”

“Maybe.”, Todoroki agreed, shrugging his shoulders and looking at Bakugou couriosly, “Maybe, if you tell me what you feel, I can compare it to what I feel. That might be more helpful.”

It really spoke about how desperate he was, that he actually considered the offer, for a solid minute. Would it be so bad, telling Todoroki about what he felt and trying to figure it out from there? He didn’t have to say a name - the fact that he was confused about Kirishima could remain his secret for just a little while longer - and they agreed that nothing from the conversation would ever leave the room.

He only had to jump over his shadow. He knew he couldn’t do that.

“Fuck off”, he spat at Todoroki, who in turn only smiled at him, like he expected that answer. Was Bakugou really that easy to read? If even someone as socially stunted as Todoroki could figure him out, he must have been an open book. He hated that thought with a burning passion. 

“Why not spend some time with them?”, Todoroki suggested, propping his arm on his knee and his head in his hand, “You know, just the two of you, like a date, but without it actually being a date.”

Bakugou leveled Todoroki with an annoyed glare. Not only was their entire conversation meaningless and a complete waste of time, now the bastard also made fun of him. Setting up a date, as if Bakugou knew anything about that. That wasn’t on his list of things to accomplish on his way to become number one. Therefore it was deemed unnecessary until five seconds ago. 

“Yeah sure. How would I go about that then, in your opinion?”, he asked sarcastically, to make a point that he would under no circumstances do that. As always, the sarcasm flew right over Todoroki’s head.

“Invite them to walk, eat something together afterwards, have some deeper conversations than usual. I’m not too great with dates either.”

Bakugou left the room wordlessly after that. Todoroki was crazy if he really thought Bakugou would take that advice. 

__________________

After his talk with Todoroki, Bakugou went to the kitchen, instead of his bedroom. There was no way he could concentrate on anything right now, so he would just make himself a cup of tea. To distract himself and to calm his nerves. And maybe, just maybe, it would help him stop thinking about Kirishima all the time. 

Fat fucking chance, the voice in his head taunted. Maybe it was time to get his mental health checked.

Just when his water was hot and he was about to finish preparing his tea and then vanish for the rest of the day, to sort through the mess that was, apparently, his feelings, the front door opened. And in walked no other than Deku himself. That was just his luck.

Even worse was that the nerd was closely followed by Kirishima, who not only spotted Bakugou immediately, but also walked over without a second of hesitation. Which wasn’t unusual, to be fair, but it was nothing that Bakugou wanted right now. He had enough Kirishima-related problems, even without Kirishima standing right in front of him. 

“Hey dude”, Kirishima greeted, smile shining like the sun itself and Bakugou would have hit himself for the sappy thought, had he been alone, “You’re back early. Don’t your morning runs usually take longer?”  

“Usually”, he replied, trying to sound disinterested, “had some stuff to do, so I came back early.”

“All right”, Kirishima said, not the least bit deterred by Bakugou’s tone, “I think your cup is full.”

Bakugou stared down at his overflowing tea cup, which he had completely forgotten the moment Kirishima started talking to him. Luckily, it only ran over a little bit, Kirishima prevented the worst. Still, he cursed under his breath, while he cleaned it up. It wasn’t like him to get this distracted. 

“That’s unlike you”, Kirishima commented and Bakugou could hear the smile in his voice, “what made you so distracted? A crush?” Bakugou knew it was a joke. He still wanted to die at the spot.

[mad4marvelloki]

Loki on lockdown

Warnings: Smut

Words: 2707

She sighed. The fifth week of quarantine had just ended and never in a million years had she thought she would miss work. She was lucky really that she would have a job to go back to but still the boredom was palpable.

She turned to the huge pile of DVDs next to her, the complete catalogue of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. She had watched the entire series three times now since lockdown but the films never failed to entertain her. Which to watch she mused. She reached for Avengers Assemble with a smile. It was one of her favourites because Loki was just so sexy in it. His long cape, leather outfit and slicked back hair never failed to make her drool. And when he talked - that rich, silky voice. It did things to her.

She got up and put the DVD in the player. As she settled back down on the sofa she mused aloud. ‘God how I wish he was real.’

‘Is that so, my pet.’ Said a silky voice.

She screamed shrilly and leapt off the sofa. ‘What the fuck!’

She whirled round to see the source of the voice – standing in all his 6ft 4 glory was Loki. A feeling of unreality washed over her. She could have sworn she was awake but she had to be dreaming. Desperately she pinched herself.

He chuckled sexily. ‘It’s not a dream.’

‘But how – this is madness!’ Weeks in isolation had clearly taken its toll on her. She was hallucinating. She couldn’t have wished for a better hallucination but not at the expense of her sanity.

His mouth quirked up at one side in a smile and he quickly closed the gap between them in two strides. She looked up into his beautiful green eyes. They were twinkling in amusement. Her eyes drifted to his lips. So soft. So kissable.

‘Is it madness? Is it?’ He said softly.

She laughed, remembering those lines from the first Thor film.

‘How is this possible?’ She asked breathily.

‘Desire is a powerful thing. And there is magic in the universe of which you are unaware.’

‘So, what are you doing here?’ Go with it, she thought. Who cares about sanity after all when looking into those eyes.

‘I’m here to fulfil your desires. Whatever they might be.’ His smile changed to a knowing grin.

Heat pooled between her legs. Oh my god. Sex with Loki.

‘I wouldn’t mind getting out of here but that’s not possible.’

‘Is it not?’

She sighed. ‘There’s the small matter of a pandemic sweeping the globe. We’re on lockdown. No going out unless for food or medication.’

He hummed. ‘We’ll see about that. How do you fancy taking a little trip off planet?’

Excitement coursed through her but reality quickly caught up.

‘I can’t go spreading this to other planets.’

‘What if you don’t have it?’

‘There’s no way of knowing without a test. And they’re in short supply.’

‘Are they?’

Out of nowhere he produced what looked like a test kit. She hadn’t seen one up close but that must have been what it was.

‘Loki, where did you get that? You shouldn’t –‘

He shushed her. ‘Open your mouth.’

Heat pooled even more in her core at the tone of his voice. She was throbbing now, feeling the beat of her heart in her swollen sex. She opened her mouth willingly, thinking it wasn’t the only thing she would like in her mouth today. She tried to keep a straight face as he popped it in.

After a few minutes he took it out. ‘There. Negative.’

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him…it was just that she didn’t trust him.

She took the kit from him and read through the instructions, looking at the test closely. He was right. She breathed a sigh of relief. In the back of her mind she had been worried she might have it. She had shown no symptoms but could have still been a carrier.

Loki grinned. ‘We’re going to need this.’ He said as he grabbed the blanket from the sofa. ‘Now take my hand.’

She looked at his hand and after a pause took it, marvelling at those long, sexy fingers. Her heart leapt when he twined is fingers with hers, his large hand dwarfing hers. She bit down a giggle. She hoped the rest of him was as big. Come on woman, she thought, get your mind out of the gutter!

He pulled her close, wrapping his other arm around her. He gave her a quick peck on the lips and her eyes widened in surprise.

There was a shimmer of green and she looked round in awe. They were in a field of pink flowers stretching as far as the eye could see. The delicate blooms nodded their heads in the gentle breeze. The sky overhead was beautiful, similar to Earths but a richer, deeper blue. Her mouth dropped open when she saw the three suns. She was definitely not on Earth anymore.

‘Where are we?’ She asked him.

‘Who cares.’ He stated simply, his mouth meeting hers in a passionate kiss. When his tongue probed gently at her lips she opened them, giving him access. His tongue explored her mouth and she moaned. He wound his hands into her hair, tugging a little just as she loved. How did he know? She was practically purring like a kitten.

After a moment she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. She felt a hardness press against her belly. Oh my God, he was big. So big. And he wasn’t even free of his clothing yet. She was getting wet – wetter than she had ever been in her life.

Eventually they pulled apart, both panting. She had almost forgotten how to breathe.

He smiled at her, taking her breath away again at his beauty. His perfect porcelain skin and those glittering eyes. There was no mistaking the desire in them.

Her insecurity leapt to the foreground. ‘Are – are you sure you want me?’

‘Oh yes, my love. I have watched you from afar for a while and want nothing more than to ravish you. I want to see how many times I can make you cum. See how many times you will scream my name. Shall we find out?’

He grinned and tossed the blanket to the ground, and in a whirl of movement she was on her back, the weight of his body pressing into her. It felt wonderful, so natural, so right. His mouth was on hers again, the passion of his kiss searing. Instinctively her legs moved apart and wrapped themselves around him. She ground her hips against his, desperate for him. He moaned, grinding his hips against hers in response.

Suddenly his lips were gone and she no longer felt his weight on her. She made a grumbling noise and opened her eyes, only for them to widen. He was stripping off. Oh yes. Yes, this was quite wonderful.

She bit her lip and propped herself up onto her elbows, eagerly watching as he peeled off his clothing. The intricate armour fell to the floor, belts and buckles undoing at an amazing speed. Finally his chest was bare and she admired the smooth, well defined muscles. It was all she had dreamed of and more.

Her eyes watched hungrily as he took off his trousers. The irresistible v shape of a man’s lower abdomen was revealed. She followed the thin trail of dark hairs that ran downwards to… a truly huge bulge, barely restrained by his underwear.

‘Like what you see, pet?’ He said with a grin.

She gasped as he tossed his underwear aside. He was massive. Worry coursed through her. He might be too big.

‘Don’t worry pet, we’ll take this slow…until you’re used to me. Then…well we’ll see.’ He smirked. His eyes were full of promise.

‘But you’re far too dressed. Stand up.’

She got to her feet a little clumsily. Unlike when he had stripped himself he took his time with her. He lifted her top and ran his hands over her body. She jumped a little, the feel of his touch like electric. He chuckled as he pushed her top up and over her head. His eyes lit up when he saw her breasts.

‘Perfect. You are perfection kitten.’ He sank to his knees and kissed the swell of her breast. He looked up at her, his lips slightly parted, pupils blown wide with desire. He gestured to her bra.

‘May I?’

She fought down a grin. Of course he could, but she liked that he had asked. Her voice came out a little unsteadily.

‘Y-yes.’

He removed her bra deftly then his lips fastened onto one nipple, alternating between nibbling and sucking as one hand massaged the other breast, tweaking it until the nipple hardened.

Tingles of pleasure ran from her breasts to her groin and she groaned, fisting her hands in his silky dark hair.

He looked up at her, his beautiful eyes wide. He looked almost vulnerable for a moment.

‘If you want this, if you want me, tell me.’

She smiled, cupping his face in her hands. ‘I want you Loki, yes. Please don’t stop.’

He smiled triumphantly and his hand drifted downwards, cupping her core through the fabric of her jeans. She could just feel him, but she needed more. As if he had heard her his nimble fingers undid the button to her jeans and ran the zip down. She bit her lip in anticipation as he pulled her jeans down, those sexy fingers caressing her legs.

‘Step out of them for me, kitten.’

She obliged, resisting the urge to fling her underwear off too. Next thing his mouth was on hers again, kissing her softly as he lowered her gently to the blanket.

He trailed kisses down her again, looking up at her as he did.

‘You’re so beautiful love.’

She sighed when she felt his fingers caressing her through the thin fabric of her underwear. So close.

Finally a finger probed under the fabric and caressed her bare, very wet, skin.

His eyes met hers, amused and more than a little pleased. ‘Is all this for me? You’re practically dripping love.’

That voice. She bit her lip and nodded.

He grinned then his mouth was on hers again, kissing her passionately as he probed her, stroking her and spreading the wetness. She moaned into his mouth when he put pressure on her clit. She was burning for him now, her body crying out to be filled.

Finally he broke the kiss and propped himself up on one hand, the other guiding himself as he rubbed along her, teasing her entrance.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to have him inside of her, and she had to have him now. She bucked her hips up, trying to push him inside her.

He chuckled. ‘Impatient kitten. Very well.’

She groaned in pleasure when he finally sank his tip into her, filling her a little at a time, slowly, giving her time to adjust to his size. Her fear that he was too big was unfounded. He stretched her perfectly, the sensation of him filling her to the brim so good.

They groaned together when he slid the last few inches of himself inside and he was fully sheathed. His eyes met hers, the intensity in them surprising her.

‘You are so beautiful, love. You honour me greatly with your body.’

Gently he started to move. She felt pressure on her clit and the combination of that and being filled so perfectly was like no pleasure she had ever felt before. She was really having sex with Loki. And it was incredible.

He started to move faster, withdrawing more of himself then thrusting back in, hard. She cried out when he withdrew completely then plunged back into her, the force of his thrust making her head reel. At the same time he rubbed more on her clit and she knew she wouldn’t last much longer. She had to anchor herself to something. She wound her hands into the blanket, twisting it desperately in her fingers.

‘Oh no, my love.’ He said with a grin between moans. ‘Hold onto me. Mark me as yours.’

She nodded, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close. She tried not to but she couldn’t help sinking her nails into his skin. He moaned, goaded on, his thrusts quickening as he worked his finger over her clit faster.

That did it. She cried out as her body started to shudder, waves of pleasure coursing through her. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She felt herself tighten around him and he cried out in ecstasy as he filled her to the brim, his own body jerking. Where most mortal men would have stopped he carried on thrusting.

She looked at him wonderingly.

‘I’m not done with you yet kitten. Your poor human men do not have the stamina of a God. They do not have the ability to satisfy you like I can.’

She felt the pressure return to her clit. She couldn’t possibly come again so soon, yet she did. This time she screamed his name. He let her ride out her high then rubbed her clit furiously, pushing her to her third orgasm.

She lost count of the times she came. She was a writhing mess, capable of no more than moaning and screaming his name.

‘Are you spent, kitten?’ He asked eventually.

‘Urgh.’ She moaned.

He grinned. ‘I’ll take that as a yes’.

She felt him start to soften inside her. How could he stay hard for so long, she marvelled. He withdrew and peppered her body with kisses, finally wrapping her tightly in his arms.

He kissed her on the lips and she just had time to think about how good it felt to be in his arms before she fell asleep, exhausted but very satisfied.

                                                      ~

She awoke gently, a cool breeze caressing her face. She opened her eyes groggily. Why was she outside? Her eyes slowly focused and she gazed with wonder at the man she was entwined with. He was still asleep, his dark eyelashes feathered against his porcelain skin. She would recognise him anywhere. Loki. Everything came back to her at once and she felt herself blushing furiously when she recalled him making her cum again and again, screaming his name.

The next thing she realised was they were both naked. She looked around, relieved to find there was no one in view. She relaxed and studied him, taking in his beauty. He was hers. A horrible thought struck her. For just how long was he hers though? Was this a one time thing?

Eventually he stirred, his beautiful green eyes meeting hers. He gave her a lazy, sexy smile.

‘Hello my love.’

‘Hi.’ She couldn’t help smiling in response.

‘Would you like to go home?’

She bit her lip. ‘Can we stay a bit longer? I’m not ready to go back to lockdown.’ Or say goodbye to you, she thought.

‘What’s wrong love?’

‘N-nothing.’ This was ridiculous, she could feel her eyes starting to water.

His face fell. ‘Love? What is it?’

‘Is this – is this a one- time thing?’ She blurted out, trying to force the tears back.

‘Oh darling.’

He stroked her hair, smoothing it down and behind her ear, his finger trailing down her cheek to rest on her lips. Her skin tingled where he touched her and she nestled into his touch.

‘This is no one-time thing, I swear to you. Your desire for me was simply magnetic, it drew me in. I hope you don’t find it…how would you Midgardians put it…creepy? I have studied you for a while, going from being fascinated by you to admiring you to...loving you. I could simply resist you no longer. I apologise unreservedly that I gave into my carnal desires before revealing myself to you. I just couldn’t help myself.’

‘Really?’ The tears were falling now, but happy ones.

‘Really.’

‘How long for though?’

‘For forever. Or as long as you’ll have me.’

She smiled. ‘Forever then.’

[marvelgbt-posts]

you’ve changed

i thought the song goes well with the scene (sw: peter cries) where peter cries so if you wanna play it there, you can :)

Request: Hi I hope your having a good day or night depends on the time your reading this. How about a Peter Parker x Male chubby reader were they dated before thanos snapped his finger and the reader didn't get snapped away and spent the next 5 years living out his life and when peter comes back he finds the reader but their in their 20's and divorced with a kid. Then they try to work things out. It could have angst but have fluffy ending. Maybe the reader waits till peter is olderand ask him to marry

i absolutely l o v e this idea, ty for requesting ^^ it's somewhere after homecoming, but mj already knows about peter, in the first part. The second one would be uh after endgame lol

You weren’t popular amongst your peers. Hell, no one really knew you or your friend group of four. You didn't mind, nothing like that really bothered you all. Michelle was currently using Ned as a reference for another one of her art pieces that would bring some sort of “revelation” to those who viewed it, like the ones you see when browsing your Instagram feed about global warming or species endangerment.

Peter, on the other hand, was working on his new suit upgrades. Behind Mr. Stark’s back, he wanted to make his suit more powerful, especially since his parental lock was taken off - also behind Stark’s back, but he didn't have to know (though, of course, he already did). You were working on school assignments since there was nothing better for you to do anyways. Both you and Peter worked on the floor while MJ had Ned sat on the bed in a position where he looked as if he were murdered.

You glanced over at Peter; he peeked over at you simultaneously, the two of you smiling as a bit of pink made it to both your cheeks. You went back to your respective work, as did Peter.

…

“Peter?” you whispered, careful not to wake MJ and Ned up; MJ next to you on the ground and Ned, snoring on the top mattress of Peter’s bunk bed with an arm and a leg slung over the edge. “Yeah?” he whispered back, equally as cautious. You sat up a little, “I can’t sleep…”

“Yeah, me neither..” he responded.

“Can I, um.. Sleep next to you? Maybe?” you asked shyly, before shaking your head, “nevermind.. That sounds stupid, just forget it.”

“No!” Peter winced, looking up to Ned dangling over the edge of the bunk, before lowering his voice, “No, it’s fine. You can come up here, I don’t mind.”

You carefully slipped out of the blankets you shared with MJ and hopped into bed next to Peter. He was at least a head taller than you, if not half. He awkwardly shifted to the wall, and you felt like cringing. You were always a bit.. soft.. You weren't obese; oh no, you were the average healthy weight, and you could complete the mile somewhere in its required time. It wasn’t like you were unhealthily big, it was just your body shape. You had big thighs and a tummy that would show through shirts that were too tight (for your liking, anyway). Compared to Peter’s secretly toned body, you were like a marshmallow, and you disliked it very, very much.

However, Peter loved it, though he’d never admit it. Sure, you took up a little over half the space, but Peter honestly could care less. You felt him nudge your side, moving to come a bit closer. He was just in boxers and a t-shirt. You had pants and a hoodie, and Peter could just barely feel your body warmth. He looked at you, and you could just barely make out the shape of his eyes, how they looked; begging, big, puppy-like eyes. You bit your lip, suppressing a giggle, “Careful Parker, that’s pretty gay..!” you joked silently. He let out a breathy laugh, “Nothing’s gay about cuddling with your best friend..!” You chuckled, opening your arms for him to come into. He rested his chin on top of your head, wrapping his arms around your upper body while you wrapped your arms around his slim waist.

Like magic, you both found the sleep you’ve been craving so much.

~~~

You watched in fear as half of the people around you began to vanish in clouds of dust. You looked over to MJ, who was accompanying you to a bookshop that had just opened a few days ago. She looked down to her feet, which began to slowly fade away, before looking up at you in fear, “y/n, i–” but she was gone. You tried to grab her hand, her shirt, anything, thinking it would somehow stop what was happening. But you couldn't, if anything it sped up the process. You cried, trying desperately to grasp some of the ashes of one of your best friends before she was gone– to no avail.

Crying there in the streets of New York, watching as people screamed for their loved ones, you curled up into a fetal position, tears streaming down your cheeks. You knew Peter had skipped a school field trip to join Iron man and the other well-known Avengers in whatever was causing this, but you had no idea where Ned was, if he was alright... And, well, you already knew MJ was long gone.

What about your parents? Were they disappearing as well? Quickly, you ran back in the direction of your small Queens apartment, praying to whatever gods were out there that they were safe and unharmed.

~~~

The hallways of Midtown high school were crowded as those who had disappeared from the ‘Snap’ reunited with their friends. No one realized that, for five years, they had all gone missing. Sure, they remembered the process, but for them, it was like taking a five-minute nap rather than a five-year-long one. Peter was almost breathless as he saw MJ and Ned on campus, a wide smile on his face as he jogged up to them, surprising the both of his friends as they all had a moment, hugging, shaking hands, glad that everyone was safe.

Well...

Almost everyone.

“W-Where’s y/n?” Peter asked, looking around to try and find your small and round frame that he missed since he’d left Earth. MJ and Ned shared a look, and Ned bit his lip. “He-... he’s not here..”

Peter choked on his breath, “He died?!”

“What? No, no,” MJ was quick to confirm, waving her arms almost frantically, “He wasn’t uh, what do you call it? Snapped? He stayed here, he grew up.. He’s like, twenty now.”

Peter couldn't believe it. You would’ve been way older than him now! “Tell me you’re kidding, is this a prank?”

MJ shook her head, as well as Ned. No. No, no, no, that can't be true. If it was, were you lost from them? Did you know where they were? He was scared for you, imagining your chubby, short form frightened and worried for everyone's sake. He looked desperately at his two remaining friends, “Do we.. Do you know where he is? His location?”

Ned beamed, “I’m your guy in the chair, of course I know where he is!”

…

Peter was hesitant to knock at your door, knuckles moving towards and then away from the wooden surface. He had to admit, your place was nice, on the outside at least. He could judge the inside once.. If… you answered the door. Once Peter got the courage to finally make his presence known, a few seconds later a child peered through the window. He was surprised, but smiled and waved to the kid. She smiled and waved back, before looking behind her. Peter assumed that was, hopefully, you. The door opened, and Peter had to look up, like, wayyy up. You had gotten taller, and slimmer. Peter noticed you were more built, and he had to stop himself from lowering his gaze and letting his mind melt into the gutter. “Peter..?” you asked, almost dumbfounded at the sight of your high school crush. The little girl from before wrapped her arms around your leg, looking up at Peter with wide eyes, “Daddy, who’s this?”

“Daddy?!” Peter blurted out without thinking. This was all happening so fast. “y/n?” he looked up at your face again, and you nodded. While much had changed about you, he was glad your smile remained the same. Soft and bright and infectious.

“Yep, this is my daughter, say hi honey,” you looked down at your daughter, who shyly waved and grinned at Peter. She has your smile, Peter thought to himself.

Wait, if this was your kid, that meant.. You were married? He couldn't imagine it, the thought of it. The life he imagined so many times over and over in his head, about what life would be like with you in the future, ruined because of some giant purple alien with a lack of brain cells and the face of an avocado’s backside, and a woman he didn’t know of.

“Peter, would you like to come in? I bet you have questions..?” you asked, and Peter shook his head to get out of his thoughts, before nodding, “Yes, please.” Here you two were, speaking formally as if you were business partners. You invited him inside, and your daughter moved to the couch, taking a small, pink, fluffy bunny into her arms as she sat down. “Emily,” you said sternly, making Peter flinch, “What did we say about shoes on the couch?”

The girl, Emily, promptly removed her velcro slip-on shoes before looking to her father, who smiled in approval, “Good girl!” She smiled, and Peter giggled as he sat himself on the couch. You sat on the opposite side of him, your daughter moving from next to Peter, to your lap. You sat her on your knee as she played quietly with her bunny stuffed toy.

“So, you, uhh, grew up?” Peter asked awkwardly, and you chuckled bitterly, “yeah, haha.”

“You’ve changed,”

“Five years does that to you, I guess,”

“This your daughter?”

“Yep. Emily. She’s three.”

‘That means you had her around, what, junior year? y/n, I didn’t know you had it in you…!’ Peter joked to himself in his mind. But there was a burning feeling in his stomach. This domestic lifestyle; a quiet house, a child, and later on he found out you had a german shepherd named Skittles (Emily had named him). He wanted this life for so long, ever since he realized his feelings for you, with you. But you had lived a life without him, not that he blamed it on you.

After an hour or two of recalling the last five years of your life to Peter, including meeting Amanda, your ex-wife, and having Emily, it was time for him to leave.

“It was nice talking to you again, Peter,” you said shyly, another thing that hadn’t changed, thankfully. He bit his lip, lingering on your porch a bit, “Uh, hey.. y/n..?”

“Yeah?”

“So.. you aren’t with your ex-wife anymore, right?”

“Yep, no contact, nothing,” you were holding Emily in your arms, resting her on your hip. You could see conflict in Peter’s eyes, so you let her down and shooed her off playfully to go entertain herself with toys. She obeyed, and you turned to Peter, who looked up at you with glossed eyes. You felt your breath hitch, “Peter.. What- are you okay?”

He nodded, biting his lip, before shaking his head, “no, no I’m not okay! You grew up, you have a life now.. I didn’t even get the chance to be a part of it.. You– I loved you! I still do..” he cried, wiping his tears as he sobbed. You looked down at him, and you couldn’t help but sigh. He was still a child, of course. He hadn’t matured at all, since he’d basically been frozen in time. He was still the same childish teenager you knew five years ago. “Peter..” you whispered soothingly, wrapping your arms around him. It was now your turn to rest your chin on his head like he would do all those nights in freshman year. You held him in a protective embrace, and he just held onto your back, gripping at the fabrics of your t-shirt. You shushed him, “Peter, it's okay, I’m here..”

“But you’ve outgrown me! You’ve lived your life, you have a daughter, you got married, all without me! I wanted to be the person you could count on, the one you would go to sleep and wake up to at night, someone you loved, but instead.. I-.. you…” he didn’t know how to finish his sentence, instead crying into your shoulder. “Peter, I understand..” You whispered, “I loved you, too, I still do.. It’s just.. Our age gap now, I don’t think we can make it work now..”

Petr let out a shaky breath, nodding, “Yeah… I’m sorry,” he said, and you shook your head, “You don't have to apologize, none of this is your fault…”

Peter looked to your chest, still holding tightly onto you, before he perked up, looking up at your eyes, “Wait, y/n, I think.. Could you… What if I graduated? Wait no, that didn’t come out right.”

You chuckled. Peter shook his head, “no, listen to me. I know I’m five years younger than you now, but.. If I came back after graduating high school, when I’m older, would you be willing to, I dunno, make it work?” You thought for a minute, biting your lip, “Maybe… it would give us enough time to.. Catch up, fully…” the look on Peter’s face, it made you melt.

~~~

Ever since that day, Peter had been visiting you and Emily almost every day. Emily became used to him a few weeks in, now looking forward to her favorite visitor to knock on the door. She would open it and squeal, “Uncle Petey!” and Peter would always carry her when he walked in, without ail, and lift her up and make her giggle. The fact that Peter was treating your young like one of his own, it made you fall even more in love.

One day, you and Emily were in the kitchen, finishing up homework for her first-grade class. She huffed, “This English stuff sucks! I’d rather do math, and be super brain smart like Uncle Peter,” she said, crossing her arms. You sighed, and a giggle came from the doorway of the kitchen. You looked behind you to see Peter leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, “English is important too, kid,” he said, sitting next to Emily, across from you. He was eighteen now and on his way to a promising college. He had a lot of responsibilities already, with his senior grades coming to an end and taking up half of Stark Industries with Pepper. You were proud of him, to say the least.

“In order to be super smart,” you said, “you have to be well-rounded. That includes English, young lady. Come on, it can’t be that hard,” you took a look at her paper, “Oh shit, wait this is hard.”

Peter and Emily gasped, “Language!” they said at the same time, making the three of you giggle. “y/n, I have something to ask you,” Peter said, glancing at Emily, “privately.”

Emily sighed, exasperated, “What?! Why can’t I know?!” she whined, kicking her legs a little. You chuckled, ruffling her hair a bit, “Get to finishing that homework, kid, we’ll be right back.” Emily pouted but got to work regardless.

“What is it Peter?” you asked once the two of you made it to the living room. Peeter looked into your eyes, he had grown taller, almost as tall as you now. “So, uh, I talked with Mrs. Stark, about things… I uh, I think I’m gonna move into the Stark Tower, focus on my studies there, help Pepper with running the Industry and prepare Morgan. She’s seven now, you know, just a year younger than Emily... They’d be great friends.. Emily likes math, Morgan is a science buff, like her dad.. Uh,”

“Peter, what are you getting at?” you asked, a small grin forming on your lips. He rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m getting at- uh, what I’m trying to say, what I’m asking is if, you and Emily would like to stay with me in the Tower? It would be easier for us to see each other.. And Morgan would love Skittles, and Emily, she wouldn’t be lonely when she comes home. Morgan is homeschooled at the moment, they could both be homeschooled together so they aren’t lonely, you know? A-And–”

“Peter,” you cut him off as he began rambling. He looked up at you, clearly shaken and desperately awaiting your response. You smiled, “Of course, I'd be happy to move in with you. But I might reconsider the whole ‘homeschool’ thing. I want Emily to be raised normally. She’s smart, sure, but she still needs school. Homeschool, we can think about when she’s older.”

Peter grinned, hugging you, “Of course! We can do that!” he giggled, and you heard a cheer come from behind the two of you. You turned around, a scowl on your face as you saw Emily, not doing homework. “Emily! Why aren't you finishing your English homework?”

She blushed, “The kitchen and the living room are right next to each other! How could I not overhear..?” she paused a moment before speaking up, “Are we really gonna live at Stark Tower..?” You sent Peter a look, and he smiled and nodded, “Mhm! Right next door to Uncle Pete!” Emily was ecstatic, and that was an understatement.

~~~

An eleven-year-old Morgan and ten-year-old Emily were playing Wii Sports in the lounge, Morgan purposefully losing to Emily since she had been winning too easily the last few rounds. She was treating Emily exactly like a younger sister, and it warmed your heart as much as the coffee you held warmed your hands. Emily cheered, having won another Tennis match. Morgan faked sighed, “Huff, that doesn’t make sense, you’re cheating!” she playfully shoved Emily, and they both giggled. Eventually, Pepper came into the room, “Morgan,” she called sweetly, and both daughters looked up, “it’s time for you and Emily to head to bed.” The girls groaned but nonetheless followed directions.

You nodded over to Pepper, “I’m gonna head to my room now, got some work to do,” to which Pepper responded with a nice, “alright, sweet dreams y/n.” You waved goodbye and made your way to your room.

…

You were covered in your bedsheets, warm and on the verge of falling asleep when a knock came from your door. You sat up, a groggy and sort of annoyed “Come in,” emitting from the depths of your throat. Peter came in, a little embarrassed, you could tell, that he had disturbed you at this hour, “y-y/n, can I come in? I.. can’t sleep,” he admitted, looking at his bare feet. You yawned, not being able to stay mad at him, and nodded, patting the space next to you. No longer had you filled up more than half the space in the bed like you had 5 years ago, Peter noticed, beginning to miss those times when you did and feeling a little bitter that he had missed so much time with you.

You took initiative and wrapped your arms around Peter’s shoulders, bringing him into your now toned chest. Peter went red; you could feel the heat of his face against your skin. Peter wrapped his arms shyly around your waist. He was twenty-two now, and you were twenty-seven. It didn’t seem like much of an age gap now as it had seven years ago. He bit his lip, should he ask now?

After a few minutes of conflict, Peter opened his mouth to speak, until he realized you had… already fallen asleep.

‘Great,’ Peter sighed, ‘The one time I manage to muster up the courage to ask, and he’s asleep.’

…

Another few months had passed. You were in the kitchen, going through your phone while making another cup of coffee for yourself, before you felt Peter wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his head in between your shoulder blades. “Good morning, handsome~” you teased, to which earned a groan in response. You had been dating for around four or five months, but it honestly felt like longer. Well, of course you were dating before making it official, you yourselves just didn’t know it yet, but pepper sure knew, as well as morgan, Emily, May, Happy, and everyone else you knew.

‘Today is the day,’ you thought to yourself, handing Peter a cup of coffee as he opened up his tablet to begin working on lab assignments. He thanked you and you kissed his cheek, before leaving the kitchen to the lounge, sitting on the couch while waiting for Peter to join you. ‘Today’s the day,’ you repeated the thought, ‘I’m going to ask him, today’s the day.’ Peter eventually joined you and you cuddled for the whole day, Peter finishing his assignments all the while.

You checked your watch, sighing, “Pete, I gotta go pick up Emily,” you said, kissing his cheek and nudging him off you. He whined, “If we homeschooled Emily, you wouldn’t have to worry about picking her up!” he whined, and you had to hold back a laugh. Peter had picked up Emily’s habit of whining. You swore she was becoming more like Peter’s child every day.

…

Peter began sleeping with you since you two began dating. It helped Peter with stress from work and his recurring nightmares of Tony’s death. It also helped you, since you had trouble sleeping as well. One night, however, as you both were staying up late talking and kissing, a hesitant knock came at your door. You looked to each other before Peter sat up to allow whoever was knocking to come in. It was Emily and Morgan. “Hey girls,” you sat up, voice calm and soothing, “What’s wrong?”

Morgan spoke up, “Mom’s out of the tower right now and the storm outside is scaring us,” she admitted, and Emily nodded her head. You cooed, and Peter opened his arms for the two children to come into. They climbed into bed, sleeping in between you and Peter. Emily had her head against your chest, listening to your heartbeat as she hugged you. Morgan had her back against Peter, who was sleeping on his side, petting her hair gently. The two of you were shirtless, but warm from the blanket, and the girls loved it.

A loud crack of thunder scared them both, and Emily clung onto you. You looked at Peter, who had the same look of sympathy as you. You sighed softly and began humming a tune from a song you’d heard once, calming the kids down until their eyes began to droop closed. Eventually, they were sound asleep against the two of you. You smiled, seeing as Peter was beginning to look a bit tired as well. “Pete,” you whispered, careful not to wake the girls, “Mh?” he responded tiredly. You played with Emily’s hair lovingly, running your hands through her h/c locks, the ones she inherited from you. “Emily really loves you, y’know?” Peter smiled, “That’s good to hear,” he said with a yawn.

“Yeah, she really looks up to you, kinda makes me jealous,” you admitted. Peter leaned forward, not wanting to crush Morgan. “Hm? Yeah.. I can tell she wants to follow in my footsteps, but it’s scary. If I mess up, she might too, you know what I mean?” Peter looked down at Emily, “I don't wanna be the villain in her storybook.”

You brushed Emily’s bangs out of her face, nodding, “Welcome to my life. It’s been hard ever since I divorced her mother. I don’t recall ever telling you this, but her mother was an alcoholic, which is why I left her and took Emily with me. She was never physical, but yelled at Emily a lot, even though she was only two years old.” Peter nodded in understanding, “That.. I’m sorry about that,” he said, looking up at you. You shook your head, “Don’t be. It’s in the past, and Emily hardly remembers any of it now… but, her looking up to you, reminds me of how she’d normally look up to a parent..”

Peter flushed red, “But, I’m just her uncle…”

“You don’t have to be,” you said immediately after, and Peter looked as if he would cry, “y/n, don't tell me y-you’re..”

“Peter, I think... I think I want to marry you, have the life Emily and I never got to have with Amanda. I know it won't be exactly the same, seeing as we’re both men. But I know Emily won't mind, and honestly, that’s all that I think should matter..” you looked up at Peter to see him crying, “Oh, god, no Peter don't cry..!” you said but he just shook his head, before biting his lip and nodding, “If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, then yes,” he said, a little choked.

…

The next morning, you broke the news to Pepper, who was a little more than excited. You then told May, who threatened you with your life, going on about how if you ever broke Peter’s heart she’d blah blah blah. You laughed at Peter's embarrassed face. Happy could have cared less, mumbling an “It’s about time, jeez”. Then, you told Emily, who took a second to process it before she jumped up and hugged you both, kicking and jumping around and just being a happy little ray of sunshine. You and Peter could say– without a doubt– her reaction, her happiness, that was what was most important, what made it all worth it. Time really has changed you and Peter both, and it was safe to assume you both wanted to keep it that way.

[experimentalmadness]

The Invite

Please enjoy me going absolutely feral over my silly OC and writing pre-supervillain material of her and Harvey’s friendship. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have more coming. 

----

Jacky could feel Miri practically vibrating with excitement as she wheeled her from the car up the ramp to Wayne Manor. Normally Miri would never let anyone push her chair, but Jacky needed something to hold on to or she was going to be sick. 

The Ripley sisters, Gotham’s jumped-up gutter trash, standing at the entrance to Wayne Manor. This had to be the start of some sick joke. She just hoped they weren’t the punchline. Security made her sweat and she had to remind herself she wasn’t on a job, and no one here knew her. She fished for their invitations and smiled rigidly as it was scanned and they were escorted in. 

“It is so much more beautiful than I could have imagined! Ah, Jacky, take a picture, take a picture!” Miri urged. 

“They allow that in here?”

But of course she obliged, pulling out her phone to snap a few discrete shots of the two of them. A few well dressed guests gave them a look, Jacky forced down the urge to sucker punch them, wondering how many of the elite here tonight secretly owed money to Falcone or Moroni, and how many she’d see at the end of her gun another night. Thinking about work felt wrong...especially now. 

Jacky wheeled Miri down the long corridor, past the works of art hung up on the halls and the sculptures and casings in a place that felt more like a museum instead of one man’s house. Spilling out at the top of a grand foyer Miri gave an awed gasp while Jacky rolled her eyes. It was beautiful, stunning, actually. A band played while Gotham’s elite milled around delicately placed tables, danced on the cleared floor, or mingled out the veranda in the summer night. The floor to ceiling windows gave a pristine view of the immaculate gardens beyond where lights glowed, showing footpaths  and garden house where even at this distance she could see a few guests grabbing drinks. 

This was a mistake. They shouldn’t have agreed to this invitation. 

“How are we going to get down?” Jacky asked, observing staircases on either side of the balcony. 

“I believe I can assist with that,” a voice from behind offered.

Jacky turned, wheeling her sister as she moved. “Oh, my goodness!” Miri squeaked. “Mr. Wayne..I...I...you don’t need to trouble yourself.”

Bruce Wayne certainly lived up to the tabloid shots of him. He laughed at that. “Nonsense, you’re guests in my home, allow me to show you a little trick.” He gave a wink at Miri, and if her sister hadn’t been made of stronger stuff Jacky almost certainly would have thought she’d fall for him on the spot and then Lord help her. 

Waiting for the staircase to clear, Bruce moved aside the intricately carved lion’s head at the top bannister. Jacky raised an eyebrow at the button underneath. As he pressed it the stairs all retracted slowly, creating a gentle slopping ramp. Miri was impressed. Jacky had questions. With a gallant hand Bruce showed the way down and Jacky took her hands off the wheelchair, letting Miri wheel herself beside a much better looking escort. “So may I inquire as to the names of my guests this evening.” 

“Oh, I’m Miriam Ripley, and this is my sister Jacqueline—”

“That same Ripley’s that own the bakery down 9th? Of course! Harvey’s told me all about you.” To his credit, Bruce looked genuinely surprised and delighted to make the connection. He smiled at Miriam, no shock there, Miri was as beautiful as a pixie in her summer blue gown and Bruce Wayne’s reputation preceded him. Luckily Miri was too smart to be blindsided. 

As they made their way down the ramp, Bruce offered a hand to Jacky. “Jacqueline, pleasure to finally meet you as well,” he smiled, but years in her line of work hadn’t made her an idiot. Bruce Wayne was a flirt, he was a charmer, a playboy and probably whatever else the news rags loved to spew, but he was also a liar. The smile never reached his eyes and Jacky had the uncomfortable sensation of being scanned. Rich men must have their reasons for hiding all manner of sins. 

She shook his hand. “Come to the shop some time, Mr. Wayne. I just man the counter, but I’m sure Miri could manage to make something special.”

“I’ll have to do that, Miss. Ripley.”

“This idiot isn’t taking all of your time, is he, Jacky?” 

There he was. Harvey barreled in, one hand going around Bruce’s shoulders, the other still holding onto a champagne flute. “We were just getting introduced,” Bruce said with a slight laugh. Ah, interesting. That one was sincere. 

“I think Harvey is just glad to have a few familiar faces here,” Gilda Dent strode over, elegant and friendly as ever. “And to be honest, so am I,” She bent down to kiss Miri on the cheek and straightened to do the same to Jacky, whispering in her ear. “We’re sneaking some drinks out in the garden later, just us lower east siders.”

Jacky adored Gilda and that made every second she stayed in her presence the best and the worst. “Bless you,” Jacky smiled, all teeth.

“Now, if you don’t mind I’m going to introduce Miriam to two of Gotham’s best patisseries,” Gilda winked.

Jacky shot her sister a clear “don’t leave me here” sidelong look but Miri only shrugged. “Lead the way,” she said as she wheeled off after Gilda. It was going to take a total of fifteen minutes at most before Miri had charmed her way around every corner of this party. She was good at that. Bruce Wayne didn’t linger long after either, remarking that he had to go put in some face time with two potential big investors. 

“And then there were two,” Jacky laughed nervously. 

“Jacky, seriously, thank you for coming,” Harvey said with a nervous laugh of his own. “Bruce said I had to do at least one of these investor galas for the campaign, but if I have to fake another smile at some other rich prick who doesn’t know half of what is going on in their own city I’m going to break something. You want a drink? I’m getting you a drink.”

He talked a big game at being out of his element, but he smiled and shook hands with every single person they passed on their short trip to the bar. Jacky followed a few paces behind. He knew everyone’s names. Of course he did. Harvey finished the last of the champagne, setting the glass down at the bar top. Jacky opened her mouth to order when Harvey spoke first with her exact drink of choice.

“Whiskey sour, hard on the syrup, better make it a double.”

“Right, I’m filing a restraining order because you shouldn’t know that,” Jacky cocked her arm back to give him a jab on the shoulder, but stopped herself. They weren’t out at some dive bar, or in the back of her shop. “Aw, jeeze,” she rubbed the back of her neck. “Feel like some kind of idiot in this getup.”

The dress was not to the caliber of everyone else’s here. She’d found it in some thrift store and liked the purple color enough to buy it. 

“You look stunning.” Harvey slid her the drink.

Those words were going to get her drunk faster than the whiskey would. The drink burned a little as it went down. “Ok we got the obligatory compliments out of the way, how’s the big night actually going? You funded enough to take over the world yet?”

“Let’s start with Gotham, that’s about all I can handle at the moment.” 

Jacky did not trust politicians. Didn’t like their smarmy slogans, or their false promises. Every last one in Gotham was so deep into the pockets of Falcone or Moroni it never mattered what they said. “Hey, if it takes one night like this to make you the DA then it’s worth it,” she said. 

“Can we take that statement to print, Miss Ripley?” Harvey mimed a microphone in front of her. 

“Enough to get the pins on the counter and the posters all over the shop’s walls, yeah,” Jacky took a long drink to get herself to stop staring. The blue eyes really drew you in, he talked to you like he really wanted to get to know you. How else would the big shot lawyer have even bothered making friends with the barista? 

She finished her drink. She was going to need so much more to get through the night. “Should probably go talk to your backers, Harvey. Can’t spend all night talking to me, I don’t have the kind of money you’re looking for.”

“Oh the parasites can get me the rest of the night. You and Miri are probably the only real Gothamites here and I’d rather talk to you...don’t tell Bruce I said that. Hey, how about a dance?” 

She was not drunk enough for that. “Yeah right,” she snorted. “Tabloids would have a field day if they caught you dancing at your own campaign fundraiser with a strange woman who is decidedly not your wife.”

“Or, think of the free publicity for the shop when your name gets printed in the Gazette?” Harvey said, ever the optimist. “C’mon Jacky, buy me just a little time before I have to throw myself to the wolves?”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the bar towards the dance floor. Jacky shook her head, but her traitorous lips pulled back in a smile. This game of pretend was going to fall apart one day. His other hand went around her waist, warm and secure, the two things she always felt around him. This was too close. Those eyes, that smile, at this proximity were lethal. He was perfect. Gotham’s golden child. He was going to change this whole city, make it a better place, maybe give people like her a chance for once. And that meant one day he’d dance little Jacky Ripley into a nice and tidy jail cell of her own. How would he look at her then? The shy shop girl. The hitwoman. The liar. 

“Harvey...you know I should probably tell you I can’t dance,” she said softly.

“Aw damn,” Harvey laughed. “And there goes my idea of having you make me look good.”

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

part vii

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

Welcome back, friends! I know it’s been a long time since I updated, and I’m sorry for that - I just finished up my junior year of college, and combined with all of the protesting an unrest going on in the US (where I’m from) it’s been hard to write on schedule. On that note, I want to say that as a person and a writer I unequivocally stand with the Black Lives Matter movement and those protesting for an end to police brutality, the demilitarization and downsizing of the police, and equal rights for all - noting especially that these issues particularly affect LGBTQ+ people of color, particularly Black trans women. I am always striving to keep myself as educated and informed on how to be an antiracist, and encourage everyone to take a look at https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/ for resources to educate yourself, donation links if you’re able, and petitions to sign. Breonna Taylor’s murderers still have not been arrested. I love writing, and I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. Please reblog as always, and pop into my inbox and let me know what you think!

part vii

February 14

Dress like I’m going to a diner? Cass was more than a little confused as she pulled one leg through the pair of her good jeans (the ones without ripped knees, she wore them out with Mat and to less-important meetings and even to church once or twice when she was feeling particularly daring) as she slipped into her pea coat, toying with the button by her wrist as she opened the door to the crisp February air. It wasn’t snowing, but it was cold enough that her hands were still jammed firmly in her coat pockets. She could see her breath when she breathed out. Matt pulled up a few minutes, an apologetic look on his face as he slammed his hazards on and scrambled over the chair to push her door open. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Mat said breathlessly. “Parkway was backed up.”

Cass waved him off. “It’s not a big deal, just crank the heat up.”

“I know you said you didn’t want anything too fancy, so I hope you like it,” he added hesitantly, looking in between her and the road as he turned a corner. 

Cass squeezed his hand that was hovering just above the gear shift. “I’m sure I’ll love it, Mat.”

It really had been hard for Mat to figure out what to do for Valentine’s. He was leaving the next day for a weeklong road trip, but it was still, you know, Valentine’s, and he wanted so badly to get it right. So he tapped Jordan, called Tito, even somehow got ahold of her roommates to ask them what they thought she might be interested in. He wouldn’t admit it, but there also might have been a text or two back home to his sister for a second (third? fourth?) opinion. He wanted it to be perfect, but even more than that, he wanted it to be her. Dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant and a Tiffany’s necklace might be all well and good, but it didn’t really matter if the proverbial shoe didn’t fit. The handful of Valentine’s dates he’d gone on in the past had mostly been the standard roses-and-chocolates type, and while Cass did love chocolate, this evening meant so much more to him than any previous attempt. 

He didn’t want to do anything to mess it up, anything to jeopardize what was hands-down the most meaningful and serious relationship he’d ever been in. He’d dated girls for longer, sure, but there was something about what he had with Cass that made him feel like she had been in his life forever, like she was already a permanent fixture who made everything else make sense. They drove down the island of Manhattan, his thumb running back and forth over the palm of her hand until he pulled into a hotel parking lot. Cass looked at him quizzically. “Easiest place to park,” Mat said by way of an answer. 

He parked, opening Cass’s door and helping her out. “Where are you taking me?” Cass said with a small laugh, looking across the street at the dozens of couples taking an early dinner. 

Mat held up a finger. “It should be...right up here,” he said, double-checking his phone. “Ah-ha!”

A dusty green awning and flyer-covered window greeted the couple. It was a pizzeria, and it was perfect. It wasn’t just the fact that, like any sane person, Cass loved pizza, but the fact he knew what she wanted and prioritized that over any expectation or preconception about what the “right” way to celebrate was. And she could really go for a dollar slice. 

They squeezed into a two-top table in the corner. Cass hung her bag on the back of her chair, scooping back to go order at the counter. When it came to food, Mat was a simple man with simple tastes. He liked pepperoni. “I got us garlic knots because it’s Valentine’s day and I love you,” she said, setting down the trays, “and also because I’d willingly murder a man for garlic.”

Mat picked one up, biting in and nearly moaning. God, these are good. “Babe, you’re going to be a lawyer. You can’t just go around getting yourself arrested for murder. I don’t think your garlic defense would go over well with the judge.”

Cass shrugged. “I can get myself off.” Mat raised an eyebrow. “Ew!” She threw a packet of red pepper at Mat, promptly hitting him square in the chest. “Get your mind out of the gutter. There are children present.” To be fair, aside from them the restaurant was filled mostly with high school students, nervously holding hands and sipping each others’ Cokes while they tried desperately to make small talk. And to be fair, she could get herself off. 

“Are you finally going to tell me what we’re doing?” Cass asked, biting into the last bit of her crust. 

“In a minute,” Mat said, twisting around to rustle through the pocket of his leather jacket. He pulled out a small, flat square box, sliding it over the table to her. Cass traced the edges delicately with a finger. 

Mat smiled softly at her. “Open it.” 

Cass tapped the box against her palm until the bottom fell softly into her hand. Inside, nestled in a cloud of cotton, was a beautiful silver bar necklace. It was simple, elegant, not too flashy. But it was her, and it was hers. 

“I know you don’t like me spending money on you,” Mat shrugged, “but you deserve nice things. You deserve to be treated well.” He reached over the table to tuck a curl behind her ear. 

She picked it up, touching the chain, clasp, pendant. “Turn it over,” Mat said pointedly, with a smile on his face. Cass flipped it. There was an engraving on the back — well, two, really. 10-28-20. That one she knew. That one was their anniversary. WWRD. That one she didn’t know. Glancing back up towards Mat with a confused look on her face, she raised an eyebrow. “What would Ruth do,” Mat supplied. It took Cass a moment, and once she realized, she almost fell over, dissolving into peals of laughter. What would Ruth do? “I know I’m nothing but a filthy Canadian,” Mat started, “but I also know you love her and look up to her. You don’t just have a mug with someone’s face on it for no reason.” That was true. For Secret Santa last Christmas, Ryanne had 100% gotten Cass a mug with Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s face on it. And she 100% used it every day for her morning tea. 

“Plus, I read on Wikipedia that before she was a judge, she was a lawyer and did a lot for women’s rights and stuff. Which is really cool.” Cass nodded. That’s sweet, she thought, he actually did his homework. 

It was Cass’s turn to turn to Mat, leaning forward and cupping his cheek gently. He leaned into her touch. “It’s beautiful, Mat. I love it.”

“Let me put it on for you?” Mat asked. Cass nodded, he stood up and shuffled behind her, delicately grabbing the necklace and brushing her hair to one side. Cass shivered at the touch of his fingertips. After a few seconds, he managed to clasp it, leaning down and brushing a kiss on her shoulder before walking back to his side and grabbing his jacket. “You ready to take off?” His eyes flickered down towards his watch. It was nearing 7:30. “We’ve got to be somewhere by 8, but they said to get there early.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” Cass asked curiously.

Mat cracked a grin, sliding her hand into his as they walked out of the restaurant. “You’ll see.”

Two minutes of walking later and Cass was staring into the lights of Broadway. Even living only a few hours away, she had only been once before. The Lion King, in 5th grade. Her little sister Eliana was more of a theatre kid than Cass; field hockey and lacrosse kept her too busy in high school, any spare time she had between sports and work study was spent spending time with friends or reading old books. Eliana was four years younger than her, and when she got the lead in Heathers, Cass had never been happier to live only twenty minutes away from home. El killed it, she got to have a night at home, and was able to make pancakes with her mom in the morning. It was a win-win-win scenario. But Cass still loved musicals, listened to soundtracks while she studied, tried to make the drive once a year to Boston  — Eliana was at BU — to see a winter or spring show.

So when she was suddenly looking up at the ten-foot-tall poster for Waitress, her mouth kept opening and closing like a fish. “Do you like it?” Mat asked hesitantly. “We can find something else to do if you’re not into it, I know —”

Cass cut him off, squeezing his hand tightly and standing on her tippy toes to press a kiss to his jaw. “It’s amazing, Mat. I just didn’t know what to say. I still don’t, really. This is such an...unexpected gift. But I love it.” Mat relaxed. He genuinely was nervous about the choice; her roommates had told him that she liked the soundtrack and she had recommended that Sara Bareilles album to him way back in October, but he didn’t want to assume that meant she’d want to see it live. Mat was glad that he was wrong. 

Mat gently pulled the tickets out of his coat pocket, flashing them to the usher and handing Cass’s to her. “You ready for a show?”

---

“So, what did you think?” Cass asked as they walked out of the theater. 

“I liked it!” Mat said. And he really had liked it. Some of the music definitely confused him, and he didn’t understand how quick changes were physically possible, but it was good. “Earl’s a class-A dick, though. Jenna’s much better off without him.”

Cass nodded. “Correct.”

 March 4 (thurs)

 Cass glanced down at her watch, making sure it was a good time to call. It was just after 6 in New York, which would mean it was...5 in Winnipeg? Was that right? Mat probably hadn’t gotten to the arena yet, or if he did, it was more likely dinner than training or warmups. Clicking on his contact, it rang for less than ten seconds before Mat picked up. 

“Hey babe! You good?” It wasn't per se unusual for them to call each other — especially during road trips, they tried to talk or FaceTime every day — but it was usually Mat who called first, and usually just after games. So it was understandable that he was a little confused. 

Cass giggled. “I’m good, really good. Got some good news, just wanted to hear your voice.” 

“Awww,” Mat teased, “you loooove me.”

Cass didn’t really blush, but if she did, her cheeks would be scarlet. “Yes. I do. Shut up.”

Mat let out a laugh. “Just teasing you, babe. Good news, eh? What kind? Did you hear back from any of the places you applied yet?”

“No,” Cass huffed. “Not that.” She had sent out her résumé to somewhere around ten different firms and nonprofits, mostly in New York, but some as far south as D.C. and as far north as Boston. She had also sent in an application for a clerkship at the Supreme Court months back as some sort of pipe dream, but hadn’t heard anything back and had long since abandoned it as a lost cause. “I’ve done a few interviews, but nothing permanent. It’s still pretty early, though.” And that part was true  —  out of everyone in her circles back at school, there were maybe a handful who already had jobs lined up after graduation, most of them having evolved from summer associate positions they’d taken with some highbrow firm in Manhattan. Or D.C. One was even going to London to do something very intellectual-sounding with trade negotiations. 

“I know you’re probably a little nervous, and I totally get that. But don’t worry, Cass. You’re incredible and so smart and so qualified and someone’s going to see that, even if it takes a little longer than expected.” 

“Thanks,” Cass said, breathing out deeply and smiling softly. Mat was getting good at reading her, so good that he could tell when something was bothering her even without being face-to-face. And he gave damn fine pep talks. 

Mat cleared his throat. “So. Good news?”

Cass screwed up her face. “Good news. Right. I just got out of the office, and you know how I said I was almost done with my hours?” It had taken Cass longer than usual to finish her experiential requirement, since nearly all of her peers got it knocked out in a summer and she, obviously, was a little more busy when it actually came to term time. “Mhm,” Mat responded. “I just got done with the last of them today!”

Mat was confused. “So...your good news is that you’re finished? I thought you liked working with Chris?”

“Right, yeah, I do.” Cass tried to backtrack. I should have explained. “Chris told me I’m welcome to stay on, and I’m going to. I genuinely like what I’m doing. Since I’m not doing it for school anymore, he put in a request for a status change with HR, and it just got approved. So,” she paused for dramatic effect, “the good news is that now I’m getting PAID.” 

“Awesome!” Mat said. “You’re going to be the one making the big bucks now.”

“I’m making 16 dollars an hour. It’s barely above minimum wage, but it’s nice to finally get something back.” 

Ten minutes later, after they had hung up, Mat leaned back in his hotel bed. He really was proud of Cass, unbelievably so, but hadn’t yet admitted to himself just how nervous he was. Not about their relationship, really, but about where things were headed. He absolutely saw them together as a long-term thing and at least from what Cass made it seem like, so did she. But they hadn’t really spoken about where they saw this whole thing going, or what it would look like, or really anything beyond vaguely discussed plans for the summer after her graduation. The uncertainty wasn’t really concerning him. Mat’s new contract locked him in through 2026, so he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. And he wouldn’t want to, he loved hockey and loved New York and loved his team. 

Cass was a whole different story. She was probably the smartest person he’d ever met, and Mat knew that she could and would be able to go just about anywhere for a position. She didn’t have to stay in New York if she didn’t want to. And sure, New York was a pretty good place to be a lawyer — it didn’t take a genius to know that — but the worry kept popping up in the back of his mind that she’d get an incredible offer somewhere like California or Chicago or even somewhere international and would leave the city. Leave him. Mat would never dream of holding Cass back from her dreams. It would be a dick move and she’d worked way too hard to let everything go to waste. But the idea of doing something long distance, like true long distance, scared the shit out of him. It wasn’t just that he’d miss the sex or seeing her in the stands at games or early morning coffee dates, but Mat thrived on closeness, he thrived on intimacy of all kinds. It would terrify him to have to be away from someone who meant so much to him for so long. But this was Cass, his Cass, and if he’d go through it for anyone, it would be for her. 

I’m overthinking this, Mat thought, as he flipped his phone over and over in his hands. Don’t make up problems where there are none. 

 March 13 (sat)

Cass tapped her fingers nervously as she walked through the doors of the Islander’s practice rink. It was family skate, and Cass couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t quite belong. 

“There you are!” Mat said, his bag slung over one shoulder as he greeted her with a kiss. “You ready? I know Tito and Paige are already down there and they’re starting to get on the ice.”

“Yep!” Cass said brightly, forcing a smile and grabbing his hand a little too quickly. 

Mat raised one eyebrow. “Alright, what is it?”

Cass dropped the face. “It’s just...this seems different than all of the other things I’ve gone to. It’s not like when I’m in the box at games or we go out with the team or I hang out with the girls when you guys are on a road trip. It’s like,” she let out a huff, “this is small. This is close. This is meant for family, wives and kids, and I’m not...I’m not family. I’m your girlfriend, sure, but…” She trailed off. 

Mat squeezed her hand. “I plan on keeping you around for a long time, Cass. You’d better get used to it. And besides,” he said, looking at her softly, “wives have to start somewhere.”

Luckily, Cass didn’t have time to get too into her head, because she was suddenly engulfed in a bear hug from Paige. “I know we got coffee on Monday, but it’s been too long, Cass. I swear, you’re working too hard.”

Mat chimed in. “Tell me about it.” Cass swatted at him. “She’s been studying and editing and sending in her résumé to every office she can get her hands on.” He sat his chin on top of her head, arms crossing in front of her chest to hold her hands. 

“Alright, Mr. Clingy,” Cass giggled, twisting her head to look up at Mat. 

“But you looove your clingy boyfriend,” Mat whined, leaning down and softly kissing Cass. 

She scrunched her nose. “Regrettably so.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “You ready to go out on the ice?”

“Yeah.” Cass nodded, taking a pair of skates from the rack. By the time she had unlaced her boots and set them to the side, Mat had already tied his hockey skates, an extra pair he kept in his practice bag. 

“Let me,” Mat said, gently taking the skates and kneeling down in front of her. 

Cass rolled her eyes, but her cheeks heated all the same. “If you insist,” she said, holding her left leg out. 

“Okay, Cinderella,” Mat chuckled, holding her ankle for support as he wiggled her foot in, pulling the laces tight and tying them. “Double knots are more secure,” he said, blushing, as he finished the second skate. 

“You’re cute when you blush,” Cass said, pinching Mat’s cheeks, which only made him go more scarlet. 

He straightened out the knot, reaching out a hand so Cass could stand up. She steadied herself on the skates. “How much skating have you done?” Mat asked as he led her to the door. 

Cass shrugged. “A little? I went a few times as a kid and the girls and I go to Rockefeller Center around Christmas every year, but not a ton. Skating’s an expensive enough sport as it is, and my parents were already having to deal with coming up with the fees for Noah before he started working.”

Mat grimaced. “Yeah, I get that. I hate it, how cost prohibitive the sport is, and I try to help out back home when I can, but knowing that there’s so many kids who love the sport and could be so good,” he took a tense breath, “but aren’t able to because their families don’t have the means. It’s really shi—” He cut himself off, noticing his teammates’ children skating around. “It sucks.”

“It does.” Cass nodded. “But I know you have a good heart, and I know you’re helping where you can.” She gave a half-smile as they stepped onto the ice, her hand gripping his forearm as she tried to find her balance on the slick surface, which had been passed over by a zamboni right before the group’s arrival. “Wipe that smile off of your face,” she said, sticking her tongue out. 

“Yes ma’am,” Mat said with a grin, pulling her along. 

---

After an hour or so of skating, Cass had gotten the hang of it enough to where Mat was good to step off the ice for a few minutes and talk to some of the boys. “They have goldfish,” he had mentioned. “I think the snack table’s supposed to be for the kids, but I’m not above theft in situations like these.” So Cass skated around with Paige, Lauren, and some of the other WAGs, nearly all of whom were much, much better skaters than herself. 

“For someone who grew up on hockey, you’d think this would be way easier for me than it is,” Cass grumbled, tentatively pushing off from the sideboards. 

“You’ll get it eventually. I believe in you,” Paige said, poking her cheek. 

She grimaced. “Hopefully. I can see the Athletic’s morning headline now: ‘Cassidy Cabrera Shaw, Girlfriend of 2018 Calder Trophy Winner Mat Barzal, Falls on Face While Attempting to Skate.” 

“Sue them,” Paige suggested.

Cass laughed. “That’d be nice, wouldn’t it? Wish I could.” She stuck her hands in her jacket pockets. “No grounds for defamation if it’s true.”

“Laws are dumb.” 

“They can be,” Cass admitted, looking over to the bleachers. “You want to go get drinks? I think I saw Whiteclaws in the adult’s cooler, and I know how you feel about those.”

Paige was already halfway across the rink. “Only if all the limes haven’t been taken!”

Cass shook her head, turning like Mat had taught her and skating over to the benches. Paige had gone over to sit with Anthony, a lime Whiteclaw successfully in her hand, and it took Cass no time to find Mat. He was sitting in the second row next to some of the other guys, and he was holding a baby. A very cute, very small baby. She gingerly made her way over to the group, catching Mat’s eye. He beamed at her as she took a seat next to him. 

“And who’s this little cutie?” She asked, smiling at him. 

“This is Milo,”  Mat said softly, turning him slightly so she could wave at him.

Cass absentmindedly remembered asking whose son it was — an offseason trade from Colorado, she vaguely recalled processing the contract at work — but she really couldn’t say which one. But she stroked Milo’s face with one finger, puffed out her cheeks at him, and suddenly he was in her arms and everything else fell away. She bounced him for a few minutes, easily falling back into her old routine — she was an older sister, after all — before handing him back to Mat, who was clearly having some separation anxiety. 

Lauren sat on the edge of the bench, gently touching Cass’ shoulder with Collins on her hip. “He looks really good like that, doesn’t he?” She asked. Cass’ cheeks burned. She didn’t know anyone had seen her looking over at Mat and Milo. “Yeah, he does,” she said, a soft smile crossing over her face.

 March 26 (fri)

 A steaming cup of tea in her hands, Cass threw her head back against the couch, knocking her reading glasses askew. She straightened them with a huff. There were two days until the deadline for the law review, and she still had two articles to get through for last-minute edits and spelling checks. It was just past 11, which normally wouldn’t have been all that late for her, but she had been staring at her computer for hours and it was beginning to take a toll. She had been at the library until 8 or so, making more than one trip to the coffee cart in the lobby before she realized that she wasn’t going to get anywhere sequestered away in a cubicle on the fourth floor. The Islanders were playing that night, so Cass shot Mat a text that she was headed over, packed up her bags, and headed over. 

He had just given her a key the week prior, and it was her first time using it. Even though he constantly told her she was welcome to go over, whether he was there or not, she had more than her fair share of nerves as she jingled her keychain, thumbing over her apartment key and mail key and car key and key to the house back in Connecticut before she opened the door. She set the kettle to boil and grabbed the little-used box of English Breakfast from the cabinet before crashing on the couch, where she had been pretty much ever since, save for a bathroom break after a thrilling review of a paper on recent intellectual property rulings of the 2nd Circuit Court. 

The doorknob turned and Mat walked in, shower-damp hair, still clad in his gameday suit with his duffel slung over his left shoulder. “Hey, babe,” he said, dropping the bag and walking over to the couch to plant a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “Still at it?”

She nodded ruefully, rubbing her eyes. “Yeah. I ordered takeout earlier in case you’re hungry, there’s an extra gyro in the kitchen,” she pointed to a bag on the counter, “and they threw in free baklava if you’re still hungry.”

His eyebrows perked. “Baklava?” Cass had discovered early on in their relationship that hidden beneath his curated meal plans from the team nutritionist and smoothie kits was a surprisingly committed sweet tooth. She was a stress-baker, and Mat had been more than willing over the past few months to serve as her taste tester for cookies, pies, and anything in between. 

Cass giggled. “Yeah. Better get it before I steal the last piece, though.” 

Mat returned later with the pastry on a napkin, shrugging off his suit jacket and collapsing onto the cushion beside her. “Anything else interesting happen today?”

Cass shrugged her shoulders. “I had yoga in the morning like usual, which was fun. I tried a hot yoga class today, though, and you would not believe how much I sweat. It hurt my soul.”

“No pain no gain, baby,” Mat chimed in. Cass rolled her eyes at him. 

“But then I had law review and my Entertainment Law seminar before I headed over to the office. Pretty normal, they had me looking over some leasing agreements for the next season. Called my grandma, she’s shipping my serape stole over next week and needed my address,” Cass added.

“Serape stole?”

Cass adjusted her position on the couch so she was facing Mat. “It’s a Mexican thing. You know how graduation gowns usually have stoles for the school or whatever?” Mat nodded. “It’s pretty common to have cultural ones too, Black students will often wear what’s called a kente cloth stole and Mexican and some other Latinx students have serape stoles. Give me a sec,” she said, grabbing her phone and scrolling through her photos. “Here’s a graduation photo of me and the girls from UConn, Ryanne’s in her kente stole and I have mine.”

Mat looked bewildered. “Why are you wearing so many of them?”

Cass laughed, realizing which photo she pulled up. “Okay, fair enough. So there’s the normal school one on the bottom, then I had one for the honors program, then on top of that is the one from my sorority, then on top of that is the serape. Most of the other photos it’s just one or two, like in the ones when I’m with the sorority or the Mexican Student Association or whoever. We thought it would be fun to take one where we’re just drowning in stoles and leis. Made us feel fancy.”

“You do look very fancy,” Mat said, leaning his head on her shoulder. “You also look very tired, Cass. You need to go to sleep.”

Cass scrunched up her nose. “I’ve only got the two papers left to look over, and I’d really like to get them done before I head back. Get them all knocked out, y’know?”

“Stay here,” Mat said easily, as if it wasn’t even a question. “Stay here, you can finish reviewing them in the morning. Plus, I’d feel a lot better if you weren’t taking the subway alone at half past 11.”

Cass sighed. He had a point. “Fine,” she said slowly, “but you have to promise to wake me up if I don’t get out of bed by 8. Okay?”

Mat gently took her laptop, setting it on the coffee table. “Okay. Now go take a shower and hop into bed, pretty girl. You’ve had a long day.”

“Thanks,” Cass said, smiling gratefully and padding down the hall to the bathroom. Shedding her clothes, Cass stepped into the shower, expecting to use Mat’s Old Spice shampoo — which, to be fair, didn’t smell half bad — when a white floral bottle caught her eye. She had mentioned offhand once that she was picking up a new bottle of shampoo, and Mat must have been listening more than she gave him credit for. Because, without asking, he had gotten one too.

[motleymoose]

Homecoming Pt.3: Bits & Pieces Ch. 3

Chapter 3

This Isn't A Peace Talk

Fandom: The Mandalorian, Star Wars Characters: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin), Gender Neutral Reader, The Child Words: 2.3k+ Warnings: SO MUCH ANGER AND SQUABBLING

Summary:

I get to use my mech skills, but also I have a fight with the bounty hunter.

Notes:

I don't know why it took so long to get this chapter out, but it's here now!!!

Thanks for reading!

Homecoming Masterlist

***GIF NOT MINE***

The hours bled into one another as we flew ever closer to the Mandalorian’s destination, and I was becoming nightmarishly restless. After checking the patched wiring in the hold’s crawlspace and tinkering with a few spare parts in need of cleaning, I snooped around the hold some more. Most of the hold was empty, except for a couple of crates marked FOOD AND MEDICAL and half-dozen still-frozen bounties in the carbonite lockers. With nothing to do and a whole lotta time to do it in, I prowled about the lower decks in tight figure-eights, much like a wild creature stuck in an observation tank. The boredom was driving me bonkers.

Unable to take the utter lack of stimulation anymore, I grabbed a portable equipment chest in one hand, shouldered the diagnostics kit on the opposite, and made my way precariously up the ladder to the top deck.

It didn’t take long for the bounty hunter to find me, borrowed tools scattered around me and a diagnostics pad in hand, pottering around the engineering room with grease smudged across my forehead.

“I told you to stay put,” the Mandalorian gruffed, nearly tripping over me. I sat cross-legged on the floor, running a simple program to check on the aural sensors. I glanced up at him dubiously. His fingers brushed his blaster in a convulsive if threatening manner.

“You told me to stay out of your way. Engineering isn’t anywhere near in your way, unless you deviate from your way on purpose.” I stopped, trying to sort out what exactly I meant by that. But I batted it away with a hmph. I didn’t have time to figure out my own nonsense. “Besides, can’t a person ogle another person’s band limiter cuffs without the third degree?” Still seated in front of the sensor panel, I craned my neck over my shoulder and up, agitated at the interruption.

The visor tilted upwards, contemplating. Gloved fingertips drummed on the pistol’s grip until he sighed deliberately and relaxed his arm. “Fine,” he said gruffly. “Just - don’t break anything important.”

“I’m a blackthumb. If I break it, I’ll fix it better,” I said, forcefully bright and smiling. The little diagnostics computer dinged. I unplugged it and stood up, stretching the kinks from my spine. Sidestepping the Mandalorian, I slapped his pauldron good-naturedly as I slithered past him and into the bay.

“I do want to take a look at your pressors, though. This ol’ girl ‘bout rattled the teeth out of my head when she came out of hyperspace. May also need to tweak the conversion module to keep up with all that new tech you’ve got back there,” I said, easily falling back into Professional Mechanic Mode. Making my way to the cockpit, I crawled underneath the control deck, holding a pen light between my teeth as I lay on my back and surveyed the wiring system.

A tiny, warm body flopped onto my legs, and I was delighted to see that the child had come to join me. He scrambled up my thighs, across my belly and came to rest on my chest. Big ears wiggling happily, the kid propped his chin in his hands and stared at me intently. I removed the flashlight from my mouth and wedged it between my neck and shoulder, making it easier to talk to him.

I happened to be in the middle of explaining the intricacies of navcomp programming to my rapt pupil when the toe of the hunter’s boot nudged my hip.

“What?” I asked curtly as the long mental list of small improvements faded from my mind. By then my hands were caked in carbon dust, and the child made no move to slide off of me. Resigning to my fate, I signaled for the Mandalorian to continue with whatever it was he had to say; I wasn’t going to be moving out from under the control deck any time soon.

A flutter of cloth on steel, and the bounty hunter was in my space, crouching beside the pilot’s chair, his helmet parallel to the lip of the deck.

“What are you doing to my ship.” His tone was smooth yet menacing.

Rolling my eyes, I shooed the child off of me and clambered out from under the panel. The Mandalorian had retreated to the door while I’d wriggled out. Brushing dirty fingers across the chest of my jumpsuit, I sunk heavily into the co-pilot’s seat, scratching my forehead with my opened multitool. The little one trundled to me from out of the console’s shadows and tugged at my pantleg until I was obliged to pick him up. He held a small silver object tightly in his grubby little hands, and he ferreted it away underneath his tunic as soon as he settled onto my lap.

“Just a few minor adjustments and reroutes. Nothing too fancy or critical. Did you know this ship was stripped by Jawas?” I gestured animatedly with my custom multi-purpose tool. “I wouldn’t have noticed with how amazing the rebuild was, but I could tell by the wiring harness modifications. Distinctly Jawa scavenged mods.” Grinning stupidly, I shook my head in amazement. “Whoever rebuilt the Crest sure knew what they were doing!”

“Yes,” the bounty hunter replied, a little more brusquely than I thought the conversation warranted. He leaned against the cockpit’s door frame, arms crossed and exuding false indifference. He was strangely emotive for how much beskar covered his body.

“No doshing way?” I exclaimed. The prospect of Jawas intrigued me to no end; they were a scavenging people, mainly dealing in mech and droids. Their methods of acquiring said mech and droids could be considered loosely in the vicinity of ethical, if you squinted really hard, but they always did have the best stuff.

The Mandalorian stared out into the inky dark of space, starlight blurring over the silvery dome of his helmet. He cleared his throat, started to say something and then stopped. I waited patiently, the prickly curiosity holding my jittery nerves in place. The kid whined and made grabby hands at my multitool, so I folded it back into itself and gave it to him. It looked absurdly gigantic in his tiny fingers, but he gnawed on it with gusto.

A sigh crackled over the bounty hunter’s vocoder. “An Ugna- my friend. His name was Kuiil. He negotiated to get all the parts back from the Jawas, and then he-he helped me repair the Razor Crest.” The tension he had been holding suddenly dissipated, and his shoulders sagged in something akin to relief. His breastplate rose and fell in a juttering, painful beat, and the strangled sigh of modulated air buzzing from his helmet told me everything I needed to know. Whoever Kuiil had happened to be, I knew that he must have been a very good friend to the Mandalorian, and his loss was still felt across hyperspace.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

The bounty hunter huffed. “Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la.”

“Not gone, merely marching far away,” I murmured in turn.

The Mandalorian stilled. For a beat, neither of us moved. The silence widened the already substantial gap between us, sweeping away what little bit of common ground we had found purchase on. Having that tiny foothold crumble beneath me in a matter of seconds set me on edge. I didn’t like him any more than he liked me; our mutual dislike for one another had turned into something more, something almost companion-like. But since I had to go and open my big dumb mouth, we were back to Square One.

The kid let out a loud, wet snerkt!, pulling us both out of our respective thoughts.

Arms uncrossing and leather gloves tightening into fists at his sides, the bounty hunter took the two steps from the doorway to the co-pilot’s chair. Without a sound, he took the slumbering child from my arms and stomped off to his quarters.

“I -” A tiny kernel of guilt blared in warning. “Wait, I didn’t mean to- ah, blast it,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. I hadn’t meant any disrespect to his friend, or his Creed. I only knew enough Mando’a to get me into trouble, and I hoped I hadn’t overstepped any boundaries by saying the tribute in Basic. Fiddling with my multitool for a long moment, I tried to come up with some sort of apology that would convey my cultural misstep.

Wracking my brain for Mando’a phrases to express my regrets at my choice of words, I didn’t hear him return to the cockpit.

Huffing once more, the bounty hunter startled me from my guilt trip. I averted my eyes, swallowed my pride and braced myself to deliver an apology. “Look, bud. I’m not good with-”

“Where did you get this?” he asked, cutting me off from my apology.

“What are you -”

“Where did you get this necklace??” he repeated, hissing through his teeth.

Silver flashed into my field of vision. I blinked a few times, my eyes refusing to believe what the bounty hunter dangled in front of my face. “Wha-” My voice cracked dangerously. I couldn’t believe it. It was my pendant. My eyes followed the Mythosaur skull as it swung back and forth, mouth gaping in astonishment. A small spark of Hope rekindled somewhere deep down inside my chest, clearing a slim but bright path through the anger and the guilt that had been dogging me for the past several days.

“My - my..” I said weakly, tears pricking at my eyes. “Where did -”

The hunter lunged suddenly, slamming both fists down on the armrests on either side of me. I yelped in surprise, shrinking back in the co-pilot’s chair. Pinned in, I could do nothing more than stare at him, confused.

“This shouldn’t exist. It shouldn’t be yours.”

The small, flickering flame of Hope guttered out, and once more I was cold and empty and full of rage.

“What gives you the right?” I spat. I leaned as far forward as the hunter’s presence would allow, my nose almost pressed against the beskar helmet. “You don’t know me. You don’t know where I came from, or what I’ve done to get here. All I am to you is a bounty that went wrong. It’s not up to you to decide what I can or can’t have.” Chest heaving and fists clenched together in my lap, I stared down the Mandalorian. I was too confused to be scared of what he could do to me, too pissed off to care about his reasons.

That pendant was mine. And I wanted it back.

The Mandalorian’s blank, glassy facade didn’t move. No words, no sounds escaped his modulator. Hot waves of anger rolled off of him, anger that I didn’t understand, didn’t want to understand. The co-pilot’s seat trembled underneath me, but I wasn’t sure if the movement was his or my own.

“Give it back,” I growled, finally breaking the silence. “It’s mine.”

“No.” The rumbling baritone was tense, straining against his control. His whole body held unspeakable amounts of emotion, and he was unwilling, or unable, to let it go.

“Bastard.” I swung up from my hips, clipping the lip of his helmet smartly with my clasped fists.

He stumbled back, dropping the necklace as both hands came up to straighten his helmet. Seeing an opening, I rushed the bounty hunter, driving my left shoulder into his side and pushing him into the opposite wall. With a roar, he ducked out of my grasp, using his momentum to kick out at my knees. I dodged sideways, his boot only grazing my shins. Now off-balanced, I staggered back and tripped over my own feet. I took a nosedive, landing heavily on the pilot’s seat. The air was knocked from my lungs, and for a moment too long I was dazed. At that opportunity, the Mandalorian grabbed the back of my collar and hauled me out of the chair.

“Hrrkt!” I choked, scrabbling to loosen the stranglehold my jumpsuit currently had on my neck.

“Last time. Where. Did. You. Get. This.” With each word, the hunter shook me like a ragdoll. The calm he exuded was frightening in comparison to the violence he was promising.

“Uunrkt,” I replied.

The Mandalorian released the back of my jumpsuit, and I crumpled, catching myself on the pilot’s seat. Pressing my forehead into the roughly-woven seat cushion, I panted laboriously. Tears were streaming down my face. I sniffled loudly and wiped my nose on my sleeve before I spoke.

“That is mine. It was given to me by my caretaker.” The anger I had been feeling melted into sadness. I was tired of fighting the emotion, so I embraced it, allowing myself to finally feel. “It’s the only thing I have left.” I broke off with a sob, burying my face in my hands.

“What was his name.”

I went rigid. Names held power, even I knew that growing up where I did. But he was dead, so surely the issue was moot? At least, I hoped he was dead. The alternatives to why he never returned hurt my heart too much to bear.

“You wouldn’t’ve known him,” I said thickly.

“Try me,” the hunter said gruffly.

I couldn’t get around it now. Even if he wasn’t dead, sharing his name with one of his brethren probably wasn’t the worst thing I could do.

But, then again, if he wasn’t dead, that meant I didn’t owe him anything for leaving me behind.

“Reyn. His name was Drys Reyn.”

[andturpentine]

An Abandoned Work

This is an excerpt from a story that I lost the outline for. I love it a lot, but I can’t remember where I was going for the plot, so unfortunately, this is it.

The Downfall of Margaret Rafferty, Otherwise Known as the Street Organ Peddler

Margaret Rafferty was a disgrace to the art of the Circus.  The bright lights and glittering costumes were muddled by her drab, lull of a personality. 

Smoothing out the wrinkles on her dress, the girl stood up from the mud puddle on the side of the road. The navy blue fabric was almost imperceptible underneath the dirt and grime, but even just a couple hours ago the fabric was beautiful, and unstained. 

Margaret walked down the uneven pavement on the road, all air of elegance depleted, her gait stilted. When had it all gone wrong for her? Her whole life had been given to her, fed to her on a spoon. Perhaps the spoon wasn’t silver, as most people believed it to be, but it was a spoon nonetheless. 

She glanced at herself in a shop window, disappointed with the face that looked back. Her once fiery hair was now a dark auburn of falling curls. Her eyes were a jaded shade of green, and her fair pink skin was dull, freckles blending in with the flecks of dirt on her face. She had been beautiful once. Before the art had died. Even before then, she was unmatched in her presence. 

Margaret looked away from the window, spotting a scrap of paper in the gutter. Kneeling, she picked up the paper, sighing as she saw its contents. 

One night only! It declared. See the talented Margaret Rafferty Perform! The drawing underneath looked nothing like her. 

Margaret sighed, folding up the paper and sticking it in her waistband. 

Margaret Rafferty killed the art of the Circus. 

Since being a child, in the home of a wealthy doctor, Margaret had found herself stifled by the constraints of the upper class. Finishing schools, strict schedules, even drinking tea felt like a chore. There was one thing that melted the stress of being a proper lady away. One day of the year, from her sixth to her tenth birthdays, her father deemed it questionably acceptable to visit the circus. Of course that stopped as soon as the unhealthy obsession arose. 

At age six, it was endearing. The small redhead with the wild hair, balancing on the edge of the road, parasol high over her head. By age ten it became less endearing, and more troublesome. Especially to the girl’s mother, Ellouise 

It seemed impossible for Ellouise to have a perfect child. She forced all of her energy into Margaret, her only child, and yet the— now adolescent woman— was as wild as ever. 

The final straw was crossed when Margaret had fashioned a tightrope from her bedroom window to the large oak tree in the field. Margaret was quickly sent to a boarding school. 

Dressed in white lace gowns, and tightly laced corsets, the girl learned to sip her tea quietly, never having an outburst, or an original thought, lest she be switched. It was pure agony. For a free spirit like Margaret, the school seemed like the end of her days. 

Nothing, of course, could stop her love for the circus. She worked in secrecy, creating elaborate costumes from the allowance that her parents send her each month. By the time it was her 17th birthday, Margaret had a collection of glittering acrobat costumes, each more elaborate than the last—all hand made, all hardly worn.

The spring was nearly unbearable. As soon as the weather started to get warm, Margaret could practically smell the buttered popcorn, and hear the beautiful waltzes played on the organ in the big canvas tent. 

Just before her final month of school for the year, Margaret received a letter. Mail was not unusual for her, but she didn’t recognize the sender. She furrowed her brow for a moment, quickly stopping. Furrowed brows cause wrinkles. Her mother’s voice rang through her ears. Margaret gently broke the wax seal on the back of the envelope. 

By the time she had finished reading the letter, Margaret was panic stricken. Her mother was trying to marry her off. Margaret hadn’t even met the man and here she was, already betrothed to him, without her consent. 

Margaret’s chest felt tight, and for once she knew it wasn’t the constriction of the corset. As night rolled over the town, and the circus lit up, she knew what she had to do. 

Margaret was going to become a goddamn carnie. 

Margaret was horrible at tightrope walking. It turns out that watching a funambulist was not enough for her to learn. She had walked right up to the ring leader, asking to join, but instead of being openly accepted among the freaks and frauds, she was asked to show her skills. 

There was only one problem with that. Margaret had absolutely no skills whatsoever. She balanced on the edge of the platform, ready to take her first step onto the rope. One thing that the ring leader could appreciate about Margaret was how gracefully she fell onto the practice net. Her face didn’t display any fear as she fell, almost appearing like an angel. If angels could have hair so red that it burned in the sunlight, of course. 

“You are exceptionally unskilled,” The ring leader offered her a hand, helping the ripe, young beauty off of the net. 

She smoothed out her skirt, a pink blush creeping up her neck. “Please. I need this.”

He bit his lip, observing her. “We don’t have charity to give to anyone who comes our way. Everyone in this troupe has their purpose.”

The flush on Margaret’s face immediately faded as a look of determination was firmly set in her eyes. “I can be very useful. I can cook or clean. I can learn to be a tightrope walker. I can learn anything. I’m willing to do anything.” 

Looking at her with sullen eyes, the man sighed. “Look. I’m sorry. I have to turn you down.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his eyes twinkling, “Although it’s quite a shame.” 

Margaret’s posture escaped her, the spinal column in her back practically disappearing. She grabbed her small wicker train case off of the floor, walking past the ringleader and into the rehearsal of the circus. 

Margaret was by no means a clumsy girl. She had always carried herself with the elegance that many ladies had tried so hard to obtain through years of training. Yet, as if by magic— or some sort of destiny— she had tripped over herself, her belongings splayed all over the floor. 

The intricate jeweled costumes, on display for everyone to see, were hardly soiled by the dusty ground before the ringleader picked one up. It was a light pink number, with small, labyrinthine beads adorning the front, and a beautiful feathered cape trailing behind it. 

“Did you make this?” The man looked at Margaret, who was still frantically trying to keep the costumes from getting dusty. 

“Down to every last bead.” She closed the latches on her small piece of luggage, oddly proud that her craftsmanship was being acknowledged. 

“What did you say your name was?” 

“You never asked.” She smiled a bit. “My name is Margaret Rafferty.” 

He took her by the hand, kissing the top of it gently before intertwining their arms. “Welcome to the Circus, Miss Rafferty.”

When she was told she was going to be a part of the circus, she didn’t realize that the ringleader meant she was a glorified seamstress, but she didn’t really mind. The tightrope walker taught Margaret her craft, and in return Margaret taught her how to dance a waltz, and how to play the carnival’s organ.

Within a month, Margaret had mastered the tightrope.

[doroyamz]

Love in Accra

The road looked like it was sweating.

Rain. Heavy rain. The rush hour traffic on the 37 Military Hospital Road had come to a standstill. The downpour, from nowhere, was a welcome distraction for Tony. Last night’s encounter with his wife, Alicia, still all too fresh in his mind.

Cars were barely moving along on in the ever-rising storm.

He felt a movement on his right thigh but was too preoccupied with his thoughts to give it any attention. Esi by this time was growing restless, tired of Tony’s now constant rebuffing of her advances. Last night, and for many nights in the past month, he was totally limp when she unzipped him, a far cry from the throbbing pistol that had thrilled her to no end when they first began their countless rendezvous.

In those early days, they were lust personified. Crazed and addicted to each other beyond reason. Their constant need to feel each other’s skin had a near cataclysmic pull on them and their respective worlds. Alicia got pregnant in those early days, an event Tony privately regarded as a spillover from being with his now long-standing mistress. Esi’s marriage was virtually in the gutter. She often showed up at home disheveled and night after night, retired to her marriage bed wearing a satisfying post-coital daze on her face. Her husband, would just watch her. Mute and completely emasculated.

But now her once insatiable incubus was limp to her touch. She could not understand it.

xxx

Alicia had found the video on his phone.

Tony’s entire world came to a screeching halt. His throat was so dry, he wasn’t sure if he had one anymore. He stood paralyzed; the phone screen thrust in his face. Cocked his head at an angle as if in disbelief at the two actors in the tiny screen.

The man in the screen was bald, tall and dark and looked very much like him. He stood at about 6”3 with an NBA player’s build and had the beard to match. The male actor was indubitably approaching climax and his voluptuous female understudy, on cue, fiercely gripped onto dear life – which in that moment, was her male lead.

The ochre-skinned woman in the screen was of the finest fettle. Folasade was a full-blooded Nigerian but her unapologetic curves screamed South Africa. She looked like a Marvel comic heroine brought to life.

Fola and Tony met at a seminar for West African business executives at the Kempinski Hotel, a few months after his wedding. Fola was leading a breakout panel session which Tony sat in on, intoxicated by her form and presence. The two had exchanged steamy glances all day long, making no attempt to restrain their mutual intentions for each other when the conference ended.

Tony could never get enough of Fola and in Tony, Fola had found a man who could satisfy her every whim. They could go for months on end without so much as a text message to each other. But whenever contact was made, their respective schedules were cleared until further notice. They were fully aware that their combined desire was a vast black hole with the potential to consume them, so they took conscious steps to maintain some modicum of balance in their meeting arrangements.

The night the fated video was shot, Fola was headed for a month-long business trip in Morocco. They had arranged to meet at her private office on Volta Street in the Airport Residential Area.

Fola’s suggestion to record themselves as a temporary parting memento was inexplicable to Tony. Her claim that it would be something that would hold her while she was away, seemed puzzling to him. Her feigned desperation, even more perplexing.

Tony was completely against the idea of recording their liaison. Remonstrating over and over again about how technology and affairs of love should never cross. Fola ogled him for a while, offered tiny chuckles as he groped her every now and then during his rant.

Tony became so engrossed in his personal deliberations that he missed her slip into the bathroom. When he finally took a moment to break from his monologue, he was out of breath and had worked up a sweat. The man felt he just needed to wash away all traces of that unholy proposal.

Once on the other side of the bathroom door, Tony became Pavlov’s Dog.

That was over a year ago and Fola still hadn’t returned from her trip.

His mind slowly drifted back to the screen. The soft moans and cries. The sound of skin on skin rhythmically playing from the Samsung phone speakers.

He didn’t feel shame. He didn’t feel regret. He heard Alicia’s cries, felt her pain slide across his skin. He just stood there. Numb.

xxx

“We have asked around about Tony…Alicia…for your sake, for your parents’ sake, for all our sakes…please…do not marry this man.”

One of the many admonitions Alicia fielded from her aunts and cousins after announcing Tony’s marriage proposal at her younger sister’s festive birthday party.

In the ensuing weeks after her announcement, the family matriarchs conducted an extensive background check to gather as much intel as they could on her suitor. From what Alicia’s mum told her the matriarchs searched far and wide, even unearthing some very unsavory stories about Tony’s maternal grandfather in Mampong, a township in the Ashanti region.

The women came back with a most damning report on Alicia’s debonair Asante. Alicia, however, was defiant and unmoved by their findings.

She stood up to address the mini-assembly.

“Each woman here knows how highly I value them. You have all shaped me, guided me and helped me become the woman I am today,” she said in a restrained voice.

“But with all respect, none of you know Tony like I do. You don’t know what I see in him, his potential. The depths of emotion I have felt in the time I’ve gotten to know him. None of you can know that. He’s not perfect, Lord I know he’s far from it, but I know he’s the one for me. Nothing you say or do can make me feel differently.”

She loved Tony deeply. She had never believed she was capable of loving a man, let alone marrying one, after all the damage she had seen men wreak in and around her life. And Tony had flaws, many serious ones, but he had a certain light to him and he had showed her honesty and a vulnerability she had never known men to possess.

Deep down, she believed she could change him, iron out his weaknesses and over time drive out his especially troubling womanizing habit. She knew he liked women and on countless occasions, with her own eyes, she noticed the magnetizing effect he had on them. Alicia also believed some of his troubles with women lay in the fact that he was a true empath. That he, unfortunately, had never learned to draw boundaries to his empathy which inadvertently led to his many ‘situationships.’ 

“I won’t lie Alicia. I know I have a woman problem. It’s like an addiction. The intimacy, the need to connect, the sex.” They were having lunch at the Hinlone Chinese Restaurant in Labone. The night before, as they lay in bed, Tony had told he loved her for the first time. Alicia simply smiled at his declaration, electing to play it cool although inwardly, she was beside herself with joy.

Flashes from the video.

The woman’s legs splayed. Tony’s thrusts. The glistening sheen of sweat.

“But I swear to you, most of my things with these women often start out because I pity them or I want to help them in some way…along the line, things just get muddled up and…I lose my way...”

The woman crying out in throes of pleasure.

Her mind was a broken dam. Thoughts, memories and conversations flooded her head and receded at their own leisure.

She wondered why these memories and conversations were coming up at this time. The video was still a freshly opened gash, one she had already accepted was going to be a large and permanent scar. But for the other flashbacks, she questioned their relevance to her current predicament.

He was always a monster. Why was I pretending all this time that he wasn’t? Who was I kidding?

The video was the bomb but Tony’s desensitized demeanor and harrowing forced confessions were the firestorm. She knew there was so much more he would have confessed to if she had had any more emotional stamina during her five-hour interrogation of the stranger she called her husband. She had been beyond foolish.

Time had lost its meaning. She had spent three days huddled in the corner of their bedroom tormented by her broken heart and mind.

Alicia just wanted to disappear.

xxx

One week and seventy-seven unanswered calls had passed since the explosive encounter. Tony wasn’t sure if Alicia was alive.

He was parked outside the Total House Clinic in Adabraka on a Saturday morning. Completely engrossed in his thoughts and yearning for divine intervention to offer him some guidance. Since his exposé, his mind had been in a fog that thickened with each passing day. The only silver lining were the test results from his urologist. Tony’s recent erectile issues were deemed a stress response and his dysfunction persisted due to a lack of proper rest. He needed to relax.

His wife was even more inaccessible now than she’d been during the miscarriage. For Tony, the miscarriage was a living hell made more intolerable by how suicidal Alicia had been. He was disappointed to have lost the baby especially after how hard they’d tried over the years but a small and, perhaps, darker part of him felt relieved. He didn’t think it was right to have conceived a child with his wife barely an hour after stealing sordid moments with another woman. A woman he met through his wife. In his mind, it was perhaps the universe’s way of warning him that he had gone too far this time. He would never have been able to look at that child without seeing Esi in his mind’s eye.

This time though, he had overstepped the good faith that the universe seemed to constantly extend to him. He knew his credit line with the powers-that-be was now in the red and would stay there indefinitely. His latest debt, while not his most damning by a long shot, was irredeemable. He had nowhere to hide. There were no more lies he could spin around Alicia.

But he needed her. He couldn’t lose his North Star. She was the only thing that prevented his chaotic nature from engulfing him or so he thought. Surely, after all these years she knew what she was signing on for. Why was she so surprised? That video was nothing compared to the numerous other unspeakables he’d committed over the course of their marriage. Of all the things to do him in, it had to be a twenty-minute porno. What a sick joke.

In a bloodrush, he let out a hollow scream. His mind was drowning in haphazard thoughts.

“What have I done? God what have I done?” he blurted out repeatedly at his steering wheel, as he fought to hold back tears.

“Why? Why now? Why did it happen like this?” he plaintively questioned.

No answer.

Deflated and resigned, he took out his work phone and called the only person who would always welcome him with open arms and accept him for the depraved and gluttonous animal he was.

xxx

Incense burned as Jill Scott’s ‘He Loves Me’ played softly from the soundbar. The room had been steamed to perfection.

The Executive Suite at the La Beach Hotel was their favourite love nest. Any sexual fantasy - from orgies to swing parties - either party happened to be in the mood for or could imagine, this was the room that staged its enactment.

Tonight it was just the two of them.

The toned, dark-skinned Ga woman on the bed was in her early seventies but inexplicably did not look a day past twenty. Tightly twisted Senegalese crochet braids, flowed magnificently from her scalp to her dainty waist. Her oval-shaped face remained flawless as did her soft, wrinkle-free skin. How she managed to defy time with her looks and poise was a much pondered upon mystery to all who knew her.

Dede was naked underneath a black, sparkling see-through gown. Her shea-butter glistened body glowed through the gown. A wet, willing and wanting goddess. Ready to be ravaged by her young midnight warrior. She rose to sit on her knees, directing her eyes to her nude captor’s crotch. She rendered a wry smile.

The warrior was flat-out flaccid.

“Mm,” she remarked, as she beckoned him to draw closer.

“Looks like our little man needs a little something before he comes out to play eh?” she teased in playful Ga.

He smirked as he approached her, only stopping when his groin and her face were level.

The mind-fog was still present but he closed his eyes as he begun to feel the slow and perfectly measured licking sensations in his nether region. Dede was always masterful with the things she could do with her mouth. Two lifetimes worth of experience to draw from.

Two minutes passed but Tony’s situation did not improve.

She paused to look up at Tony, “Is something the matter? You usually perk up for me with no effort. Have I done something wrong?”

“No…it’s not you love…,” he paused, longer than he’d intended.

“Just been under a lot of stress lately,” he sighed as he pulled away. He turned his back on the regal woman to look around the room for his clothes.

Dede wasn’t buying it. His tone. That pause. Something was definitely up. She had never known her beast to act or sound so tame in all the years she’d known him, not even during his grooming period.

“But you’re even more marvelous when you’re stressed…or have you forgotten Abidjan?” she asked, biting her lip.

He shrugged at her retort.

Tony was troubled by his recurring limpness.

xxx

Esi’s heart froze when she saw the Caller ID on her phone screen.

Alicia.

Why would Alicia be calling her? For what reason? Was it about Tony? Had she found out about them?

The phone was still ringing but Esi just stared at her mobile. A million worst-case scenarios flying around in her mind each time her ringtone looped over.

She decided she would not answer the call.

It’d been over eight months since they last spoke and the distance that had grown between them suited Esi, considering the increased frequency of her liaisons with Tony in those months. After years of clandestine maneuvers, she felt she was finally closing in on Alicia’s husband.

Both women had known each other from childhood. Esi even witnessed Alicia’s declaration of Tony’s marriage proposal.

The announcement was a mild shock for her at first but she remembered feeling something resembling happiness for her longtime friend. Alicia had found a man who could actually hold her attention. He had to be special. She’d seen Alicia turn down the most desirable of bachelors - a few of whom Esi herself subsequently sampled extensively - on countless occasions.

In her quiet moments, she sometimes wondered why her then soon-to-be-engaged friend seemed to routinely attract men of a higher caliber without even trying, while she often had to go above and beyond to pull a semi-decent man. She felt she was equally as - if not more - attractive than Alicia and just as accomplished professionally but somehow, she always seemed to come out second-best to her childhood friend when it mattered. These thoughts irked Esi more than she cared to admit to herself.

Alicia mirthfully introduced her old friend and soon-to-be-husband to each other a few days after her announcement.

Their eyes locked for a brief but intense moment during the exchange of pleasantries.

xxx

Nyarko Abronoma could not look at the man she called her son.

She was disgusted.

Why were the men in her family such cancers?

To the uninitiated, her family’s men were walking gods. Dazzling men who could bend the wills and desires of the staunchest hearts. They were gifted manipulators and they used their power to wreak havoc. Their preferred targets, were often women of high standing and character. They swarmed on these women like bees to honey. Once ensnared, their targets were mentally and emotionally stretched and bent beyond their limits, enduring relentless acts of gross disrespect and shame on account of these bedeviled men. And in no time, the prey merely became a shell of their former selves.

Nyarko, at the age of nine, saw her mother gradually lose her mind. A year later, a young Nyarko watched on as her mother was lowered into an unmarked grave. Both events, her father’s handiwork.

Her mother used to say that the men of Nyarko’s lineage were descendants of the fallen angels from the Book of Genesis. The Nephilim.

Even in her womb, she already knew Tony was one of them. Throughout her pregnancy, Nyarko prayed, fasted, sought the counsel of several spiritual leaders to save her unborn child. She desperately wanted her son to chart a different path than the men before him.

Tony didn’t know how to break the silence between them.

His mother had always been his trump card whenever things between him and Alicia were coming to a head. This time around though he was seeking his mother’s intervention as a Hail Mary. He knew she admired and loved Alicia. She would probably have traded her for him as her child if she had her way.

He told her what had happened, leaving out a few details.

Nyarko knew her son hadn’t told her everything.

She raised her head to observe her son. A beautiful boy with a Machiavellian heart. He was a poisoned chalice like his predecessors.

Tony looked away, uncomfortable with her soul-piercing stare.

“I can’t help you and I won’t,” she said in Twi.

He was stunned.

“I won’t let you drive that poor woman to the grave. If I help you, you are only going to repeat what your grandfather put my mother through and what my brothers did to their wives. Alicia is too much of a good woman for that. Too much. She deserves better. This time you have been exposed for all to see and we both know there are countless more lies and secrets behind those scheming eyes of yours!”

Tony’s throat tightened. He hadn’t anticipated this tirade from the old woman.

“You think I don’t know about you? The things you scurry around town doing like a possessed rat? I weep for Alicia everyday. I always pray to God to give her strength in dealing with you. You have no shame. Even during your wife’s miscarriage you had no decency, no respect for her, not an ounce of self-control. Hiding in and out of Accra with your concubines.”

Nyarko spat at her son’s feet.

“If anything should happen to Alicia, it will be on your head and I pray you pay for it.”

xxx

Three weeks and still no word from Tony.

Alicia’s call coupled with Tony’s prolonged radio silence led Esi to assume the worst.

She was driving back into Accra, via the Accra-Tema Motorway, after wrapping up a meeting in Tema's harbour area. Hawkers streamed along either side of her car, as she neared one of the highway's three toll booths.

Esi's mind was spinning. Everything seemed to be falling apart. Had she been stupid? Why couldn’t she be allowed to have her own slice of heaven? Was it a crime to want to be loved? She didn’t mean Alicia any harm but the connection between her and Tony was unavoidable.

Why was Tony all of a sudden ignoring her? Why weren’t they making love anymore? She knew  he had a harem of ‘playmates’ he could call on but he always came back to her. Was he over her? Had somebody else taken her place?

Too many questions with no answers. She wracked her brain to think of a solution, a way out through all the madness.

Dede. The Madame. The old woman would probably know something. She and Tony were close, a little too close for Esi’s liking. But Esi figured that a woman at that age didn’t have that long to live, no matter how well she kept herself or how many boys she gobbled up, so Esi was fine with their relationship. Besides she was on good terms with Dede, the three had had some raunchy episodes through the years.

Esi called Dede and inquired about Tony.

“I last saw him about a week ago but I haven’t heard from him since then,” Dede stated.

More worry for Esi. He had gone to see Dede but had not even bothered to call her for three weeks? What was going on with him? Was he over her? She knew Dede had some skills but the old witch had enough boy toys to keep her satisfied.

Dede hummed an Erykah Badu tune. Esi forgot she was still on the line.

“Thank you Dede. I’ll give him a buzz again.”

“Dear girl, hold on for a second please.”

Esi was caught off guard by The Madame’s request. Outside of their fervid love-ins, Dede was typically brisk and forthright with her.

“Have you noticed anything…strange about Tony lately?” Dede asked, an almost mischievous lilt in her slivery voice.

“Strange? What do you mean?” a puzzled Esi asked.

“His performance, has it changed in any noticeable way?” The Madame was sipping on something in the background.

“Oh Dede…,” Esi responded bashfully.

“My girl let’s not beat around the bush. Is anything different or not?”

The sudden firmness in The Madame’s voice unsettled Esi.

“W-Well…recently he doesn’t respond to my touch. You know…,” she didn’t know why she was so shy in speaking to Dede about her sexual affairs with Tony. She had seen the woman on all fours.

Static on the phone.

“He can’t get it up,” Esi muttered feebly.

“Mm..I see. Thank you Esi, that’s all I needed to know. Best of luck reaching him.”

The line cut.

Why would Dede ask that? Was she experiencing the same issues she’d been having with Tony?

The suspicion that had been floating in Esi’s mind for the past few weeks was too absurd to now consider an actual possibility. It was impossible for that to happen to Tony, he was too red-blooded, way too potent for that.

It couldn’t be.

No...no..not Tony...

Tony couldn’t be…?

No!

It isn’t possible. Tony couldn’t be impotent. The mere thought alone was utterly absurd.

But how else could she explain his sudden limpness? Plus Dede would never have asked that question if she hadn’t noti---

Esi fatally rear-ended her Nissan Qashqai into a heavy cargo truck.

xxx

Their luxury three-bedroom apartment home on Second Circular Road, Cantonments, was a stone throw away from the U.S. Embassy. It was a $600,000 property that Tony had astoundingly managed to wind down to a sale price just short of a $100,000. Alicia used to call him ‘Puppet Master T,’ for his uncanny ability to always get what he wanted.

Tony lingered outside the apartment door for nearly half an hour. He was jittery.

A flurry of deep and quick deep breaths filled his lungs as he steeled himself and turned the doorknob.

The apartment felt hostile as if it despised his presence.

His sweep around his marriage home confirmed Alicia had packed up, that much was clear. Their bedroom was half empty, with no trace of his wife left in the room. Alicia was gone and she was gone for good.

A small stack of papers was neatly arranged on the bed. Divorce papers and a small sheet with a number to call when he was done signing. That was Alicia, methodical and precise, even in the worst of circumstances.

Tony sat on the bed, staring at the divorce papers.

He wanted to call Alicia but thought better of it. She’d probably blocked him on all platforms. When his wife didn’t want to be found, she did it well.

The die was cast. There were no more moves he could play.

Something vibrated under his left thigh, briefly snapping him out of his self-pity. He shifted his weight to find the smoking gun that had ended everything.

Tony unlocked the phone to find a freeze-frame shot of a busty Fola in a most compromising position. Alicia must have watched the video countless times, trying to make sense of it all. Her soon-to-be ex-husband zoomed out of the video application to the notification center.

Ato, his closest friend and fellow degenerate, had just sent him series of confusing text messages.

The first message read: “Bro...I have been trying to reach you.” Tony checked his call log to indeed find several missed calls from his main man.

Second message: “I don’t know if you’ve heard already.”

Third: “Bro…I’m so so sorry about Esi...I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. I’m so sorry bro. Please call me if you need me. I’m here for you…”

xxx

Marijuana smoke filled the air of the love nest.

Tony’s head lay buried in Dede’s bosom. He was silent, as Dede gently stroked his head and offered hushed words of consolation.

She drew a few more puffs from her joint and moved it down to Tony’s lips but her wounded warrior declined.

They stayed silent for a lengthy period of time as Dede spaced out from the weed.

Memories of a lifetime’s worth of sexual dissipation with her favorite boy streamed across her mind. Despite her wanton admiration for his sexual prowess, she had grown to develop an affection for her former protégé over the years.

The Madame, as Dede was referred to by Accra’s high society, had known Tony since he was fourteen. Even as a sprightly teenage boy - and much to her pleasant surprise - he oozed raw potential with his savage-like lovemaking abilities. By seventeen, the boy could do things she had never known men to be capable of. He had a frightening and near bottomless appetite that bordered on the frenetic, that even her infamous grooming techniques couldn’t temper.

She shed an unseen tear for her paramour’s wasted manhood. To be completely robbed of his virility in his prime was a cruel blow from the gods.

Dede nonchalantly crushed the end of the burnt-out joint into an ashtray on the bedside table.

“It’s a pity but it seems I have no use for you anymore, my dear,” she said sofly.

Tony was still, his eyes shut. It was what he expected from his Madame.

“There’s a young French couple coming by shortly. Quite the adventurous duo. It’s a shame you wouldn’t be joining us,” she sighed airily.

“A shame,” he whispered.

She started running rings around his lips.

“You’re of course welcome to stay and watch if you please my love,” she said somewhat coyly.

Tony slowly reached for her moving hand and kissed it.

He rose from his resting place, stretched to his full height, and promptly made his way to the door without looking back.

“Tony..,” he heard Dede call out before he shut the door.

Two spirited European-looking girls gaily passed him in the lobby hallway.

As he stepped onto the elevator, the vivacious couple turned around to take in the view of the brooding stud exiting the floor.

xxx

Tony hopped over the fence that separated the La Beach Hotel premises from the beach.

It was a little past midnight and the cool and salty breeze of the sea, soothed Tony’s mood. The mind-fog was clearing up. Whether the fog’s retreat was a result of the second-hand smoke from the weed or the effect of the beach, he wasn’t sure but he was grateful.

It was a moonless, starless sky. The ocean’s waves roared gently, calling to him. He had been here before, in another life perhaps.

He took in the scene before him one last time and smiled. All was fair.

Tony took the first steps towards his death.

xxx

[greennightspider]

Secrets V: Meet the Ragnarssons

Summary: Summary: Hvitserk is usually the quiet, mischievous brother. No one really knows what he does, or where he is half of the time, he’s usually an enigma. So what if the reason why….was not an it, but a who? Rumena beings to settle in and enjoy life in Kattegat. But what happens when their secret is found out?

Author: This is the second to last chapter set in the present timeline (not present as in modern).

Secrets, Secrets II, Secrets III, Secrets IV, Secrets VI

Hvitserk x Rumena (Mena for short) (OC)

Rumena inhaled deeply and let the morning Viking chill fill her lungs. She watched the small puffs of her breath fade into the air as the little waves kitten licked the shore.

“Many things on your mind?” Helga smiled as she approached the wistful girl.

Days with Floki and Helga were peaceful and filled with interesting things. Floki taught would teach Rumena about their ways, their legends and tales, while Helga taught you the more domestic things of the trade. Living in a city meant that you were used to markets and stalls, notsomuch crops and fields. Not that Rumena minded though.

“Just enjoying the morning air.”

“I would have thought this much too chilly for you.” Helga remarked, trying to balance her basket among the rocks, the frosty bite even a lot for her.

Rumena on the other hand welcomed the fresh tidings, the crisp clean air and the peacefulness of the outskirts of Kattegat.

“It gives me a peace that I have not known, and I fear I do not deserve.”

Helga came and sat down next to her close companion. “And why do you think you do not deserve it? Your friendship has meant more to me than you know.

Rumena smiled fondly at the compliment. “Well, why would anyone give gutter rat such a beautiful chance. To be surrounded by kindness and friends.”  The girl shook her head. “Such generosity has ever been given to me for nothing.”

Helga was about to reply, but stopped as she saw Floki approaching.

“Well whether you think you deserve it or not, it is here for you. The fjord and the gods welcome you to our shores, and surely It was in their plan for you to join with our mischievous prince.” Floki gestured grandly.

“We must bask when the fates shine their favour upon us, for you never know when it could turn.” Floki giggled.

“But not always turning for the worst.” Helga pointed out. “Twists and turns can always turn for the better.”

“Yes yes yes a wheel is not always upside down for long.” Floki gestured, kissing Helga’s cheek before disappearing off into the woods.

“He speaks in riddles, but he is right.” Rumena laughed and stood up with Helga, following her into their home to sort her gathered herbs.

“Speaking of change…” Helga started slowly. “Have you thought about things with Hvitserk?”

Rumena’s brow was furrowed as she held a few wisps in the side of her mouth. “What you mean?”

“Well, have you thought about the future? Or about maybe wanting a family?” Helga queried cheerfully, to which Rumena’s eyes widened.

Helga watched the normally feisty girl grow quiet, and slowly place the strands from her mouth on the table. “Rumena? I’m sorry I did not mean to startle you.”

“No no, it is okay.” Rumena stuttered. “I guess I haven’t thought much.”

Helga bit her lip before she pressed on. “I only ask because it is clear how Hvitserk feels for you. I mean, we’ve known him since he was young, and he’s always been a frivolous child. But these days…I have never seen him so focused on one thing.”

Rumena, who had been quietly listening, swallowed. “And what is this one thing?”

Helga looked at her as if it was obvious. “You. Providing for you, taking care of you, I have never seen him so serious.” Helga chuckled, going back to grinding her herbs, leaving her words to settle in Rumena’s mind.

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As Rumena trudged back to the cabin she let her mind wander to her bedmate. While she had not known him for long, it seemed as though he grew more and more into a man every day.

She could not keep the smile from her face as she set her herbs on the table and flopped on the bed, taking in Hvitserk’s lingering scent. She was almost tempted to let herself fade into memories of temptful nights, wondering if she should get herself ready for when Hvitserk came. But a small thud made her freeze and sit upright. And it was then she realised she was not alone.

While she was writhing on the bed, indulging in fantasies, she had failed to notice the rather sinister visitor, sliding himself out from behind the bathtub. He had gazed at her in curiosity, wondering how his brother had snuck such a morsel for himself.

“Well well well, what do we have here.”

At once Rumena screamed and grabbed the nearest thing she could to throw at the stranger.  The intruder grunted as the pot broke on impact with his arm, and Mena used this chance to  try and make for the door.

But the stranger grabbed at her with one arm and managed to trip her skirt. She kicked at his arms to which he cried out in pain, but it only made his grip stronger when he caught her ankle.

“GET OFF!” She roared, trying desperately trying to break free, but on the floor the blue eyed demon made quick work of pinning her down. Rumena’s anger masked her fear as his bloodthirsty eyes got closer to her face, lording over her body like a spider.

“VISEKAAAAA!!!!!”

“QUIET SLAVE!” The stranger roared back at her.

“What the hell is this all about?”

Rumena turned her head up to meet two new strangers at the door, one with brown hair and blue eyes, the other with dusty blonde hair and blue eyes, with braids to match. Although the blonde haired one looked the older of the two.

“Ivar get off her!” Ubbe turning his head with a hint of sympathy in his eyes for the girl.

“She’s a slave,” Ivar’s grip tightened on her wrists, and Mena yelped in pain. “Why should I?”

“Get. Off.” Bjorn’s warning tone enough to give Ivar pause.

Ivar snarled but released the girl, to which she scrambled right to the back wall.

“We’re not going to hurt you.” Ubbe held his hands up in surrender, but Mena was having none of it.

“VISEKA!!!!!!!!!”

“What the hell is she screaming?” Bjorn yelled.

Hvitserk’s walk to his cabin turned from joy into dread when he heard the blood curdling scream of his name. He then started running up the hill to his cabin, seeing figures in the doorway. As he got closer he recognized it was his brothers, but Rumena’s scream told him this wasn’t a friendly visit.

Bjorn nudged Ubbe and nodded his head toward their fast approaching sibling, looking like murder in his eyes.

“Hvitserk , we swear-“

“GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Hvitserk barged through the wall of his brothers.

As soon as he laid eyes on Rumena clutching her wrists in the corner, and Ivar looking menacing as always, he made a beeline for the youngest and almost

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER, HMMM? DO NOT THINK I WON’T KILL YOU.”

Ivar’s eyes were filled with anger and uncertainty as Hvtiserk held him by his collar, Ivar having nothing to hold onto but his own brother’s arms.

In a flash Ubbe grabbed Hvitserk while Bjorn grabbed Ivar and separated the two, both of them still trying to lunch at each other.

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?” Hvitserk roared.

“Ivar had told us there was a runaway slave hiding here.” Ubbe attempted to explain while keeping Hvitserk in a headlock. “We followed him, but he got here first.”

“What have you been doing here then brother?” Bjorn grunted as he struggled to keep Ivar in check. “Keeping the best for yourself?”

“.....Brothers?”

The boys all looked to Mena, who had since made her way towards the firepit and grabbed a long metal poker. Hvitserk instantly stilled in Ubbe’s arms. “Mena, did they do anything to you?”

“The crawling one surprised me. But that’s all.” Mena tried to sound, but Hvitserk saw her try and deftly pull her sleeves down over her wrists. She was trying her best not to tremble.

Hvitserk shoved himself out of Ubbe’s grip, and then turned so he was in front of Rumena.

“Get out.”

Bjorn thought his little brother, the joker, was once again playing a ruse. “Come on Hvitserk-“

“I said GET OUT!”

Even Ivar looked a tad startled at the outburst, never knowing Hvitserk to be the serious one. Or the angry one. Those two roles had already been taken. And yet Hvitserk stood there, his back straighter than ever. Bjorn too was intrigued by the resolve in his brother’s eyes, but decided this was a battle for another day. “Well then.”

“What the- hey!” Ivar tried to squirm as Bjorn dragged him outside with him. “I wasn’t done with him!” Ivar roared, kicking and wriggling as he went.

Before Ubbe could exit he put his hand on Hvitserk’s shoulder. “Brother, you know that if she is a slave or otherwise, you will need to inform mother.”

Hvitserk said nothing, but the clench in his jaw told Ubbe that he understood.

As soon as the door was shut Mena dropped the poker in her hand.

“Viseka-“ She tried to get out, but Hvitserk cut her off.  Picking Rumena up and laid her on the bed, covering them both in furs and holding her close. He kissed each her wrists, to which she winced.

“Why did you lie.” He glared, still holding her hands in his. Her big hazel eyes looked downcast, biting her bottom lip.

“They are your brothers...” Mena slowly wrapped her hands around his. “Men around me have always taken the side of their kin-their brothers-even if they have been wrong.” Hvitserk watched those beautiful eyes start to glaze over with memories that looked to haunt her from the dead. “No one took my side. Not once.”

Hvitserk encircled her once more, resting his chin on her head. “You know I would never do that. Blame you when my idiot brothers are the ones at fault.”

Rumena laughed, but tried not to let tears flow as she buried her head in his chest.

“You know I would always protect you. No matter what.”

She sniffled as she looked up at Hvitserk, at the man she knew now held her heart in his hands. She kissed him endearingly, pouring in all the love she could muster.

“Thank you.”

Hvitserk held her close to his chest for the rest of that night. Never letting go.

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